by Lydia Dare
Will raked a hand through his hair. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Indeed?" Simon's brow rose. "Because your behavior is a complete mystery to me. Tell me, little brother, if someone other than me had opened that cupboard, what do you think would have happened?"
But it wasn't someone else. It was Simon, and Will had heard his approach. "There was nothing to worry about."
Simon growled. "Are you trying to compromise her?"
"No!" The air rushed from Will's lungs. Honestly, he hadn't given it any thought. Still… "But it did work for both you and Ben." It could be the quickest way to get her in front of the altar and away from Brimsworth.
"The situations aren't even remotely similar." The dark look his older brother shot Will nearly shook the idea from his head. But he stood his ground. "There are other ways to go about this, William. Honorable ways. Do you want Emory and the others to think less of their sister? Do you want to lose the best friends you've ever had? Because that is what awaits you if you travel down the path you're on."
Will sighed. That was the last thing he wanted for both himself and Prisca. "Well, what am I supposed to do, Simon? You saw the way Brimsworth snatched her from me in the parlor. You saw the way he kept her at his side all night. The damned man is a guest here—in this house—with her. How am I supposed to compete with that?"
"You can start by behaving honorably," Simon advised. "I know it's a stretch for you, but…" He glanced down the corridor. "Emory," he whispered.
Will nodded. He'd know his old friend's approach anywhere.
"Ah, Will," Emory said as he rounded the corner. "Garrick was worried when you deserted him in the middle of the game."
Will feigned a smile and started down the corridor toward his friend. "Don't know why. I told him I was going outdoors to get a breath of fresh air for a bit."
Emory glanced around Will as though he was searching for something. "Have you seen Prissy? She seems to have become lost in our own home somehow."
Simon cleared his throat. "Actually, I spotted her on the way to her room a while ago, Emory. Said she had a headache. I should have informed you, but when I stumbled upon Will, I became distracted."
Emory frowned and seemed a bit disappointed, though Will couldn't reason out why. "Headache, huh?"
Simon nodded. "She did look exhausted. Perhaps having so many guests has been a bit draining for her."
"It has been a while since we've had so many visitors at Langley Downs." Emory's voice softened. "I hadn't realized it might be too much for her."
***
Prisca flopped on her bed and covered her head with a pillow. Heavens, she was a fool. First kissing Dashiel and then Will. She winced. She'd behaved like a wanton, like all the women who threw themselves at him. She would never be able to look him in the eyes again after tonight.
A knock sounded at her door, and Prisca groaned. There wasn't anyone she wanted to see at the moment. "Go away."
Of course, the door opened. No one she was related to would do as she asked. But that didn't mean she had to talk to the interloper.
"Prissy," Emory's voice came from the doorway.
Perfect. Why couldn't it be one of the others? She could at least intimidate the others.
"Prissy," he said again, more urgent.
She sat up and tossed her pillow at her oldest brother's head. "Stop it, Emory. You know I hate it when you call me that."
He smiled and dropped onto the bed beside her, handing her back the pillow. "Glad to see you're still feeling yourself. Blackmoor had me worried about you."
Perfect! What had that puffed-up, arrogant duke said? "It's just a headache, Emory. One you're making worse."
He tucked a curl behind her ear. "Is that all it is? A headache?"
She nodded, as it wasn't wise to say anything else.
"Lily wanted me to thank you for a delightful evening. And she asked for you to visit the dowager tomorrow."
Then she'd have to see Will again, and Prisca wasn't at all ready to do that. "I've already promised Sarah Giddings that I'd help her pick out a gown for the Yule Ball, tomorrow." Thank heavens the girl
had
asked for her help this evening. She wouldn't want to lie to Lily.
Emory kissed her brow. "Just get some sleep then." He winked at her. "You'll need all the help you can get if you've got to spend time in that madhouse tomorrow."
She smacked his chest. "You were awful tonight, by the way. Lizzie had her heart set on you, and you acted like a perfect beast."
A smile twitched on his lips. "That's doing it up a bit brown, sweeting. And I don't think she had her heart really set on me. She seemed to shift her affections fairly easily to Garrick, after all."
"Only because he was so much nicer to her than you were. You actually snarled at the poor girl during dinner."
Her brother laughed. "I must confess that was Darius' suggestion. A rather good one. I'll have to thank him properly."
Prisca scowled at him. "Why was I punished with the five of you?"
Emory's dark eyes twinkled. "I'd say it's the other way around, Prissy." Then he flicked her nose. "See you in the morning."
Ten
Will scooped up a handful of pebbles from a side path leading up to Langley Downs. Then he gazed up at the Palladian home as he approached it. Prisca's room was the fourth window from the far corner on the second floor. At least it used to be. God save him if he woke one of her brothers instead.
Quiet as a stalking wolf, he made his way around the house until he found the window in question. Fortunately, a soft glow from a lamp illuminated the room, which made him hopeful she was still awake. They had a lot to discuss, especially after what had transpired between them, and he didn't want the night to pass before they did so.
Taking aim, he threw the first pebble. It bounced off her glass making a satisfying "ping." He held his breath, hoping to catch a hint of movement, but there was nothing. After a moment, he took aim again and once more hit his target perfectly.
Still nothing.
He heaved a sigh. So her hearing wasn't as sensitive as his. Will looked down at the pebbles left in his hand. Perhaps if he threw them all, he'd get her attention. Of course, he could also break the glass, which would be rather difficult to explain. Still, nothing ventured, nothing—
"It won't matter," came a deep voice from the shadows.
Brimsworth!
"She can sleep through anything."
And just how would the damned earl know that? Will clasped his pebbles tighter and imagined forcing them down the earl's throat.
His nemesis strolled from around a hedgerow, quiet as a deadly predator and with a smug look upon his face. "Should I inform the Hawthorne men that you've come to abscond with their precious sister? I doubt they'd appreciate that."
Abscond? Will growled, wishing the idea had occurred to him before now. "And I'm equally certain they wouldn't appreciate the liberties you tried to take with that very girl this evening under their own roof."
Brimsworth laughed. "You mean like the ones you stole in that cupboard?" Then he held up his arms as though he was calling a truce. "You should be a good pup and head back home, Westfield. You don't belong here. We both know you don't deserve Prisca. Haven't you done enough damage to the girl's heart already?"
Though it was bitter cold, Will grew hot beneath his greatcoat. What the devil did Brimsworth know about it anyway? "I beg your pardon?"
The earl's amber eyes narrowed to little shards. "I've been at Langley Downs long enough to learn how you crushed her tender heart all those years ago. What a vicious pup you've been. You're fortunate she even lowers herself enough to speak to you."
The words stabbed at Will's heart. It was one thing to know the truth himself, quite another to hear it from the unwelcome Lycan's lips.
"The Hawthorne brothers have a long memory," the earl continued, examining the fingernails of one hand. "So, have you come back to finish her off, then?"
&
nbsp; Will dropped the pebbles in his hand and lunged for Brimsworth, ready to crush the man with his bare hands. However, the earl was quicker and easily slid from Will's reach. The lack of purchase when he reached for his prey caused Will to tumble to the cold ground. He rolled to his side.
"Watch yourself, Westfield," the earl crowed from above him. "Uncontrolled emotions cause one to make mistakes. Now run on home before you wake the entire household." Then the man dusted his hands on his trousers.
"Watch
yourself,
Brimsworth. Prisca Hawthorne is mine," he growled. Whether she knew it or not.
The earl grinned, his white teeth gleaming under the moonlight. "I beg to differ. As we speak, Sir Herbert is considering my offer for her hand. I can't imagine he'll refuse it."
Brimsworth was in for a surprise if he thought Prissy would accept his proposal, no matter what her father wanted. Will tossed back his head and laughed.
"Something amusing?"
Will leapt back to his feet, glaring at the other Lycan. "Do you know how many offers Prisca has refused over the years?"
Brimsworth stared blankly back at him as though he had suddenly sprouted pointy ears and a tail.
Will folded his arms across his chest. "More than you can possibly imagine. She won't settle for just anyone."
"I'm not just anyone," the earl growled, as he began to circle Will. "I'm the one who'll catch her."
Not on his life. Will shook his head. "Not if I catch her first."
Brimsworth stopped in his tracks. "May the best man win, then?"
"It won't even be a competition."
The earl's brow rose with haughty indignation. "I do suppose you're right about that."
***
Prisca bolted upright in bed, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. She rubbed her eyes, surprised to realize her candle was still lit. Heaven help her if Papa learned of it. He wasn't stingy with most things, but beeswax candles could set him off like nothing else.
She glanced down and realized she was still in her gown from that evening. What was the matter with her? She should have rung for Molly hours ago. It was too late to do so now. Poor girl.
Prisca heaved a sigh and crawled from bed. She shimmied out of her light blue silk, stumbled over to her wardrobe, and pulled her favorite nightrail from the drawer. She quickly threw it over her head and started for her bedside table to blow out the candle when a strange sound from outside caught her ear.
Heavens! What was that? She raced to the window but couldn't see a thing in the darkness. She retreated to her bedside table, blew out the candle, and returned to the window. There in the moonlight, she could make out a man stalking across the lawn toward the old path that led to Westfield Hall. But he wasn't just some man. Her heart leapt when she recognized Will. What was he doing there? Hadn't he left hours ago?
Why would he be there now? In the dead of night? And why was he leaving? Her heart urged her to call out to him, to ask him to stay. Shocking herself with this line of thought, she padded back to her bed and fell on top of the counterpane.
Will had kissed her. Two days in a row. Each time leaving her more breathless than the last. She was in just as much danger of falling for him now as she had been at fifteen. Was she willing to risk her heart again? If he broke it a second time, she knew it would never heal properly. She would never be whole again.
Which meant one thing. She had to pack her girlhood fantasies of Will away and never shake them back out.
***
Will avoided the flirty gaze of a chambermaid as he strolled toward his mother's room. Why did it seem as though every maid he came in contact with had that come-hither look? The dowager's cough had woken him more than once during the night, not that his sleep was particularly restful. But in truth, he was starting to have serious concerns about his mother's health. She hadn't been out of bed since he'd arrived from London. And, for her age, Alice Westfield was a healthy and active woman.
He slowed as he approached her chamber door, which stood half-open. A low chuckle made him tilt his head and perk his ears up so he could hear better.
"Your son is outside the door, listening to us," a male voice rumbled. Will could nearly hear the laughter in the man's tone. But he heard something else that disconcerted him even more than that. He heard the low rumble of affection, admiration, and perhaps even desire.
Even though he knew his presence had already been detected, Will still waited outside the door, unable to make his feet move any farther.
"Simon and Benjamin both have better things to do, so I assume you're referring to William."
"I'm not certain I like the idea of my daughter being
something
for your son to do."
His mother laughed. Not the laugh of a mother. Or a duchess. But the laugh of a woman besotted. When had that come about?
The major had been one of his father's dearest friends, but he'd never known the fellow to be so close with his mother. Perhaps, since Ben and Elspeth were about to make them grandparents, they shared a common bond now.
Will finally leaned around the edge of the door. The scene in the room was so cozy it nearly made him uncomfortable. The major sat in a chair at his mother's bedside with his elbows resting on his knees, his arms extended so that he clutched her hand between his own and looked lovingly upon her.
He wished his mother every happiness. She had been alone a good many years, but… Well, the idea of anyone, even a man he greatly respected, paying court to Alice Westfield made him fairly uncomfortable.
"Good morning, William," the major said, without taking his eyes off the dowager duchess.
"Uh, good morning," Will said as he stood there in the doorway, looking like he was completely daft, he was sure.
"Did you need something, Will?" his mother asked. She dragged her eyes away from the major as though it was a chore to do so.
"I just wanted to check on you. I can come back later."
"That would be wonderful, dear," she replied absently, her eyes closing slightly.
"I'm afraid I've worn her out this morning," the major said, his brow knit with concern. "Alice, I'll take my leave as well." He looked at her with a question ing glance.
"Stay," she murmured as her eyes drifted completely shut. The major settled back into the chair at her bedside and shot him an apologetic glance.
Will wasn't quite sure what to think about this latest development. Was either of his brothers aware of the situation? He couldn't imagine that Simon would approve. Of course, Ben couldn't complain as the major was his father-in-law. His mind awhirl, Will stalked from his mother's room toward the staircase, anxious to find his brothers… until the sweet scent of lilacs that was uniquely Prissy stopped him at the top of the stairs.
What was she doing here? And so early? He hadn't even breakfasted yet.
Will took the steps two at a time, noticing Billings at the bottom of the staircase. "Miss Hawthorne's here?" he asked.
The butler nodded. "She just arrived, my lord."
Will couldn't help but smile. She'd come to see him. She must feel the same insatiable need to see him as he felt for her. Morning, noon, and night. When exactly had that happened? "She's in the green parlor?" he asked, though he could tell that by her scent.
Billings frowned a bit. "Miss Hawthorne has come to see
Her Grace
, Lord William." The old butler's censure hung in the air. Single young ladies couldn't call on a bachelor, but that wasn't really the case with them. They'd always been more than that.
"After I speak with her, you may inform the duchess of her guest."
"But, my lord—"
Will halted the man's objections with a wave of his hand. "Thank you, Billings. That will be all." He turned and hurried into the parlor before the butler could regain his voice or train of thought.
Prisca's back was to him, her dainty hands clutched together, as she studied an old portrait of his mother that
hung above the mantel. He cleared his throat and she spun around, an enchanting blush stained her cheeks. Will inhaled sharply at the sight of her. Prissy's beauty never failed to take his breath away.
"You're not Lily," she accused.
Simply seeing her soothed him in so many ways. "Not since the last time I checked." He shut the parlor door to keep eavesdroppers at bay, although his brothers and Major Forster could listen in if they were of a mind to do so. If they wanted to keep their tails, they'd resist the urge.
Prisca folded her arms across her chest, which only made her décolletage even more appealing. "What do you want, Will?"