by Lydia Dare
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 you at Canis House soon.
Sincerely, Maj. Desmond Forster
"Is everything all right?" Lily asked, rising from her seat.
Simon carefully folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He was surprised to see Lily's gaze concentrated on him when he glanced in her direction. Her brows were drawn together, her hazel eyes troubled.
"News, Simon?" she asked.
"Nothing of importance, love," he replied, trying to make his tone sound light. "Just a note from an old friend of my father."
"Which old friend?"
Why all the questions? "Major Forster." If he was fortunate, she would leave it at that.
"And what did he want?"
Simon closed his eyes and sighed. Please don't force me to lie to you more than is necessary. "He knows of a boy who will be attending Harrow along with Oliver. He suggests that the boys meet before the session begins so they can become acquainted."
Lily crossed the floor, confusion reflected in her eyes. "I'm certain there will be a number of boys at Harrow for the Michaelmas term."
None like Leopold Schofield. "Yes, but I was looking for a mentor for Oliver. Someone to take him under his wing, so to speak. Major Forster thinks one of his lieutenant's sons would be a good fit."
Lily reached out her hand to Simon, and, when he pulled her toward him, she kissed his cheek. "That was a very sweet thing to do."
Simon nuzzled against her neck, inhaling the soft lilac scent that he had come to identify with Lily. So light and feminine, so different from him. "I'm never sweet," he said gruffly.
She giggled at that, wrapping her arms around his middle. "I beg to differ."
"Not sweet," he repeated, nipping at the base of her neck. "I had ulterior motives."
Lily's lithe body molded against his. "I can't imagine what you mean, Your Grace."
He blew his breath low across her bodice and cupped her bottom, pressing his arousal firmly against her softness. "I think it should be obvious."
"My beastly husband," she began with a teasing lilt to her voice. "If you ruin my new gown, I'll thrash you."
New gown? Simon ran his fingers along her silkcovered back. How had he not noticed she wore something new? "Is this one of Madam Pelletier's?"
Lily nodded. "An entire trunk arrived this morning.
I can't even imagine what you spent to have such an extensive order finished and delivered so quickly."
To hell with the dresses. Simon couldn't hide his grin. If the order was complete, Lily should have received several pieces that were for his eyes only.
"You have a strange look on your face," she told him.
Simon lifted one brow. "That, love, is me imagining what you'll look like in one of your new nightrails."
A pretty blush pinkened her cheeks. "I don't know why you bothered to order them at all. They don't hide a thing. I might as well walk about nude."
Simon couldn't resist squeezing her bottom. "Excellent suggestion."
Lily stepped out of his arms with an enchanting giggle. "Behave yourself, Simon Westfield. And you'll have to be p
atient as well. I am supposed to leave for Langley Downs in a few moments."
Langley Downs. Simon's smile became a scowl. "I'd rather you not spend time with Prisca Hawthorne."
Lily shook her head. "Why?"
"Who do you think told Mrs. Bostic you were living here unchaperoned?" When Lily stared blankly at him, Simon continued, "That meddlesome chit can manage her brothers' lives all she wants, but I take umbrage when she interferes in mine."
"Simon," Lily began, "if you weren't afraid for my reputation, would you have ever married me?"
No. He'd have suffered without her. He wouldn't have wished his life on her. He wouldn't have tied her future to him.
When he didn't respond, Lily frowned at him. "I see. Are you sorry you married me?"
"No," he assured her and closed the distance between them. "Never believe that. I love that you're mine, Lily." Selfish bastard that he was, he could never let her go now.
"Well," Lily said, folding her arms across her chest. "I didn't know Prisca was the cause. I'll have to thank her over tea."
***
Langely Downs' butler announced, "The Duchess of Blackmoor," before returning to his post.
As she stepped over the threshold of the green parlor, Lily was surprised to see that Prisca was not alone. "Your Grace." Emory Hawthorne stood and bowed stiffly. "Allow me to offer my felicitations on your recent marriage."
Lily smiled at the gentleman, who seemed suddenly uncomfortable now that she'd arrived. Of course, the last time she'd seen him, she'd been in a terrible state of disarray, courtesy of Simon Westfield. "Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. I shall pass on your well wishes to my husband."
After a tight smile, he excused himself and left Lily and Prisca to their own company. As Prisca linked her arm with Lily's, her violet eyes twinkled mischievously. "All right, since the dowager isn't with you, you can tell me everything, Lily."
"Everything?"
Prisca nodded enthusiastically. "How is it? How do you like being a duchess?"
"I suppose now would be a good time to thank you for ruining my reputation and forcing me into a marriage with Simon."
Prisca didn't even look ashamed. Her smile grew larger, brightening the room. "It was a stroke of luck. I didn't know what I was going to do until the situation presented itself. I am surprised Will told him, however. No wonder Blackmoor scowled at me when I left Westfield Hall last week. That man does not like to be managed."
"Hmm." Lily agreed. "He mentioned as much."
"But are you happy?" Prisca asked, as she sat on the settee and gestured for Lily to join her.
Lily couldn't help but smile. "Very. I do want to thank you for everything, especially for braving Simon's temper."
Prisca giggled. "Please. As I said before, I've known Blackmoor my entire life. I'm not the least bit afraid of him."
The room began to spin in Lily's mind. She may not be able to get her mother-in-law to tell her anything, but Prisca might know what she was after. "I have a strange question to ask you."
"Well, that sounds intriguing."
"As you say, you've known Simon forever…" Lily frowned. He would be furious if he knew she was asking these sorts of questions. She shook off the thought. She was the Duchess of Blackmoor, and she had every right to know what her duke was hiding from her. "Does the full moon mean anything to you?"
When her friend said nothing but stared at her blankly, Lily prodded, "In regards to Simon?"
After a moment, Prisca furrowed her brow. It was a ridiculous thing to ask. Lily felt like a fool the moment the words left her mouth.
Finally, Prisca shook her head. "I don't know, Lily. I've often wondered the same thing. Not about His Grace. He is much older than me. But once upon a time I spent quite a lot of time with Will and Benjamin. It was years ago. Their moods became like clockwork. I didn't notice it at first, and it happens so gradually, but the longer you're with them, the more it becomes apparent. Will always got more agitated as the moon waxed, and Ben always got more quiet."
"Do you know what it means?" Lily asked, leaning toward Prisca who shook her head.
"I asked Will once. I've never seen him so furious. He refused to talk to me about it and… Well, things between us haven't ever been the same since."
Lily felt the wind whoosh out of her lungs. What a horrible tale. What if Simon reacted the same way? She didn't want things to change between them, other than she wished he'd trust her with whatever this was. She didn't want them to constantly hurt each other the way Prisca and Will did.
Maybe it was best not knowing. As long as Simon stayed with her, she could be content. Losing him wasn't an option, even if it meant never learning his secret, even if it meant he didn't fully trust her. At least for now.
Forty-One
Lily stopped before entering Simon's study. He'd never summoned her before, and she couldn't imagine what he wanted with her. She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirts with her hands. Then she knocked softly.
"Come," he called.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Simon sat behind a new oak desk, and he smiled when she entered. "Ah, there you are, love," he said, rising to his feet.
"You wanted to see me?"
Simon nodded and gestured to one of the two leather seats in front of his desk. "I am terrible at correspondence. Perhaps you've noticed."
Lily laughed and then fell into the first seat. "I am painfully aware of that fact, Simon."
One dark eyebrow rose. "Yes, well, you wouldn't have sought me out if I had been more communicative. So I can't really feel remorse for my failing in this regard."
Lily couldn't help but smile. "I suppose that is true."
"Anyway, I thought you could help me become a bit more organized. Help me go through my post, to be more responsible in this area."
"You want me to go through your post?"
He nodded. "I really have no patience for it alone. But I thought if you assisted me, I might manage to get through it."
"Meaning?" Lily asked.
"Most of my correspondence is destined for the rubbish bin. People wanting things of me. To attend a function or sponsor a charity, things of that nature. Anyone who knows me well would never write to me. Except for Will and Ben. They're the exception to the rule. Even still, neither of them write to me very often."
How did one live like that? Lily couldn't imagine. "Have you ever thought about sponsoring a charity?"
He sat back in his chair and folded his arm across his chest. "I am quite philanthropic, Lily. Major Forster runs a charitable organization that I donate liberally to."
Lily had no idea. All the years she'd kept up with his exploits, she'd believed him to be a self-involved rakehell. "The man who found a boy to mentor Oliver?"
"Yes. He was an old friend of my father's."
"So you mentioned. What does his organization do?"
Simon hesitated, studying her a moment before answering. "The Lycanian Society helps individuals and families who suffer from certain ailments. Food, shelter, clothing, things of that nature. Will devotes much of his time to The Society."
Lily had never heard of it. "Isn't it usually women who spend their time with charities?"
Simon quirked a grin at her. "I'll be sure to mention that to Will."
Flustered, Lily sat forward, her hand on her chest. "Oh, don't you dare!" Will was such a dear man that she'd never want to insult him.
Simon's warm chuckle put her at ease, and she sank against the back of the chair. "So," he continued, "will you help manage me, Lily?"
She would never refuse an opportunity to spend time with him, and it warmed her to her toes that he wanted the same. "Of course."
"Excellent." He rose from his seat and walked around his desk. "We'll start tomorrow." He pulled Lily from her seat and slid his arms around her waist. "I don't know what I'd do without you, love."
Lily smiled at him. "Oh, you'd probably still be making a name for yourself amongst the society rags, b
reaking hearts as you went."
Simon smiled wolfishly and then dipped his head down to kiss her right above her heart. "Still intact," he murmured before kissing his way back up her collarbone, her neck, and finally her lips.
The flutters that raced through her nearly robbed her of her breath, and she actually swayed. Simon's arms tightened around her as his tongue slowly traced her lips. When he swept inside her mouth, Lily thought he might devour her. All of her hoped he would.