by Rose Gordon
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Not even just a little?”
“No. Not even just a little.”
Like a spectator at Gentleman Jack's, Simon’s head bobbed back and forth between Isabelle and Lord Belgrave with each statement.
“It doesn’t have to be for a positive reason that you thought of me, my dear. Just that you did,” he said, grinning.
“And fill my mind with something more unsavory than what’s found at the bottom of a privy? I should think not.”
Simon held his breath in a refusal to laugh or make any sound that might keep him from hearing Lord Belgrave’s response to that statement.
“Ah, then it was of fond thoughts, indeed,” he concluded with a knowing grin.
She fisted her hands into her skirt. “Fond thoughts, indeed. Why, I must confess that only four months ago my carriage rolled past where a young lady had slipped on the ice on her front steps. A gentleman she seemed to know ignored her cries for help and walked right past her. It was in that moment, I briefly gave into my girlish insensibilities and wondered whatever happened to you.”
“Did you now?” A stoic look came over his face, transforming him to marble. “And how do you know that cad wasn’t me?”
She looked down to examine her nails before meeting his eyes and giving a casual shrug. “Oh, wouldn’t you know, he was far too handsome to have been you.”
A little over a month later, mindlessly walking down the street Simon still winced at her words the way he had that day in Mrs. Finch’s drawing room.
He still couldn’t puzzle out the how or why those two had rekindled their romance.
He frowned. Was his provoking of Rae just as callus as Lord Belgrave? He hoped not. Simon’s intent was just good-natured fun. But did she understand it that way? He tried to think back on the few times he’d seen her this Season and had been afforded the opportunity.
She’d all but outright refused to speak to him at any of the balls until last night, but he’d always been sure to wink at her when he saw her. Or when they were alone, he’d give a low sweeping bow. It always made him laugh when she blushed and grimaced at him. His favorite had come in the form of waggling his eyebrows at her at that blasted statue museum.
Good-natured. All of it.
But why do you do it? The question called to him from the back of his mind, and he immediately thrust it from his thoughts. It is best not to explore that, he reasoned.
Just like it’s best not to explore the reason that every time you need a scapegrace when put into a sticky situation regarding ladies you always say your interests lie with one Miss Henrietta Hughes, asked that annoying voice in the back of his head.
Simon’s mouth went dry. Oh, gads, please no. He racked his brain…
Dancing with Isabelle at the ball earlier in the Season, he’d stupidly decided she’d make a good wife and he might as well ask her to marry him since she seemed to be drowning in the sea of sharks in London. When she’d rebuffed him…he claimed an interest in Rae. Damn.
When he’d pretended to have written an ode to a lady. He’d supposedly written it for… Rae. Damn and blast.
What was it about this young lady that consumed him so much?
Never mind. He didn’t want to know. The truth was she didn’t like him. And not just in the way that Isabelle and Lucy didn’t like him, Rae truly didn’t like him. Which was fine by him, but he’d do very well to just stay away from her before he ended up with yet another romantic scandal on his hands. He shuddered and absentmindedly picked up his pace, slowing only mere seconds later when he heard the words that had the power to paralyze a man in his current state of mind:
“Oh, Henrietta dear, I told you he’d come a-calling.”
Simon’s head snapped so hard to the left he was sure he’d have a stiff neck for at least a week.
There, on a set of grey steps on the other side of the street stood Lady Townson and Rae.
Simon waved and offered a stiff smile.
Lady Townson was oblivious to his disinterest and waved him over.
He stayed put.
She was not one to be deterred he was quickly learning. “We were about to go to the park, Mr. Appleton. Would you like to come along?”
No. “I need to be getting back to my office.” It wasn’t a lie exactly. He did need to get back to his office. Just not until he got his lodgings for the evening worked out.
“Are you headed there now?” Lord Townson asked walking through the door, black hat in his hand.
Simon nodded. Lord Townson and several of his lofty friends and acquaintances made up the majority of the Appletons’ clientele. If his lordship wanted Simon to stand on his head on the street, Simon had better find a way to make it happen.
“Unfortunate,” Lord Townson said. “I was hoping to see about some future investments.”
“I have time now,” Simon rushed to say. Likely, the man didn’t wish to go on a walk with the ladies any more than Simon did.
“Perfect.” Lord Townson nodded his approval and without further invitation Simon made his way across the street.
When he reached the other side of the street, Simon bowed to the ladies and greeted them. There was no need to be rude to either of them, just not overly interested. Interest of any sort was a slippery slope, to be sure.
“Lord Townson,” he said at last, waiting for the man to show him into his study.
Townson arched a brow.
“Future investments…” Simon promoted. Was the man so besotted with his blushing wife he’d already forgotten?
“Let’s talk on the way to the park.”
Simon clamped his lips closed to resist the urge to grumble. Lady Townson, however, possessed no such restraint to keep her happy noises in check.
Reluctantly, Simon turned in the direction of the park.
Beside him, Townson cleared his throat and gave a pointed look in the direction of Rae.
With a deep breath that did nothing to steel his resolve, Simon held his arm out toward her.
“There you are, Appleton,” Townson said, proffering his arm to Lady Townson.
Simon frowned. “How exactly are we supposed to talk about your bank account with ladies on our arms, Townson?” he blurted before he could think better of how rude it sounded. Not that it mattered; there wasn’t a polite way to ask that.
“I said I wanted to see about some future investments.” He bobbed his head in the direction of where Rae barely clutched Simon’s arm, then winked at them. “I’m seeing about it right now.”
5
Rae’s heart lurched into her chest. She thought Andrew was on her side! “Traitor,” she mouthed in his direction.
The walk to the park would best be described as awkward at best.
Had it not been for his familiar green eyes and brown hair Simon would have been unrecognizable. He only spoke when spoken to and said only enough to answer the question, nothing more.
“I daresay your Mr. Appleton is in desperate need of a house party,” Brooke surmised when the footmen had finished serving their dinner platters.
Rae resisted the urge to grind her teeth and instead refolded her napkin. “Ignoring that you keep referring to him as my Mr. Appleton—”
“I don’t think you’re ignoring it at all since you just mentioned it,” Andrew said helpfully.
She cut her eyes at him. “Has Simon transferred all of his annoying remarks to you?” That would certainly explain his silence today. Noting Andrew’s raised eyebrow, she knit her brow.
“Simon, eh?” Andrew asked with a chuckle.
Dread washed over her. “Mr. Appleton. Simon. Mr. Simon Appleton.” She waved her hand in the air. “They’re all the same person.”
“That may be,” Andrew conceded, stabbing a piece of meat on his plate. “But, I’ve never heard anyone, save his father, refer to him as Simon.”
She looked to Brooke, an ill-mannered American
Heathen, for support and realized a second too late, she wouldn’t be finding any there. “He introduced himself to me as Simon,” she forced. “Besides, if I say Mr. Appleton, you might not know which one I’m speaking of.”
Andrew’s blue eyes flared wide. “Do you have a secret tendre for Walter Appleton, then?”
She wanted to groan and protest, but that’s what they wanted. “Shhh. Must you expose all of my secrets?”
Brooke choked on her drink. “Well, that would certainly explain your lack of interest in the younger Mr. Appleton,” she said, putting her glass back down and reaching for her napkin. “So, perhaps he is your Mr. Appleton.”
Rae cringed. “My interest lies with neither of them.”
“All right,” Brooke said slowly. She shot Rae a compassionate smile. “Henrietta, all you have to do is just tell me who it is who holds your heart, and I’ll help you snag him.”
“She means it, too,” Andrew added. “I didn’t stand a chance.”
“But he’s not interested in me that way,” she admitted softly. A sudden, overwhelming crushing sensation threatened to shatter her heart. Last Season when she’d returned home, rumors had swirled that in her absence Mr. Fisher had been spending time with Ursula Bruin. If only she’d been there… If only she’d found a way to convince Mr. Fisher to run off with her before the start of the Season. He’d been reluctant, claiming they’d have to forever live in exile since she was under the age of consent.
“I think you’re wrong,” Brooke said.
Rae started. “Pardon?”
“I think Mr. Appleton is certainly interested in you that way.”
“I wasn’t speaking of him,” Rae argued. Truly, did Brooke have cotton in her ears?
“That’s what you always say,” Brooke mused. “But—” She held up a single hand, halting Rae’s protest. “I’ve seen the way you two exchange looks across the ballroom. I also saw the way the two of you danced. And not just at my insistence.” She wagged her finger at Rae. “I saw the two of you waltz before that. I also can’t help but notice that every time you claim that you have no interest in him your eyes sparkle.”
“With hatred and detest,” Rae interrupted.
Brooke snorted. “That’s what my sister Liberty always claimed she felt for Paul. Turns out—” she traced the rim of her goblet with the tip of her index finger— “she loved him all along.”
“Well, I assure you that is not the case here.”
Sighing, Brooke clasped her hands together and rested her chin on top of them. “All right, then what is his name?”
Rae’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with the same cotton Brooke wore in her ears. She shook her head. She couldn’t tell them. They’d be just as negative about her choice as Juliet had been.
“Is he unsuitable?” Andrew asked quietly.
“Drake and Juliet would consider the match unsuitable,” Rae said, meeting his compassion-filled eyes. No need to explain why they’d find the match unsuitable.
“I’m sure Andrew’s mother might have considered me unsuitable, too,” Brooke added. “And my sister, who married the dowager's step-brother, a duke, at that.”
“So then you understand…”
Brooke nodded. “Considering your sister married out of class, I think she does, too,” she added, stealing away every bit of Rae’s elation.
“No, she doesn’t.” Rae sighed. “Just forget I mentioned him.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to discuss snagging your Mr. Appleton?”
“It must bother you beyond belief that you haven’t been responsible for a wedding this Season,” Rae said.
“No,” Brooke said at the same time her husband said, “It keeps her up at night.”
Despite herself, Rae laughed and Brooke swatted at her husband. “Never mind him.” Dropping her hands to her lap, she asked, “Are you sure he’s the one you want?”
“Yes.”
Brooke reached across the table for Rae’s hand. “Then, let’s formulate a plan.”
“Brooke, dearest, I love you beyond all reason, but I’m afraid they might need to lock you up soon,” Andrew said, running his fingers through the brown curls that hung by her shoulders.
She pushed him onto his back and propped herself up on her left elbow. With her right hand, she idly played with his chest hair.
“They’ll have to lock you up, too.”
He quirked a brow. “For loving a lady like you?”
“Just so.” She lowered he head and kissed the top of his shoulder. “I have a plan.”
“Yes, I recall being in the room when you and Henrietta formed that idiotic scheme to allow her to go back to Crumbles to snag a smithy.” He frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brooke. There has to be something she’s not telling us.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning back on his elbows. “Drake and Juliet are both reasonable—”
Brooke placed her finger against his lips. “Dear husband, don’t you know by now that I already have another plan?”
“I’m sure you do,” Andrew muttered, falling back against the pillows. He caught her hand in his. “It had better not involve me.”
Brooke pulled her hand free from his and used her fingertip to trace the edge of his hair-roughened jaw. “Oh, you already involved yourself when you made Simon escort Rae to the park today.”
Andrew groaned. “I was hoping their primal urges would have taken over and solved everything.”
“Primal urges on a walk?” Brooke scoffed. “Only you.”
“And you, too,” Andrew countered, snaking an arm around her and bringing her on top of him. “You know as well as I do that when love is involved, it doesn't matter where you are…a bed…a star gazing gazebo...the woodwork,” he said between kisses. “Location matters not if the attraction is strong enough.”
Brooke pulled back hesitantly. “Do you think I’m wrong?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“I don’t mean any of my plans. I mean about Henrietta and Mr. Appleton.”
“It’s as obvious as Lady Olivia’s red hair that he’s smitten with her. As for her…” He scratched his jaw. “I’m not an expert on your sex’s feelings,” he said with a shrug.
“Nor, need you be,” Brooke said with another kiss. “Only mine.” She kissed him again then put her head on his chest. “Sometimes what we want seems to be driven by what we cannot have. If she can have her smithy, perhaps she’ll see him how he really is and not how she thinks he is.”
“And if she decides to marry him?”
Brooke sighed. “Well, it is her decision.” She moved her fingers down toward his waist. “But I don’t think she will.”
Andrew encircled her wrist with his fingers, staying her wandering hand. “What are you planning?”
“Oh, so you do want to be involved,” she teased.
“No.” He released her hand. “It’s probably best I don’t know so I can plead ignorance when Drake finds out about all of this.”
6
Rae chided herself for being skeptical of Brooke. She was a magnet for scandal, not a liar. She wouldn’t rescind her promise to allow Rae a reprieve. Still, Rae wouldn’t allow herself to believe it until she arrived at Crumbles.
Of course then she’d have to contend with Juliet, but after evading Brooke’s matchmaking attempts, she should be able to avoid Juliet’s with ease.
“Already packed, I see,” Brooke said, breezing into Rae’s room.
Rae flushed and ran her clammy palms over her blue muslin skirts. “Please don’t take it as an insult to your hospitality. You and Andrew have been most kind to me.”
“But we’re no match for your Mr. Fisher,” Brooke said with a wink. Rae choked on a giggle.
Brooke reached for the red velvet bell chord and gave it a pull. “While the footmen bring your things down, let’s go over our plan again. It wouldn’t do for us to slip up in front of Juliet. She might hang me.”
Licking her lips, Ra
e nodded. “Or me.”
“All right, I’ve penned a letter to Juliet telling her of your time in London and that you’ve finally found someone on which to set your cap,” she said, handing Rae a folded, and sealed, piece of vellum.
Rae swallowed and took the paper from her chaperone. Yesterday, Brooke had been adamant that the only way Juliet would accept their story was for Juliet to have reason to believe that Rae had a prospect in London and was just visiting.
“I explained that he wouldn’t be able to distance himself from London long enough to attend Caroline’s house party.” At Rae’s smile, she added, “I tried to keep it as truthful as possible.”
Rae could have sworn she heard Brooke mutter something else after that, but wasn’t certain. “Perfect.” Instinctively, she gave Brooke a hug. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
Rae pulled back. “Pardon?”
Brooke plucked at the lace on her glove, then sighed. “I may have mentioned Mr. Appleton.”
Rae’s heart slammed in her chest. “Mentioned him? Mentioned him how?”
“That he’s a potential suitor,” Brooke said, holding her gaze. “Henrietta, she writes to me almost every day inquiring about you. She cares about you—and not just if you make a match. She really loves you.” She flicked her wrist. “I’m sure you know all of that already and I remember at your age that I wasn’t so impressed by my sisters’ love for me. But the fact remains, if I didn’t name a gentleman Juliet would be depositing you at Watson Estate for Caroline’s house party post haste.”
“I understand,” Rae said on a sigh. Brooke was right, dash it all. No matter. Juliet could interrogate Rae about Simon all she wanted, but at least he wasn’t going to be there. She froze. “He doesn’t know about any of this, does he?”
“Mr. Appleton?” Brooke clarified. “No.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you want him to know?”
Rae stared at the older lady as if she were addled. “Why on earth would I— Wait. What did you say to her?” Without waiting for Brooke to answer, she started to break the wax seal on the paper.
