A Certain Wolfish Charm(66)

The woman looked at Simon as though he was her own personal savior.



"Lily, this is Mrs. Hamilton." The woman looked up and down Lily's frame and obviously found it lacking, as she scrunched up her nose in distaste.



Of course, Mrs. Hamilton was petite with large breasts and a pixy nose. She was every man's dream, everything Lily was not.



Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton. Lily wracked her memory trying to recall where she'd heard the woman's name. Then it hit her, and she nearly fell to the floor as she realized Mrs. Hamilton was the not-so-discreet widow Simon had been linked to in the Mayfair Society Paper. Her husband hadn't even been gone a month before she started catching the attention of every gossip in London with her scandalous affair with the even more scandalous Duke of Blackmoor.



Mrs. Hamilton had the nerve to touch Simon before she asked, "And who is this, Your Grace? Your sister?"



***





Teresa Hamilton knew perfectly well that he had no sister. The randy widow knew much more about him than that, including the fact that he had a mole on his inner right thigh and a scar on the inside of his left arm. But Simon could see his former paramour's desire to hurt Lily brewing behind her infinite charm. He'd never thought of Teresa as catty before.



"Mrs. Hamilton, this is my wife—Her Grace, the Duchess of Blackmoor," he said, feeling an overwhelming need to protect his darling Lily.


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The color drained from Teresa's face. Perhaps, Simon thought, he should have lessened the blow somehow. Teresa had angled for the position herself, after all. He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "What brings you to Hampshire, Teresa?"



The buxom blond pulled her eyes away from Lily to stare daggers at him instead. "I was headed to Westfield Hall at your invitation, Simon."



Oh. He'd forgotten that he'd asked Teresa to visit him. After Lily stormed into his life, everything that happened before her seemed to vanish from his mind. Simon wondered what else he'd failed to remember in the last fortnight.



Lily's nails dug into the skin on his forearm, where she still held onto him, bringing his attention back to her. She was definitely going to leave a mark. Thank goodness he healed quickly.



Simon pried Lily's fingers from his arm. "Love, give me a minute, will you?"



Her hazel eyes glared at him, and he had a sinking suspicion that his wedding night was going from bad to worse. Still, it wouldn't do to have Lily overhear his conversation with Teresa. It couldn't get any worse than that. "Lily?" he patiently asked again.



His irritated wife took a staggering breath, then quietly turned on her heel and stormed back out to the coaching yard. That did not bode well for him. He'd never known Lily not to say anything.



Simon shook his head. He'd have to buy her something nice to make up for it. In the meantime, dealing with Teresa was a necessity. He gestured to a small wooden table on the other side of the taproom. "Ale?" he asked her. Teresa was always more accommodating after she had a few drinks.



Teresa shook her head.



Well, it had been worth a try. Simon started toward the table himself and waited for her to follow him. It only took a second for her to fall in a halfstep behind.



"Since when do you have a wife?" she hissed.



Simon held out a chair for her and waited until she sat. Then he walked to the other side of the table and sank into a seat across from her, so he could keep an eye on the door. "Since today," he informed her. "I should have sent word, Teresa. I am sorry."



Her pretty mouth fell open. "Sorry! Simon, I'm just a few hours away from reaching your doorstep. How would that have looked?"



Rather bad, he thought with a sigh. "I forgot you were coming, Teresa."



Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as her spine straightened and she pinned him with a furious glare. "How very charming."



"I just mean that life has been rather complicated since Lily and…"



"Oh?" Her voice raised an octave. "Do tell, Your Grace," she sneered. "As you were in my bed the night before you left London, I am dying to hear about Lily. Why did you never mention her? You led me to believe that I—"



Simon held up his hand to stop her onslaught. "I never did."



"You said you wouldn't ever marry," she spat the words at him.



He had said that. Many times over. Though it never stopped her from trying to wriggle a proposal out of him in the most intimate of moments. "And you never believed me."



She slid her seat back from the table, scraping it along the floor. "And all this time you had that… that… Lily," she fumed.