Eleven
“Your Grace,” Mr. Davis, Simon’s solicitor, said, surprise flashing across his face as the dark-haired, thin man scrambled from his desk chair to stand. “Did we have an appointment today?”
“No,” Simon replied, taking the seat opposite Davis’s cluttered desk. “We did not. I’m sorry to drop in to yer office unannounced—”
Mr. Davis waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it,” he said pleasantly. “I’m the only one in the office today. Merely catching up on paperwork.”
“Aye,” Simon nodded. “I noted yer clerk is not here.”
Mr. Davis smiled as he pushed his spectacles up the long bridge of his bony nose. “How might I be of assistance?”
Simon took a deep breath, quickly thinking over the decision he had come to after Anne had told him of Ian Frazier and how the man had tricked her into thinking he loved her and wanted to marry her when all he had truly wanted was her fortune. Rage on Anne’s behalf still curdled in Simon’s gut. Simon leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m going to take over a company, and ye are going to help me do it.”
“Of course,” Mr. Davis immediately agreed. “Whose company do you wish to purchase?”
“A Mr. Ian Frazier. But first, I wish to bring the company almost to the brink of ruin. Then I will purchase it for a fraction of what it is now worth.”
Mr. Davis grinned, showing he was far more hard-edged than his unassuming appearance would make one think. Simon had known this, of course, which was precisely why he had chosen Mr. Davis to be his solicitor.
The man smiled. “Tell me exactly what part you wish me to play.”
Not an hour after leaving Mr. Davis’s office and seeing the cobbler, Simon found himself at the home of Anne’s sister and brother-in-law. Simon had rushed back to his house, aware of how late he was to meet Anne, only to discover that she and both his sisters had left to call on Lady Harthorne.
Simon was eager to see Anne, so he stood shifting from foot to foot at the bottom of the winding staircase with a very evasive Harthorne. Simon had liked the man immediately upon meeting him. At least until the earl had refused to tell Simon what the ladies were up to. He’d simply directed Simon to the bottom of the stairs where he said he’d dutifully been standing for the last hour.
“Have they come down in the time ye have been standing here?” Simon asked.
Harthorne grinned. “Oh yes. Many times.”
“What the devil are they doing?”
“Being women,” Harthorne said with a chuckle. Suddenly the sound of feminine laughter echoed off the walls and seemed to float down the staircase. “Here they come,” he said. “And for God’s sake, tell them all they look stunning so that this can be finished.”
Before Simon could question the man, Elizabeth came sashaying down the stairs in a green gown he had never seen his sister wear before. She grinned at him and dipped into a deep curtsy. “Do I look like a proper English lady?” she asked, her Scottish accent giving away the fact that she most assuredly was not English.
“Ye do,” he assured her. “Ye look stunning.”
“Good man,” Harthorne leaned over to whisper.
Next was Caitlin, who looked equally as lovely in a gown a deep shade of blue.
Then came Harthorne’s wife in a sparkling gown of silver. Harthorne nudged Simon. “Is my wife not the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?”
Simon opened his mouth to agree that Lady Harthorne was lovely, but at that moment, Anne appeared at the top of the stairs in a daring gown of gold that plunged scandalously low and made Simon’s blood thicken.
“She looks better in my gown than I do,” Lady Harthorne said with a chuckle.
“She is astonishing,” Simon heard himself saying, “in everything she wears. Yer sister’s beauty starts from within, which makes it shine outward brightly to warm everyone around her.”
“Simon!” Elizabeth exclaimed as Anne walked very slowly down the stairs toward them, her head held high and her flaxen hair swept back, revealing her slender neck he had so enjoyed kissing. “I have never heard ye speak of yer admiration for a woman, let alone sound besotted by one.”
He turned his gaze for a brief moment from Anne and found both his sisters, Anne’s sister, and Harthorne staring at him. Damnation. He had set out to seduce Anne, and she was seducing him. Unknowingly, to be sure, but effectively nonetheless. He was beguiled, and all he wanted was Anne. Not revenge. Just Anne. Would she believe him if he told her so? How could he prove it to her?
He looked to Anne once more, and as she neared the bottom of the stairs, he saw her wince and her hand flutter to her left leg, then move immediately away when their eyes locked. He suspected her heel was still bothering her. Excitement and anticipation filled his chest as he rushed to the table where he’d left the package he brought for her and strode back to her just as she reached the small gathered group. Everyone paused as he came to stand with them.
“Miss Adair,” Simon said, allowing his gaze to roam slowly over her lovely form. “Might I have a moment alone with ye?”
“I’m not certain that’s wise,” Harthorne said, which earned him a sharp, very noticeable elbow in the side from his wife.
“We can watch them from the window if they stay just outside of the main doors in the garden,” Lady Harthorne said.
Anne frowned at her sister and brother-in-law. “I do not need a chaperone,” she snapped.
“It’s not proper—” Harthorne began to protest.
Simon quickly cut in. “I simply wish to present Miss Adair with something I made for her. If ye wish for me to do it here—”
“He might,” Anne interrupted, “but I don’t.” With those words, she motioned Simon to follow her, which he did without hesitation.
Anne rather liked not caring at all about the rules of the ton, and she feared she rather liked Simon, despite knowing what she did about his intentions. She could not help but believe that a man who cared for his sisters when they were ill and who stood by his friend in loyalty was a good man. She could not reconcile the man she was coming to learn with the man Mary had said duped and used her. What if Mary had been lying? Anne felt immediately guilty for the disloyal thought, but it certainly would explain the inconsistencies.
She led Simon into the garden, taking care to stay within sight of the window where Harthorne could watch them so he’d not have a fit. She turned to Simon, and her breath caught in her throat. He was such a compelling man, in presence as well as demeanor. She noted the box in his hands and the look of anticipation on his face.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought your sisters here to borrow some gowns for the ball tomorrow night.”
“I’m grateful to ye for doing so. I promised them new wardrobes, but there has not yet been time. Perhaps ye could recommend a good seamstress for them? One who will ensure they are attired as proper young debutantes should be.”
She heated when his gaze dropped to her décolletage. Jemma loved her gowns to be dramatic and slightly scandalous. Anne usually chose a more modest gown as she knew well she was no beauty like her sister. “I don’t normally dress like this,” she blurted.
“That’s good,” Simon murmured. Anne flinched at his statement, and his eyes widened. “Ye misunderstand me, Anne. With ye in that gown, every rogue in England would beat a path to be at yer side.”
“Are you trying to seduce me with false compliments?” she asked, wishing he’d not think her such a fool, though she very well might be.
“I no longer wish to seduce ye, Anne.”
She frowned. “Whyever not? Am I that displeasing?”
“God, no!” he said on a laugh. “Ye…well, I wish to court ye. In earnest.”
Pleasure rushed through her, followed by wariness. “Is this a clever ploy? You started by boldly informing me that you wanted to seduce me and now you say that you wish to court me. Is that to confuse me so that you can seduce me?”
“No.” He chuckled again. “I can see how ye might think that, though.”
She swallowed. “Simon, I…I wish to believe you,” she admitted, “but how can I, considering what happened between you and Mary?”
A dark scowl swept his features. “I have told ye that nothing occurred. Lady Mary lied. She was to be betrothed to a much older man whom she loathed, and I believe she thought if we were to join, she could marry me instead. The only crime I’m guilty of is not handling my rejection of her throwing herself at me gently enough.”
“If I choose to believe you, then I am saying Mary is capable of horrid treachery. You must see that I could never side against her without proof. It would destroy my grandfather.”
Simon’s eyes narrowed, and she feared that her words had put an insurmountable wall between them, though in actuality, it had already been there. “Yer grandfather tried to destroy me without proof, except for his ward’s accusations.”
“He believes Mary told him the truth,” Anne murmured.
Simon gripped her fingertips, his eyes probing hers. “What do ye believe?”
In this moment, she was on a precipice. If she chose to believe Mary, she would be condemning Simon, but if she chose to believe Simon, who was an admitted rogue and who she had known such a short time, she would be going against her own grandfather. Anne swallowed. “Simon, you said you wished to seduce me… Was I correct when I presumed it was to ruin me because you thought that would somehow hurt my grandfather?”
“Aye,” Simon said without hesitation.
“I don’t know whether I should be relieved that you have finally told me the truth or angry at you.”
“Both,” he said, surprising her. “I’m relieved that ye know and angry at myself that I could have contemplated such dishonorable behavior. Do ye think ye could believe me?”
She wanted to say yes, but she didn’t see how she could. “I—” What could she say?
Simon’s eyes seemed to grow hard. “I understand.” He released her hand at once and stepped away from her. He thrust the box he’d been holding in his other hand at her. “This is for ye. I made it.”
Her heart began to pound as she took the box, looked down, and worked the lid off. Inside was a pair of beautiful shoes. She frowned, even as she ran a finger over one of them. “You made me shoes?” she asked, looking up.
“Aye. I know the ones ye were wearing pained ye, and I wanted ye to be able to dance as long as ye desired. These should help with that. Next time ye wish to dance, ye will be free of pain. I put a lift in it similar to the one currently in yer shoe but with softer edges.”
“Is this where you were today?” she asked, her throat tightening with emotion.
“Aye,” he said.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled wryly. “Say ye believe me about Lady Mary.”
She had been such a fool before with Ian. Was she repeating that same mistake with Simon?
“I would like to believe you,” she said.
“I suppose,” he replied, taking her hand in his, “it is up to me to find a way to prove my honesty to ye.”
He looked toward the window, then back to her. “Might I kiss ye? Yer brother-in-law has moved away from his watch.”
She knew she should say no, but she nodded. His lips came to hers, soft, reverent, and searching. She returned his kiss with the passion she seemed to feel in him, yet it was so hard to believe he truly wanted her. She broke the kiss and placed a palm on his chest. She stared up into his eyes. “What is it that draws you to me?” She wasn’t sure what sort of answer she was hoping for, but she felt the need to ask.
“Ye are perfect to me, Anne.”
“Now I know you are lying to me,” she said, feeling a tug of disappointment. “I have one leg shorter than the other, for goodness’ sake!”
“Aye,” he agreed, “ye do. And ye have not allowed it to slow ye down. Ye do not bemoan yer lot. Ye are beautiful, but ye don’t see it. Ye are loyal, fierce, and kind.”
“Either you are telling the truth or you are the most dangerous rogue in England and I the most foolish woman.”
“Ye are no fool, and ye know it.”
She didn’t know it; that was the problem. Such doubt would either save her from heartache or cause her the greatest loss she had ever known.
After seeing Simon and his sisters out, Anne entered the sitting room to find Jemma waiting there with an expectant look on her face.
“Well?” her sister demanded, patting the unoccupied settee cushion beside her.
Clutching the box that Simon had given her, Anne made her way to Jemma and sat. She opened the box and showed the contents to her sister. “Simon made me shoes because he saw that I was wincing yesterday when he was teaching me how to dance.”
Jemma’s eyes popped wide. “He was teaching you to dance? He made you shoes? My, my—” Jemma smirked “—now who thinks the Duke of Kilmartin is divine?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Anne. “It almost makes one think he’s a rogue the way he seems to charm each lady he meets,” Jemma exclaimed with a laugh.
“Oh, Jemma,” Anne moaned. “He may well be a rogue…”
Anne quickly told her sister all that had happened, even that which she had not been willing to confess before now. The time had come for her to seek advice from someone she could trust utterly and completely.
“So,” Anne finished as Jemma stared at her with an almost shocked expression, “as I told Simon earlier, either he is telling the truth about not seducing Mary and no longer wishing to continue his plan of revenge on Grandfather, or he has made a fool of me with his wicked roguish ways. For if I allow myself to fall under Simon’s spell—”
Jemma snorted. “I daresay you are already quite under his spell.”
Anne frowned. “I am under the shadow of it, I admit, but I am not so far gone that I’m blind. If I allow myself to fall completely—”
“Grandfather and Mary will be livid,” her sister finished for her.
Anne nodded. “Unless I can somehow prove Simon is telling the truth, that is. Or should I simply forget him and not see him again?”
“Certainly not!” Jemma cried out. “He made you shoes! That is the most thoughtful and accepting gift he could give.”
Anne grinned. “Yes, I agree.”
“Try them on,” Jemma encouraged.
Anne hurriedly did so, stood, and twirled around the room. “They feel divine.”
“You cannot refuse to give a man a chance to prove himself who has made you perfectly fitting shoes! However, if he demonstrates that he is truly a rogue, or evidence surfaces that he really seduced Mary, then I will set Philip on him.”
Anne cocked an eyebrow at Jemma. Her brother-in-law was known for his poetry, not his physical prowess. The man was certainly well-made, but she did not think Simon would see him as a threat.
“Very well,” Jemma responded to Anne’s unspoken thoughts, “I will set Philip on him alongside the Duke of Scarsdale and the Duke of Aversley.”
Anne giggled. “Now those two men could frighten Simon.” She paused a moment and then sighed. “I better be off. I want to speak with Grandfather about Mary once more, and I want to speak with Mary directly, too. I feel as if I am missing a very important piece of what happened.”
“Do choose your words wisely. If Grandfather knows you have a tendre for the duke—”
“I do not have a tendre for him,” Anne protested, though she certainly had the start of one.
Jemma smirked again. “Call it whatever you wish. If Grandfather knows, he will likely rise out of bed, attend the ball with you, and confront Kilmartin in public. Can you imagine?”
Anne could, and it would be dreadful. No matter what Simon turned out to be, it was no fault of his sisters’. They deserved the chance to make good matches, which meant untoward gossip about Simon would not do.
When Anne returned home, the first thing she did was knock on Mary’s bedchamber door.
“You may enter,” Mary called from inside.
Anne did so, thinking how to delicately broach the subject of Simon, but before she could say anything, Mary turned from the looking glass she’d been brushing her hair in and scowled at Anne.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “You missed a meeting of the Sisterhood. I, of course, took the lead and made much-needed decisions. You truly have shirked your duty as president, Anne, and I’m afraid it falls to me to tell you that you are no longer our leader.”
“What?” Anne gasped, finally getting a word in. She thought she saw Mary smirk.
“What did you expect? You’ve done nothing to aid poor Fanny.”
“I’m working on it,” Anne objected, not wanting to tell Mary of her deal with Simon.
Mary waved. “There is no need for you to do anything. I have a plan to take care of Lord Rutledge and that scoundrel the Duke of Kilmartin.”
Dread filled Anne. Mary seemed almost gleeful about the prospect of exacting revenge on the men. Would she really feel so strongly about striking Simon if he had not truly used her?
“Mary, tell me again what happened with you and the Duke of Kilmartin?”
Mary gave her a questioning look. “Whatever for?”
“I have had the opportunity to speak with the man,” Anne said, deciding to give Mary a sliver of the truth, “and he actually seems nice.”
“Of course he does, you fool!” Mary almost screeched. “He is an expert rogue. He seemed nice to me, as well, stupid, foolish girl that I was. He told me I was lovely, and he even made me a figurine as I had told him how I loved them. He made me think he loved me!”
Anne thought of the shoes Simon had made for her. Was he still seducing her for revenge but had merely changed tactics? Even if he was, it was not the fault of his sisters.
“Mary, you must not do anything to harm those men that would have the effect of harming their families.” When Mary gave her a defiant look, Anne added, “Please promise me that you will talk with me before you take any action.”
Mary turned away for a long moment, and Anne feared she would not agree, but finally she said, “All right. I give you my word.”
Anne departed feeling concerned and confused. Instead of going to speak with her grandfather, she retired to her bedchamber and dressed for bed without calling her lady’s maid. She climbed under the covers and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Simon.
Was he a rogue or the most wonderful man she had ever met?
She wished she knew for certain.