Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  “I just worry,” he said, catching himself mumbling.

  “I can tell. You remind me of my faithful old dog. He was always such a jolly fellow until someone threatened my existence. Then he came out with teeth flying.”

  Simon sank into his chair. Surely she would return soon.

  “I must tell you how terribly brave I think you are,” Mary said in hushed tones as they walked down the crowded corridor.

  “Brave?” Lily echoed, suddenly ill at ease.

  “Why, if I were you, I wouldn’t even step foot in public yet. I would have waited until the scandal died down a bit.” She smiled at Lily. “But then I would imagine Blackmoor would never have married someone without a strong backbone.”

  Lily stopped walking and turned toward Mary. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. Please enlighten me.”

  “Oh, my,” the woman breathed. “You don’t know?”

  A giggle sounded near them. Lily looked up when she heard someone whisper loudly, “I can’t believe she’s walking around in public!”

  “Know what?” Lily asked, as she drew Mary to the side of the hallway.

  “The society columns,” Mary mumbled. “The rumors about you and Blackmoor. About why you had to marry quickly.” The woman looked down at the floor.

  “There are always rumors about His Grace in those pages. It’s nothing new.” Lily tried to sound light and dignified.

  “Yes, but these were about you, dear,” Mary said quietly.

  Lily shook her head in disbelief. She’d never done anything to provoke a scandal. “What do they say?”

  “I’ve said too much already.”

  “Please, Mary.”

  “You should ask His Grace,” the woman hedged.

  “I’ll do just that,” Lily said as she turned quickly and stomped back down the corridor.

  She heard laughter to her right and looked over to find a group of well-dressed ladies staring at her, tittering behind their fans. Honestly, didn’t they have anything better to do? Obviously not.

  Then the crowd parted, and Lily saw the source of the laughter. Mrs. Teresa Hamilton, stunning as ever, stood amongst them, wearing a smug smile and a low-cut dress. Lily didn’t know which was more offensive.

  Lily resisted the urge to rip the perfect blond curls from her head. No matter how satisfying that seemed, it certainly wouldn’t help Lily’s current predicament. She tipped her nose in the air and continued down the hallway, determined to act the role of duchess even if she didn’t feel it.

  Simon’s box came into view, and Lily increased her gait. How could he not tell her what was being said? How could he parade her in front of the ton without any warning? In her haste, Lily stumbled just outside their box but managed to catch herself. She took a deep breath and adjusted her slipper.

  Then she heard Simon’s hushed voice filter through the curtain. “No, Lily doesn’t know about me.”

  What didn’t she know? Lily tilted her head to hear better.

  “Certainly, you plan to tell her?” Charles asked.

  “Lily doesn’t need to know about that part of my life,” Simon snarled.

  “Don’t bare your teeth at me,” Charles growled back.

  Did they always fight like that? What an odd family.

  “My wife knows all my secrets.” The man chuckled. “And adores every last one of them.”

  “I don’t care to know what goes on in your bedroom,” Simon replied, and she could hear the frown in his voice.

  “Never in a bedroom when the moon is full, dear boy.”

  Simon growled. “What could possibly be keeping Lily?”

  Before she knew what happened, Simon barreled out of the box and straight into her.

  Thirty-Eight

  “SIMON!” LILY CRIED AS SHE NEARLY STUMBLED TO the floor.

  His reflexes were quick, and he snatched her to him, righting her in no time. “I’m so sorry, love.”

  She stared at him with a mix of fear and barely contained anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

  Oh, dear God! What had she overheard? What had Charles said? Simon’s mind went back over the conversation. The lout had announced that Mary knew all of his secrets and then mentioned the full moon. Certainly Lily hadn’t deduced anything from that.

  “Tell you what?” he asked cautiously, glancing briefly at the other patrons walking past. Certainly the busy corridor was not the place to have this conversation. Simon directed her inside the box.

  When Charles met his eyes, Simon glowered at his cousin. “Out!” he barked.

  Charles returned his frown but did as he was bid. Then Simon looked into Lily’s furious hazel eyes. Her lips pursed to angry little buds.

  “What exactly is my crime, Lily?”

  Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but she sniffed them back. “What is being said about me, Simon?”

  The gossip! Thank God! Relief washed over him, but only for a moment. Lily looked so forlorn, his heart ached. “I thought it best not to tell you.”

  She poked him in the chest. Hard. “You thought it would be better for people to laugh at me instead? For me to be completely in the dark?”

  The beast threatened to erupt from within him. Someone had laughed at her? He’d kill them. “What happened, Lily?” he growled.

  “Take me home,” she hissed.

  Simon stepped toward her and brushed his knuckles across her soft cheek. “I didn’t tell you, love, because I knew it would hurt you. But we can’t go yet. If we turn tail and leave, the rumors will persist and grow even uglier. We need to keep our heads high and finish out the play.”

  “What are they saying about me, Simon?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

  He shrugged. “That you’re enceinte.”

  Realization reflected in her eyes, and Simon hated to see her hurt. “But I’m not,” she barely whispered.

  Simon tugged her against him and nuzzled her neck. “You might be. Nothing would make me happier, Lily. But you certainly weren’t before we married. And when no child arrives in seven months, or eight, they’ll all realize they were wrong.”

  She sagged against him. “We have to wait eight months?”

  He lifted his head. “Or sooner, if it’s obvious you’re not with child. However, since you have expressly demanded that I ravish you nightly, I don’t know how long that will remain.”

  When a giggle escaped her throat, Simon breathed a sigh of relief. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her soft lips. Now he wished they could return home.

  “Simon,” she said, pushing at his chest.

  “Yes, love?”

  He’d hoped she would smile at him, or in the very least have a sultry look, but her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched up.

  “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  Simon’s stomach dropped. “Nothing,” he lied, feigning innocence.

  Lily stepped out of his arms. “I’m not a fool, you know.”

  “Of course not, I—”

  She held up her hand to stop his excuse. “I don’t want to hear it, unless it’s the truth.”

  “Lily, there’s nothing to tell,” he insisted as his palms grew sweaty. How long could he keep her in the dark? Would it be safer if he put some distance between them? Lived separately? The idea made him cringe. He didn’t want to go on without her. He didn’t know if he could.

  The theatre grew dim again as intermission ended.

  Charles poked his head back inside the box. “Simon…”

  He nodded at his cousin. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Charles.”

  Lily stepped from the Blackmoor coach in front of Madam Pelletier’s shop on Bruton Street. She wasn’t sure why she was here. When they had intended to stay in London for a time, it had made sense to visit a modiste. However, both she and Simon were now anxious to return to Westfield Hall.

  She didn’t have a need for gowns befitting a duchess in Hampshire. Yet, Simon had insisted. He grasped her elbow
and directed her into the exclusive shop.

  An olive-skinned, dark-haired woman rushed forward at their entrance. “Your Grace,” she gushed over Simon, her French accent surprising to Lily’s ears. “You do me such an honor.”

  “Madam,” Simon began, “you are a visionary. I would never take my wife anywhere else.”

  The Frenchwoman stood back, placing her hand over her heart. “Mon dieu! You’ve brought me a Greek goddess.”

  Lily’s cheeks warmed at the statement, especially after she’d discovered where Simon had stashed the vicious columns and read them, each one maligning her character and her appearance. A Long Meg with unfortunate hair and the fashion sense of a medieval peasant.

  “Isn’t she, though?” Simon replied, a note of pride in his voice. “We’re only to be in London another day. Do you think you can see Her Grace this morning?”

  “Oh, indeed!” the modiste answered. Then she took Lily’s hand and towed her toward a set of mirrors. “Let’s start with your measurements, Your Grace.”

  “Oh, and, Madam,” Simon called, “I’d like to order—”

  “I am well acquainted with Your Grace’s tastes.”

  How many women had Simon clothed?

  “Thank you,” he replied, before leaving Lily to be poked, prodded, and measured for the better part of the day.

  With Lily safely in Madam Pelletier’s capable hands, Simon made his way to Canis House, an exclusive club to which he and his brothers belonged. The Georgian manor was a bit off the beaten path. In fact, it was so far off the path that he’d had to ride one of the horses from his stables to get there, as the trail wasn’t wide enough for his coach.

  It was a far cry from White’s or other gentlemen’s clubs, but only because the members of Canis House had a tendency to grow bushy tails and howl at the moon. Aside from that, it offered the same plush comfort as London’s clubs.

  Simon stepped into the dimly lit drawing room and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Within seconds, he spotted his father’s oldest friend and confidante, Major Desmond Forster, who occupied a table at the back of the room.

  “To what do I owe the honor, Simon? Should I thank that pretty new wife of yours since you have finally paid a visit to your father’s old friend?” The man’s smile was infectious, and Simon couldn’t resist grinning back.

  “I’m actually here about something else, Major,” Simon confessed as a footman brought a glass of whisky and set it before him. He paused a moment to take a healthy swallow.

  “What do you need, Simon?” Leave it to Major Forster to cut right to the meat of the matter.

  “I need to find out how many of our kind are enrolled at Harrow.”

  “Whatever for?” the retired officer said as he sat forward.

  “My ward and young cousin will begin school in a few weeks. When we took a tour of the grounds, there was a faint scent. It was almost as though one of our kind had been there. Recently. Do you know of anyone?”

  Major Forester nodded. “Actually, there are at least two that I can think of. But there could be more. Not all of our kind offer their information to The Society, as you know.”

  “I just wanted to ensure Maberley will be safe,” Simon said, grateful there would be at least one other boy in residence. “I wonder how much older the others are?” he mused aloud. Oliver could really use a mentor.

  “Maberley? By God, is Daniel’s son already old enough for Harrow?” A smile overtook the Major’s face.

  “It took me by surprise as well,” Simon said.

  “It was quite a tragedy, what happened to his parents. I’m glad the boy has you.”

  “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m quite happy to have him as well. He came with my wife.” Simon’s eyes danced with glee. “A bonus.”

  “I would say so.” Major Forester tilted his head and regarded Simon quietly. “I would also dare to say that you’re in love.”

  “Quite,” Simon confessed. He heaved a sigh.

  “Don’t make it sound so dreadful, will you, chap? They say falling in love is quite an occasion. It has been quite a long time since I’ve done so. I can barely remember what it’s like.”

  “Have you ever…?” Simon stopped himself. “Never mind,” he mumbled.

  “Have I ever what?” the major prodded. “Ask the question that’s eating at you.” He motioned for more drinks to be brought to the table.

  Perhaps liquid courage would help, Simon thought as he tossed back another shot.

  “I’m just wondering,” Simon hedged. “My father and mother must have had a very normal relationship. I don’t remember him ever leaving when the moon was full.”

  “And?” Major Forster prompted.

  Simon sighed. “Have you ever claimed a mate?” he finally spit out. He refused to even glance in the major’s direction for fear that the man would be rolling on the floor with laughter. But the old officer just clapped his big hand on Simon’s shoulder, forcing his attention.

  “Indeed I have.” He smiled at the memory.

  “And it… went… well?” Simon couldn’t figure out how to ask the questions he needed to have answered.

  “Splendidly,” the major said, coughing a little to cover the emotion that coated the word. “What’s your fear, Simon? You know your parents had a Lycan relationship. And your mother is no worse for wear.”

  “I’ve resolved to never claim Lily.”

  “Why in the world would you do such an idiotic thing?” Major Forster’s voice rose an octave.

  “Would you keep your voice down?” Simon growled, looking around the room to see who had heard. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying them a bit of attention.

  “Is your Lily a little mouse? Is she fragile?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then share your life with her. Or you do an injustice to both yourself and to her. You’ll never fully know her until she shares in every part of your life. Don’t you want to be a whole man?”

  “More than anything,” Simon confessed. “But her sister couldn’t handle the claiming. I can’t risk losing Lily. Or having her look at me the way Emma did Daniel.” He couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

  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 Benjam
in 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 late-afternoon 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.