Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

She sagged against him. "We have to wait

eight

months?"

He lifted his head. "Or sooner, if it's obvious you're not with child. However, since you have expressly demanded that I ravish you nightly, I don't know how long that will remain."

When a giggle escaped her throat, Simon breathed a sigh of relief. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her soft lips. Now

he wished they coul

d return home.

"Simon," she said, pushing at his chest.

"Yes, love?"

He'd hoped she would smile at him, or in the very least have a sultry look, but her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched up.

"What else aren't you telling me?"

Simon's stomach dropped. "Nothing," he lied, feigning innocence.

Lily stepped out of his arms. "I'm not a fool, you know."

"Of course not, I—"

She held up her hand to stop his excuse. "I don't want to hear it, unless it's the truth."

"Lily, there's nothing to tell," he insisted as his palms grew sweaty. How long could he keep her in the dark? Would it be safer if he put some distance between them? Lived separately? The idea made him cringe. He didn't want to go on without her. He didn't know if he could.

The theatre grew dim again as intermission ended.

Charles poked his head back inside the box. "Simon…"

He nodded at his cousin. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Charles."

***

Lily stepped from the Blackmoor coach in front of

Madam Pelletier's shop on Bruton Street. She wasn't sure why she was here. When they had intended to stay in London for a time, it had made sense to visit a modiste. However, both she and Simon were now anxious to return to Westfield Hall.

She didn't have a need for gowns befitting a duchess in Hampshire. Yet, Simon had insisted. He grasped her elbow and directed her into the exclusive shop.

An olive-skinned, dark-haired woman rushed forward at their entrance. "Your Grace," she gushed over Simon, her French accent surprising to Lily's ears. "You do me such an honor."

"Madam," Simon began, "you are a visionary. I would never take my wife anywhere else."

The Frenchwoman stood back, placing her hand over her heart. "

Mon dieu

! You've brought me a Greek goddess."

Lily's cheeks warmed at the statement, especially after she'd discovered where Simon had stashed the vicious columns and read them, each one maligning her character and her appearance.

A Long Meg with

unfortunate hair and the fashion sense of a medieval peasant.

"Isn't she, though?" Simon replied, a note of pride in his voice. "We're only to be in London another day. Do you think you can see Her Grace this morning?"

"Oh, indeed!" the modiste answered. Then she took Lily's hand and towed her toward a set of mirrors. "Let's start with your measurements, Your Grace."

"Oh, and, Madam," Simon called, "I'd like to order—"

"I am well acquainted with Your Grace's tastes."

How many women had Simon clothed?

"Thank you," he replied, before leaving Lily to be

poked, prodded, and measured for the better part of the day.

***

With Lily safely in Madam Pelletier's capable hands, Simon made his way to Canis House, an exclusive club to which he and his brothers belonged. The Georgian manor was a bit off the beaten path. In fact, it was so far off the path that he'd had to ride one of the horses from his stables to get there, as the trail wasn't wide enough for his coach.

It was a far cry from White's or other gentlemen's clubs, but only because the members of Canis House had a tendency to grow bushy tails and howl at the moon. Aside from that, it offered the same plush comfort as London's clubs.

Simon stepped into the dimly lit drawing room and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Within seconds, he spotted his father's oldest friend and confidante, Major Desmond Forster, who occupied a table at the back of the room.

"To what do I owe the honor, Simon? Should I thank that pretty new wife of yours since you have finally paid a visit to your father's old friend?" The man's smile was infectious, and Simon couldn't resist grinning back.

"I'm actually here about something else, Major," Simon confessed as a footman brought a glass of whisky and set it before him. He paused a moment to take a healthy swallow.

"What do you need, Simon?" Leave it to Major Forster to cut right to the meat of the matter.

"I need to find out how many of our kind are enrolled at Harrow."

"Whatever for?" the retired officer said as he sat forward.

"My ward and young cousin will begin school in a few weeks. When we took a tour of the grounds, there was a faint scent. It was almost as though one of our kind had been there. Recently. Do you know of anyone?"

Major Forester nodded. "Actually, there are at least two that I can think of. But there could be more. Not all of our kind offer their information to The Society, as you know."

"I just wanted to ensure Maberley will be safe," Simon said, grateful there would be at least one other boy in residence. "I wonder how much older the others are?" he mused aloud. Oliver could really use a mentor.

"Maberley? By God, is Daniel's son already old enough for Harrow?" A smile overtook the Major's face.

"It took me by surprise as well," Simon said.

"It was quite a tragedy, what happened to his parents. I'm glad the boy has you."

"I never thought I'd say it, but I'm quite happy to have him as well. He came with my wife." Simon's eyes danced with glee. "A bonus."

"I would say so." Major Forester tilted his head and regarded Simon quietly. "I would also dare to say that you're in love."

"Quite," Simon confessed. He heaved a sigh.

"Don't make it sound so dreadful, will you, chap? They say falling in love is quite an occasion. It has been quite a long time since I've done so. I can barely remember what it's like."

"Have you ever…?" Simon stopped himself. "Never mind," he mumbled.

"Have I ever what?" the major prodded. "Ask the question that's eating at you." He motioned for more drinks to be brought to the table.

Perhaps liquid courage would help, Simon thought as he tossed back another shot.

"I'm just wondering," Simon hedged. "My father and mother must have had a very normal relationship. I don't remember him ever leaving when the moon was full."

"And?" Major Forster prompted.

Simon sighed. "Have you ever claimed a mate?" he finally spit out. He refused to even glance in the major's direction for fear that the man would be rolling on the floor with laughter. But the old officer just clapped his big hand on Simon's shoulder, forcing his attention.

"Indeed I have." He smiled at the memory.

"And it… went… well?" Simon couldn't figure out how to ask the questions he needed to have answered.

"Splendidly," the major said, coughing a little to cover the emotion that coated the word. "What's your fear, Simon? You know your parents had a Lycan relationship. And your mother is no worse for wear."

"I've resolved to never claim Lily."

"Why in the world would you do such an idiotic thing?" Major Forster's voice rose an octave.

"Would you keep your voice down?" Simon growled, looking around the room to see who had heard. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying them a bit of attention.

"Is your Lily a little mouse? Is she fragile?"

"No, not at all."

"Then share your life with her. Or you do an injustice to both yourself and to her. You'll never fully know her until she shares in every part of your life. Don't you want to be a whole man?"

"More than anything," Simon confessed. "But her sister couldn't handle the claiming. I can't risk losing Lily. Or having her look at me the way Emma did Daniel." He couldn't imagine a worse fate.