Her Favorite Duke

by Jess Michaels

  “I have been, haven’t I?” Meg whispered, for she had certainly been in many a battle with Simon since that night in the cottage.

  “You have. But I know you’ve been going about things indirectly, haven’t you? Being careful with Simon? Being understanding?”

  Meg nodded. “Yes. I’ve been giving him his space.”

  Emma shook her head. “Then you must stop doing that. This has been a war of small battles, it may be time for a far larger one. Something more direct. Simon loves you—anyone who looks at you together can see it, even if he wants to deny it out of some misplaced sense of guilt. You have to force him into seeing that the future is where he must go, not live in the past.”

  Meg drew back, for Emma had just said the thing she longed for most. The thing she couldn’t believe at the moment. “Loves me?” she repeated softly. “He has wanted me, cared for me, but he’s never said the other.”

  “I know. Have you?”

  She tensed. “No,” she admitted softly. “I’ve been too afraid of his rejection. If he turned away, I think I would have to…to leave. I couldn’t bear having him know that I loved him and him not care in the slightest.”

  “That is what fighting is,” Emma said. “It’s knowing that we might lose what we desire, but doing it anyway so that we can get what we need even more.”

  “Did you fight for James?” Meg asked, thinking back to earlier in the summer when her brother and Emma had circled each other. She hadn’t ever believed their love was easy, but she hadn’t considered that Emma was going into battle.

  Emma smiled softly. “Yes. I misunderstood something I saw him do and my life became very clear in that moment. Despite everything my father was threatening, despite the danger posed to me by outside forces, I told James I didn’t want to marry him.”

  Meg’s mouth dropped open. “You did?”

  “On the morning of our wedding, no less. I told him I loved him and would accept nothing less from him.” Emma shivered, like even the memory still touched her. “It was terrifying to stand there, looking at him after I’d said those words, waiting for him to respond. I think that moment must have stretched out forever. But the risk was worth the reward. James didn’t know how I felt. And once he did, it opened up a world of honesty and passion and love that has made everything else I ever went through fade in its intensity, replaced by contentment and joy.”

  “But what if James hadn’t said he loved you?” Meg asked, trembling as she pictured Simon turning away from her.

  Emma swallowed hard. “Then at least I wouldn’t have lived a lie like my mother did or your mother did. At least I would have known how to proceed with my eyes wide open.”

  “I’m afraid,” Meg admitted, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as all the worst outcomes of the bravery Emma described played through her head.

  Emma nodded. “I know. But being brave is really about being afraid and doing something anyway. Be brave for yourself and for him. Whatever happens, at least you won’t regret staying silent or passive about your own future.”

  As they stood together, Meg felt some of Emma’s strength swirling into her and giving her what she lacked. “Yes, you’re right of course,” she whispered. “I’ve held back with Simon, as much as I’ve accused him of doing the same. I’m going to face him head-on. At this point, I think I must.”

  She let out a long breath and moved toward the parlor door. Emma laughed, “You are going right now?”

  “Yes. Simon went to his club, but he should be back before supper. I think I’d best go home and make some preparations before he returns.” She gave Emma one last look that she knew reflected her fear. “And before I lose my nerve.”

  Simon sat in the corner of White’s, a drink in hand and a newspaper folded in his lap. He was meant to be sipping the drink and reading the paper, but neither was on his list at present. He was too distracted by thoughts of Meg and also by the chilly reception he had received since his arrival an hour earlier.

  Oh, the men around him said hello, but no one had dared approach him and publicly declare they would remain a friend to him. Of course, he recognized he fully deserved that outcome.

  Meg didn’t. He did. But he would destroy them both socially thanks to his lack of decorum when it came to his feelings for her.

  “Why did I follow her?” he muttered as he snapped the paper open and lifted it.

  “My very question,” came a slurred voice.

  Simon froze, for he knew the voice as well as his own. He lowered the paper to watch Graham flop himself into the chair across from him. His friend’s normally bright blue eyes were bleary with drink and he clearly hadn’t shaved for a week.

  Simon shifted, watching all the eyes on them from all around the room. In that moment, all he cared about was his friend.

  “Graham,” he said softly. “I-I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Should I hide away and let you have White’s?” Graham snapped.

  “No, of course not,” Simon said, ducking his head. “There is no reason for you to hide from anywhere. You did nothing wrong.”

  A flash of raw emotion moved over Graham’s face at that statement, but then it was gone. Only the understandable anger remained there, the disgust.

  “Damn right,” Graham muttered, downing the rest of his drink and setting it on the table between them.

  “Would you like…would you like me to give up my membership here?” Simon asked.

  Graham stared at him. “Not return to White’s?”

  Simon nodded. “If it would make it easier for you.”

  “Well, if we’re talking about easier,” Graham said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you just leave London?”

  Simon flinched. “I-I could do that.”

  “And that house we bought in Scotland,” Graham continued.

  “The hunting lodge?” Simon blinked. That was common property of all the men in their club. “We each own a part of that.”

  “You sell your part to me or to James,” Graham clarified.

  Pain ripped through Simon at the idea that he would be removed from his circle of friends. Because that’s what selling his portion of the lodge would represent: that he was being removed from the club. He would lose everything.

  “Very well, I can arrange that.” Simon tilted his head, for Graham didn’t seem to be finished. “What else?”

  “What makes you think there’s more?” Graham slurred, though his gaze was very focused now, almost clear.

  Simon shrugged. “I know you. I know you value loyalty and what I did betrayed you. My penance cannot be so easy as this. What more do you need? What more do you need to take in order to balance the scales between us?”

  Graham stared at him a long time. “Meg.”

  Simon stiffened. “What about Meg?”

  “Maybe you don’t prance around together, being a happy couple,” Graham said slowly, his voice suddenly low and dark.

  Simon paused. What Graham was demanding was exactly what Simon had already been doing, trying to distance himself from Meg as atonement for his sins. Now that Graham was actually asking him to do so, the reality of the request rang in his ears.

  Meg was already skating on the edge with him. She reached out and he backed away, not because he wanted to, but because he felt he should. It wouldn’t be very long before Meg would stop trying. She would be a fool not to. And then he would lose her.

  So what Graham was asking for was for Simon to destroy his marriage. Finally and fully.

  Before he could reply, Graham pushed to his feet. He wobbled slightly as he glared down at Simon. “You’re a fucking coward, aren’t you?”

  Simon slowly rose, not to fight, but to defend himself if need be. Graham had always thrown a wicked right cross and one didn’t want to be seated when it landed.

  “I know I hurt—” he began, wanting to apologize. To help somehow.

  “Goddamn it, Simon, don’t
fucking apologize to me,” Graham interrupted as he shoved him hard.

  Simon staggered but didn’t move forward, even as the other men in the room began to circle toward them, wary but interested in this very public faceoff.

  “What do you want me to do then?” Simon snapped, his patience fraying.

  “Fight,” Graham growled.

  “I’m not going to fight you,” Simon said softly.

  Graham rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re not. You never have. Not even for a woman you clearly love. You told me you love her, didn’t you? But I mention that you should walk away from her and from friendships you’ve held for over a decade and you just…sit there.” He shoved Simon again, and this time the force drove Simon into the table. It tipped over sideways and both their glasses shattered on the floor.

  “Stop,” Simon ground out. “I don’t want to fight you, Graham.”

  Graham tilted his head back and laughed. “I’d respect it more if you punched me in the mouth and told me that Meg was your wife and that was the end of it. I’d respect it more if you fought for anything.”

  He shoved Simon one more time and this time it was enough. Simon set his jaw and pushed back as hard as he could. Graham moved like he’d come forward again, a grin on his face, but before they could actually come to blows, the others lunged forward. Arms grabbed for Simon, others caught Graham, and they were separated at last. Strangely, Simon regretted it. Perhaps a few punches between them was exactly what they needed to ease the tension.

  “Go on,” one of the gentlemen said, ushering Simon toward the door. “He’s drunk and your being here only makes it worse. Go on then.”

  Simon edged to the door, but threw one last glance over his shoulder at Graham. His friend…or was it former friend…now had a bottle in his hand and he was offering loud toasts to uncertain futures as the others surrounded him, clearly trying to calm him down.

  Simon frowned as he exited the club and waited for his horse to be brought around. He had always known he’d encounter Graham. They were both too prominent not to have that faceoff. But it hadn’t been what he had expected. Graham was angry, yes. Graham was betrayed, one could see it written all over his face. Graham was even spoiling to fight.

  But his challenge to Simon to actually take what he wanted and stop apologizing for it was unexpected. How could that be what Graham wanted after everything that had happened? Wasn’t it spitting in the man’s face to be happy and carefree with Meg?

  He’d been telling himself for weeks that it was. And now he was left uncertain of what to do and how to proceed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Meg drew in a shaky breath as she looked around the master bedchamber one final time. It was perfect. Of course it should be, considering how much time and effort she had put into preparing it. Flowers were set around the room, a blazing fire brightened and warmed the space, the bedcovers were drawn back in the hopes what she would do would go well.

  She turned toward the mirror. She was wearing her finest gown, and Fran had done her hair to perfection. What had Emma said to her before? That her clothing and her hair were her armor. Well, if so she was prepared for war now. She only had to wait for Simon and then somehow manage to say the words she had been rehearsing all afternoon.

  As she paced her room, she tried to calm her racing heart. For years she had waited, loving Simon from afar, doing what she felt was right and best for everyone around her except for herself. Today she was taking the first step toward the future she wanted. With the man she loved.

  And yet she had no earthly idea what his response would be. He could fall into her arms, surrendering at last to the feelings he had fought so hard and long to deny out of a sense of guilt and duty. She sensed that he wanted to do that. Or she hoped he did.

  But he had such a strong sense of what he’d done wrong. Which meant he might put up a stronger wall than ever between them. One she feared she might never be able to climb, no matter what she did.

  The risk was very high. The reward was even higher. And it was time, at last, to be brave. To fight this last fight and to hope that he would do the same. To think of her own wants and stop worrying about anything but her heart.

  There was a light rap on the door and she jumped, as she faced the entrance. “Yes?”

  The door opened and her heart sank. It was only Simon’s butler.

  “Yes, Finley?” she asked, trying to keep her expression serene. “Do you have word from His Grace?”

  “No, Your Grace, not yet,” Finley said, with apology lacing his tone. “He went to his club is all I know, I’m afraid there is no word from him as of yet. But you do have a guest, the Duke of Roseford.”

  Meg wrinkled her brow. Roseford had not sent word he was calling. “He came to see me?”

  “No, to see His Grace, but since he isn’t here…”

  Meg nodded. “Of course, I’ll be right down.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll tell him.”

  Finley left and Meg looked at herself in the mirror once more. She was in no mood to have company, especially not Robert. Thanks to James’s slip of the tongue all those weeks ago, she knew Roseford had once been Simon’s partner in debauchery. Who knew what he was encouraging her husband to do now?

  She smoothed her skirts and made the short trip downstairs and into the parlor. Roseford turned from the fire when she entered, and he actually caught his breath when he looked at her.

  “Roseford,” she said with a blush. “I did not expect you.”

  He caught the hand she offered and lifted it briefly to his lips. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I ought to have sent a card ahead, especially as it looks as though you are on your way out. You look lovely.”

  She smiled at his compliment. “Thank you. I am not going out, actually, I’m just waiting for Simon. He should be returning from his club shortly.” A brief shadow crossed Roseford’s face, and Meg’s heart leapt. “What is it? Do you have news?”

  “No, not at all. I-I actually came here looking for Simon, myself. You see, he isn’t at the club.”

  Meg swallowed. “No?”

  “No, when I arrived there a while ago, he had already left.” Roseford shifted with discomfort. “It seems he—he encountered Northfield there.”

  Now Meg staggered and Robert actually reached forward to keep her from falling. He helped her to a chair and she drew a few breaths as she tried to remain calm.

  “He and Graham saw each other. How bad was it?”

  “A bit of shoving is all,” Roseford said, his mouth thinning to a grim line. “At least this time.”

  She bent her head. “God, how I hate that their friendship is on such poor terms because of me.” She sighed and stared at her clenched hands in her lap. “You saw Graham?”

  Roseford nodded. “He was still there.”

  “And how…how was he?”

  He hesitated. “Do you want the truth, madam, or some lie meant to comfort you?”

  She jerked her face up at the faint disdain in his tone. She deserved it, after all, for the friendships between all the men in their club had been strained with her as the cause. “The truth, Your Grace. I am not some dainty flower who requires only positive words.”

  He arched a brow at her calm reply and she thought she saw a flicker of appreciation in his stare. “Very well. Graham is…troubled. Betrayed. He is not handling it well.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as she thought of the pain Graham was in. “It’s my fault.”

  He didn’t deny that charge, but let out a long sigh. “We’ve all had our part in this debacle. You shouldn’t have run off in a fit. Simon shouldn’t have followed you that day. I should have made Crestwood leave the moment he said he wanted to—”

  She stood up slowly and stared at him. “Leave?” she repeated as her entire body went cold and numb. “What are you talking about?”

  Roseford’s jaw set. “You don’t know?”

  She shook
her head. “Know what?”

  “I ought not say something if Simon hasn’t.”

  She moved toward him, her hands clenched at her sides. “You’re implying that my husband intended to leave, but you won’t tell me any more details. You must understand that you cannot drop such an explosive accusation in my parlor and then walk away as if you did nothing. Tell me, Roseford. What do you mean that you should have made Simon leave? When did he want to leave?”

  Roseford flushed and he refused to meet her eyes. His voice was taut when he said, “When you and Graham announced your wedding date, Simon came to me and we decided we’d go to Ireland. Or Italy. It didn’t really matter where. He just wanted to go and not come back until after your marriage was performed. I thought he might have told you so himself, but it seems I’ve revealed a secret. One that will clearly hurt you both.”

  Meg’s ears were ringing as she stared at the handsome man before her. Roseford was many things, and he had certainly never been her favorite of her brother’s friends but he was not a liar.

  “He was going to walk away,” she whispered.

  Roseford nodded. “You must see that was the honorable thing to do.”

  She clenched her jaw, her hands shaking as she stared at him. “Honorable. Ballocks,” she finally choked out, “I’m so bloody sick of that word!”

  Roseford’s eyes went wide that she would curse in such a way, but before he could reply, Simon walked into the parlor.

  “Roseford,” he said. “Finley said you were here and—”

  He cut himself off as his gaze slid to Meg. She knew what he must see, for she couldn’t hide it. Her hands were shaking, her breath came short and tears filled her eyes no matter how she tried to angrily blink them away and keep her weakness from being revealed in such a humiliating fashion.

  “Meg,” Simon said, moving toward her. “What is it?”

  “Roseford, get out,” she whispered.

  Roseford cleared his throat gently and bowed to her. “Of course, my lady. I’m sorry that I upset you.” He moved toward the door and added, “And Crestwood, I’m just sorry.”