Coventry’s eyebrows drew together. Leaning back in his chair with his elbows on the armrests, he steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and stared back at Simon. An awful amount of time passed before he responded. “I was furious with both of you when I discovered what happened. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve been so enraged before. Or since.”
The back of Simon’s neck pricked as if a blanket of needles was being pressed down against his skin. “I’m sorry.”
Coventry inclined his head – the only indication he’d heard the apology. He picked up his cup and drank some coffee. “I’ve also had time to think. With greater clarity during the years that followed than I was capable of at the time the event took place. While your coming here is long overdue, I cannot help but wonder if things didn’t turn out for the best.”
Simon gaped at him. “You cannot possibly believe that.”
“Consider the following.” Coventry set his cup aside. His eyes had grown thoughtful. “Melanie died, so if your brother had married her, he would have had to raise Jeremy, and frankly, I don’t think that would have worked out well at all.”
“You’re probably right about that.” Jack had certainly lacked the maturity required to raise a child, especially one who required special attention. “But as Melanie’s brother, you should have been allowed the duel you wanted.”
“Again, we ought to consider the past with the wisdom we’ve since acquired. Had I met Mr. Jack Nugent on the dueling field, I would have killed him, no doubt about it. Which would have made me a murderer – a crime for which I could have been executed. And then who would have cared for Jeremy with both his father and me dead?”
“I would have done so.”
“Are you sure about that?” The question wasn’t asked with anything besides the demand for deep introspective.
“If you recall, I did reach out to you once.”
Coventry’s eyes grew solemn. “I should have responded. It was petty of me not to do so.”
“Your sister was dead. You had an infant to raise and a scandal to cover up. If anything, I ought to have made more of an effort. But the fact is, I was young and unprepared for the enormity of what happened. Frankly, I lacked the experience required to deal with the situation.”
“And now?”
Simon glanced at his coffee. He hadn’t drunk any of it. Perhaps he’d feel more inclined to do so once this subject of conversation had been exhausted. “I’m older now, more aware of my responsibilities, and far more ready to take them on, no matter the obstacles in my path.”
The edge of Coventry’s mouth lifted. “Go on.”
“I’d like to do better,” Simon told him directly. “If you permit, it would please me a great deal to be more involved in Jeremy’s life. But if you don’t wish it, I completely understand.”
“I think every child deserves as much family as they can get, though you cannot be his uncle since that would reveal the nature of your relationship with him and tarnish my sister’s memory. But now that you and I have made peace with each other, I expect you’ll become a dear family friend.”
Simon’s stomach relaxed. His heart found a steadier rhythm. He finally took a sip of his coffee. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Coventry actually chuckled. “I think you should call me Thomas. And if you’ll permit, I’ll call you Simon from now on. Agreed?”
Simon found himself smiling for the first time since his arrival. He breathed a sigh of relief and savored the burst of joy rushing through his veins. “Yes. I would like that a great deal.”
“You should join me and Jeremy for our next outing in the park. This coming Sunday at ten?”
“I’d like that.” Simon finished his coffee and stood, ready to take his leave. “Thank you for meeting with me. I really appreciate it.”
Thomas pushed himself out of his chair and held out his hand. “Think nothing of it.”
Simon shook Thomas’s hand and stepped back. “I do hope you and your wife will be at my wedding.”
“Indeed,” Thomas said with a smile. “If I’m not mistaken, Amelia is responding to your invitation as we speak. We’re both thrilled on your behalf, Simon, and look forward to sharing the day with you.”
Happy with how well the meeting had gone and feeling as though he could finally put the guilt he’d harbored for so many years behind him, Simon made his way back to the madhouse his home had become in the past week since he and Ida had announced their intention to marry. A grin widened his mouth. Most men would likely have taken refuge in their club by now. Simon could scarcely wait to get home so he could help Ida select the right filling for their wedding cake.
Seated in a carriage adorned by white ribbons and rose garlands, Ida smiled with fondness and gratitude, but also at the lengths to which Simon had chosen to go on her behalf.
He hadn’t been joking when he’d said he would make sure they had the biggest, grandest, Society wedding ever. The flowers alone must have cost a fortune.
It wasn’t necessary, she’d told him.
He’d forcefully disagreed.
“His love for you is a bit overwhelming,” Guthrie said from his position beside her. He seemed to stifle a cough. “Quite fragrant.”
Ida’s smile broadened. “I’ve never been happier.”
Guthrie’s hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’m pleased to hear it, and although I never had the honor of knowing him, I do believe your father would be very pleased as well.”
The words squeezed at Ida’s throat and for a hard moment she struggled to force back the tears that suddenly threatened. Her father had known Simon, had fought with him in Spain, and had even saved his life. Although her father had never spoken of Simon to her, there was comfort in knowing he’d met the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life.
“Thank you,” she managed once she’d found her composure. “I think so too.”
The carriage arrived at St. James’s where footmen stood ready to open the door and help her alight. Ida’s heart beat with frantic excitement and expectation. Taking a deep inhalation, she accepted the arm Guthrie offered and allowed him to lead her toward the door. This was it. Her life was changing with each passing second, bringing her closer, not to disaster this time, but toward a bright new beginning.
They entered the church. Ida’s grip tightened on the bouquet she held. And then they were walking down the aisle, past hundreds of people all looking straight at them.
They probably wondered why an earl would choose to attach himself to someone like her. Ida knew the answer of course. It was the same reason why the Huntleys had married and why Guthrie’s wife had chosen him – a reason few people raised in a world built on calculated alliances and the preservation of pedigree could possibly understand.
A choir sang, the soft gentle hymn accompanying her every movement until he was suddenly there, standing before her. Simon, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in navy blue coattails and fawn colored trousers, looked more handsome than ever. His eyes gleamed with pleasure and the smile he gave her was full of promise and love.
He took her hand as Guthrie stepped aside and raised it to his lips for a lingering kiss. Whether appropriate or not, he didn’t seem to care and neither did she. It was suddenly just the two of them. No one else mattered.
“Shall we?” he asked in a low whisper once he’d straightened himself.
Ida caught his gaze and felt her heart triple in size. He was her everything and she knew he felt the same about her. “Yes.”
Not taking his eyes off her for one second, Simon offered Ida his arm. Stepping closer to him, she took it, upon which they turned to face the vicar together.
“Give me your foot.”
Simon blinked. After getting married that morning, he and Ida had endured several grueling hours of ‘required’ socialization during a much too long wedding breakfast hosted at Windham House. While Ida had been prepared to accept Philipa’s absence from the festivities, Simon had insisted she be the
re. The woman was, after all, her only living relation; she’d taken her in and been like a mother to her these past four years. So if some of the gentlemen present found discomfort in having Amourette’s owner, the keeper of some of their dirtiest secrets, there then that was simply too bad.
Simon was beyond giving a damn. His wife’s happiness was all that mattered from now on. As well as his own, of course. And he’d rather thought she was about to make him very happy indeed when she’d knelt before him moments ago. They’d returned to Fielding House and were now upstairs in their bedchamber. He’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.
And now she wanted his foot?
He raised an eyebrow and lifted the right one.
She grabbed it and started removing his hose. Simon’s lips quirked. “Of all the ways in which I imagined our first night together as husband and wife might proceed, I never pictured this.”
A wry smile curved her mouth with mischief. “Why, Lord Fielding. Have you never been seduced in such a way before? From what I hear it’s all the rage on the Continent.”
“Is that so?” He was already trying to figure out how to get her up onto the bed so he could seduce her instead. The task would be easier if she’d release his foot. But she’d just pulled off his hose and was now holding him firmly by his heel.
He wriggled his toes. And then something warm and soft was sliding against his skin. Simon leaned forward to get a better look at what she was doing. A thick woolen sock, beautifully knitted from navy blue yarn, slid into place until the ribbing hugged his calf.
Ida grinned and clapped with delight. She was suddenly removing his other hose and putting on the matching sock. “They fit. Oh, I’m so pleased to see it, for I wasn’t quite sure. How do they feel?”
“They’re incredibly comfortable and I’m sure they’ll be wonderfully warm in the winter.” He gazed down into his wife’s bright eyes, so full of pleasure his heart was near bursting. “This is what you were making?”
A blush colored her cheeks. “Initially, I merely thought to repay your kindness toward me with a small gift in exchange for your help. But then, as I got to know you better and as my feelings for you deepened, it turned into a labor of love.”
With a smile of appreciation directed at her, Simon stood and walked a few paces, tested the feel of the socks she’d made. His chest tightened as he thought of all the hours she must have spent on them. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for him before. “Thank you, Ida. They’re perfect.”
“I’m so glad you like them.”
Her entire face was aglow with pure happiness. And he could resist her no longer.
In one swift movement he pulled her up off the floor and placed her on the bed. She laughed as he followed her down and sighed the moment he kissed her. “I love you, Ida, and I plan to show you how much every day for the rest of my life. Starting right now.”
She answered his declaration with a kiss so deep it seared his soul, then surrendered herself to his caresses and the promise of endless happiness lying ahead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arms crossed and with his shoulder propped against a post in The Black Swan dining room, Blayne MacNeil considered the woman who’d taken a seat at one of the tables in the opposite corner. Her face was softly curved, her eyes sharp with a hint of resolve, and her mouth a deep shade of coral with just enough fullness to stir a man’s blood. Black hair so glossy he fancied running his fingers across it, peeked out from beneath the brim of her spruce blue bonnet. Was her hair long or short? Straight or wavy? He wasn’t able to tell and for some odd reason, that irked him. But what concerned him most were the men who kept taking a seat at her table.
“What do you suppose she’s up to?” Blayne asked Claus as he passed. Both men had been in Carlton Guthrie’s employ until he’d revealed his true identity, claimed his title as the Duke of Windham, and married Regina. Now with Guthrie gone, Blayne had taken over the running of The Black Swan completely, and to this end, Claus was a great help.
Claus stopped and turned. He glanced toward the woman. “From what I gather, she’s conducting interviews.”
Blayne frowned and gave a curt nod. Claus continued past him toward the taproom. The man who’d been seated at the woman’s table while Blayne had been talking to Claus got up. Another man ambled over, spoke a few words, and sat. The woman dropped her gaze to a piece of paper she’d placed on the table and appeared to ask a question.
Judging from her attire, she had to be either gentry or aristocracy, which made her presence here at a St. Giles tavern shocking to say the least. She didn’t belong here and he wasn’t the only one to have noticed. Laborers taking their lunch at nearby tables kept glancing her way. Blayne flexed his upper arm muscles. If anyone gave her trouble he’d have to step in. He tightened his jaw and muttered a curse. The last thing he needed was a reckless woman on his hands.
The man she’d been speaking with most recently got up and another, more stocky fellow, approached her. He wore a slippery smirk that instantly forced Blayne to straighten. The man dropped into a vacant chair, not opposite the woman, but directly beside her. His gaze dipped to the vicinity of her breasts and his hand slid over her thigh.
Blayne stepped forward, moving swiftly between the tables blocking his path. But before he was able to haul the impertinent fellow to his feet and deck him, the man scrambled out of his chair and fled like the very devil was on his heels. Blayne stared after him in surprise.
The woman stood, spotted him, and smiled.
Blayne sucked in a breath. He’d thought her moderately pretty before from a distance, when her expression had been confined to serious lines. But when she smiled, she was absolutely radiant.
“How did you…” He wasn’t sure what she’d done, so he left the statement open in the hope she might explain.
Her smile widened. “I never leave home without my pistol. Knowing I’m able to defend myself against questionable characters eases my mind.”
“So would keeping to safer parts of Town, I’m sure,” he told her.
She tilted her head. Studied him with a shrewd gaze he found disconcerting. “Do you know. I think you’d be perfect.”
His eyes narrowed. “For what?”
“For the position I’m trying to fill.”
He crossed his arms. “I already have a job.”
She leaned forward, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. A sweet floral scent drifted toward him, and he could not help but breathe her in. “It pays exceedingly well. Ten pounds per week.”
Blayne gaped at her, the effect of her close proximity on his senses quite forgotten as he allowed the exorbitant wage to sink in. “What the devil do you want me to do? Kidnap someone and hold them hostage?”
“Don’t be silly,” she chuckled, dismissing his suggestion with a wave of her hand. “What I need is much simpler than that. Less taxing too, I imagine.”
Blayne fought his curiosity. And yet, he could not help asking, “How so?”
She was more than a head shorter than he and of slender build, but when she straightened herself, the confidence and strength she emitted demanded respect. “What I need is an escort who can ensure my safety.”
Blayne stared down into her emerald green eyes. “You seem quite capable of protecting yourself.”
“Nevertheless, having a strong and capable man accompany me when I travel about the City would be the sensible thing to do.”
If he was smart, he’d refuse. Then again, he could use the blunt. It would certainly bring him that step closer to purchasing the property of his dreams and settling down to a quieter way of life. And Claus could easily handle the running of The Black Swan while Blayne was busy with other work.
A distant voice at the back of his head told him to decline the offer.
Instead he asked, “How long would you need me for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What if I hire you on a monthly basis?”
Her suggestion didn’t
sound bad. In fact, a limited contract appealed. It meant he was able to see if the job suited him within a reasonable time frame while leaving him free to quit soon enough if it didn’t.
Ignoring the signs that suggested she’d be a heap of trouble, he stuck out his hand. “Very well. You have yourself a new employee. When would you like me to start?”
She clasped his hand with admirable force, producing a jolt of awareness that zigzagged its way up his arm. The woman stilled for a moment, then cleared her throat and pulled away while he tried to tamp down whatever the hell that had been.
“Tomorrow,” she said in a businesslike tone. “Shall we say ten o’clock at Number Two Berkley Square?”
“Indeed, Miss…”
“Russell.” She swallowed. “And you are?”
“Mr. Blayne MacNeil.”
“A pleasure.” Her gaze held his for three long seconds before she turned away and moved toward the exit.
Blayne knew he should stop her. He knew he ought to call her back and tell her he’d changed his mind. That she’d have to hire someone else. It was the right thing to do since she’d unwittingly placed her wellbeing in the hands of a cold blooded killer. And yet he just stood there, unable to utter one word while she slipped out the door.
Thank You!
Thank you so much for taking the time to read The Formidable Earl. If you enjoyed this novel, you’ll also enjoy the sequel! Order your copy of Her Scottish Scoundrel today so you can read Blayne’s story too!
Or if you haven’t read the previous books in my Diamonds In The Rough series, you might consider starting at the very beginning with A Most Unlikely Duke where bare-knuckle boxer, Raphe Matthews, unexpectedly inherits a duke’s title. Figuring out how to navigate Society won’t be easy, but receiving advice from the lady next door may just be worth it.
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