A Certain Wolfish Charm (3 page)

   "She damn well should be," Simon muttered as he stood up and strode toward the corridor. "Ready my horse, Billings," he called.

Lily had plenty of time in the coach to ponder her current predicament. The cad didn't have time for his ward, and he didn't even have time to discuss the situation with her. She would have to figure this out on her own. All she knew was that something was wrong with Oliver, and she planned to find out what. There was a London physician Mr. Craven had mentioned. Lily had rejected his suggestion at the time. Oliver's changes didn't seem medical, but she didn't know what else to do.

   She'd love to get her hands around Blackmoor's neck. What had her brother-in-law been thinking to leave Oliver's care to that scoundrel? The blackguard couldn't even be bothered to visit the boy.

   After Emma and Daniel died in that tragic carriage accident, Lily was the one who had happily assumed responsibility for the child. She had spent the last six years soothing his worries, healing his injuries, and tucking him in bed when he woke with bad dreams. She wasn't going to let the changes in him continue without addressing them. Not like she had with Emma.

   When her sister married the former Earl of Maberley, Lily noticed changes in her as well. Once bubbly and personable, Emma became a bit of a recluse, preferring to stay in the country instead of enjoying the entertainments Town had to offer. She often became withdrawn and refused to see anyone, aside from her husband and child. Most disturbingly, Emma seemed… fearful, which wasn't like her at all.

   For years, Lily had berated herself for not doing more, for not demanding answers. If she had, would things have ended differently? Would Emma have left Daniel? Would she not have been with him that fateful day?

   Lily was determined not to make the same mistakes with Oliver. The situation wasn't the same at all, but she had learned her lesson from sitting back and doing nothing with Emma. She wouldn't ever do that again. She was going to get to the bottom of this by finding out what was wrong with Oliver and coming up with a plan to help him.

   She needed answers before he went off to Harrow. The clock was ticking.

Simon handed his riding crop to Billings and shrugged into his greatcoat. Lily Rutledge had an hour's lead on him, but, atop his hunter, he could intercept her. Though what he'd do with her when he found her was a mystery he hadn't quite worked out yet.

   He started for the door but reared back when it opened of its own accord. Standing before him, like a sudden gust of unexpected wind, his brother William raked his gaze across Simon's form. "You can't be leaving. I just got here."

   "Why
are
you here?" Simon asked suspiciously. Will had a habit of showing up at the most inopportune times.

   "You have quite the way of making a fellow feel welcome, Simon."

   "I am losing my patience, William."

   His brother smirked and then strode past him, tossing his hat to Billings, who caught it in mid-air. "You make it sound as if you had some to lose." Will continued toward the study, no doubt looking for Simon's best whisky. "Besides," he called over his shoulder, "if you ever bothered to read your correspondence, you'd know I intended to spend the week with you."

   Will stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air. Then he turned around, a rakish grin plastered across his face. "
You brought a female companion
? No wonder you're not happy to see me. What happened to, 'It's too dangerous to have women about during a full moon'?"

   "It
is
too dangerous," Simon growled. Not that he had a choice at the moment. What would he do when he caught up to Lily Rutledge? How could he keep her safe? It was perilous enough for her to be around
him
, but now with his brother here, too…

   As usual, his temper did nothing to faze Will, whose smile only grew. "So you say. Who is she then?"

   "Miss Rutledge, and she arrived uninvited."

   "Miss
Lily
Rutledge?" Will asked with an appreciative grunt. "How fortuitous."

   In the blink of an eye, Simon had Will's back against the wall, his feet dangling six inches off the floor. "You won't touch one hair on her head. Understood?"

   With the strength of ten regular men, Will pushed Simon off him, slid back to the floor, and loosened his cravat. "A simple, 'She's mine,' will do, Simon. There's no need to mark your territory."

   She's mine? Ha. After he'd watched Emma Maberley cower in fear when she learned what Daniel was? No woman would ever be his, not in that way. Lily Rutledge or anyone else. It was too dangerous.

   He was wasting time with Will. Simon started again for the door, then stopped in his tracks. "Benjamin isn't headed here, too, is he?" If there were going to be three of them, preparations would need to be made. He'd need to make a concerted effort to pay more attention to his post in the future or hire a bloody secretary who could keep track of everything for him.

   Will shook his head. "Still in Scotland. But I'll be sure to let him know Lily Rutledge is off limits when I see him next."

   "You do that," Simon growled. Lily Rutledge had enough problems of her own. She didn't need the brothers Westfield chasing her skirts. He stalked out the door and down to his stables.

   Abbadon was saddled and waiting for him, the sun glinting off his sleek, black mane. Simon mounted his hunter and raced for the edge of Westfield Hall, hoping the solution to his problems would occur to him before he intercepted Lily Rutledge.

Lily was starving. She'd barely touched her breakfast that morning, worried that she wouldn't be able to find Blackmoor or that his butler in London had sent her on a wild-goose chase all the way to Hampshire. Now she rather wished he had. She wasn't certain at all what to make of her encounter with the duke.

   She'd been terrified, excited, and furious all at the same time. It didn't even seem possible, yet it was; and the further she traveled from Westfield Hall, the more her encounter felt like a strange dream. She hadn't slept particularly well the night before, and she wondered if that was related.

   The carriage slowed, and Lily looked out the window. A small coaching inn was within sight. Thank heavens. It would do her good to stretch her legs and enjoy some dinner while she tried to get her thoughts in order.

   When the carriage stopped, the coachman, Jenkins, opened the door and helped her to the ground. "I need to rest the horses, Miss. I do wish you'd stay with the coach. I don't like the looks of this place."

   Lily glanced around the coaching yard. A couple of burly men, unshaven and unkempt, lounged about. However, as she had recent dealings with the Duke of Blackmoor, none of these men seemed particularly dangerous. Besides, she was hungry and had no intention of sitting in a stationary coach; sitting in a moving one was tiresome enough. Who knew when they would rest the horses again? As it was, this stop needed to be quick, because the skies were darkening and the threat of rain imminent.

   She shook her head. "No need to worry about me, Jenkins. I'll order some light fare and be back shortly so we can be under way."

   Lily started toward the inn, ignoring the coachman's grumblings about independent-minded women.

   Of course she was independent-minded. If she didn't take care of herself, who would? It wasn't as though she had a line of suitors clamoring for her attention in Essex. She was firmly on the shelf at almost twenty-four. Emma had once told her she was
willowy
, but that really meant she was skinny and too tall for most.

   Those traits could easily be ignored if a woman had ample funds to turn a suitor's head. Lily had none. Perhaps that's why she became so enraged when Blackmoor sent a bank draft instead of answers. He made her feel like a poor relation he was trying to appease, rather than an aunt with legitimate concerns for her nephew. Did he think he could buy her silence, since she had nothing? That money would titillate her so greatly she would drop her suit?

   But she didn't have
nothing
. She had Oliver.

   Perhaps she was going about this all wrong. Blackmoor was his guardian, but he wasn't Oliver's only cousin. Maybe Lord William or Lord Benjamin would be easier to deal with. They couldn't be any worse at correspondence than their older brother, in any event. So what did she have to lose?

   Lily stepped inside the inn and shuddered slightly when the door shut behind her. It was nearly dark as night in the taproom, and the place reeked of unwashed bodies and ale. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found that her stomach and her nose were in complete agreement, that anything prepared in this place would not be palatable.

   She turned to leave but found the exit blocked by a man. Her gaze flickered over him as she clutched her cloak tighter around her body. She raised the edge of her wool cloak to cover her nose, trying to block the smell that drifted off him in waves. She took two steps back.

   Lily jumped when her backward footsteps bumped her into a solid object, and she spun around. Another man, equally as horrid as the first, leered at her. She shivered and stepped to the side so she could keep them both in her line of sight.

   "Good afternoon, my good men," she began, amazed that only a small tremor was present in her voice. She glanced around the room, searching for the innkeeper, but she found no such source of assistance.

   "Did you hear that? She called us good men," one man taunted her.

   "Do you come this way often?" Lily thought to distract them with small talk while she backed away from them. But they followed. They stalked.

   The wind from outside blew the hair into her eyes when the door swung open. Lily, afraid to take her eyes off the predators, didn't even look to see who came inside.

   "Miss Rutledge," a familiar voice said quietly, the sound no more than a low growl. "How nice to see you here."

   The duke! Lily had never been so happy to see anyone in her twenty-three years.

   "Y-your Grace." Lily nodded at him, unable to keep the tremor from erupting.

   Blackmoor held one hand out to her. "Come," was all he said.

   "Here now," one of the men started. "We were just havin' a little fun," he protested as Lily stepped toward the duke.

   Blackmoor's warm, strong hand closed around Lily's own, and she finally let her gaze drop to the floor as she took a deep breath. She was safe!

   The duke tugged her gently toward him and brushed that wayward lock of hair from her eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked.

   "I'm fine," Lily whispered, wanting nothing more than to lay her head on his chest and weep with joy. But she maintained her composure.

   He opened the door and pushed her gently outside. "Go to the coach," he said quietly. "Get inside and stay there."

   Lily didn't even think about not obeying his order. She walked out the door and toward the coach, just as he said. Tears welled up in her eyes as she walked across the inn yard. She shivered as she thought of what might have happened had Blackmoor not arrived when he did. Her chest constricted, and it became harder to breathe. Between her quivering knees and the lack of breath, Lily didn't think she could take one more step.

   But then she felt warm, comforting, strong arms surround her. "There, now, dear," the man started. "You're just fine." Lily thought it was odd that Jenkins would draw her to his chest and allow her to cry a river all over his coat. Maybe he had daughters of his own. She sobbed and clutched his shirt as the sobs wracked her body. He held her. Stroked her back. Let her cry it out.

   But even that comforting moment was cut short when the duke barreled out of the inn. She looked up in time to see that his grey eyes were now black as night and he looked fiercer than any wild animal she had ever seen pictured in books. She moved to step behind Jenkins. But then she realized the coachman stood to her right, and that he was much smaller than the man who'd held her.

   The dark-haired gentleman reached out and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. He lingered only briefly, until Blackmoor roared, "If you want to keep that hand, I suggest that you remove it from Miss Rutledge's person."

Simon didn't know what infuriated him more—seeing Lily Rutledge as she was about to be eaten for lunch by two men inside the inn or seeing her wrapped up in the arms of his brother William. Simon thought he
might
allow Will to live if he would step away from the woman, but when Will's lips touched Lily's gloved hand, Simon nearly lost control.

   "Miss Rutledge and I were getting reacquainted," William gloated, as only a younger and irritating brother could. "What on earth did you do to cause such a storm of tears?" He turned toward Lily again. "He has a bit of a temper, dear," he said with a slow grin.

   Lily looked confused as she brushed her auburn hair from her eyes. Simon wished he could do that for her, to soothe her, but he couldn't with William between them. He growled low in his throat.

   "Try not to bare your teeth, dear brother," William said. "You'll frighten the lady."

   Simon stepped closer to Lily and took her elbow, propelling her toward the coach. "What were you thinking, going into a place like that?" he asked her. Then he turned toward Jenkins, who looked positively green. "And you," he said to the worthless driver, "why didn't you protect her? I
should
sack you on the spot."

   Jenkins sniffed. "I work for the Earl of Maberley."

   "Which is the same as working for me," Simon snarled. "I don't appreciate insolence in my staff. It would be best for you to remember that."