Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

He smiled tightly. "I'm certain my horse is ready anyway." Will stood up.

"Going somewhere, William?" Prisca asked, examining her fingernails.

"London."

Her eyes darted back to him. "London? But you've hardly been here."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd miss me. As it is," he continued, "I wouldn't try Simon's temper, were I you, Prisca. Don't stay too long."

She sat back in her chair with a huff. "Missing your light skirts already, are you?"

"Happy husband hunting." Will strode purposefully from the room, never looking back.

Lily stared after him, and then she turned to Prisca, who was brushing her knuckles across her cheek. "Are you all right?" Lily asked, rising from her seat.

Prisca smiled, pretending she wasn't crying. "Perfect. Tell me you're doing well."

Lily pursed her lips. "His Grace asked me to marry him."

Prisca leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Lily. "Oh, that is wonderful. I'm certain you'll be happy."

Lily wished she could be just as certain.

***

Simon had been tested more times than he could count on two hands and two feet. He'd been pulled naked from the bed of a married woman by the angry spouse. He'd been in more than one drunken brawl. He'd been pummeled by his brothers. And even by a friend or two. But he'd never had his patience tried like he did with Oliver.

For Lily's sake, he tried not to kill the boy. That wasn't easy to do. Oliver had an amazing strength, which often came with the youth of their kind. Fortunately, he didn't know how to use it yet. Once he'd toppled a few chairs and uprighted the table, he simply stood before Simon, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Having two younger brothers, both with similar tempers, Simon had learned the hard way that it was easier to let them get the rage out of their systems rather than stifling it. As with a plugged-up teapot, the steam would find a way to escape one way or the other. As long as no one around Oliver could be hurt, Simon would let him blow off some steam.

"If you ever put your hands on your Aunt Lily again," Simon seethed. "I will personally lock you in your room for so long that you will

wish

you were in Newgate."

"You can't truly expect me to be happy about Aunt

Lily marrying someone like

you,

" Oliver shot back, sneering the last word.

"You mean someone like

us

, don't you?"

"Like us," the boy whispered as he turned toward the window. "I wouldn't want any woman to be shackled to someone like us."

"I am pretty happy with the situation," Simon began. "And your aunt seems to be quite content with the idea." He tried not to smile, but he felt the corners of his mouth tilt, regardless.

"That's because she doesn't know," Oliver reminded him. Simon bit back a wince.

"She doesn't have to know."

"You would marry her and not tell her?"

"Yes, and you won't tell her, either. No one knows about us, except us. And it will stay that way. Unless I decide she's ready to hear it at some point in the future." Simon sighed.

"And what will you do when the moon calls?"

"I'll go away for a few days every month, Oliver. I'll probably take you with me." It would be safer that way, because Oliver might not be able to control himself.

"And what happens when you have a child? Another one like me?"

Simon hadn't given any thought to having children, but he had to admit his heart warmed at the idea of it. A piece of him, combined with Lily, growing inside her. And it would be even more fun creating a child. He coughed to hide the smile that nearly erupted.

"You

have

to tell her," Oliver said, crossing his arms in a move so reminiscent of Lily's stubbornness that he had to chuckle.

"I'll tell her when I simply cannot avoid it," Simon acquiesced.

"You need to tell her before you bed her," Oliver said quietly, his face coloring slightly.

"What do you know about bedding a woman?"

Oliver's face colored even more. "Will told me about it. About how we must claim our mates. He gave me books about Lycanthropic lore. There's a lot of truth between the pages, he said." His eyes scrunched together, his comment more of a question for Simon, obviously.

"If they're the same books our father gave him, and I suspect they are, there is a lot of truth between the pages. The majority of what you've read is true."

"Is it true about the claiming of your spouse?" The boy was more tenacious than a dog with a bone.

"I don't think you're old enough to be told about…" Simon began.

"I am old enough to change but not old enough to know about the things I truly need to know?" His gaze met Simon's own. "If Aunt Lily knew, she might not

choose

to marry a Lycan."

"I know." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He had a definite headache coming on.

"You will deceive her. And that's not right," the boy sniffed.

"It's not really deception, Oliver. Just a little omission."

"And the claiming?"

"I'll never be able to claim Lily. Not when the moon is full. Not in the way you're describing." It was quite disconcerting to talk about such matters with an adolescent. But he imagined there would be many more such talks to come.

"You'll not hurt her?" Oliver asked, suddenly looking like a child.

"Never on purpose. I promise."

A knock broke their silence. "A moment," Simon called. "Are we all right, now?" he asked Oliver.

A nod was his only answer.

Simon turned to the door, "Enter," he called.

Billings stepped into the room. "Your Grace, you have visitors in the yellow parlor."

This was certainly not the time to deal with anyone. Simon rubbed his brow. "Who is it, Billings?"

"The vicar Mr. Bostic and his wife, Your Grace."

Perfect, Simon thought mordantly and hung his head in defeat. "What else could possibly go wrong?" he moaned quietly.

"Well, Your Grace. They did bring their son with them. The fellow was seen practicing in the front yard."

Simon's head snapped up. "Practicing what?"

"Dropping to one knee, Your Grace. Over and over."

"God, will this day never end?" Simon grumbled as he strode through the door, heading toward his yellow parlor with his heels clicking across the floor in his haste.

Twenty-One

Lily sat across from the vicar and his wife, while their sheepish son huddled in the corner, muttering to himself. Entertaining the trio was a chore, and Lily tried to keep her composure. However, it was getting more difficult by the moment. She listened to the woman prattle on about the weather and how bumpy the carriage ride was. She fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

"How long do you think it will be before His Grace joins us?" the woman finally asked before pursing her lips.

"I'm not at all certain. He is with the Earl of Maberley at the moment. Would you care for some tea while we wait?"

"Thank you," the meek vicar replied.

Lily smiled at the man and then started toward the sideboard, where Billings had left a fresh pot of tea.

"Do tell me how you came to be here in His Grace's house, Miss Rutledge," the woman had the nerve to ask.

"I arrived with the earl, Mrs. Bostic." She tried to keep the annoyed tone from her voice but feared that she failed miserably. "My nephew needed to spend some time with his guardian." She began to pour the tea, happy to have something to keep her hands busy.

The woman consumed a plate of lemon cakes within minutes and then looked around as though she thought someone had stolen them from right under her nose.

"And did you think it proper to stay with His Grace without a chaperone?" The woman looked at Lily as though she'd grown two heads.