by Lydia Dare
“I’m visiting Emory,” Will growled.
Ben managed to bring his levity under control, though his eyes still sparkled with mirth. “Of course, you are. Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s amazing to me that you can think at all.” Will grumbled. He brushed past Ben and started toward the duchess. “Your humble servant, Lily.”
She glanced past him at Ben. “Don’t antagonize my husband while we’re away.”
“Then I’ll wait until you return.” Ben winked.
“Benjamin Westfield!” Lily’s voice raised an octave, which caused a sudden ringing in Will’s ears.
It must have had the same effect on his brother, because Ben winced and nodded in agreement with feigned contriteness. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
Which meant absolutely nothing, not that Will would tell Lily that. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her down the corridor. “Where’s Elspeth?”
“Already in the carriage.”
Will soon found himself seated across from his two sisters-in-law, and while they chatted about the wonders of Scotland, he settled his gaze out the ducal carriage window. What if Ben was right? What if Prisca didn’t hate him? What if…?
He’d gone down that road before. Every time he tried to charm her, every time he tried to make things right between them, she rebuked his every effort. Ben had never been right a day in his life. Only pure foolishness tempted Will to put any faith in his younger brother’s advice now.
Before he even realized they’d arrived at Langley Downs, the carriage jolted to a stop. He reached out instinctively and kept Elspeth from tumbling to the floor. “Are you all right, lass?”
She nodded quickly and dropped her hand to her rounded belly. “We’re fine.”
“Blasted Jenkins!” Lily muttered. “Don’t know what has been wrong with the man lately.”
A moment later, the door opened and the apologetic coachman poked his head inside. “Very sorry, Your Grace.” He reached for Lily’s hand.
“You are fortunate no one was hurt, Jenkins.” She frowned at him.
“It was an accident.”
“And even more fortunate His Grace is not here.”
The coachman blanched. “It won’t happen again. I swear it.”
“See that it doesn’t.” Lily allowed the man to help her from the conveyance, and then he offered his hand to Elspeth.
Will followed them up the stone steps that led to the pillared entrance of the Hawthornes’ residence. Almost instantly, anxiety gripped his heart as he caught the scent of… He sniffed the air again and shook his head. Not possible.
“Will, what’s wrong?” Lily asked.
“Not a thing,” he replied as he feigned a smile. There couldn’t be another Lycan here, but it certainly smelled like it. A wild scent hung in the air. Very strange. Perhaps the lack of sleep was wreaking havoc on his senses.
At that moment, the large wooden door opened and the Hawthorne’s ancient butler waved them inside. “Everyone is awaiting you in the yellow parlor, Your Grace.”
Will trailed after Lily and Elspeth and concentrated on the strange scent. The odor only got stronger as they navigated the corridors. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. He was either losing his mind, or another Lycan was most definitely ensconced inside Langley Downs. But why and, more importantly, who?
Lily entered the yellow parlor, and Elspeth followed her inside. The scent was nearly overpowering. Will stood at the threshold, and from his spot, he scanned the room, overlooking each Hawthorne brother until his eyes landed on Prisca in the corner, seated across from a golden-haired stranger.
Her tinkling laugh held the man’s undivided attention as she scooped a pile of buttons from the center of the card table in front of her. “It is a good thing we’re not playing for real money, Miss Hawthorne,” the stranger said. Then he shifted his gaze from Prisca to focus on Will, lifting his nose slightly as his eyes narrowed.
Who was this man, this other Lycan? Will felt the beast inside him roil and scramble for control when the libertine reached across the table to brush his fingers across Prisca’s. Will clutched the doorjamb to steady himself.
“Will!” Emory Hawthorne rose from the settee, a welcoming smile on his face. “So good of you to come. It has been forever.”
“Indeed!” Pierce Hawthorne pushed himself from the window seat where he was perched. “Haven’t seen you since this past summer.”
“Too bad for the lot of you,” Lieutenant Darius Hawthorne chimed in, claiming Blaine’s bishop with his queen in the process. “I saw Will just last week.”
Will glanced from one Hawthorne brother’s face to the next. They all sported the same mischievous twinkle in their eyes. He felt at once as though he was missing something important. “Well, here I am.”
Prisca left her seat and embraced Lily. “I’m so glad you’ve come.” She then squeezed Elspeth’s hand. “You too, my lady. It will give us the chance to become better acquainted. It’s no secret Benjamin is my favorite Westfield. How fortunate you are to have captured him.”
“It was the other way around,” Elspeth muttered quietly.
“And modest, too!” Prisca gushed, linking arms with both women. “Do let’s retire to some place more private.”
Her violet eyes briefly landed on Will, and he held his breath. In that instant, they may as well have been alone. But it lasted only for a moment.
“William,” she said in her haughtiest voice, “you are blocking the doorway.”
“Of course.” He stepped aside, allowing her and the others to pass by him and into the corridor.
He watched them disappear around the corner but felt several pairs of eyes on him. Will turned back to find every Hawthorne brother watching him intently, and Pierce actually bit back a smile. What was that about?
Emory gestured to the golden-haired Lycan. “Will, allow me to introduce a friend of Blaine’s, Dashiel Thorpe, the Earl of Brimsworth.”
The earl smirked as though he knew a dark secret. “Lord William Westfield. Your reputation most certainly precedes you.”
Will held out a hand to the newcomer, confirming his suspicion that the man was a Lycan when he felt the warmth of Brimsworth’s skin through their gloves. Lycans were warmer than the average man, not that most average men realized it.
“Wonderful to meet you, Brimsworth,” Will finally replied.
“You’re not even going to comment on the slight to your reputation?” Blaine asked, his mouth hanging open in mock dismay. “Since the ladies are gone, I’d expected some witty rejoinder.”
“A reputation such as his speaks for itself,” Pierce clarified, causing a chuckle to bounce around the room.
A bored sigh escaped Will’s lips. “I’ve no idea what you’re referring to. I’m the epitome of an English gentleman.” Then he let a smile he didn’t feel break across his face. “An English gentleman with a sordid reputation, it appears.”
Garrick’s eyebrows drew together. “What have you been up to lately, Will?” he asked. The man looked none too happy, though that wasn’t uncommon.
“A little of this, a little of that.”
“A bit vague.” Garrick’s brow furrowed. Why did the vicar sound so suspicious? It was almost as though he was interviewing Will for some household position.
Will laughed at the absurdity of it. “Nothing much to tell, Garrick. I spent some time in Scotland this autumn. Ben’s lovely wife is from Edinburgh. Beautiful area.”
“Hmm,” Garrick nodded. “Both your brothers seem to have accepted the marital noose around the neck without much complaint, haven’t they?”
The unending noises of ecstasy from the night before echoed in Will’s mind. “I haven’t heard many protests.” But he’d heard everything else. He refocused on the earl. If anyone should be answering questions, it was the stranger in their midst.
“What brings you to Hampshire, Brimsworth?” Will sank into a high-backe
d chair. He tried to sound as though the earl’s response didn’t matter. But it did. It mattered a great deal.
“I’m simply visiting for the holiday. The Hawthornes have been kind enough to allow me to stay for a bit.”
Stay for a bit? In the house with Prisca? The Hawthorne men were mad. But, of course, they had no idea a beast lurked beneath their own roof.
“Where do you hail from?” Will accepted a glass from Emory and stared down into the amber liquid, though his ears perked up for any sign of discomfort from the earl.
“Kent, though I’ve not been home in quite some time.” His shoulders visibly stiffened. Had Will found a source of contention for the earl?
“Where about in Kent?” Will pressed.
“Eynsford Park, if you must know. Shall I note the direction or provide you the names of my professors at Cambridge who can vouch for my character?”
Eynsford? As in the powerful Marquess of Eynsford? Most definitely a source of contention. “A bit peevish, Brimsworth?” Will calmly crossed an ankle over his knee, though his hackles rose at the mere tone of the man’s voice.
“Being heir to a marquessate could potentially make one prone to eccentricities, I imagine,” Garrick, suddenly the peacemaker, said slowly, coming to stand between the two.
“Being obscenely wealthy might do that as well.” Emory laughed, raising a drink to his lips.
The Hawthorne brothers must think a great deal of the damned beast to extol his virtues in such a manner, Will thought, and it annoyed him to no end.
“Dash had great fun playing with Prisca this afternoon,” Darius announced. Pierce and Emory exchanged anxious glances.
Will fought to keep his face neutral. “Is that so?”
“Lovely girl,” Brimsworth said slowly, and Will saw something flicker in the man’s gaze.
Will leaned forward with his elbows upon his knees. “I must tell you… I thought it was bad having just Simon, Ben, and myself in the same household. I can’t imagine if two or three more were added to the mix. How do you all stand one another?”
“Oh, we each have our pursuits,” Emory began.
But Blaine cut him off. “It’s not so bad aside from Emory’s blustering and Dari’s cursing.”
“The cursing has to stop,” Garrick grumbled. “As should the late nights at The White Lion.”
Pierce turned toward Will as though sharing a confidence. “Our good vicar doesn’t approve of the wenches.”
“Nor the drink,” Blaine added as he punched Pierce in the arm conspiratorially.
“Having drunk with you before, Blaine, I can see just cause for his concern,” Will joked. “You fall so heavily into your cups that you eventually lose consciousness. Then we’re forced to go from bed to bed searching for you until we finally have to drag you from beneath whichever wench you’ve holed yourself up with just to bring you home.”
“He nearly put my back out the last time we had to carry him into the house,” Emory finished.
Blaine flopped into a chair with a harrumph. “Just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I have to take this abuse,” he grumbled.
“Better they discuss your lack of virtue than mine,” Will replied as he raised his glass to his lips.
The rapid tip-tap of light footsteps in the corridor caught his attention. Prisca. He could hear that sound and smell her sweet lilac scent. He’d know her even at one thousand paces. Her brothers were oblivious to her approach. But the earl was not. Definitely not. He stood up, tugged at the lapels of his jacket, and said, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
Emory nodded absently at him, and Brimsworth slipped out the door.
The hair on the back of Will’s neck rose as he turned his head to hear the sounds from the corridor more clearly. The earl had obviously gone to seek out Prisca. And Will could just imagine why.
Four
PRISCA HURRIED DOWN THE HALLWAY TOWARD HER room so she could retrieve a swatch from one of the many bolts of fabric Pierce had brought her when he returned home. He’d gifted her with several bolts of the exotic cloth, but they were much too heavy and cumbersome for her to carry down the stairs.
As a successful merchant, Pierce often had an opportunity to visit new and exciting places Prisca would never see. Yet she could imagine each and every foreign locale, just from hearing his stories.
Prisca could already see in her mind how lovely Elspeth would look in the dark hues from the West Indies. And she was fairly certain she could turn the fabric into something the lovely redhead could wear to the Yule Ball, even in her state.
Prisca rounded the corner on the way back to the staircase, not paying any attention to her surroundings, fully immersed in thoughts of clothing design, and ran straight into an object in her path. Her breath rushed out in one huge gasp as strong arms wrapped around her.
Dark amber eyes peered down into hers, twinkling with mirth. And something else. Prisca wasn’t sure what.
“Lord Brimsworth! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” She reached out and laid a hand upon his chest, still trying to steady herself.
“My fault, entirely, Miss Hawthorne,” he laughed. “I was just on my way to my room to collect something.”
“Me, too,” Prisca said, holding up the swatch of cloth she’d just recovered from her dressing room. “And you were ambling along quite nicely until I nearly knocked you off your feet. My apologies.”
“No apologies necessary, my dear,” he said, his voice deepening a bit. His hands settled more comfortably around her waist, which was her first indication that he’d not released her yet. “I quite enjoyed catching you, to be truthful.”
“You can let me go, now.”
“If I do that, I’ll have to concoct another situation in which I can stumble into you.”
“You concocted that one?” Surely he’d not stepped into her path on purpose.
“That one was by chance, Miss Hawthorne. Or luck, as it was on my part.” He released her with what she assumed was a reluctant sigh.
“If you consider yourself to be fortunate when I bowl you over, I’ll have to make an effort to stab you with a fork. Or crimp the rug before you come through the front door.”
Lord Brimsworth threw his head back and laughed. “You are quite delightful.”
“Tell that to my brothers, who would wholeheartedly disagree,” Prisca scoffed.
“I doubt those brothers would be very happy to find you in a corridor with a strange man…” came a voice from behind them.
Prisca looked around the earl’s shoulder to see Will striding toward them. His eyebrows were pushed harshly together, and he looked as though he could easily strangle someone, quite possibly her. She gulped. “Will? What are you doing up here?”
“I was looking for your father, actually,” he said, avoiding her gaze. She could always tell when Will lied. He couldn’t look her in the eye, and he’d done his fair share of lying to her over the years.
“Of course, you were.” She nodded, narrowing her eyes at him. “Papa’s study is below stairs.” She knew how much he liked it when she talked to him as though he were an ignorant child. He thoroughly detested it. Which gave her great satisfaction. “Do you need a map, my lord?”
“I can find my way there, thank you,” he returned crisply. Then he held out an arm to her. “Shall I escort you back to Lily and Elspeth?”
The look he shot at Lord Brimsworth would have felled a lesser man. But the earl just squared his broad shoulders and stood there, a quirk of his eyebrow his only response. He didn’t even reply. He just regarded Will as though he were an incoherent aberration.
Prisca looked up at the earl. “Shall we accept Lord William’s guidance? Or journey out on our own?” The horrified expression on Will’s face was worth the amused look on Lord Brimsworth’s.
“If I had my druthers,” the earl began, smiling at her.
“You do not,” Will said sharply. Then he took Prisca’s hand in his and place
d it on his arm. With a tug that nearly dragged her down the hallway, he turned on his heel and walked toward the stairs.
Prisca glanced back over her shoulder. “Lord Brimsworth, weren’t you on the way to your room? To collect something?”
Brimsworth stopped and nodded. Did he suddenly look disappointed? “Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. Thank you for reminding me,” the earl replied.
“I must get back to my friends. I’ll see you later?”
“Most definitely. Perhaps another game of cards?” Brimsworth suggested.
Will nearly vibrated beside her, which was strange. Why should he care at all? She actually began to worry for the earl. He should stop talking this instant.
“Speaking of which,” Brimsworth continued, “if the weather turns, Miss Hawthorne, would you care to take a short walk with me later?”
Prisca was nearly taken aback. Both by the earl’s offer and by Will’s low growl in response. He reminded her of a teakettle that was ready to boil.
“I’d love to,” she said slowly, gauging Will’s reaction. She didn’t have to wait long.
“With a proper chaperone, of course,” Will clipped out.
“Of course,” Lord Brimsworth said, laughter coating his words. “Until later, then, my dear.” He gave Prisca a tiny bow before turning the corner to go to his own room.
“You shouldn’t be alone with him,” Will grated out as he tugged her down the hallway. The muscle of his arm was tight under her fingers. So tight he felt as though it could break at the slightest provocation.
“You lost all rights to dictate to me, William. Besides, I didn’t plan to be alone with him. We just bumped into one another.”
“A poorly contrived coincidence,” Will snarled.
“Are you insinuating that Lord Brimsworth’s bumping into me wasn’t accidental? How ridiculous.” Prisca laughed, though her mind was spinning.
Prisca gasped as Will dragged her into the nearest sitting room. He closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it, drawing her close to him as he did so.
She shook her head. Had he lost his mind? “What are you doing?”
“Talking to you.”
“Must you clutch me like a child would his governess’ skirts while you talk to me?”