by Lydia Dare
"I don't want to stay without Aunt Lily."
Neither did Simon.
Eleven
Lily found herself seated between Oliver and Simon at dinner. Her nephew was unusually quiet, and Lily was anxious to talk with him privately. Simon was also quiet, and Lily couldn't keep herself from wanting to see him privately as well. They needed to sort out what was going on between them.
Simon seemed to be clutching her to himself at the same time he was pushing her away. He was a dichotomy. Though she also was having a difficult time coming to terms with her own feelings.
Lily wasn't sure what had come over her in the last few days. Until now, she'd never considered the possibility that she'd find a man she could care for. There hadn't been a point in wishing for something that wasn't likely to happen. However, circumstances had brought her to Simon's door, and Lily had never felt so confused. Her heart seemed to beat only for him, but she wanted much more than he seemed willing to give.
She sent a sideways glance toward Simon, only to find him staring back at her with an intensity that stole her breath. He felt it, too, whatever this was, and she couldn't understand why he wanted to send her away.
Across the table, Will stabbed a carrot on his plate with a frown. "Irritating chit," he grumbled.
Lily furrowed her brow. "I do hope you're not speaking about me, Will."
He looked up from his plate. "Oh, I didn't realize that was aloud. Apologies, Lily."
"What has you so upset?"
"I'm not upset," he snapped.
Simon touched her hand, sending a jolt of awareness through her. "My brother and Miss Hawthorne love to annoy one another. They've been doing so for years. Quite successfully, I might add."
Lily had noticed that. "Why?" she asked innocently.
"Indeed?" Simon quirked a grin at his brother. "William, do tell."
"I'd rather not." Then his icy blue eyes flashed to Lily. "But watch yourself over there tomorrow. She's crafty and—"
Lily giggled. "I hardly think she wants anything from me."
"Where are you going?" Oliver demanded beside her, making Lily jump.
Simon squeezed her hand. "Don't bark at your aunt, boy."
"What do you care? You're the one sending her away."
Lily sucked in a surprised breath. Oliver was getting more belligerent as the days went by. Her sweet nephew would never have said such a thing a few months ago. She slid her hand from Simon's and turned in her chair to focus on Oliver. "I'm only visiting a neighbor's home tomorrow. I'm not leaving."
"But he said—" Oliver began, glaring over her shoulder at Simon.
"Nothing's been determined," she assured him. "My place has always been with you, Oliver. I have no intention of leaving you."
"Lily," Simon growled, though he was drowned out by Will's laughter.
"Good for you, Lily. Stand your ground."
Anger rolled off Simon, and Lily turned her head to see him glaring daggers at his brother. "Mind your own affairs."
***
Lily looked at the trunk of clothes lying in the middle of her chamber. Thank heavens, Oliver brought nearly her entire wardrobe with him. She'd been wearing the same two gowns for days and was anxious for a change.
She washed, slid into her yellow cotton nightrail, and closed her eyes. It felt so nice to have the soft material against her skin.
There was a light knock at the door, and Lily slid her arms through the sleeves of her matching robe. She tied the sash around her waist and called brightly, "Come."
Oliver poked his head inside the room, frowning when he saw how she was dressed. "I didn't know you were ready for bed, Aunt Lily. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
She shook her head, walking toward him. "Don't go. I want to know how your conversation with His Grace went."
Oliver opened the door wider and stepped inside. "I don't want to stay here. I want to go back to Maberley Hall with you."
Lily crossed the floor to him and took his hand in hers. "I won't leave without you, Oliver."
"Why does he want you to go? If I have to stay, why can't you stay, too?"
Good questions, ones she would find answers to. Lily led him to a pair of chintz chairs near her window. "Don't worry yourself, dear. I'm certain I can make His Grace see reason." Simon couldn't really want her to leave, not with the way he looked at her, the way he touched her.
"I won't stay if he makes you leave," Oliver vowed.
A loud knock sounded on the door, which made Lily nearly jump out of her skin. She patted Oliver's hand and then quickly crossed the room to the door. She pulled it open to find Simon standing on the other side, his grey eyes dark as he took in her state of dishabille.
"You shouldn't have Oliver in here with you."
Lily blinked at him. "I beg your pardon."
"It's too dangerous," he said quietly, before pushing the door wider. "Maberley, it's time for you to retire to your own room."
Oliver frowned. "I'm just talking to my aunt."
"And you can continue your conversation on the morrow. It's late." He inclined his head toward the door, a subtle hint of authority.
But, of course, Oliver balked. Oliver balked if she asked him to do something. Of course he would balk if someone else spoke to him with a tone of authority, especially someone with whom he was unfamiliar.
"I'm no longer in leading strings, Blackmoor. I'll decide when I'm ready to go to bed. Right now, I'm speaking with my aunt."
Lily was unable to choke back her gasp. What a disrespectful tone to take with the duke! She covered her mouth and watched Oliver return to his seat in the chintz chair.
Lily raised her finger, planning to scold him, but Simon pushed her hand back down to her side. That made her want to scold Simon as well.
"Oliver, I think you need to apologize to His Grace," she said. Despite the glower her comment received from Simon, she continued, "You may not know him well, but the man is your guardian."
"That doesn't give him the right to order me about," Oliver sniffed.
Simon interrupted his show of obstinacy. "In fact, it gives me the right to do anything I want with you."
Tension nearly crackled in the air as Simon stepped toward Oliver, who merely lifted his nose a few inches and turned his face away from the duke in a supreme show of feigned indifference. Lily knew the boy was anything but indifferent. But it would take much more to win Oliver's confidence.
Unfortunately, Simon didn't appear interested in gaining her nephew's confidence, not in the slightest. The situation reminded Lily of when she was a child and had offered to help the cook by going to the henhouse to collect eggs. Invariably, two of the roosters would begin to fight, each battling for supremacy.
That's what the duke and her nephew looked like as Simon crossed the room. But Lily knew Oliver would be the one to get hurt. She stepped between them.
"Move, Lily," Simon said.
"Not if you're going to hurt him, Simon." Lily held up one finger, much the way she would if she were scolding Oliver. Realizing how ineffectual the gesture was when he smirked at her stance, she lowered her hand to her side.
"I won't hurt him, Lily. Not if he listens and does as I tell him." He looked around her at Oliver and bellowed, "Now!"
When Oliver didn't move, Simon took another step toward him.
William called from the doorway, "Are you all involved in a game of charades? I can hear your bellow all the way from downstairs." He glanced around the room. "Why is everyone in Lily's room when she's in her nightrail?" Will glanced down at her bare feet and smiled wickedly. "What beautiful toes you have, Lily." He attempted a casual tone, Lily could tell, as he tried to break the tension in the room. It had little effect on Simon, and Oliver took even less notice.
Despite his casual manner of speaking, William was suddenly on guard as well. He circled around Simon, coming to stand close to her. She watched as he met eyes with Simon, almost as if a silent communication passed between them. Within second
s, his arms were around her, and he took her to the side, cradled in his hold. At the same time, Simon advanced toward Oliver, and the rest was a blur.
It seemed like only moments later that the room was empty, except for William who reluctantly loosened his hold on her.
"I'll let you go, Lily, but only if you promise to let them be. Simon needs to teach him something, and this is the time to do it."
Twelve
Simon had known that the time would come for him to assert himself as the leader of the pack. But he knew quite well how disastrous the situation could be if anyone else was caught in the middle of the altercation when it happened.
He was incredibly relieved when Will walked through the door. He knew Will would remove Lily from the line of danger while he took the pup to hand.
The boy was stronger than he looked, and it took every bit of effort Simon had to drag Oliver from the room and into the hallway. As he stepped through the threshold, Simon closed Lily's door. The crash of the door slamming seemed loud, even to his ears.
He held the young earl's face against the wall, one hand bending his arm behind his back. The boy kicked and squirmed, refusing to give in, even in his current position.
Simon tightened his hold on Oliver's arm, pressing more forcefully but taking care not to hurt him. It took every bit of concentration he possessed not to simply knock the obnoxious little pup to the ground and stomp on him. But he imagined Lily would take exception to that.
He moved his face close to Oliver's and growled, "If you can control yourself, I will let you go." Oliver stopped squirming. While Simon had the boy pinned against the wall, it was time to tell him the rules. "You have more power in your fingertip than your Aunt Lily has in her entire body. If you fly into a rage when she's in the vicinity, there's a very good chance that you will hurt her, even if you don't mean to." He loosened his hold on Oliver's arm but didn't let him go.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Simon needed to know before he would fully release him.
Oliver nodded, a bit of contrition apparent in the way he held his body when Simon finally let him go.
"I know you don't understand what's happening to you and your body," Simon said as he led the way to Oliver's room. The boy followed slowly. "What you're experiencing is more than just the approach of manhood. It's the approach of manhood for us, for our kind. And it can be dangerous."
"I wouldn't hurt Aunt Lily," Oliver sniffed.
"You wouldn't intend to hurt your aunt, but you may do so without even realizing what you're doing." He opened the door to the boy's quarters and motioned for him to precede him into the room. "Do you want to know what's happening to you?"
The boy nodded.
"If you truly want to learn, William and I will take you out with us tomorrow night, when the moon is full in the sky. We will educate you about what's happening to you, and I'll be there to help you learn to control it. And embrace it. Because only by fully embracing it can you make it a part of you, rather than an enemy." Simon grew pensive as he regarded the boy. "Your father never learned to fully embrace it because he didn't have anyone to teach him how to be a man."
"But you'll teach me that?" Oliver surprised him when he asked.
The boy reminded him so much of Daniel. How things might have been different if someone had been able to guide his cousin. Simon swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "As long as you promise to keep an open mind and behave yourself." He shot a pointed look at him. "No more shows of obstinacy." Then as an afterthought, "And you must promise not to tell your Aunt Lily."
Oliver seemed instantly accepting of the camaraderie that came with working together to keep something from his aunt, as Simon had expected him to be. He laughed and clasped the boy's shoulder. Despite the look on the youth's face, Simon could still sense a bit of rage boiling below the surface. He would leave him to it. After all, that beast lived in him as well. He understood it.
Simon looked Oliver in the eye and said, "Go to bed. And stay there."
Oliver nodded. Simon turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, he heard the sound of breaking glass. Probably the crystal vase that sat upon the armoire. Then another smash. That one was probably his mother's antique clock. Simon couldn't contain the chuckle that crept from his belly. He'd broken more than one frivolous item of décor in his younger days. And was still prone to it now. He would let the boy have his fit of pique and then discuss it on the morrow.
As for Lily, he wanted nothing more than to go to her, to explain, but as the moon was now high in the sky and nearly full, that would be the worst idea he'd ever had. He retreated to his study with a bottle of whisky instead.
It wasn't until he was very well into his cups that he heard movement above stairs.
***
Lily sat in her room and stewed, her bare feet fretfully tapping the carpet. She took out her knitting but wasn't able to concentrate. She crossed to the window and looked into the distance. The estate was a mass of dark shadows, the light of the nearly full moon illuminating everything in its path. Lily watched as a rabbit darted across the lawn, heading for its hidden burrow. But the animals of the night only held her attention for a moment.
What she wanted to do was to go and see Oliver, to be sure he was all right. William had stayed with her for no more than a few minutes before he encouraged her to get a good night's sleep and kissed her forehead, as if she were nothing but a child.
If one more man told her what to do, she would scream. She would be the one to throw the fit. And they would all be very sorry.
Who was she kidding? No one would care if she yelled loud enough to bring the house done. They would say "It's for your own good, Lily. You wouldn't understand."
She understood much more than they credited her for. She understood that the men in this house, all three of them, were some of the most poorly behaved men she'd ever seen.
If they could be poorly behaved, so could she. She would check on her nephew whether they liked it or not. She needed to assure herself that Simon hadn't hurt Oliver when he'd dragged him from the room.
Lily cracked her door open and peered outside, her gaze darting left and right. She stepped out into the hallway once she'd assured herself that everyone else was abed.
Lily padded softly down the hall, her bare feet sinking into the luxurious carpet that lined the corridor, and found Oliver's room. The door slowly opened and creaked only slightly as she stepped inside. She would take a moment to watch him sleep, as she'd done almost every night since he'd come into her care.
Oliver's dark hair lay tousled against the pillow. He was at once a child replete with all the physical characteristics of a man. The full brow drew down in a frown even in sleep. Lily reached out and touched his hair, instantly relaxing him. He sighed softly and settled more deeply into the bed.
These were the moments she loved, the moments when her little boy was still a child. They were few and far between, and Lily was starved to crawl into bed with him and pretend he still needed her.
She glanced around the room, taking in his clothes that were flung about the floor. He'd always been a bit of a messy child. However, he was an earl and always had servants to keep his rooms clean and his clothes tidy. But then she noticed the broken shards of glass on the floor. He must have been in quite a temper when Simon had brought him to his room. She got up and went to pick up the larger pieces. She would have to apologize to Simon in the morning on Oliver's behalf.
"Why are you in here, Lily?" a voice asked quietly from the doorway. Simon leaned against the door frame, glowering at her.
"I just came to check on Oliver," she whispered as she stood up and placed the largest shards of glass on the side table. "He's sleeping soundly, so I'll go back to bed now." She took a step to brush past him but winced as her bare foot picked up one of the remaining pieces of glass. She lifted her foot and winced.
"What's wrong?"
"Just a piece of
glass in my foot, Simon," she sighed.
His expression immediately softened. "A great excuse to hold you," he said softly as he scooped her up in his arms.
"Simon, put me down," she scolded him. "Why is it that you think I can't walk on my own two feet?"
"Because one of your two feet is injured, Lily love." She heard the laughter in his voice and couldn't help but smile at him. The scent of whisky caressed the side of her face.
"Simon, I think you're foxed," she smiled. "Put me down before you drop me."