Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Simon pushed his report to the middle of his desk. "Come."

His mother poked her head inside. "Do you have a moment, dear?"

He gestured to one of the chairs before him. "Of course."

She slipped inside and shut the door firmly behind her. She did not sit, however, as she chose to pace before his desk instead. "You need to tell her, Simon."

"Tell her to ban Prisca Hawthorne from my home? I was considering it," he replied hopefully.

She stopped walking, heaved an irritated sigh, and folded her arms across her chest. "Don't be obtuse. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

His shoulders slumped forward. He did know what she meant; he'd just

hoped

it had to do with his rudeness toward Prisca. "We've already had this discussion. I won't burden Lily with this aspect of my life."

His mother's lips drew up tight. "She knows you're keeping something from her."

Simon dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "She knows nothing. Don't put your hopes for Lily above her best interests."

"

My

hopes for Lily," she scoffed. "You really are more stubborn than even your father, Simon. She told me herself that she knows you're keeping something important from her."

He swallowed. "She did?" Lily had asked him numerous times what secrets he kept from her, but he thought he'd convinced her otherwise.

"Hmm," she answered. "And she asked me if the full moon had anything to do with whatever you're hiding."

His limbs all went weak. How could she possibly know that much? "What did you say?"

"I told her it wasn't allowed for me to say anything."

"God damn it, Mother!" He leapt to his feet while his pulse pounded in his ears and fear gripped his chest. Simon's fist struck his desk with such a force that it split along the middle and his report fell to the floor along with all his unopened correspondence.

Well accustomed to his temper, his mother didn't even flinch. "Honestly, Simon, that desk belonged to your grandfather. You should have a care."

"To hell with the desk," he roared, pushing it over as an afterthought. "Why would you tell her such a thing? Now she

knows

I'm hiding something."

His mother rubbed her temple, looking at him as if he were a simpleton. "She

already

knew that, Simon. How long do you think it will take for her to learn the rest of it? Tell her now, before she discovers it on her own."

***

"Simon," Lily called from the library door.

"Yes, love?" His voice came from a darkened corner.

Strange. After they'd arrived at Westfield Hall, he hadn't sought her out, and it was nearly time for dinner. Then there was the disaster she found in his study. It looked as though a wild animal had been trapped inside, destroying everything in sight. The image made chills race down her spine.

Cautiously, Lily stepped into the room, finding her husband reclined in an overstuffed leather chair with a glass of something that smelled like whisky. "Are you all right?" she asked stopping before him.

"Are you?" Simon countered. His grey eyes landed on her, reflecting a dangerous glint. The intensity of his gaze nearly shook her to her core, and she wasn't at all certain it was her husband staring at her.

A nervous giggle escaped her, and she pressed her nails into her palm, hoping to steady herself. "It is nearly time for dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh." She frowned at him. She had the feeling she should leave him to his strange mood, but seeing him like this tore at her heart. "Is something amiss?" she asked, edging a bit closer to him.

"Why would you think so?"

"I went to your study first…" her voice trailed off when he winced.

"I received some troubling news, is all. Nothing for you to worry about, Lily."

Troubling news? Though her rational mind screamed for her to leave, she couldn't do so. Lily dropped to her knees before him, clasping one strong hand with both of hers. "You are my husband, Simon. If something is troubling you, I can't help but worry."

Something flashed in his eyes, something she couldn't read. Then he smiled at her, a sad smile that made her heart constrict. "Are you happy with me? With all of this?"

She kissed his hand that she had trapped. "Never doubt it."

Simon brushed her cheek with his free hand. "Lily, you should eat. I won't have you withering away to nothing simply because I'm not hungry."

She tugged at his hand. "If you'd rather not eat, Simon, I'm sure I can think of something more enjoyable."

Forty

Simon watched Lily closely over the next several days. If he hadn't had that disturbing conversation with his mother, he would never have known anything was amiss. She fussed over Oliver, sweetly insisting he work on his studies. Doting on the lad as if he were two instead of twelve. She worked on frilly sewing with his mother, chatting gaily all the while. And Lily continued to look at Simon with the same adoring, passion-hued eyes. He made love to her every night, and she responded just as she always had.

He would have begun to think his imagination had invented the entire conversation with his mother, if not for the way she continued to pressure him when they were alone, insisting that he tell his wife the truth.

"She'll understand," his mother hissed in the corridor outside the breakfast room.

But he couldn't be sure of that, and he brushed past her on his way to the library. His mother had accepted his father, and Mary Alstott accepted Charles, but there were even more examples where that didn't turn out. Daniel and Emma were only one. And he kept coming back to the fact that Lily was Emma's sister. There was no reason to believe she would feel differently than Emma.

Giving only part of himself to Lily was better than not having her at all. It was a risk he couldn't take.

She couldn't find out. He couldn't lose her.

He watched her across the room, turning the pages of an old book. Her nose crinkled up just a bit when she concentrated, and he loved the look on her.

His attention was diverted from his wife when Billings cleared his throat in the library doorway. "Your Grace, a letter has arrived for you."

Simon dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Put it with the others, Billings."

"This one is from Major Forster. He had it hand delivered with the instructions that you were to open it right away."

Forster? Simon rose from his seat and started toward his butler, a smile on his face. The old major knew him well. The letter would most assuredly become lost amongst the others if he didn't go to such lengths.

Simon retrieved the letter from the silver salver Billings held and broke the seal.

Dear Blackmoor,

I hope you are well. As per our conversation last week, I have compiled a list of other boys enrolled at Harrow. The list is rather short, however. Only Leopold Schofield from Surrey is both registered with The Society and on the school rolls. The other boys have recently graduated and are already at Cambridge.

I do not know if you are acquainted with the

Schofields, but I can attest to the bravery of the boy's

father who fought under my command.

I have sent a letter to Lieutenant Schofield, on your

behalf, explaining the Earl of Maberley's situation. The

lieutenant should be contacting you directly. It would be

best, dear boy, if you actually paid close attention to your

correspondence over the next fortnight. Not everyone

knows how to get your attention as well as I.

Please send my love to your mother. I do hope to see