by Gayle Callen
“Of course it’s over money,” Mr. Plum said. “If my son weren’t being distracted—”
Mr. Harrison rose swiftly to his feet. “Distracted! And who would you be accusin’ of that!”
Mr. Plum pushed himself up out of his chair to meet the other man’s glare.
“Gentlemen, please,” Simon said in a soft, firm voice. “It seems to me that there is more here than a dispute over an orchard. What else comes between you?”
They said nothing; one stared at the floor, the other stared out the window. Louisa saw guilt in both men, and a stubbornness that resisted compromise.
Simon folded his hands on his desk. “You have spent years as amicable neighbors; something had to have happened recently. Something to do with young Tom Plum? Is he bothering you, Mr. Harrison?”
Louisa was surprised that Simon knew the boy’s name.
“He’s not botherin’ me,” the man said grimly.
“Ah, then he’s bothering someone else in your family.”
“Tom’s not bothering her!” Mr. Plum finally exploded. “She’s too damn—excuse me, Miss Shelby—too darn forward. What’s a boy supposed to do?”
Simon gave a faint smile. “Mr. Harrison, are we referring to your daughter, Emma?”
“She’s not forward!” Mr. Harrison insisted, glaring at Mr. Plum. “She’s a good girl. It’s your son who—”
Mr. Plum opened his mouth to respond, glanced at Simon, and then sank back in his chair heaving a sad sigh. “He loves her. I’ve tried to talk sense into him, tried to tell him he could marry the miller’s daughter—even the vicar’s daughter.”
Mr. Harrison narrowed his eyes. “Are you tryin’ to say he could do better than my daughter?”
“I’ve met Emma,” Simon interjected. “She’s a fine young lady. And Mr. Plum, your son Tom is smart and ambitious. So why are the two of you so upset about their courtship? Are either of them engaged?”
Mr. Plum shook his head, as Mr. Harrison said, “No.”
“Mr. Plum, we’re nearing an agreement for you to purchase your farm.”
Mr. Plum nodded and glanced at his neighbor, who looked at him with reluctant interest.
“And Mr. Harrison,” Simon continued, “I understand that Emma has a dowry.”
“Of course she does,” Mr. Harrison said proudly.
“With Mr. Plum’s son, she would own land.”
Mr. Harrison and Mr. Plum both nodded in resignation.
“So can you settle the profits of the orchard?”
They nodded again, forgetting that Simon couldn’t see them.
“We won’t be taking any more of your time, Lord Wade,” Mr. Plum said.
Mr. Harrison reached for his hat. “We’ll send word of our agreement. Good day, Miss Shelby.”
Mr. Edgeworth followed them to the door. “I’ll see them out, my lord.”
Louisa watched Simon, who seemed to stare at the door the men had left through. “So will their children marry?” she asked.
“It seems to be inevitable,” he said, smiling.
“And that was the only source of their disagreement?”
“Every man wants his children to do better than he did. They just needed to realize they’d already accomplished that goal.”
Softly, she said, “Georgie told me she acts as your eyes in these meetings, telling you what people’s expressions conveyed to her.”
“Yes.”
“It seems to me that you understood what was going on all by yourself.”
“That was a fluke.”
“I don’t think so. I always admired your easy way with people.”
He seemed bothered by the topic. “So what are your plans for Georgie?”
First she’d kissed him, now she was admiring him. How much more obvious could she be? She was glad to think about something else—anything else but how drawn she was to him. This—awareness—between them was almost frightening, when one had never experienced it before. She was confused and worried. What were they supposed to do now? How could they go back to a simple friendship? Because she knew he didn’t want more than that.
She told herself that as a friend, she could be grateful for his triumphs; he’d begun to eat in front of his family, even in front of her. And he ate like the gentleman he was, although with slow caution. He did eat one item of food at a time, and she noticed that someone had cut his meat before it was served to him. But if he eventually learned to do that himself, he would surely have more confidence.
But she had to remember to keep Georgie between them. “My plans for Georgie are quite simple, my lord. If you had bothered to ask me when I first proposed this to you—”
Frowning, he interrupted her. “That’s in the past. Much has happened—and you know my name.”
“That is far too intimate. If we are to ignore this—”
“But—”
She waited, but he said nothing more. She was terribly curious, but once again the pleasant mask had come down over his face.
“Your grandmother will be escorting Georgie and me to London in a few days to order your sister a new wardrobe.”
“Good. She needs one.”
“And is a wardrobe so important to you, my lord?”
A smile eased across his face, and she relaxed.
“Obviously not,” he said. “You could wear sackcloth, and I wouldn’t know the difference.”
She blushed, uncertain if he were complimenting her or stating a simple fact.
“But it’s important for my sister to feel good about herself,” he continued.
“I’m glad you feel that way. I’ve also worked with her lady’s maid to change her hairstyle.”
He only nodded.
“I’m going to work on her musical abilities.”
“She doesn’t sing well.”
“But she can play. We’ll make her so accomplished that everyone will want to be accompanied by her. As a hostess she can learn to master serving her guests. As a dancer…”
He visibly winced.
“You’ve told me the dancing didn’t go well,” she said, smiling. “I can remedy that. I am an excellent dancer.”
“Modest, too,” he said with amusement.
“Lord Wade, this is not a situation that calls for modesty. My talents can help your sister.”
When he said nothing, she couldn’t read his face.
“Do you doubt me, my lord?”
“No, but don’t be surprised if I decide to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
The challenge should have bothered her—instead she shivered with anticipation.
The next afternoon, Louisa realized that Simon was making good on his threat. She and Georgie were in the drawing room going through sheet music, when Manvil escorted him into the room and helped him find a chair near the door.
She knew Simon wasn’t watching her, but once again she noticed how much his attention could capture her. She forced him from her mind as she sat on the piano bench and instructed Georgie in the best way to accompany various types of singers—hesitant, loud, too fast, too slow.
“Now you need to practice,” Louisa said, raising her voice. “I wonder if there is someone biding his time in boredom who might want to sing.”
“Very funny,” Simon said dryly from behind them.
Georgie exchanged a glance with Louisa then looked over her shoulder at her brother. “If you’re not going to sing, why are you here? Surely there is business to work on, or boats that need to be rowed.”
Louisa laughed. She watched Simon fold his arms over his chest.
“So if I want to hear my sister play an instrument, that is poorly done of me?” he said with a wounded air. “I can’t pass a quiet moment in peace, receiving pleasure from sound, one of the only senses I have left?”
Louisa and Georgie both groaned.
“All right, all right,” Louisa said with resignation. “I’ll sing. Georgie, get ready.”
She preceded to sing at every poss
ible pace imaginable, until they were both breathless with laughter, and she could sing no more. Simon wore a smile, though he never approached them.
Quietly, Louisa said, “Keep playing, Georgie. I’m going to see if your brother will actually join us.”
“Regardless, you should be impressed with yourself, Louisa. He hasn’t come near a piano at all until you arrived.”
Louisa frowned. “You should know that he’s practically challenged me to make sure I do a decent job by you. That’s probably why he’s here.”
Georgie hit a wrong note. “What? That is the silliest things I ever—I’ll just have to talk to him.”
“No, please let me handle this. I don’t want him to think I’m betraying his confidence.”
“If you insist,” she said reluctantly.
“Keep playing,” Louisa whispered, then left Georgie to walk to Simon. She made sure her footsteps were loud.
“You don’t have to pound the floor,” Simon said as she approached.
“Pound the floor?” she asked innocently, sitting down beside him.
“I heard you before you started walking heavily.”
“Such incredible hearing you have—but it is one of your only senses left.”
“You’re very good at turning my words around.”
“Because it’s so easy to do,” she said sweetly.
He smiled and shook his head, and she felt some of her nervousness leave. He was a man, and she had always thought she understood men. But then she’d never dealt so personally with her gentlemen callers. She let herself admire his fair hair, and those masculine dimples that were made for laughter. When pleasure tensed and curled inside her, she tried to put it aside. Was she making everything worse?
“So are you really going to sit here and just listen?” she asked, wondering at his true motives.
“Why not? My sister plays well. And how can you be upset that I’m here? I’m not hiding from my family, as you feared.”
She winced at his sarcasm. “You could sing.”
“She doesn’t need me to. In fact, she doesn’t need you singing either.”
Frowning at him, she wished she could read the expression in his eyes. But there was none. She hadn’t realized how much she understood people by that alone—and how much he must miss the ability.
“And why shouldn’t I sing?” she asked.
“Because you sing quite…passionately.” His voice had deepened. “And I don’t mean with emotion.”
She was relieved that he couldn’t see her shock. “Passionately? My lord, that song was about a shepherd girl tending her flock!”
“It doesn’t matter what you sing—your voice gives the song an edge. I don’t know,” he added with a shrug. “Maybe only men can hear it.”
She sat back, stunned, and watched Georgie continue to play. “So when I sing about shepherds, men hear something else?”
“I’m sorry I said anything,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’m sure I’m mistaken.”
“No, you don’t think you’re wrong.”
He didn’t call for Manvil, so he stood still, with obvious indecision.
So he thought she sang…suggestively? It made her feel strange and uncertain, something she usually never was.
“Simon?” Georgie called. “Can I escort you somewhere?”
“No, trusty Manvil will have heard you,” Simon said.
The valet appeared in the doorway. “My lord?”
Simon left, Georgie played on, and Louisa sank back in the chair. She should take offense at Simon’s words, but she couldn’t. This was a man who’d kissed her passionately, had said he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Of course he could hear things in her voice—because his thoughts put them there. She was the first single woman he’d been near in many months. She shouldn’t even be flattered in his interest, when of course he was desperate. And he was fighting it.
He at least recognized their flirtation as only that. She wasn’t so certain what she thought of it. She only knew that something had to be done, or he’d sit in this house obsessing about her for no other reason than that she was all that was available.
And that wasn’t very flattering.
Chapter 9
Simon rowed harder and harder. He could hear the slap of the oars hitting the water, the rush of the waves he created with his own power. Sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes, and his tired muscles ached.
“You’re going to break the oars,” Manvil said casually.
“Then we swim.”
They were silent for several more minutes.
“Your sister plays well.”
Between grunts, Simon said, “Thank you.”
“Miss Shelby sings well.”
One oar went too deep, out of rhythm with the other. Simon caught it and continued rowing. “She does.”
He still couldn’t believe he’d told her she sang passionately. What the hell had he been thinking? He didn’t know if he’d made her feel badly—or revealed too much about himself.
She knew he was attracted to her. He’d already admitted it, and proved it with his hands and mouth.
His big mouth.
“Why didn’t you sing with her?” Manvil asked.
“I didn’t know the song.”
“But even if you did, you wouldn’t have sung with her.”
“Probably not.”
“Can’t trust yourself, huh?”
Simon frowned. “Manvil, isn’t there a line between employer and servant that you’re crossing?”
“I passed that a long time ago. So why couldn’t you sing with her?”
“Be quiet,” Simon said tiredly.
“Then I shouldn’t tell you we’re about to hit the shore?”
Simon quickly reversed his rowing until they slowed down. He felt a gentle grind along the keel. “Were you just going to let me beach the boat?”
“Might have been good for you.”
Simon sighed and used an oar to push away from the shore. “I wish you’d find that line and cross back over it.”
“And let you be bored?”
Simon harrumphed.
Simon thought he was quite subtle the following morning when he questioned Georgie about the day’s lesson with Louisa. It would be dancing, another thing he could not help his sister with. He remembered Georgie writing him letters about her dancing masters whining over their injured toes. She’d made it all into a joke, and he’d been so busy with his own life, that he’d accepted it.
Not anymore. Dancing was a sensitive topic for her since she’d tripped the duke’s son. He didn’t remember her dancing at all after that, unless he himself dragged her onto the floor. How would Louisa handle such a delicate thing?
Georgie invited him to attend, confessing her nerves, giving Simon a way in without making it look like his idea.
After luncheon, Simon had Manvil escort him to the far end of the manor, where the ballroom occupied a corner of the ground floor, and opened up onto the terrace.
“The ladies are going to dance?” Manvil said doubtfully.
“Are they here?”
“Yes, in the far corner where the housekeeper is seated at the piano.”
“I wondered who was going to play for them.”
“I was impressed with how you managed to get yourself invited.”
Simon gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a shame I must keep you around all day.”
Manvil didn’t answer, only guided him into the room. Simon imagined it all as he walked. He could see the tall windows in his mind, see the sun shining in them rather than moonlight. And there would be Louisa, that red hair shining. He remembered other ballrooms, where he’d watched her through the crowd. She’d been almost a queen among subjects then.
As always, he wondered why she wanted to help Georgie more than returning to be the toast of London.
“Simon, you came!” Georgie cried.
Manvil retreated to the corridor as usual. Simon heard the sound of her
soft slippers running toward him, then lowered his cheek for her quick kiss.
“I don’t mind being moral support,” he said mildly.
“Moral support?” Louisa said. “Dancing is that frightening, Georgie?”
“The memories are not good,” Georgie said. “Do you…know what happened, Louisa? How I embarrassed myself?”
Simon began, “You did not embarrass yourself—”
Then he felt a soft touch on his arm and stopped. He knew who touched him like that, full of hesitancy, yet lingering a bit too long. Louisa.
“Georgie,” she said, “your brother told me a little. You must feel terrible that people witnessed your mistakes in so public a place.”
After a pause, Georgie said, “It was dreadful. I don’t even think the duke’s son would have asked me, but Grandmama knew his mother and…I’m sure he felt obliged. And then I put him on his face on the floor.”
“Oh dear,” Louisa said.
“His nose bled,” Georgie continued grimly. “There were spatters of blood on his white waistcoat. I can still see it when I close my eyes.”
“What did he do?” Louisa asked.
“The bastard walked away,” Simon said in a low voice. “I saw it all.”
“He sounds like a fool.” Louisa spoke dismissively. “What man would treat a young girl that way? He probably deserved a good bloodying. He shouldn’t have left you standing there.”
“He needed to clean himself,” Georgie said weakly.
“But he didn’t return.” Simon cocked his head toward his sister. “And you refused to dance after that.”
“That night only you asked me!”
“Other men did at later events.”
“Brave ones. I would have tripped them, too.”
“It sounds to me like you just need practice,” Louisa said. “Mrs. Calbert will play a quadrille, and you and I will begin.”
“Will you be the man, Louisa?” Georgie asked.
Simon relaxed at the returning sound of laughter beneath her words.
“I make a very good man,” Louisa said.
He almost snorted at that one. “There would be a lot of padding and binding involved to make you look even remotely like a man.”
“I think that was a compliment!” Georgie cried.
