Chapter Seven
Almost an hour after his return to the house, Simon was bathed and shaved, and now he stood in front of the mirror, his valet smoothing his waistcoat of all wrinkles and straightening the already perfect knot of his cravat.
“The black jacket?” Swanson asked as he stepped away and lifted his choice for judgment.
“Why not? It matches the bruises,” Simon said, staring at his reflection.
Since his return to the house, his nose had swollen and dark bruises were beginning to spread up to his eyes. They were a clear indication that it was broken from Graham’s well-placed punch earlier in the day. That would certainly not help with the talk around the party, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
Aside from the broken nose, Simon felt he looked well put together. He would need to be. He was about to face a firing squad. And once it was over, he would likely be hastened into a quick marriage.
A fact he didn’t want to thrill at. He shouldn’t. He didn’t deserve to be happy over this stolen future with Meg when he had caused such heartache to people he’d called his brothers for decades. When he had caused such damage to her.
As Swanson slid the jacket over his shoulders, there was a sudden pounding at the door. Both men turned toward the sound, and Simon’s heart sank. No servant would bang so loudly, nor would James if he’d simply come to check on Simon’s progress before the final showdown.
Which left only one option for the person behind the door.
“Let him in,” he said to Swanson. “And then you may go.”
His valet looked uncertain, but didn’t argue the point as he moved to the door and opened it to reveal Graham standing outside. Simon shifted his shoulders back and forced himself to meet his friend’s eyes as Swanson edged past, his expression filled with worry at the tension that now coursed between the men.
“Come in,” Simon said when Graham didn’t move.
Graham’s eyebrow arched. “Inviting me inside like nothing happened?”
Simon drew a sharp breath at the cold, hard quality of Graham’s tone. He fought to keep his own neutral. “No, there’s no way I can look into the mirror and not know what happened earlier.”
“You want me to apologize for breaking your pretty face?” Graham drawled.
“No. I want you to come inside because there are likely a dozen listening ears in the hallway,” Simon said through clenched teeth. “And I think whatever you have to say requires privacy.”
“Privacy. Yes, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? What you did last night with my fiancée required privacy, didn’t it? And you bloody well arranged a situation where you’d have it,” Graham hissed as he came inside the room and slammed the door behind him, hard enough that one of the portraits on the wall fell clattering to the wooden floor.
Neither man moved to retrieve it, but they stood staring at each other. Simon struggled to find words to say to Graham, but it was almost impossible. His friend’s words were true, at least to some extent. Simon hated himself for it.
“You’re angry, Graham,” Simon said softly. “And you have every right to be. I’m not making excuses for what I did last night. For what you stumbled upon this morning.”
Graham laughed, but it was a hard, angry sound that crackled through the room. “But?”
Simon clenched his fists at his sides. “Nothing happened,” he said. “Nothing happened. You must know me well enough to trust me when I tell you that, looking into your eyes.”
Graham shook his head slowly. “I think it may be that I didn’t know you at all. Nor her, it seems.”
Simon stiffened. “If you want to be angry at me, slander me, go ahead. I deserve it, I can take it. But stop including her in this. Meg was not at fault.”
“You two,” Graham breathed. “Always thick as thieves. Always turning toward each other, whispering and giggling, dancing.”
Simon clenched his jaw. “You don’t like to dance, Meg does. It’s the only reason—”
“Clearly not the only reason,” Graham interrupted.
Simon bent his head. “I suppose not.”
“James came in to talk to me. To say that you two needed to tidy up after your dirty little night together and that I had to wait for my satisfaction. He’s trying to make me feel better, you see, by telling me he believes there have been feelings between you for years.”
Simon flinched. “I wish he had let me tell you that myself. And why aren’t you still with him? I can’t imagine he sent you up here to have this conversation while you’re in this mindset.”
“He didn’t,” Graham conceded. “He went to talk to Baxton. Apparently the viscount is spreading the story around the entire party. I don’t know why James is bothering to put a stop to him. Once Baxton said that kind of gossip out loud, there was no way it wasn’t going to spread like wildfire.”
“No,” Simon whispered, hating himself. “It’s too good.”
Graham tilted his head and looked at Simon closer. “It is, isn’t it? After all, how often do two dukes, friends since they were children, fight over another duke’s sister? How often does one of those dukes and said sister slide behind the other’s back and…what did you tell me? Do nothing together. Do nothing while naked.”
Simon gritted his teeth harder. Graham was spoiling for a fight and he was baiting Simon now, saying everything he could to make Simon start it. And it was working, for Simon was starting to want nothing more than to return the punch that had broken his nose earlier.
“Stop, please,” he whispered.
Graham shook his head. “Did you laugh at me while you did nothing with my fiancée? Were you planning on telling me all along, bragging like you used to do with all the women you fucked over the years? Or were you two going to keep it quiet, let her marry me and just continue to carry on behind my back?”
Simon lunged then, pushed to his limit and beyond. He caught Graham’s lapels and slammed him back, smashing him against the wall with all his strength.
“I would never have done that, goddamn it, Graham. You should know better. I was going to leave. Roseford and I were leaving in a day or two, out of the country, and I wasn’t going to come back, not until after you were married. What happened last night wasn’t some way to get over on you.”
“Even though you have feelings for her?” Graham asked, not fighting Simon’s grip. Not moving at all except to look down at him, his gaze steady and unwavering.
“Yes,” Simon whispered. “Yes, I have feelings for her. I have had feelings for her for almost a decade. And I never acted on them, I never acted on them once, because of you. But you can’t act like you care this much, damn you. You don’t want her, you never did. And here I was, dying inside knowing that she would be yours. That you would one day touch her like I wanted to, that you would one day have children with her that I would have to look at, see her eyes and your hair. You didn’t want her, Graham. And I did.”
“My problem isn’t that you wanted her,” Graham growled. “My problem is that if you’d told me a year ago or five years ago, I would have stepped aside and wished you nothing but happiness. But you didn’t tell me. You let it fester, you let it change our friendship over the past half a decade. A friendship that you claim means so much to you. And then you reached out and you stole her from me in the most public way you could muster.”
Simon drew back, releasing Graham’s lapels and turning away toward the fire. He didn’t know what to say to that charge. There was nothing to say, really. Whatever his intentions, whatever his goals, he had done exactly what Graham said.
“You are my friend, Graham,” he said softly. “I never would have hurt you on purpose.”
Graham moved toward him, his eyes narrowed. “You were never my friend, Simon. And you did.” He passed by to the door and paused there. “Now let’s go downstairs. There are things to be done. Humiliations to be made complete. You have a bride to finish winning and I want to get on with it so I can go home.”
He opened the door and Simon squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of a half a dozen footsteps scurrying away. Eavesdroppers, whisperers who would multiply this story, magnify it.
All of them would suffer for it: Graham, Meg, Emma, James…though only Simon deserved the censure and gossip. He opened his eyes and watched Graham walk away without so much as a backward glance. It killed him to do it, for he knew what that moment meant.
He had just lost one of his dearest friends. His life would never be the same.
Emma had turned away the lady’s maid, Fran, and now stood behind Meg, twisting her hair into a simple chignon. She had stayed with Meg since her return to the house, silent as Fran helped her into a hot bath, talking about nothing important as she was dressed.
Meg knew what her friend was doing. She was giving her a reprieve since they both knew there would not be another for a long time to come.
She appreciated Emma for it, more than she could express.
“I will not do as good a job at this as Fran would,” Emma said around the final hairpin pressed between her lips. “But you are beautiful no matter what.”
She slid the last pin in and handed Meg a mirror to look at her handiwork. Meg barely did so and turned to smile at Emma. “I’m not sure it matters how I look today.”
“Of course it does,” Emma said. “This is your armor.”
Meg stood and walked across her chamber to stand at the window. She looked down at the garden below where a dozen or so of the party guests were gathered, whispering behind fans, conducting animated discussions that could be about only one thing. Her cheeks burned and her chest ached with anxiety.
“Are we going to talk about what happened?” Meg asked.
Emma stepped forward. “Only if you’d like to.”
Meg faced her. “We must, mustn’t we? After all, what I’ve done, it will affect you and James. This scandal will be very deep for a long time to come. And you and he are only just married. I’m so sorry to ruin that happiness.”
Emma’s expression softened. “My dearest, there is nothing anyone on this earth could do to ruin my happiness when it comes to James. As long as he’s here in this world and he is at my side, I am complete. So there is no reason to apologize for that.” She caught Meg’s hands and gently squeezed. “As for the other, yes, you are moving into some muddy waters. I know snippets of what happened from that awful Lord Baxton’s gossip. Do you want to tell me the truth?”
“There’s so little to tell,” Meg whispered. “I was upset about—” She cut herself off, for saying out loud what she had been upset about felt wrong, especially now that so much damage had been done. “I was upset. I went for a walk, Simon followed, then the storm trapped us. Yes, when we were found we were naked, but that was only to allow our clothes to dry out. Nothing…happened.”
Emma arched a brow. “The way you say that makes me think a little more than nothing happened.”
Meg caught her breath as she looked at her friend. Emma had such a kind expression, a gentle one. And the truth of what had happened last night felt like it was festering in Meg’s body. She needed to say it out lout. She needed someone else to understand. “He—he kissed me.”
Emma nodded, but didn’t look surprised by the admission. “And how was it?”
Meg drew back. “That is what you have to say? No admonishment? No shock?”
“James may be surprised to find out that you have carried feelings for Simon for all these years, but I am not,” Emma said with a laughing shake of her head. “I have seen, even just since you and I became good friends a handful of months ago, how close you and Simon are. How much you mean to each other. So, how was the kiss? You have been waiting for it a long time.”
Meg shifted, for gossiping like schoolgirls over the kiss seemed untoward. “Perhaps I shouldn’t…”
“There is plenty of opportunity for self-recrimination to come,” Emma whispered. “Tell me about the kiss. You are allowed to have enjoyed it.”
“Graham never kissed me. Not more than on the cheek ever and rarely even that,” Meg admitted slowly. “So it was not only my first kiss with Simon, but my first kiss ever. And it was…I have never felt anything like it, Emma. It was tender and passionate, not gentle, but I wanted it so much. I wanted more.”
Emma smiled. “And I think we both know that more is what you are about to get. Is it the best of circumstances? No, of course not. But I hope you won’t let an odd beginning keep you from a happy ending.”
“Like you and James have,” Meg said.
Emma looked at the clock on the mantel and gasped. “We are meant to join them momentarily. Come, we’ll walk together.”
Meg’s stomach clenched. “Oh God, I’m not ready. I’m not ready to face Graham, to face James. To face the future.”
Emma shook her head. “You think you aren’t, but you are stronger than you know. I think you told me that once.”
“The difference is that when I told you, it was true.”
Her friend touched her cheek gently. “I assure you, it is true when I say it to you, too. Now come.”
Emma linked arms with her and they left the chamber, walking down the stairs and through the halls to James’s office. Meg’s nervousness increased with each step and finally they stopped in front of the closed door. She expected Emma to simply ferry her inside, but she didn’t.
Instead her friend turned toward her, a renewed earnestness to her expression. “You were right when you said James and I had an odd start. Our pretended courtship, his vow to marry me to protect me from my father’s machinations…all of it could have pushed us far apart as we started our marriage. But I loved him, Meg. And he loved me. Once we admitted that, focused on that…nothing else mattered.”
Meg nodded slowly. She understood what Emma was trying to say to her. The difference was that she wasn’t entirely certain that Simon loved her. Or that he wanted her, truly wanted her, despite the searing kiss in the cottage.
All she knew for certain was that what was about to happen behind that big, mahogany door was not going to be happy or joyful or celebratory.
Because of what she and Simon had done, it was bound to be much, much worse.