The Wolf Next Door

by Lydia Dare

  Lily rolled her eyes. “For a lothario of your reputation, you know very little about women’s hearts. Or at least Prisca’s heart.”

  Before he could respond, the carriage lurched to a stop and Lily fell to the floor at Will’s feet with a thump. Stunned, Will offered his hand to assist her, but her scowl made him pull it back. “Lily?”

  “I will have that man’s head,” she seethed. “Jenkins!” the duchess called. Then she threw open the door and stepped from the conveyance.

  Will followed closely behind her.

  She glared up at the coachman, with hands on both her hips. “Jenkins, what has gotten into you?”

  The coachman scratched his balding pate. “I am sorry, Your Grace,” he stumbled. “I didn’t expect to see Mr. Hawthorne. He frightened me, is all.”

  Pierce Hawthorne stepped from the brush into view. “Apologies, Your Grace.”

  Will looked past his old friend to see that they were within feet of the crofter’s cottage.

  “What, Mr. Hawthorne, has gotten into you?” Lily demanded.

  Shivering slightly in the cold, Pierce gestured to the cottage with a hopeful look in his eye. “I am so glad to see you,” he told the duchess. “I don’t think she’ll take aim at you.”

  “Take aim?” Lily echoed.

  Will stalked past his friend toward the door. “For God’s sake, Pierce. She doesn’t have any ammunition in there.”

  “She doesn’t?” the merchant exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so before? I’d have dragged her back to Langley Downs long before now.”

  Which is exactly why he hadn’t divulged that bit of information to her brothers. God forbid her memory return when he wasn’t around. “I didn’t realize until after I reached The Hall.”

  He reached the handle, but Prisca called out, “If you open that door, I won’t hesitate to put a ball in your chest.”

  No wonder Pierce was so frightened. Though the situation was far from humorous, Will couldn’t help but smile. She was a spitfire, soon to be his spitfire. And if her passion from the previous evening was any indication of how they would get on, he was an incredibly fortunate man. “Priss, it’s me.”

  “Don’t you think I know your voice after nineteen years, William? You’re the one I most want to shoot.”

  It was a lucky thing Simon’s musket wasn’t loaded, then. “Come on, Priss. We’re in this together.”

  She laughed without a hint of merriment. “You should have taken me home when you found me last night.”

  And lose her completely? Not a chance. “Prisca. I am coming in.”

  He threw open the door, but before he could even focus on her, a shot rang out. Good God! She’d actually shot him, if the pain radiating from his shoulder was any indication.

  Sixteen

  Prisca screamed. What had she done? Will fell backward against the doorjamb, clutching it with his fingers. Then he slowly descended to the cottage floor.

  Prisca leapt from the wrought-iron bed and managed to hobble over to him. “Will! Oh, Will, are you all right?”

  She hadn’t meant to actually shoot him. She’d only meant to scare him.

  “Dear God!” Pierce muttered from the doorway, staring at the scene. “I never should have taught her to shoot.”

  She reached Will, ignoring the pain in her ankle and dropped to the floor beside him.

  His light-blue eyes had a glassy look to them. “You shot me?” He sounded more surprised than angry.

  “I told you not to come in,” she said, not meaning it to sound as heartless as it probably did. But all the same, she had warned him. How was she to know he would ignore her threat and come barreling inside? She’d been so startled that she’d pulled the trigger.

  Will shook his head as though to clear his mind. “I didn’t think it was loaded.”

  She hadn’t either, if she was to be honest. “Are you hurt?” She peered closer at his shoulder. A sticky redness seemed to coat the outside of his jacket. “Oh, Will! I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he grumbled.

  Lily stepped forward, horror emblazoned on her face. “Heavens, Prisca!”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she protested.

  Lily turned her attention to Pierce. “I have a basket and a set of clothes for Prisca in the carriage, Mr. Hawthorne. Retrieve them for me, will you?”

  Reluctantly, Pierce nodded and started toward the Blackmoor coach. Prisca’s heart pulsed. What if she’d killed Will? How would she ever live with herself?

  “Will, can you stand?” Lily asked.

  The two of them exchanged the strangest look. Finally, Will nodded.

  “Good,” the duchess exclaimed. “Go sit on the bed. I want to take a look at your shoulder.”

  Will shook his head. “I’ll be fine, Lily.”

  Her hazel eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you will. But Prisca and Mr. Hawthorne are certain to be frightened. If only to appease them, go sit on the bed.”

  With more energy than he should possess, Will rose to his feet and crossed the room as though nothing was wrong. How strange. Whenever Prisca’s brothers were ill or injured, one would think the world was coming to an end. They behaved like infants over the smallest things. Prisca had assumed all men were the same in that regard. But Will’s face didn’t seem to reflect even the slightest discomfort. Not like it had when she’d first shot him.

  He sank onto the bed and Lily followed him, blocking Prisca’s view of her inspection. After a minute, the duchess sighed with relief. “Thank heavens, you’ve only been nicked. Don’t even know where all that blood came from.”

  “I told you I was fine,” Will complained.

  Lily stepped away from him just as Pierce returned with a picnic basket and small valise. “Is this what you need, Your Grace?”

  The duchess gifted him with a beatific smile. “Indeed, Mr. Hawthorne. Thank you so much. William has the smallest of scrapes. Nothing at all to worry about. The two of you can wait in the carriage while Prisca dresses. Then we can all proceed to Langley Downs together.”

  ———

  Will sat across from Pierce in the Blackmoor coach and kept reminding himself to act as though his shoulder hurt. As it had already healed and he was trying to overhear Lily and Prisca’s conversation from where they stood inside the cottage, which wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Damn his sister-in-law for whispering. She knew he couldn’t hear properly when she did so.

  The bits he could make out were less than reassuring. Prisca couldn’t remember much of the night before, and while that was a relief for him, the circumstances of this rather hasty betrothal had her on edge in more ways than one. The panic in her voice did not bode well for their future.

  “Terribly sorry about the shoulder,” Pierce finally offered, breaking his concentration.

  Will touched his already healed shoulder with his opposite hand. “Just a scratch. I’ll be good as new in no time.”

  “In time for the wedding,” Pierce added.

  Will nodded. “Simon is already on his way to London to acquire a special license.”

  “Awfully admirable of you, considering my sister tried to take your head off.”

  A laugh escaped Will’s lips. “I wouldn’t want her any other way.” Well, perhaps he’d want her not so obstinate, but other than that she was perfect.

  Pierce snorted. “You are a strange man, William Westfield. Assuming I ever marry, it won’t be to a girl who opened fire on me.”

  “Trying to talk me out of it?”

  Pierce laughed. “After you compromised her last night?” He shook his head. “Darius is a better shot than Prissy. If you didn’t marry her now, you wouldn’t live to tell the tale.”

  The carriage door opened, and Lily poked her head inside. “Prisca has agreed to travel to Langley Downs. Now make room.” She took the spot beside Will, leaving Prisca to slide in beside Pierce.

  The gown Prisca had borrowed from Lily nearly swallowed her whole and billowed about her ankles. Stil
l she held her head high, as regal as a princess. Her eyes bore into Will’s across the coach. “How is your shoulder?”

  “I hardly feel a thing,” he assured her.

  Prisca sighed with relief and then stared at her folded hands in her lap the rest of the way. Meek and mild was a new look on her, and Will didn’t like it one bit. He wanted to lean forward, to take her in his arms and soothe her worries and fears away.

  Before long, the coach rumbled to a smooth stop in front of Langley Downs. Without a moment’s hesitation, Will bounded from the carriage and held his hand out to Lily and then to Prisca, who winced as she stepped out of the coach.

  “Your ankle still hurts?”

  “It’s the very least of my concerns.” She heaved a defeated sigh.

  Will scooped her up in his arms and started for the door. “Don’t be frightened, Priss,” he said softly. “It’ll all turn out.”

  “I’m not frightened. I’m angry. I’m angry at my blasted ankle. I’m angry at you. I’m angry at myself for falling under your spell. I’m angry at my fool brothers for putting this whole thing in motion in the first place. But mostly I’m angry for not having a choice about my own future.”

  She said it all with quiet resignation. He’d rather she’d rant and rave. Or shout and throw things. This was far worse and made him feel like the worst sort of man for lying to her. But she’d be safer in the end. And that was what mattered.

  The Hawthornes’ butler opened the door wide, and the four of them filed inside. “Sir Herbert awaits you in his study, Lord William.” Prisca wiggled in his arms until he set her down gently.

  “You should wait in the parlor, Priss,” Will said, directing her toward the closest receiving room.

  She scoffed as she limped beside him. “Not on your life. Whatever my father has to say, I have as much right to hear as you do.”

  He was about to argue the fact, but he noticed Lily shake her head, warning him against such action. “Very well.” Besides, he could let Sir Herbert send her off. Then he wouldn’t be the villain in her eyes. At least not in that regard.

  Will led Prisca down the corridor and around two separate corners until they reached her father’s study.

  Leaning against the door, his arms folded across his chest like a wolf in wait of his prey, Brimsworth’s eyes trailed down her form. “Miss Hawthorne, I was so worried about you.”

  Prisca smiled tightly. “No need, my lord. As you can see, I am whole and hale. Mostly.”

  “I would like a word,” the earl said, stepping forward. “I want you to know I don’t hold you responsible for this situation in the least.”

  “It’s really none of your concern.” Her brow rose haughtily, though she stiffened at Will’s side.

  “Westfield!” Sir Herbert bellowed from within the study. “Is that you?”

  Will tugged Prisca closer to him. Though he didn’t want her to witness his conversation with her father, he wanted her in Brimsworth’s presence even less. He opened the baronet’s study door. “Yes, sir. We just arrived.”

  Sir Herbert’s grey hair stood on end as though he’d been raking his hands through it all morning. He rose from the spot behind his desk and glared at Will, his face the same purple as an overripe plum. “Get in here!”

  Will gulped.

  “Sir Herbert…” Brimsworth pushed his way into the study. “I do ask that you hear me out.”

  The baronet shook his head. “Lord Brimsworth, I appreciate that you’re willing to look past Prissy’s indiscretion. Emory tells me you still want to press your suit. However, under the circumstances, I cannot allow it.”

  “But, sir,” the earl pressed, “at least allow Prisca to consider me.”

  Will’s heart lurched. He couldn’t lose Prissy. Not now, not after everything. “She has already accepted my proposal.” He growled the same lie he’d been repeating all morning. He placed his hand over Prisca’s to keep her beside him.

  Brimsworth turned his furious amber gaze on Will. “You, Westfield, are not a gentleman. Prisca deserves better. I thought we had an agreement between us.”

  “Agreement?” Prisca asked, tugging her hand from Will’s grasp. “What sort of agreement?”

  The earl bowed his head before her. “A gentlemen’s agreement. However, that was before I realized the man didn’t qualify. Marry me, Prisca. I can give you more than he ever could.”

  Her violet eyes grew round in surprise. “A gentlemen’s agreement?”

  “I’ll make you a countess,” Brimsworth promised. “And a marchioness one day. And I’ll never take advantage of you, and—”

  Despite her swollen ankle and oversized dress, Prisca rose to her full height. “Am I to understand that the two of you had some sort of agreement about me?”

  Will shrugged. “Only that the best man would win.”

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “And then he proved himself to be the furthest thing from a gentleman,” Brimsworth added, seemingly proud of himself.

  “How dare you? How dare both of you!” she fumed.

  “Prissy!” her father barked. “Go to your room and wait for my summons.”

  She shook her head. “I have every right to be here.”

  Sir Herbert’s face turned more purple, which Will hadn’t realized was possible. “I have been overindulgent with you, but no more. This is not up for debate.”

  “What are you going to do, Papa?” she pressed, not budging from her spot.

  The baronet looked from Will to Brimsworth and back. “I suppose I will listen to these two young men and make a decision.”

  That wasn’t going at all the way Will had envisioned. He couldn’t allow Brimsworth to steal her from him after everything he’d done to secure the situation. He’d been shot, for God’s sake. “There’s nothing to discuss. Prisca could very well carry my child,” he blurted out. “I want her. She’s marrying me.”

  The gasp Prisca released frightened Will to his core, but he forced himself to appear unconcerned. Sir Herbert sighed dramatically and then nodded to the earl. “Lord William does have a point. I doubt Eynsford would approve. I’m afraid I cannot consider your very generous offer, Lord Brimsworth. Now please allow me to speak with my future son-in-law in private.” Then he turned his stare on his daughter. “And you will await my summons in your room.”

  She pursed her lips together. “In my room? You would banish me as though I’m a child? Careful, Papa, or I may never come out.”

  “If only you’d been there last night,” her father said quietly, disappointment evident in his tone. Will’s heart clenched when tears began to swim in her violet eyes. Before they could cascade down her cheeks, she stomped off. Will could hear the briefest intakes of air as she walked on her tender ankle, but she didn’t give any outward signs of her injury, proud as the loftiest of princesses.

  Brimsworth growled low in his throat, a threat if ever Will had heard one. Then the earl stalked from the study.

  “Sit!” Sir Herbert ordered.

  Will nodded, dropping into one of the high-backed chairs in front of the baronet’s desk. Sir Herbert resumed his seat, his brow furrowed in anger.

  Will swallowed as he faced the man. In all his years, he’d never seen the baronet so furious. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under such circumstances, sir.”

  “So am I.” Sir Herbert scowled. “I have known you all of your life, William. Your father was a dear friend of mine. Never in all my years would I have ever imagined that you’d ruin my daughter.”

  A fresh wave of guilt washed over Will. He tried to ignore it. “It was not my intent, sir. I have no excuse except that I lose all rational thought when I’m with Prissy. I do plan to make this right.”

  “By marrying her?”

  Will nodded. “Simon is already on his way to London to procure a special license.”

  Sir Herbert sat back in his chair and studied Will as though he were a display at the British Museum. “I don’t like the way you’
ve gone about this, William,” he said.

  Will simply nodded. He’d take his scolding like a man. If someone did the same to his daughter someday, he would probably draw and quarter the fool. “I’ll make her happy.”

  Sir Herbert chuckled. The man actually laughed. “Oh, we’ll see about that.” Then he leaned forward in his seat and scratched his jaw. “Tell me something, William.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you love my daughter?”

  The air rushed from Will’s lungs. He’d never admitted that to another living soul. Not even his brothers, though he knew they suspected the truth. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “But you haven’t told her?” The baronet’s dark eyes softened.

  Will shook his head. “Have you by chance noticed how much she despises me?”

  A smile tugged at Sir Herbert’s lips, which Will did not find amusing at all. “I do believe you’ll suit each other.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, not knowing if the man meant it as a compliment or not.

  Sir Herbert studied him a minute and then said, “My property is unentailed. So in addition to Prissy’s dowry, I’m including the northwest patch of land that borders Westfield Hall.”

  Reducing his friend’s inheritance had never been part of Will’s plan. It wouldn’t be right. “But Emory—”

  “Is not your concern, William. You don’t have land of your own. Prisca is my only daughter, and I want her close by. You will allow me that.”

  Finally, Will nodded. “Of course, sir. If you’re certain. Would it be all right if I spoke with Prisca? Just for a moment?”

  Sir Herbert grunted. “I suppose you’ve done all the damage you can do already.”

  ———

  Will scratched lightly at Prisca’s door.

  “Go away,” she called back.

  “You don’t even know who it is,” he said softly, fully aware that she stood close to the door.

  “I do now,” she sang. “So, go away.”

  “Do you hate me?” he asked of her.

  The door flew open with such force that Will nearly fell inside. “You will be very fortunate if you don’t find a knife in your back before the end of the honeymoon, my lord.” She smiled sweetly. But the evidence was right before him in her red-rimmed eyes. She’d been crying. And he hated the very thought of her being so miserable because of him.