Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  She’d have to get her answers from someone else. She could probably force it out of Oliver. She had lots of experience in that realm, but she hated to use her nephew in such a way. If Will was at Westfield Hall, she was certain he would tell her; at least, she thought he would.

  Her mother-in-law. Alice was the only woman who seemed to know the secret. If she couldn’t finagle an answer out of her, she would set her sights on Oliver. One way or the other, she’d get to the bottom of this mystery.

  Simon took great pride in showing Oliver around the Harrow grounds. For most of the tour, the headmaster accompanied them, leading them down one corridor or another and even allowing them a peek into one of the boys’ chambers.

  The visit brought back many memories for Simon. The years he and Daniel had spent there together, the scrapes and adventures they’d shared. He wished again that his closest friend had survived that awful carriage accident. There was no doubt in his mind that Daniel would have been proud to see Oliver grow into a man before his eyes.

  The headmaster gave his permission for Simon and Oliver to explore the grounds alone. The countryside wasn’t different from Simon’s memories, so he was able to direct Oliver down a secluded path that very few people knew about. It had been used by one Lycan schoolboy after another through the years. Even after all this time, Simon easily found his way through the thick foliage until they reached a small circular clearing.

  “This is where you’ll come,” he told Oliver. “When the moon is full, this place will be your haven.” He pointed to the sky above them. “The light will hit you in the middle here.” He gestured to a circle of white rocks just a few feet from where Oliver stood. “After the transformation, you’ll be free to roam the grounds, like we did at Westfield Hall. Then you’ll return to this spot when the time has come to resume your human form.”

  Oliver quietly looked around the clearing. “Will there be others like me?” he finally asked.

  Simon didn’t have a clue. He supposed he could take a look at the rolls. “It’s possible there are others. When I attended Harrow, it was just Daniel, Will, and me. I’ll see if I can find out for you.”

  Oliver circled the pile of white rocks. “What is this?”

  “I never thought to ask. It has always been here, even in my father’s time.”

  Oliver nodded, sniffing at the air. “It does smell as if someone has been here.”

  Simon did the same. A faint scent lingered, yet the breeze rarely found this place. “Do you hope there are others? Are you afraid to be alone?”

  The lad’s back straightened instantly. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he boasted proudly. “Just curious.”

  Simon bit back a smile as he remembered saying something similar to his father years ago. “My apologies.”

  After he sniffed back his indignation, Oliver glanced around the clearing once more and nodded. “All right, Blackmoor. I think I’ve got the lay of the land.”

  “You sure?”

  The boy let go a sigh. “If I know Aunt Lily, she’s wearing a path through that churchyard. She doesn’t like to be kept in the dark.”

  Somehow, Simon knew that. He clapped a hand to Oliver’s back and directed him back down the secret path. “We’ll have to distract her then. Does your aunt like the theatre?”

  Oliver pushed his way through the dense flora. “She likes to read Shakespeare. I don’t know that she’s ever seen a play.”

  That brought a grin to Simon’s face. “Well, I’ll have to remedy that. We’ll stay in London a few days. Get you fitted for new school clothes.” Order something sheer for Lily, or several somethings. A new wardrobe befitting a duchess. Jewels. Ribbons. Hair combs. “You won’t mind us going out at night and leaving you alone, will you?”

  “No,” Oliver answered and then jumped back when a tree limb smacked him in the arm. “I’d like to read more about Lycans. I found a couple of books at Maberley Hall. They’re different from the ones Will gave me.”

  Same information, however. Simon kept that bit of fact to himself. As long as Oliver wanted to study up on their heritage and lore, he would support him. Keeping the boy occupied would also leave Simon and Lily to their own devices. He looked forward to offering London on a platter to her. Starting tonight with his box at Drury Lane.

  When the ducal coach rambled to a stop in front of St. Mary’s Church, Lily finished her walk through the churchyard. The sunlight reflected off the Blackmoor crest, and the sight made her shiver. The door opened, and Oliver scrambled out, a boyish grin on his face. Lily’s heart warmed. It had been so long since he’d looked carefree.

  “Aunt Lily!” he cried, running toward her.

  She laughed as she embraced him. “Well, you obviously enjoyed yourself.”

  Oliver pulled back from her and nodded. “I do wish you could have seen it.”

  So did Lily, but seeing Oliver so happy, she felt her annoyance melting away. “Do tell me about it,” she said as they walked toward the coach.

  Simon stepped from the conveyance at that moment, his eyes light with merriment. “Isn’t St. Mary’s lovely?” he asked.

  Lily nodded as he took her hand. “I can see why Byron enjoyed his time here.”

  Simon chuckled, helping her into the coach. “You’ll have to ask Will about him some day.”

  “Oh?” Lily asked as she settled herself against the squabs. “Did he know him?” She couldn’t keep the scandalized tone from her voice. As lovely as Lord Byron’s poetry was, he’d very recently been exiled; the offenses were too shocking to speak of in polite society.

  Simon took the spot next to her, just as he had the entire journey, and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He smelled of sandalwood and the outdoors. “They were in the same year.”

  Oliver climbed inside the coach, sat across from them, and rolled his eyes. “Must you go about touching her all the time?”

  With a warm laugh, Simon squeezed her arm. “As she’s my wife, I don’t see where you have anything to say about it, Maberley.”

  Oliver groaned, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the wall of the coach. “It’s enough to turn a fellow’s stomach.”

  “Well, we’ll give you a reprieve tonight then, my boy.”

  “Oh?” Oliver asked, sitting forward in his seat.

  “I believe I will take Her Grace to the theatre tonight. I can trust you to stay out of trouble for one evening, can’t I?”

  Lily looked up at Simon. “The theatre?”

  “We have a box at Drury Lane. I believe Richard III is on stage. At least it was when I left Town a few weeks ago.”

  Shakespeare? Drury Lane? Giddiness spread through Lily.

  Simon loved seeing Lily’s expression of awe when they entered his home on Curzon Street. Having grown up with all the grandeur of one ducal home or another, Simon enjoyed seeing his world through her eyes.

  The Rutledge family was landed gentry, but foolish investments had left them penniless. He’d been surprised when Daniel had insisted all those years ago on marrying Emma. They were both so young at the time. She hadn’t had fortune or connections to lend him, only herself. She was a quiet girl with simple tastes. But she spoke to a part of Daniel that Simon was just now beginning to understand.

  He wanted to give Lily everything. Jewels, gowns, new experiences, anything to make her smile and see her pretty eyes grow wide with surprise. To that end, he went to the safe in his study, certain he had more of his grandmother’s moonstone jewelry there.

  Pulling back a portrait of his grandfather, he worked the combination until a cough from the doorway halted him. Simon stepped away from the hinged portrait to find his butler, Anderson, standing just inside the study.

  “Yes, Anderson?”

  The middle-aged man appeared uncomfortable and shifted in his spot, which was not like him at all. Simon had never known the butler to hedge.

  “Well, Your Grace, it is Friday.”

  Simon raked his gaze
across the man. What was this about? “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  The man barely met his gaze. “The, um, well, the society pages came out today.”

  Something Simon never cared about. “And?”

  The butler gestured to his desk, where a small stack of papers sat, awaiting his perusal. “Well, Your Grace, I’d rather not have to speak the words aloud. Perhaps you could read them for yourself.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Simon barked. He really didn’t want to waste his time like this.

  The butler shook his head. “Speaking frankly, I’ve seen you in a bit of a temper in the past, and I’d prefer not to be the messenger. Though,” he pointed again at the stack of papers, “I thought you should be aware of the word about Town.”

  Thoroughly annoyed, Simon dismissed the man and sat at his desk. He first opened the Mayfair Society Page. He clenched his mouth shut after reading the first paragraph. Bloody hell!

  Thirty-Seven

  SIMON STEPPED FROM THE COACH AND HELD HIS HAND out to Lily. He smiled a smile she was sure he intended to be encouraging. However, it did little to ease her nerves. She’d never attended the theatre before, and, though she was excited, the prospect was a bit intimidating. She fingered the moonstone that rested right above her cleavage. She’d been shocked when Simon had presented her with matching earbobs before they left Curzon Street.

  For years, the talents of Edmund Kean had been gushed over in one review after another, ever since he’d portrayed Shylock in The Merchant of Venice on the stage in Drury Lane. Lily never imagined she’d see Shakespeare performed in a London theatre, and she certainly never thought she’d actually see Kean himself on the very stage where he’d made his name.

  When Simon had informed her that they would watch the famed thespian in the role of Richard III, Lily could barely contain her excitement. Apparently, being a duchess had its advantages.

  Bridges Street was clogged with carriages as drivers maneuvered their horses toward Drury Lane. Men and women moved en masse toward the entrance, all dressed in their finest clothes for their night at the theatre.

  Lily glanced down at her own dress. “I suppose I should be eternally grateful to Prisca for making this gown for me.” She felt a little chagrin at wearing the green silk dress again, but it was the nicest one she owned.

  Simon pulled her hand into the crook of his arm and smiled down at her. “Tomorrow, we’ll commission London’s most expensive modiste. You deserve a grand new wardrobe.”

  “My reward for putting up with you, Your Grace?” she laughed.

  “My reward is you putting up with me.” His gaze traveled up and down her body. “Among other things.”

  “Simon,” she scolded him. “Do behave yourself.” But she couldn’t hold back the smile that threatened to erupt. “You’re positively incorrigible.”

  His eyes narrowed at her. “And I thought beastly was the only description you had for me.” He made the comment and looked away without meeting her eyes.

  “I have a lot more, Your Grace.” She stopped walking and tugged his arm. She raised one hand to cup the side of his face. “Beastly is my favorite, though.”

  He leaned into her hand. “Would that it could be true,” he said quietly.

  “You doubt me?”

  He looked away and changed the subject, just as she’d known he would. “I can’t wait to show off my lovely wife at the theatre.” His eyes caught hers. “But I must warn you…”

  Before he could even finish his sentence, a booming voice said, “Well, there’s the Duke of Blackmoor. Finally out of seclusion, I see.”

  The man approached slowly and extended a hand to Simon. His height was nearly equal to the duke’s, and the family resemblance was unmistakable. He shared the same black-as-night hair and grey eyes. Lily wracked her memory to come up with a name, but it eluded her.

  “Lily, this is Mr. Alstott, a distant relation on my father’s side. Charles, meet my duchess.” Lily’s heart did a little flip when he said her new title with such pride.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Lily replied.

  “Your Grace, I knew it would be a lady such as you who’d finally get Simon to the altar,” Mr. Alstott said, pressing his lips to her gloved fingers.

  “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not,” Lily said quietly.

  Simon simply laughed and whispered dramatically, “It’s a compliment, love. You may take it as one.”

  “Most definitely,” the man boomed. “It would take a woman of great strength to finally collar this pup.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly, almost unnoticeably, at his distant cousin. At first, Lily thought she’d imagined it, but she knew she had not when Mr. Alstott tilted his head to one side in confusion. Then Simon made his signature move and changed the subject.

  “Where is your lovely wife?” Simon asked.

  “She’s gossiping with friends, as usual,” Mr. Alstott answered, as he searched the lobby with his eyes. Then he caught his wife’s attention across the room and gestured her toward them. “Mary,” he began when she reached them. “Meet the Duchess of Blackmoor.” After the introduction, he draped his arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

  “Lily, please. I’m not quite used to the title yet.”

  “Charles and Mary will be sharing our box tonight,” Simon informed her and directed her toward the staircase.

  “Oh, how nice,” Lily replied.

  Beside them, Mary Alstott leaned toward Lily, her brown eyes wide. “I think it’s quite brave of you to come out in society like this after the…”

  Charles coughed loudly, interrupting his wife’s statement. Mary stopped talking to place her hand on her husband’s chest. “Are you all right?”

  Lily frowned as she watched them. All the male members of the Westfield family seemed to share the same predisposition toward untimely changes of subject matter.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “I am a bit parched, however. Come, Mary. We’ll find some wine.”

  “Perhaps we should take our seats,” Simon suggested. He ushered Lily through the crowd and up the stairs to his box.

  The number of theatre-goers was slightly overwhelming. Lily had never imagined such a crush. One lady after another looked at her out of the corner of their eyes, and Lily was certain she wasn’t dressed nearly nice enough for this. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have come,” she muttered to herself.

  Simon stopped walking and frowned at her. “Why?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Lily blinked at him.

  “Why shouldn’t we have come?”

  Lily shook her head. How was it possible he’d heard her? “I… um… Well, I feel a little underdressed.”

  A roguish smile lit his face as he directed her down the corridor past one box after another. “You’re beautiful, Lily. And you’re the Duchess of Blackmoor. You could walk in here wearing rags if you wanted.”

  “Rags?” She couldn’t hold in a giggle.

  “Personally, I prefer you wearing nothing at all.”

  “Simon!”

  He ignored her rebuke, pressing her lower back toward one of the boxes. “Ah, here we are. Sit right near the front, love, so you have a good view of the stage.”

  Moments later, the Alstotts joined them and the theatre grew dim, signaling the remaining patrons to find their seats. Lily sat forward against the rail, excitement coursing through her veins as the stage captured her attention.

  Simon’s hand clasped hers when the play began. With a sidelong glance, she saw his bright smile in the darkness and it warmed her heart.

  Simon couldn’t concentrate on the play even the slightest. He held Lily’s hand clasped comfortably in his for fear that, if he let go, he would lose her. It was a foolish thought. She was safely seated beside him, entranced by Kean’s performance.

  Still, the worry persisted. Both Charles and Mary had very nearly told Lily the word about Town. The
society rags were full with the news of his nuptials and rife with unflattering speculation. Not one column mentioned how wonderful Lily was. Instead unsubstantiated gossip filled the pages. One author after another suggested Lily was already expecting Simon’s child before their nuptials, hence the swift wedding.

  One enterprising columnist had discovered Lily’s dowry. They wrote that when no one would take Blackmoor’s bribe to take Lily and the child off his hands, he had no choice but to marry her himself.

  To add insult to injury, not only was her virtue maligned, but there were many uncomplimentary comments about her appearance, from her hair color to her height.

  Simon’s gaze traveled over her body in the darkness. She was perfect. She was tall and lithesome. Every part of her fit every part of him.

  At first, he’d wanted to cancel their excursion and return to Westfield Hall, but that would only give credence to the reports. It would be better for them to hold their heads high and ignore the lies all together.

  When the curtain fell for intermission, Lily stood up to stretch, exuberance sparkling in her hazel eyes. “This is amazing,” she gushed.

  Simon caressed her knuckles. He loved seeing her so happy. “Would you like some refreshment, love?”

  “No, but thank you. I’ll return in just a moment, Simon,” she said as she pulled her hand from his grasp.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, rising from his seat, ready to trail her like a faithful puppy.

  “Women have to have some secrets,” Mary broke in. “Come along, Lily. I’ll accompany you to the retiring room.”

  Lily hooked her arm with Mary’s, promised to return soon, and stepped out of the box. Simon watched her go, and a feeling of dread seeped over him.

  Charles brought his attention back to the present when he called Simon’s name. What Simon truly wanted to do was go after his wife. But he couldn’t imagine the scandal he would cause if he followed her to the ladies’ retiring room. And though worse had been said about him, he didn’t want to give the gossipmongers anything else to say about Lily.

  “She’ll be fine, Blackmoor,” Charles chided. “Mary will take care of her.”