A Certain Wolfish Charm by Lydia Dare Page B

eggs, relishing the glower Will sent his direction.
       "Ha! I'd wake up with a knife in my back."
       Simon nearly choked. "I do believe, William, that if our dear Prisca put a knife in your back, you wouldn't wake up, but it might well be worth it."
       "Go to hell."
       He'd already been, when he thought Lily was gone for good. He was going to have to rethink this whole sending-her-away plan of his.
       What if he set her up in a little house nearby? He could visit whenever he wanted, staying away when it was too dangerous for her. It was the perfect solution.
       She didn't want to leave Oliver, and she would be close enough to see the lad as often as she liked… mostly.
       He couldn't wait for her to return from the Hawthornes' so he could tell her.
    ***

    Lily gaped at the emerald green dress Prisca held up for her perusal. The beautiful silk shimmered in the afternoon light and made her catch her breath. She'd never worn anything so exquisite, and she couldn't believe Prisca had accomplished so much in so little time. She hadn't even taken any measurements before she left yesterday. "How did you manage this?"
       Prisca beamed. "I told you. I love to sew, and I have a good eye, even if I do say so myself. Do try it on."
       Before Lily could respond, Prisca's lady's maid began to unbutton the back of her serviceable, blue-sprigged muslin, which paled considerably in comparison to the work of art her new friend had created.
       In no time, Lily stood before a floor-length mirror admiring herself. The green silk flowed gently down her length, while, at the same time, it forced her bosom higher. Prisca was on her knees with a pincushion, hemming the bottom of the gown.
       "Hum. I thought a white ribbon would finish this nicely, but now I'm thinking gold would be better. With your coloring, it will go perfectly." Prisca stood up to examine her handiwork. "You look stunning. Almost like a duchess."
       Lily's face grew hot. Simon didn't even want her to stay at Westfield Hall. He certainly didn't want to marry her. "Oh, Prisca, His Grace isn't… I mean I'm only at Westfield Hall so the duke can become more acquainted with my nephew."
       Prisca retrieved a wide golden ribbon from her bedside table. When she returned, she wore an allknowing smile. "It might have begun that way, Lily, but I'm certain things have changed."
       Lily shook her head. "He wants to send me back to Essex as soon as possible."
       "But you're still here. He's had ample time do to so. Raise your arms." Prisca ran the gold ribbon under Lily's bosom. "Listen, the brothers Westfield and Hawthorne were inseparable. I've known Blackmoor my entire life. He's always seemed the most serious of the lot to me, but I've never seen him look the way he did yesterday."
       Lily frowned. "What do you mean?"
       Prisca returned to her table, retrieving a pair of sewing shears. "I thought he might tear Emory limb from limb."
       She hadn't noticed any difference in Simon. He was just as surly as he'd been since she met him. "Why?"
       Prisca giggled. "Because of his attention to you. Honestly, Lily, you had to notice. Blackmoor practically dragged you away from my brother. Had you not allowed him to shove you down the hallway, he would have picked you up and carried you."
       Lily fought back the blush she knew must be creeping up her neck as the memories of what he did to her after he had her alone flooded her mind. "He seems the same overbearing brute he always was to me."
       "He has kissed you." Prisca's violet eyes twinkled. "I can see it on your face."
       So much for fighting back the blush. For a moment, she considered denying it, but perhaps Prisca could help. She seemed much more sophisticated than Lily, and she did seem to know how to manage men. Lily nodded. "Then he offered me a dowry to go search out a husband."
       Prisca's smile faded. "He did not," she said, her voice dropped