Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

She fought the red haze that clouded her vision. She stepped closer to Simon and touched his arm. "Introduce me to your friend, dear," she said, smiling sweetly, though anger rolled through her in waves.

The woman looked at Simon as though he was her own personal savior.

"Lily, this is Mrs. Hamilton." The woman looked up and down Lily's frame and obviously found it lacking, as she scrunched up her nose in distaste.

Of course, Mrs. Hamilton was petite with large breasts and a pixy nose. She was every man's dream, everything Lily was not.

Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton.

Lily wracked her memory trying to recall where she'd heard the woman's name. Then it hit her, and she nearly fell to the floor as she realized Mrs. Hamilton was the not-so-discreet widow Simon had been linked to in the

Mayfair Society Paper.

Her husband hadn't even been gone a month before she started catching the attention of every gossip in London with her scandalous affair with the even more scandalous Duke of Blackmoor.

Mrs. Hamilton had the nerve to touch Simon before she asked, "And who is this, Your Grace? Your sister?"

***

Teresa Hamilton knew perfectly well that he had no sister. The randy widow knew much more about him than that, including the fact that he had a mole on his inner right thigh and a scar on the inside of his left arm. But Simon could see his former paramour's desire to hurt Lily brewing behind her infinite charm. He'd never thought of Teresa as catty before.

"Mrs. Hamilton, this is my wife—Her Grace, the Duchess of Blackmoor," he said, feeling an overwhelming need to protect his darling Lily.

The color drained from Teresa's face. Perhaps, Simon thought, he should have lessened the blow somehow. Teresa had angled for the position herself, after all. He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "What brings you to Hampshire, Teresa?"

The buxom blond pulled her eyes away from Lily to stare daggers at him instead. "I was headed to Westfield Hall at

your

invitation, Simon."

Oh. He'd forgotten that he'd asked Teresa to visit him. After Lily stormed into his life, everything that happened before her seemed to vanish from his mind. Simon wondered what else he'd failed to remember in the last fortnight.

Lily's nails dug into the skin on his forearm, where she still held onto him, bringing his attention back to her. She was definitely going to leave a mark. Thank goodness he healed quickly.

Simon pried Lily's fingers from his arm. "Love, give me a minute, will you?"

Her hazel eyes glared at him, and he had a sinking suspicion that his wedding night was going from bad to worse. Still, it wouldn't do to have Lily overhear his conversation with Teresa. It couldn't get any worse than that. "Lily?" he patiently asked again.

His irritated wife took a staggering breath, then quietly turned on her heel and stormed back out to the coaching yard. That did not bode well for him. He'd never known Lily not to say anything.

Simon shook his head. He'd have to buy her something nice to make up for it. In the meantime, dealing with Teresa was a necessity. He gestured to a small wooden table on the other side of the taproom. "Ale?" he asked her. Teresa was always more accommodating after she had a few drinks.

Teresa shook her head.

Well, it had been worth a try. Simon started toward the table himself and waited for her to follow him. It only took a second for her to fall in a halfstep behind.

"Since when do you have a wife?" she hissed.

Simon held out a chair for her and waited until she sat. Then he walked to the other side of the table and sank into a seat across from her, so he could keep an eye on the door. "Since today," he informed her. "I should have sent word, Teresa. I am sorry."

Her pretty mouth fell open. "Sorry! Simon, I'm just a few hours away from reaching your doorstep. How would that have looked?"

Rather bad, he thought with a sigh. "I forgot you were coming, Teresa."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as her spine straightened and she pinned him with a furious glare. "How very charming."

"I just mean that life has been rather complicated since Lily and…"

"Oh?" Her voice raised an octave. "Do tell, Your Grace," she sneered. "As you were in my bed the night before you left London, I am dying to hear about Lily. Why did you never mention her? You led me to believe that I—"

Simon held up his hand to stop her onslaught. "I never did."

"You said you wouldn't ever marry," she spat the words at him.

He had said that. Many times over. Though it never stopped her from trying to wriggle a proposal out of him in the most intimate of moments. "And you never believed me."

She slid her seat back from the table, scraping it along the floor. "And all this time you had that… that… Lily," she fumed.

Simon winced. This really could be going better. "Teresa, it wasn't like that. What we had together was quite enjoyable and—"

"What we

had

together." Teresa leaned forward, giving him quite the view of her charms. Reflexively, his gaze lowered to her cleavage, though he was surprised to find it didn't have the effect it used to. "I hope you don't mean it's over. Is that what you're trying to say, Simon?"

Yes, but apparently he was doing a very poor job of it. "Teresa, I'm married now."

"And

I

was married when you seduced me. So I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Teresa had a point. She had been well and truly married to her husband when he'd invited her to visit with him. But she'd readily accepted. He hadn't even had to work to sway her decision. That conquest was easily won.

At that moment, Lily re-entered the taproom, and Simon leapt back to his feet. "It has everything to do with everything, Teresa. We need to keep our distance."

"Distance?" she whispered vehemently. Her eyes narrowed on him. She smiled a vindictive little smile, which should have been his first clue that she was up to no good. She held out her hand to him. As he clasped her fingers in his, he felt the hard, cold metal of her room key pressed into his palm. He nearly hung his head in defeat.

On the other side of the room, Lily folded her arms across her chest. There was no easy way to return the key to Teresa without Lily noticing.

"I had planned to stay the night and come to you tomorrow," Teresa said quietly. "But you're a smart man. You can find a way to come to me," she breathed, before she turned on her heel and walked away.

Simon swallowed hard and pocketed the key, unsure how he was going to explain any of this to his wife, and still he had to find that irritant Oliver. He started toward the innkeeper. Before he and Lily returned to his coach, they needed sustenance.

***

The door to their private dining room closed, and Lily stared across the room at her husband. For the first time ever, he looked a bit nervous.

Simon shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a nearby chair. Lily allowed him to pull her seat out before she dropped daintily into it, and he sat across from her.

"Lily, I can explain," he started, as he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, his elbows resting on the table between them.

"Explain what, Simon?" She lifted her wine glass to her mouth and took a sip. She fought for control. And lost.

Simon began to speak, but she cut him off. "Explain how you married me when you already had a woman traveling from London to come and spend time with you. Alone. It's fairly obvious what kind of relationship you had."

"That was before," he started.

Lily fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and cry. Instead, she allowed the anger that roiled just below the surface to overflow. She stood up to face him. He rose from his seat quickly as she approached. Even with her height, he still towered above her.