A Certain Wolfish Charm (17 page)

   "Out, Lily!" Simon ordered before the boy could hurt her. She looked as though she was going to hesitate. "Now," he barked.

   Billings appeared in the doorway, as if he'd been summoned. "This way, Miss," Simon thought he heard him say. Though he honestly couldn't hear anything over the roaring in his own ears.

Lily refused to take one more step away from the morning room where Simon was behind closed doors with Oliver. She heard a crash and reached for the doorknob, only to have Billings brush her hand away. The old man was surprisingly fast. Sometimes he seemed to appear from nowhere. She assumed that was a trait of a good butler. Unless it kept her from her goals. Then it was a nuisance.

   "Miss Rutledge, His Grace will not be happy…" Billings' voice trailed off as he saw the look on her face.

   "I am not terribly concerned with anyone's happiness at the moment," Lily snapped. "I am simply concerned about my nephew's safety." Another bump sounded from the room.

   Billings cleared his throat, and Lily leveled her iciest glare at him. "You are excused, Billings."

   After the butler grudgingly departed from the corridor, Lily frowned at the door. If she went back in, her presence might make matters worse. She'd have to talk to Simon alone once he finished with her nephew. She paced a circle in front of the door until the noise slowed and then stopped. She could just imagine the disarray caused by the altercation. She remembered how easily Simon had flipped the furniture in his study when he was simply playing with her. And wondered what in the world was happening in the breakfast room.

   She heard words every now and then like
change
and
unnatural
. Then she heard part of a sentence in which Oliver said something about something not being fair to her.

   What
were
they talking about? Lily placed her ear next to the door, straining to hear better.

   "Tsk, tsk," Will's voice came from behind her. She nearly jumped out of her slippers at being caught eavesdropping. "Listening at doors, Lily?" he asked.

   She stepped away from the door, her cheeks on fire. "I'm worried about Oliver. For some reason, he thinks Simon is unnatural."

   Will draped his arm over Lily's shoulders, steering her toward the blue parlor. "Our brother, Benjamin, has the same complaint."

   She blinked up at him.

   Grinning, Will chucked her chin. "I'm teasing you. Of course, Oliver thinks Simon's unnatural. He's his guardian. I always thought my father was unnatural, too. It's the way of men, Lily dear. Think nothing of it."

   Reaching the parlor, Will directed her inside. "Oliver wasn't always this…" She searched for the right word. "…insolent, Will. It's very disconcerting."

   They sat together on the settee, and Will squeezed

her hands. "Every boy goes through an adjustment when he starts becoming a man, Lily."

   She scrunched up her face. Oliver's changes seemed so… different.

   "So, tell me," Will began charmingly. "Are congratulations in order?"

   Her betrothal. Lily bit her bottom lip. "You knew. That's why you left."

   He winked at her. "Seemed the thing to do. Are you happy?"

   Was she happy? Yes and no. "He doesn't want this, Will. I feel terrible this has been forced on him."

   "Perhaps it's all for the best. He's been known to be a bit stubborn in the past. He might not ever have made the decision on his own."

   "I wish he had," she said softly.

   Someone cleared his throat in the doorway, and Lily's eyes flashed to find Billings, looking stoic as usual, standing sentry. "Miss Hawthorne has arrived to see you, Miss Rutledge."

   Will tensed beside her, grumbling something unintelligible.

   "Oh, do show her in, Billings." As soon as the butler departed, she frowned at Will. "Be nice to her."

   "It's not me you need to worry about," Will replied.

   "Ah, Lily!" Prisca's cheerful voice came from the doorway, causing Will to stand and bow slightly.

   "Prisca."

   She barely spared him a glance, focusing her attention on Lily. "You left so suddenly last night. I wanted to make certain you were all right." She crossed the floor and sat in a chintz chair near them.

   "Should you really be visiting the home of a bachelor alone, Miss Hawthorne?" Will asked, irritation in his voice. "Highly dangerous."

   Lily's face flushed. Why would he say something like that in light of her predicament? "Will!"

   Prisca simply beamed at him. "Don't mind him, Lily. I don't intend to." Then she pierced Lily with her beautiful violet eyes. "Do tell me you're all right. I worried all night."

   Will snorted.

   Lily folded her arms across her chest. "As Prisca came to see me, perhaps you should go busy yourself somewhere else."

   He smiled tightly. "I'm certain my horse is ready anyway." Will stood up.

   "Going somewhere, William?" Prisca asked, examining her fingernails.

   "London."

   Her eyes darted back to him. "London? But you've hardly been here."

   "If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd miss me. As it is," he continued, "I wouldn't try Simon's temper, were I you, Prisca. Don't stay too long."

   She sat back in her chair with a huff. "Missing your light skirts already, are you?"

   "Happy husband hunting." Will strode purposefully from the room, never looking back.

   Lily stared after him, and then she turned to Prisca, who was brushing her knuckles across her cheek. "Are you all right?" Lily asked, rising from her seat.

   Prisca smiled, pretending she wasn't crying. "Perfect. Tell me you're doing well."

   Lily pursed her lips. "His Grace asked me to marry him."

   Prisca leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Lily. "Oh, that is wonderful. I'm certain you'll be happy."

   Lily wished she could be just as certain.

Simon had been tested more times than he could count on two hands and two feet. He'd been pulled naked from the bed of a married woman by the angry spouse. He'd been in more than one drunken brawl. He'd been pummeled by his brothers. And even by a friend or two. But he'd never had his patience tried like he did with Oliver.

   For Lily's sake, he tried not to kill the boy. That wasn't easy to do. Oliver had an amazing strength, which often came with the youth of their kind. Fortunately, he didn't know how to use it yet. Once he'd toppled a few chairs and uprighted the table, he simply stood before Simon, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

   Having two younger brothers, both with similar tempers, Simon had learned the hard way that it was easier to let them get the rage out of their systems rather than stifling it. As with a plugged-up teapot, the steam would find a way to escape one way or the other. As long as no one around Oliver could be hurt, Simon would let him blow off some steam.

   "If you ever put your hands on your Aunt Lily again," Simon seethed. "I will personally lock you in your room for so long that you will
wish
you were in Newgate."

   "You can't truly expect me to be happy about Aunt

Lily marrying someone like
you,
" Oliver shot back, sneering the last word.

   "You mean someone like
us
, don't you?"

   "Like us," the boy whispered as he turned toward the window. "I wouldn't want any woman to be shackled to someone like us."

   "I am pretty happy with the situation," Simon began. "And your aunt seems to be quite content with the idea." He tried not to smile, but he felt the corners of his mouth tilt, regardless.

   "That's because she doesn't know," Oliver reminded him. Simon bit back a wince.

   "She doesn't have to know."

   "You would marry her and not tell her?"

   "Yes, and you won't tell her, either. No one knows about us, except us. And it will stay that way. Unless I decide she's ready to hear it at some point in the future." Simon sighed.

   "And what will you do when the moon calls?"

   "I'll go away for a few days every month, Oliver. I'll probably take you with me." It would be safer that way, because Oliver might not be able to control himself.

   "And what happens when you have a child? Another one like me?"

   Simon hadn't given any thought to having children, but he had to admit his heart warmed at the idea of it. A piece of him, combined with Lily, growing inside her. And it would be even more fun creating a child. He coughed to hide the smile that nearly erupted.

   "You
have
to tell her," Oliver said, crossing his arms in a move so reminiscent of Lily's stubbornness that he had to chuckle.

   "I'll tell her when I simply cannot avoid it," Simon acquiesced.

   "You need to tell her before you bed her," Oliver said quietly, his face coloring slightly.

   "What do you know about bedding a woman?"

   Oliver's face colored even more. "Will told me about it. About how we must claim our mates. He gave me books about Lycanthropic lore. There's a lot of truth between the pages, he said." His eyes scrunched together, his comment more of a question for Simon, obviously.

   "If they're the same books our father gave him, and I suspect they are, there is a lot of truth between the pages. The majority of what you've read is true."

   "Is it true about the claiming of your spouse?" The boy was more tenacious than a dog with a bone.

   "I don't think you're old enough to be told about…" Simon began.

   "I am old enough to change but not old enough to know about the things I truly need to know?" His gaze met Simon's own. "If Aunt Lily knew, she might not
choose
to marry a Lycan."

   "I know." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He had a definite headache coming on.

   "You will deceive her. And that's not right," the boy sniffed.

   "It's not really deception, Oliver. Just a little omission."

   "And the claiming?"

   "I'll never be able to claim Lily. Not when the moon is full. Not in the way you're describing." It was quite disconcerting to talk about such matters with an adolescent. But he imagined there would be many more such talks to come.

   "You'll not hurt her?" Oliver asked, suddenly looking like a child.

   "Never on purpose. I promise."

   A knock broke their silence. "A moment," Simon called. "Are we all right, now?" he asked Oliver.

   A nod was his only answer.

   Simon turned to the door, "Enter," he called.

   Billings stepped into the room. "Your Grace, you have visitors in the yellow parlor."

   This was certainly not the time to deal with anyone. Simon rubbed his brow. "Who is it, Billings?"

   "The vicar Mr. Bostic and his wife, Your Grace."

   Perfect, Simon thought mordantly and hung his head in defeat. "What else could possibly go wrong?" he moaned quietly.

   "Well, Your Grace. They did bring their son with them. The fellow was seen practicing in the front yard."

   Simon's head snapped up. "Practicing what?"

   "Dropping to one knee, Your Grace. Over and over."

   "God, will this day never end?" Simon grumbled as he strode through the door, heading toward his yellow parlor with his heels clicking across the floor in his haste.

Lily sat across from the vicar and his wife, while their sheepish son huddled in the corner, muttering to himself. Entertaining the trio was a chore, and Lily tried to keep her composure. However, it was getting more difficult by the moment. She listened to the woman prattle on about the weather and how bumpy the carriage ride was. She fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

   "How long do you think it will be before His Grace joins us?" the woman finally asked before pursing her lips.

   "I'm not at all certain. He is with the Earl of Maberley at the moment. Would you care for some tea while we wait?"

   "Thank you," the meek vicar replied.

   Lily smiled at the man and then started toward the sideboard, where Billings had left a fresh pot of tea.

   "Do tell me how you came to be here in His Grace's house, Miss Rutledge," the woman had the nerve to ask.

   "I arrived with the earl, Mrs. Bostic." She tried to keep the annoyed tone from her voice but feared that she failed miserably. "My nephew needed to spend some time with his guardian." She began to pour the tea, happy to have something to keep her hands busy.

   The woman consumed a plate of lemon cakes within minutes and then looked around as though she thought someone had stolen them from right under her nose.

   "And did you think it proper to stay with His Grace without a chaperone?" The woman looked at Lily as though she'd grown two heads.

   Lily didn't answer, but sat back against her chair and lifted a teacup to her mouth.

   The woman had the nerve to continue. "Is it true that His Grace has offered a healthy dowry to any man who marries you, despite your recent behavior?"

   Lily nearly choked on her tea. The vicar sighed nervously.

   "I beg your pardon?" Lily asked, as she put down her cup and stood up quickly. How dare the woman speak to her that way!

   "I imagine that means yes," Mrs. Bostic said, smiling broadly at her husband. Then she snapped her fingers at their son. "Timothy."

   The vicar's son gulped and stepped forward, cringing as he looked at his mother. He was a mousy little fellow, his skin so pale it was nearly translucent. His eyes were rimmed in red, as though he'd been sneezing. Or crying. She would have cried, too, if Mrs. Bostic were her mother.