by Rose Gordon
“Does that bother you?”
“No. If he can draw a personality out of her then I’d say he deserves to have her as his wife.”
“So you have no feelings whatsoever for her?”
Simon choked on his laugher. “No. Nor for Lucy.”
“Is she the one from the museum?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s marrying Giles?” she asked, trying to put the pieces together.
Simon grimaced. “Yes.”
“I see…”
“No, you don’t,” he said with smile. “At the house party where Isabelle and I were supposed to be courting, it was Giles who informed me that Isabelle was still Lady Belgrave.” He closed his eyes for an extended blink. “I believe his exact words were, ‘she’s taken.’ Anyway, whether it was because I felt angry with Isabelle for not telling me herself or perhaps it was just irritation for Giles in general, I’m not sure, I decided to leave the party but was in no hurry to go home where I knew my father would pepper me with questions about my mother and Giles. I decided to take a different route and after a nasty encounter with some highwaymen, I came to lying naked in a strange bed with an inquisitive twelve-year-old boy hovering over my face.”
Rae bit the inside of her cheek.
“It’s all right, I know you want to laugh,” he said, grinning at her.
She returned his grin. “I’m sure you did well.”
“Not well enough—even with the boy,” he said. “When Lucy returned from town that day she asked for the name of a relation to come help me, and I gave her Giles’ name and current direction, certain he wouldn’t actually come.” He smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Wouldn’t you know that confounded transient was there in record time? Lucy and her son Seth were immediately under his spell.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Oh, don’t be. It’s for the best. I just wish I had realized that before I made a complete arse of myself.” He turned his head to the side and coughed. “Repeatedly.”
“Surely, it’s not so bad.”
“You do remember that horrible statue museum, do you not?” he asked, his eyes dancing with laughter.
“Of course.” She could never forget such a horrible establishment for as long as she lived.
“Lucy lost her post for taking care of me and came to work in Mother’s lending library. I tried to pursue her, but Giles won her.”
The muscles in Rae’s shoulders stiffened. “It sounds to me as if you’re not as accepting of her choice as you’d have me believe.”
Simon started. “No!” He cleared his throat. “No,” he tried again. “It’s not her. It’s him.” Something about his words told her he was telling the truth, and she relaxed again. “Lucy was sweet and though too curious for his own good, Seth was all right, too, but what rankles me the most is who she chose: Giles. Just the same as Mother and Father. It’s not that I wish him ill… I just—” He exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I just hate how he came to London after all of these years and stole everything from me.”
Rae pulled her hand from his and looped her arms around his neck, pulling his head close to hers. The promise that Giles could never steal her from Simon was on the tip of her tongue, where it died. She wasn’t Simon’s. For as much as she might long to be, he didn’t see her that way.
“Now that we’ve each revealed our deepest secrets to each other, shall we go back to the fair?”
“Must we?” She could think of a thousand other places she’d rather be.
“We must if your heart is still set on a lemon ice.”
“And if I’ve set my heart on something else?”
16
For as much as Simon hoped she meant those words to mean she was in love with him, the last shred of logic he still possessed told him to back away. She was hurting and vulnerable right now and as much as he might hate to say it, so was he.
“Well, my dear, Miss Hughes, if your current heart’s desire is for solilemmes, I spotted a vendor just south of the bakery where we ate cake the other day.”
“Solilemmes?” Her face lit. “I’ve only had a bite of one once.”
“Let’s go back to the, fair and you can have a bite of as many as you want,” he said, helping her to her feet. He offered her his arm, noticing the cold hesitation that had come over her face. “It’ll be all right. I won’t leave your side.”
“But what if Mr. Fisher…”
“Then I’ll knock out all of his remaining teeth with my fist,” Simon finished.
Rae dropped her head into her hands. “I stooped very low, didn’t I?”
Going against his better judgment yet again, Simon reached for her hand. “We’ve all resorted to the unimaginable when it comes to wanting to feel loved.” He forced a smile. “Please, don’t make me remind you of Lady Belgrave and the soon-to-be Lady Norcourt again.”
Taking his lead, she started walking with him on the path back to town. “Is it safe to assume the words mister and Fisher will never pass your lips ever again?”
They reached a fallen log and Simon helped her over. “Unless I am called before the magistrate to explain why he was left battered and bruised,” he continued. “I shall never mention him again.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“He should be the one hoping.” He reached forward and moved a branch out of the way for her. “But I have a feeling we won’t be hearing much from him again.”
“You haven’t already left him battered and bruised, have you?”
“You don’t think it’s for the solilemmes that I want to go back to the village, do you?”
“It’s not?” she asked, feigning shock.
“No.” He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and lifted his chin a notch. “It’s to receive a hero’s welcome.”
Rae’s infectious laughter filled the air. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You know you like it.”
He wasn’t wrong, drat him. She did like it. His humor was almost as addicting as was his embrace.
Companionable silence engulfed them as they walked back to the village, and Simon led her to the solilemmes vendor. “We’ll take two,” he told the man, reaching into his pocket.
The vendor poked two plump rolls and extended them toward Simon who gave him a few coins then took the rolls. He handed one to Rae.
Immediately, she sank her teeth into that dense cake of yeast and creamy goodness.
“Is it as good as you remembered?” Simon asked.
“Better,” she said, savoring her bite.
Simon held up his sweet roll. “Good because this one is for you, too.” He winked. “No protests.”
“And if I do?”
He bent his head, bringing his lips next to hear ear. “Then I’ll feed it to you. Bite by bite.”
“For some reason I think the rake in you would enjoy that.”
“There you two are!” Lucas hollered, running over to them. “Peter said you were going to shoot someone with a bow and arrow!”
“Only Mr. Fisher,” Rae blurted, making the trio laugh.
“I’d gladly pay Peter two hundred pounds if you do,” Simon said.
Rae appreciated his generosity. “No, I believe the bet was that I wouldn’t hit anyone and if you and Peter would still like me to prove my skills, I will.” She stuffed another bite of her bun in her mouth. “But not until I finish this.” She frowned. Where had her manners gone? “Actually, this is too big. I don’t think I can eat any more. Lucas, would you like the rest?”
“No,” Simon cut in. “You choke down the rest of yours. Lucas can have this one.” He extended the other roll to Lucas. “He’s a growing boy, Rae. He needs a whole one.”
Lucas wasted no time taking the roll from Simon. He murmured what might pass as a thank you then took a bite so large it'd be a wonder if he didn’t choke on it. “Come, let’s go shoot,” he said a moment later around a mouth full of food. He brushed some crumbs fro
m his chin then waved them in the direction of the archery setup.
Before Rae could move a staying hand fell on her wrist. “I’ll fulfill my end of the bet if you’d rather not shoot.” Simon said, his voice soft and his eyes full of understanding.
Rae popped the last bite of her roll into her mouth. “No, I think I’ll try for the two hundred pound target.”
Just as she’d hoped, Simon chuckled. “Bloodthirsty wench.”
She grabbed his hand and gave it a little pull. “Just be glad it’s not your blood I wish to spill.”
He flipped his hand over, holding hers, palm to palm. “Is it official, then?”
Rae searched his green eyes. “Is what official?”
“That I’ve gained your favor?”
She nodded once. “I’d say this afternoon’s revelations far surpass you seeing me…” a heated blush crept up her face, “er…you know.”
Simon’s eyes darkened as he did a slow sweep of her from head to toe. “Indeed.”
“We’d better go,” she whispered.
Simon nodded once then allowed her to lead them back to the archery area.
“It’s you again!” said the toothless man standing next to the rack of bows, eyeing Rae in the most unnerving way.
“I’ll pay one hundred and fifty pounds if you shoot him,” Simon whispered in Rae’s ear.
“Do it, Henny, and we’ll split it,” Lucas said excitedly.
“Stuff it, Lucas,” Peter said, a serious expression his face. “The wager is off.”
“Off,” Simon, Rae, and Lucas echoed in unison.
“Off,” Peter confirmed, his expression rigid and unyielding.
Rae reached for her brother. “Peter? What’s wrong?”
A muscle in his cheek ticked. “Nothing.” He looked over her head to Simon. “I declare from this moment on he shall never be referred to as a toff again.”
Rae exchanged looks with Simon over her shoulder. Something wasn’t right. She said her brother’s name again, but he backed away then stalked off.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Simon said.
Simon cursed his quick tongue. He’d barely spoken to a child before this week, now he was offering to go talk to one about whatever it was that was bothering him. Gads, he’d lost his mind!
“Peter, wait,” Simon hollered.
The boy continued on and Simon picked up his pace. What was it about this family and walking away from their problems? Literally.
“Peter, stop,” he bit out.
Peter came to an abrupt stop and Simon nearly slammed into his back.
“Can I talk to you?” Simon asked.
“Can I stop you?” Peter challenged.
Simon grinned. “No.” He gestured to a vacant bench nearby. “What’s troubling you all of a sudden?” he asked without ceremony as soon as the two sat down.
Peter didn’t answer.
“Surely you’re not sore because your sister hit the target on her second practice shot,” Simon ventured.
“No.”
Simon let out a deep exhale and steepled his hands in front of his lips. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“You can’t help me any way,” Peter said hollowly.
“Perhaps,” Simon allowed. “But you don’t know if you don’t tell me what you need help with.” He crossed his ankles in front of him. They could be there a while. “Is this about a girl?”
“No.” Peter’s hesitation made Simon’s stomach clench.
“The inability to lie is clearly not in your family’s bloodline.”
Peter scoffed. “I’m not lying. She’s a woman. But it’s not what you think.”
“All right,” Simon said slowly. “Is she here?”
Peter sighed. “You’re relentless.”
Simon didn’t think so, but would take what he could. “It’s my single fault, I’m afraid.”
At that, Peter snorted. “I’m sure you have more than one. You are a toff, after all.”
Shaking a finger at the lad, he said, “I do believe you just broke your own decree.”
Peter threw his hands into the air. “Guilty.” He dropped his hands back into his lap with another sigh. “I wish things could have been different.”
“Different how?”
Peter stared at him. “Can I trust you with a secret?”
“That depends. Is it yours to tell?”
The lad’s lips twisted in contemplation. “I—I don’t know.”
“How do you not know?”
“It isn’t my secret. I mean, I’m not the one who did something,” he clarified. “It’s about—”
Simon lifted a hand, halting the boy’s words before he said too much. “Before you say something that can’t be unsaid and unheard, is it necessary to solve your problem that I know this secret?”
“That depends,” he said with a chuckle, then sobered and pierced Simon with his grey eyes. “Just how genuine is your love for my sister?”
17
The carriage ride back to Crumbles was uncomfortable. There was no better way to describe it. Simon and Rae sat on one side of the carriage, forced to look at Drake and Juliet’s amused expressions as their three eldest daughters enjoyed one last lemon ice on the way home.
“Did everyone have a good time?” Drake asked to no one in particular.
“I’d say some had a better time than others,” Juliet said airily before turning to her husband and waggling her eyebrows.
Drake shook his head.
“I learned to shoot a bow and arrow today,” Rae announced to stem their obvious speculation.
Juliet wagged a finger at her. “You’re not threatening your favorite sister, are you?”
Rae widened her eyes and brought her hands up to her chest. “I’d never threaten Jane or Dara.”
“But I’m fair game,” Juliet retorted. She nestled closer to her husband. “That’s all right. I’ll have Drake close by to protect me, lest you get any ideas during the night.”
“You don’t have to invent reasons for me to invite you to my room, darling,” Drake said, leading Juliet to blush like an innocent rather than the increasing matron she was. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather that you be.”
There were certain things in this life Rae didn’t want to hear. This was one of them. If she were Jane’s age, she could get away with sticking her fingers in her ears and singing loudly.
Beside her, Simon sat stock-still seemingly unaware of what was going on around him. She nudged him.
Slowly, Simon looked over at her. Something was different. She could see it in his eyes when he’d come back from talking to Peter. She bit her lip. More than anything she wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the right time.
The perfect opportunity didn’t present itself when they arrived back at Crumbles, either.
Tomorrow, she promised herself as she slipped into her bed and closed her eyes content to dream about Simon’s powerful embrace and warm kiss.
Simon had to leave.
Clenching his teeth, he tossed the last of the meager items he’d brought with him into his travel bag. Keeping constant company with Rae, the way she felt in his arms—and on his lap, and how her soft lips yielded under his, he couldn’t think of anything else, and that must have been obvious or Peter wouldn’t have so bluntly asked about Simon’s love for Rae.
For a man who’d been thrown over twice in a matter of weeks, that was a dangerous situation in which to find himself.
No. He blew out a deep breath and shoved his perfectly pressed lawn shirt into his travel bag. Though Isabelle and Lucy had both found their own happiness without him and hadn’t seemed overly distraught concerning him, Rae was different. She’d been hurt before and she was vulnerable. He had no business allowing them to become so close. Yes, they each needed the source of comfort the other provided: her with her bruised heart and him with his trampled pride, but he was wrong to encourage a closeness. The best thing for him to do would be to leave.
As were groaning floorboards.
Tap. The toe of Simon’s right boot hit the floor in the hall. He pushed down with just a hint of pressure, praying no noise would emanate from the floor. None. Sighing with relief, he lowered his right heel down, then slowly eased all of his weight onto that one foot then extended his left foot forward. He poked the floorboard a stride ahead of him— squeak. He yanked that foot up—but not too high. It’d be damned awkward if he lost his balance and made all the floorboards groan in unison—a siren call for everyone to come see what he was doing.
Chancing a quick glance over his shoulder, he briefly contemplated an escape through the window. He quickly shook off the thought and brought his left toe down to find another board. He hadn’t bothered to open the window in his room during his visit, but he could only imagine what might happen if he did. Scratching. Glass shattering. Plaster crumbling…the whole wall crumbling. No, he’d stick with playing musical floorboards, thank you very much.
Ever so carefully, Simon crept down the hall at a snail’s pace.
“Not that one!” came a sharp whisper.
Simon jerked his head in the direction of the voice, his heart slamming against his ribs. “Lord Drakely,” he choked, his mouth dry.
The older man walked out of the shadows. “That one groans louder than Lady Olivia with a toothache,” Lord Drakely said.
Simon moved his foot over a few inches and placed it down without further care of the noise it might make. “Er…how long have you been watching me?”
“Long enough to hear you curse me in three different languages.”
“You should invest in a better floor.” Simon scowled down at the offending wood beneath his feet. “Or at the very least a hammer and a bucket of nails.”
