Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

Thirty-Nine

Excitement rushed though Lily when Westfield Hall finally came into view from the coach window. She didn't care if she ever returned to London. The city's allure no longer existed for her. But here, in their quiet corner of Hampshire, she could remain forever with Simon.

However, she wasn't certain

he

could. Simon was just as at home in London as he was at Westfield Hall. What if she lost him to the excitement of Town, to his lifestyle?

She glanced up at his ruggedly handsome face. He seemed deep in thought, as he had most of the trip. Troubled. Quiet. Though whenever she asked what had his mind, he forced a smile to his lips and told her it was nothing.

But it was obviously something.

She just couldn't figure out what.

Lily knew he was lying, though she couldn't understand why. Had she done something to make him distrustful of her? If so, she wasn't sure what it was.

The full moon.

Oliver had mentioned it, as had Charles Alstott.

The

full moon?

What did that have to do with anything? Thoroughly confused, she heaved a sigh.

Simon gently touched her cheek. "We're almost home, love."

Did he love her, or was their relationship merely physical to him?

If

he loved her, wouldn't he trust her? Lily smiled in return, though she didn't feel it.

"Will said he'd help me with my Latin," her nephew said.

Ever since his excursion to Harrow, Oliver seemed excited about the prospect of going away to school, which was a welcome about-face. Thank heavens! At least something good had come of their trip.

"You'll have to settle for me, Maberley," Simon informed him. "Unless Will sprouted wings and flew to Scotland, it'll be weeks before he and Ben return."

Oliver nodded. "Do you think Lord Benjamin is in some sort of trouble?"

Simon chuckled, shaking his head. "I believe he's into

something,

but I wouldn't necessarily call it trouble. My guess is Ben won't appreciate it when Will shows up unannounced, though it will all be his own fault. I cannot fathom him writing Mother several times a week."

"Simon!" Lily chastised, then looked across the coach at her nephew. "Oliver York, I'll expect a letter from you at least once a week after you start school."

"Of course!" Simon's voice dripped with mirth. "Once a week, Maberley, or I'll be forced to send Will across the countryside looking for you."

Then the two of them howled with peals of laughter, causing the coach to rock on its springs. Lily didn't find them remotely humorous, and she folded her arms across her chest, glaring at her husband.

Simon brought his levity under control and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I couldn't resist."

She supposed she should be happy that he didn't seem to be the brooding man he'd been since they'd left London. But as she was the brunt of his joke, Lily had a difficult time feeling charitable.

Simon sighed. "Oliver, promise your aunt you'll write her at least once a week when you attend Harrow."

"I promise," he quickly replied as the coach rambled to a stop.

"Thank God," Simon remarked. "Good to be home."

He opened the door, hopped from the carriage, and extended his hand to her.

Lily accepted his help, stepping into the lateafternoon light. Simon was right. It did feel good to be home. His hand snaked around her waist, and he led her up the steps of the manor house.

The door opened wide, and Billings beamed at them. "Welcome home, Your Graces."

The butler took Simon's beaver hat and informed them that the dowager duchess was enjoying tea and entertaining Miss Hawthorne in the blue parlor.

A rumbled growl escaped Simon at Prisca's name, which Lily didn't understand at all. Why did it seem that none of the Westfield men could be civil to her friend? "If you're incapable of behaving yourself, Simon, you and Oliver can entertain yourselves elsewhere."

"I believe that is best," he clipped out and then directed Oliver toward his study.

Lily shook her head, worried she'd never understand certain aspects of him. She handed her Spencer jacket to Billings and proceeded down the corridor to the blue parlor. Even before she entered the room, she could hear her mother-in-law's laugh mixed with Prisca's giggle.

She stepped over the threshold to find the two women sitting side by side on the settee. "Good afternoon."

"Oh!" they cried in unison, though it was Prisca who leapt from her spot. "Lily, you're home!"

As the two embraced, Alice slowly rose from her seat. "I trust everything went well, dear?"

Lily nodded. It was a lie, but she didn't know how else to respond. It seemed, however, that Alice had keen senses. Her mother-in-law's eyes narrowed, obviously assessing her. "Come join us for tea," Alice continued.

Lily allowed the dowager to lead her to the settee before assuming the spot beside her. "Your letter mentioned you were to see

Richard III

."

"Oh!" Prisca exclaimed as she settled on a chair across from them. "I hear Kean is excellent in the role. I do prefer the comedies however.

Twelfth Night

is my particular favorite."

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Alice asked.

"Yes." Until she learned all of London thought she was of easy virtue, and before she once again laid eyes on Teresa Hamilton. "I met Mr. and Mrs. Alstott."

Alice's grey eyes widened. "Indeed? It's been an age. Did they seem well?"

Lily nodded again and then discussed the play in great detail. After more questions were asked and answered, Prisca announced that it was late and she really should return home. Good-byes and hugs were exchanged, and in no time Lily found herself alone with Alice.

"All right, Lily," her mother-in-law began quietly, "it's just us. I can tell something is bothering you."

It was just them. Lily squared her shoulders. "Does the full moon mean anything to you?" she blurted out.

She expected the dowager to look surprised or taken aback by her question, but Alice smiled instead. "It comes around once a month."

Not a very satisfying answer. Lily scowled. "I know Simon is keeping something from me, and it has to do with the full moon."

Alice heaved a sigh. "Figured all that out by yourself?"

Was it impossible for the woman to give her a helpful response? "Do

you

know what it is?"

Alice rose from her seat. "Dear Lily, I don't often understand my sons' choices. Take Miss Hawthorne, for example. Why William keeps himself from her I have no idea. They'd both be much happier if he didn't. And with Benjamin, there are so many things I don't understand about him that there's not even a good starting place."

"And Simon?" Lily asked, her patience wearing thin.

"Well, Simon I understand. I just don't happen to agree with him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can't tell you what you want to know, Lily." Her expression was pained.

"Why not?"

"Do you love my son?"

More than life, or she wouldn't care about any of this. Lily nodded, which made Alice smile and clasp her hand.

"My dear, you've figured out so much on your own. You're on the right path. Follow your heart."

"Why can't you tell me what is going on?" Lily begged.

"Because it's not allowed. Only Simon can do so."

Lily thought she might scream. Only Simon could tell her? That was the most unhelpful thing Alice could have said. Simon had no intention of telling her anything.

She was on her own.

***

After dismissing Oliver, Simon returned to his desk to pore over a report from his steward. It wasn't the most interesting reading, but it would serve to keep his mind off Prisca Hawthorne.

Truly he shouldn't be so irritated with the meddlesome chit. If she hadn't interfered in his life, he wouldn't have Lily. He should be thanking the girl. But the manipulative way she went about arranging things to her liking made it hard for him to keep a level head where she was concerned. With that in mind, it was perhaps for the best that Will had decided against throwing his lot in with the chit. He'd rather not have to kill his sister-inlaw. Now if he could keep her from visiting Lily and his mother…