by Gayle Callen
Yet there were nights, right after he’d lost his sight, that the world seemed such a bleak place that he could imagine the relief of not having to face another day again.
Was that what she was talking about?
He was over that self-pity. He’d proved that he was all right. He knew his family was worth overcoming his depression. But of course, he had not begun to eat with them, although he’d been practicing for that day long enough. It was time he do so, to ease his grandmother’s worry.
She had hired Louisa, obviously with Georgie in mind—and maybe Simon, too. Though he’d been suspicious at first, he didn’t believe that Louisa would have tried to enlist his grandmother against him. Grandmama thought she could heal her family, instead of letting time take care of it.
He understood and loved the old girl, but surely she didn’t know about the rumors that followed Louisa. And how could he tell his grandmother, spreading the rumors even farther? Yet Georgie was the one who could be hurt by association with Louisa. When Louisa had first broached the subject of helping Georgie to him, he should have explained why he refused.
But even now, he could not imagine telling a young woman about her reputation. Though tonight’s kiss seemed like a confirmation of it, he couldn’t be certain. All he could do was bide his time and see exactly what Louisa planned to teach his sister. He would be ready to step in when necessary. Georgie had to be protected.
But damn, he would have to spend even more time with Louisa. He would sit across a table from her at dinner every night, imagining how the candles gleamed on her skin, hearing her sultry voice. Over and over he would relive the memories of the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her body, the nagging certainty that she would have let him do more.
He wouldn’t allow himself such a weakness.
Louisa lay alone in bed and trembled. She didn’t know what to do with herself, with these sensations that only Simon had ever inspired.
She longed for him; she longed for more than just that kiss.
But she had made him angry—angry with himself. As if he needed another reason for that.
He was a man, and men always enjoyed the company of women. She was no fool—she knew men could allow themselves more intimacy than a virginal woman could. But Simon had locked himself away from society for so many months now. He wouldn’t let people watch him eat, let alone allow himself to…have a woman.
And she had just flaunted that in his face by kissing him. She felt embarrassed and angry with herself.
She suddenly wondered if she should ask for his forgiveness, promise that it would never happen again. She would have to find him alone, of course.
But when something inside her unfurled in pleasure at just the thought of being alone with him again, she knew there would be no apologizing. She no longer trusted herself not to act on these base impulses.
She would have to pretend nothing had happened. Even though she could not stop touching her lips in wonder. She smoothed her hands down her body, feeling restless and aware. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, and she pulled her hands away in shock.
Heaven help her.
Simon began his day in the normal way—breakfast early, alone, then getting started on paperwork with his secretary. When Georgie joined them, he worked another hour, but she was fidgety and nervous, and she knocked over his pens twice. He sent his secretary on an errand.
“All right, Georgie, just tell me,” he said, exasperated.
“Louisa and I are going shopping in Enfield this afternoon. She says we have ribbons to buy and lace to compare. And she’s never seen the village of course, so we—”
“Then why are you acting so nervous? You know everyone in the village.”
“Well, yes, but…she doesn’t, and I’ll have to introduce her, and what if I make a mess of everything?”
“Georgie, give me your hand.” When she did, he felt it trembling. “If you don’t want to be with Louisa, you have to tell Grandmama.”
“Oh, it’s not that. Louisa is very nice. But she thinks she can help me, and I don’t want to…disappoint her.”
Simon was the disappointed one. He had been hoping that Georgie was being forced to go along with this plan, but it was obvious she’d made up her mind.
“You won’t disappoint her,” he said firmly. “And since she wants to help you, she expects you to need her help, correct?”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded relieved. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. If I were perfect, she’d have nothing to do.”
Simon sighed. “I don’t have any meetings this morning, so you can leave early.”
He felt her swift kiss.
“Thank you, Simon!”
When she was gone, he imagined the two women in the carriage on their way into the village. But in his mind, it was he alone with Louisa, and he knew what he’d do during the short journey.
He groaned and covered his face. Louisa’s kiss had somehow unleashed him—unleashed everything he thought he’d buried because he was a blind man now.
He reminded himself that he had to worry about Louisa, and not just for his own peace of mind. There was Georgie to protect. But what trouble could they get into during a visit to Enfield?
He found out late in the afternoon, when the parish vicar came to visit. Once a week, the elderly man did his duty visiting the parish sick, and though Simon had tried to protest months before that he was no longer “sick,” the vicar would not hear it. So Simon tolerated the man each week, making promises to pray more, to let God into his life and heal him.
He wasn’t going to be healed, but maybe he could say a silent prayer or two to help his control where Louisa was concerned.
But for once, the discussion of the state of Simon’s soul was relatively brief. Then there was an awkward silence. The elderly gentleman sipped his tea rather loudly, tapped his foot on the floor, and seemed not to know where to begin.
“Mr. Baylen?” Simon said. “Is there something specific you need to talk to me about?” He was beginning to wish he’d called for his grandmother. Maybe she’d know what was going on. He was feeling more blind than usual.
“Lord Wade, it is…about your sister.” There was a wealth of reluctance and hesitation in his voice.
“Go on,” Simon encouraged.
“I did not know if I should say anything…your sister has always been such a perfect young lady, so modest and shy.”
Simon’s stomach clenched. “You know that she is, Mr. Baylen.”
“Of course,” the man said quickly. “But…today I saw her in the village with a strange woman.”
Simon told himself to relax. “That is simply my grandmother’s companion, Miss Louisa Shelby.”
“Oh. Oh, well then, I am relieved on one score.”
But obviously not about something else. Simon waited impatiently.
“I saw your sister and Miss Shelby on a public street, laughing quite loudly with two gentlemen—two soldiers.”
The disapproval in his voice spoke volumes. Simon didn’t have to read his face. “Was that all?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
“They did not sneak off alone somewhere?” he continued dryly.
“My lord! Your sister is a lady. I stood nearby to protect her, but they left the gentlemen, and I did not have to intervene.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Simon knew the vicar was only trying to help, but he found himself angry that the man would feel the need to spy on Georgie.
Simon called the visit short by saying he had to work. He was alone with his thoughts for only a short while, when he heard footsteps.
“My lord,” said Manvil, coming closer. He lowered his voice. “Glad the old snoop is gone.”
“So you heard?”
“His righteous indignation was loud enough.”
Simon winced.
“You aren’t going to listen to him, are you? Miss Georgie is young, and it’s good to hear she can have fun.”
Manvil was righ
t—yet the valet didn’t know about Louisa’s reputation. Simon was going to have to speak with her. Alone.
But first he would have to row—even though it was raining. Maybe he’d be too tired to think about her as more than simply a threat to Georgie.
Chapter 8
After an enjoyable afternoon shopping, Louisa was just sitting down to dinner with Lady Wade and Georgie when Simon was led into the dining room by his valet. Georgie’s eyes went wide, and Lady Wade went utterly still, her face a study in hope.
A tightness enclosed Louisa’s throat as he sat down at the head of the table, his rightful place. She was still too raw where her strange feelings for Simon were concerned. She was glad to be here on such a momentous occasion, but how could she watch him speak, remembering what his lips had done to her, or watch him eat, remembering how his hands had felt on her body?
Simon smiled. “It’s very quiet in here. When ladies have just finished shopping, they usually have much to discuss.”
Georgie cleared her throat and dabbed her eyes. But she spoke cheerfully. “I bought a beautiful new hat. Louisa says it will be perfect with the new hairstyle she’s going to show my maid tonight.”
As Georgie went on to describe the decorations on the hat, the first course, oxtail soup, was announced and served. Everyone tried not to watch Simon as he picked up his spoon, found the edge of the bowl with a tap and began to eat.
It took several minutes for the three ladies to join in.
Simon knew every eye was on him, and now he understood how an actor must feel. He mustn’t forget his lines—or his responses to Georgie’s chattering, in this case.
He was concentrating too hard on eating, but for him this was like the first dining exam of many. He’d been “studying” for months now, practicing until he felt he wouldn’t make a fool of himself.
Eating the soup was almost easy. He didn’t think he’d spilled any on himself. When he was served brill with shrimp sauce, however, he hesitated. But just by moving his fork about the plate, he realized that the fish had already been cut for him. One step at a time, he thought with relief. One item of food per plate, but he’d already told the cook that.
“So did you meet up with anyone in Enfield?” Simon asked, remembering the vicar’s comments.
“Two soldiers from the militia,” Georgie answered promptly. “Louisa had met them at a dinner party last year, but they even remembered me.”
“You’re memorable,” Simon said. “And not because of any accident-prone duke’s son.”
She giggled. “No, they weren’t in London when my public mistakes occurred.”
“Did you enjoy talking to them?”
“Not at first. I didn’t know what to say. Louisa asked them about people we had in common, and before I knew it, we were conversing.”
“She did very well,” Louisa said, “once she forgot to be nervous.”
Simon found himself startled. Just the sound of her voice made him remember the feel of her in his arms, the way her soft curves had formed to him. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but when he brought the fork to his mouth, it was empty. He hoped he’d dropped the food on the plate.
He would still have to talk to her about what the vicar said. She would have to be warned about taking care of Georgie’s reputation.
But he couldn’t hurt her by telling her about the other rumors. He found himself dreading the private talk with her—and anticipating it for a baser reason. How could he be worried about Louisa’s reputation, and so willing to add to it at the same time?
Later that evening, he walked down the corridor alone, knowing most of the servants would be preparing for bed. It was easy enough to find her room because she’d been given the blue bedchamber, and it was the last door. He hesitated before knocking, and then was glad he had.
He could hear two women laughing. He recognized his sister’s voice immediately, but it was the sound of Louisa’s pleasure that had him enthralled. Her laughter was as deep and husky as her singing voice, and it made him weak with longing to imagine how she would express a more intimate pleasure.
Feeling ridiculous, hoping no one was silently observing him, he waited in the corridor, listening. They were discussing hairstyles for Georgie, and from their happy exclamations, they apparently approved of whatever experimenting they were doing.
How could he interrupt a blossoming friendship? He remembered Georgie’s friends as being more interested in him than in her. And although Louisa had kissed him, he didn’t believe she would ignore Georgie or treat her badly. Their own mother had never paid this much attention to her.
He couldn’t hurt Louisa by warning her to be careful with his sister’s reputation. He would just have to stay closer to his sister, even if that meant spending time with Louisa. He owed Georgie far more than he could ever repay. She had been his lifeline in the dark days when he’d first been blinded. And he would make her happy, even if it meant suffering through this unwelcome desire for Louisa.
When Simon was expecting Georgie in his study the next morning, the door opened. But it only took a current of air before he knew who it was. And he came to attention in more ways than one.
“Miss Shelby,” he said, then cursed himself for how husky his voice sounded.
“Lord Wade.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
When there was a moment’s hesitation, Manvil suddenly said, “I’ll return later, my lord.”
Simon gritted his teeth. He really hated not being able to see what was going on.
When they were alone, he said, “So you frightened away my servant?”
“You know I didn’t, Simon,” she said coolly. “He simply looked between us and left.”
“Why are you here?”
“Not so polite when we’re alone?”
He gripped the arms of his chair, then forced his fingers to relax. “Louisa, you would try the patience of a saint. And I’m not a saint.”
“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean—God this is awkward.”
“I know. And it’s all my fault. I wouldn’t have intruded, except that Georgie left with your grandmother to visit several invalids of the parish. I’m certain there will be other girls her age accompanying their mothers. Georgie didn’t want to leave you, because she knew how much you depended on her assistance. So I volunteered to take her place.”
Their awkward silence was gradually suffused with a passionate tension that he didn’t know how to combat.
“Do you feel this?” she suddenly whispered. “It’s like there’s something in the air whenever I’m with you. Is this…normal?”
So he wasn’t alone in this rising desire. He wanted to pretend he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t embarrass her like that. “It’s my fault.”
“You didn’t do anything. You haven’t even looked at me, and yet I feel…”
“I don’t need to look at you. I still feel you, taste you. This is…a special awareness between a man and a woman.”
She moaned, and the sound only drove his need higher.
“Oh, Simon, what have I done? I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Do you truly regret it?” he asked, hoping he would know the truth when he heard it.
“I—” She sighed. “God help me, I don’t. I’ve never felt that way before. But I promise that it won’t happen again.”
He didn’t know if he believed her.
Before he could say anything, they were interrupted by his steward, Oscar Edgeworth, who ushered in the two tenants who’d been fighting over the proceeds of a shared orchard.
How the hell was he supposed to concentrate when Louisa Shelby smelled so good?
Louisa rose to her feet as the three gentlemen entered the study. Instead of feeling nervous and wondering how she could help Simon, she was far too interested in watching him. Before his accident, his reputation had named him charming and carefree; th
en she’d seen firsthand his kindness and compassion when he’d helped her sister Victoria find her place in Society. But now she knew him better, saw the depth of emotions he hid to keep his family from worrying. But what kind of businessman was he?
She had already met Mr. Edgeworth, the steward of the estate, a tall man with a brisk, efficient manner.
“Miss Shelby,” he said, giving her a brief bow.
“Miss Shelby will be taking my sister’s place assisting me today, Edgeworth,” Simon said from behind his desk.
Mr. Edgeworth nodded. “Of course, my lord. Miss Shelby, allow me to introduce Mr. Harrison and Mr. Plum, two of Lord Wade’s tenants.”
Both men bowed to her, and she curtsied. Mr. Harrison, sporting a gray mustache and bushy sideburns, frowned at her but was polite. Mr. Plum, florid of complexion, was as round as his name suggested. Both were well dressed for farmers.
Simon sat back in his chair. “To begin, let us summarize the situation, gentlemen. You have been arguing over who has the rights to an orchard that straddles the property line between your farms. Tell me again why you cannot divide the proceeds evenly.”
Mr. Harrison gave an exaggerated sigh. “Lord Wade, dividing the profit doesn’t work. My men do a larger amount of work throughout the year, so how is that fair?”
“That is not true!” Mr. Plum’s face grew even redder. “I cannot help it if you have your workers there at dawn. Mine have cows to milk before they can see to the orchard.”
“I have my workers milking cows before dawn. I can’t help it if your son does not oversee your farm properly.”
“Son?” Simon interjected. “What does Mr. Plum’s son have to do with your argument?”
Both farmers glared at each other and said nothing.
“There is more anger here than is necessary for a simple property dispute,” Simon said.
“It’s not so simple,” Mr. Harrison said, sitting forward on the edge of his chair. “We are talkin’ about a lot of money!”
Louisa realized that in his anger, his accent was beginning to coarsen.
