Seven
It was hard to think properly with Simon’s extraordinarily compelling gaze locked on her. Absurd thoughts careened into one another, shocking her. Did he want to seduce her because he wanted to add her fortune to his, or did he want to seduce her because he found her attractive? Heaven above, it hardly mattered! She was not going to let Simon seduce her.
“Anne?”
She blinked and shivered at his silken tone. The man likely could seduce a rock if he wanted to. She’d need to be exceedingly careful not to let her guard down. “Let me get this straight,” she said, hoping she sounded prim and not flustered, because she most certainly was flustered. “You will only bring up the subject of Lord Rutledge marrying Fanny if I agree to allow you to teach me to dance?”
“Aye,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue in a most sinful way.
Anne suddenly felt burning hot. Oh, how she wished she had a fan. No, no, actually, it was by God’s humorous grace that she did not. For if she had one, she would have used it, and it certainly would not do for Simon to know he’d made her feel like swooning by merely uttering the word aye. Her reaction was positively disgraceful.
She started, overcome by a revelation. Her purpose was not to simply warn debutantes away from rogues; her purpose was to help rogues reform themselves. She felt her mouth pull into a grin. She was going to have to change the name of the Sisterhood for the Ruination of Rogues to the Sisterhood for Reforming Rogues!
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and thrust out her hand. She was going to beat this rake at his own game. When she was finished with him, he would be honorable and perhaps he’d even open his heart to giving and receiving real love.
Suddenly, she felt Simon’s hand brush down the slope of her cheekbone like a caress. Her heart galloped ahead as their eyes locked. She stared at him and realized he had flecks of gold in his gaze. When had he moved so close to her that she could see the variations of color in his eyes?
“I’m pleased my desire for ye is making ye grin,” he said, the words seeming to rumble up from deep within his very broad chest.
She had to swallow hard to find the ability to speak. “It’s not that,” she said, aware she was not telling the whole truth, yet he did not need to know that. “Something you said made me realize something about myself.”
“Ah,” he murmured, smiling wolfishly. “Ye desire me, as well?”
“Certainly not,” she lied. Her weakness was her secret, and she intended to take it with her to her grave.
“Well, then what have ye realized?” he prodded, his warm breath fanning over her face. She went to put distance between them and her back met with his unmovable arm. Apparently, he had slyly slid it behind her earlier.
Oh, what a clever, clever rogue, he was. She absolutely had to focus. “I have realized you have me trapped.”
“Aye, Anne, and I sincerely hope it will not be the only time ye must do as I wish in order to get what ye want.”
Her ears hummed with the loud beating of her heart. Simon had a unique ability to make her body react. She prayed he did not realize it. “I will allow you to teach me to dance, but that is all I will allow,” she stated firmly.
“I want to kiss ye, Anne,” he said, his boldness causing gooseflesh to sweep over her entire body.
She had to stop this nonsense. She tried to sidestep his arm, but his fingers curled firmly around her waist, prohibiting her movement. Frustrated with her continued inability to control her reactions to him, she blurted, “Why are you intent on seducing me, Simon? Do you need my fortune? Or do you simply want to add it to your own?”
His eyes widened, and he appeared honestly shocked. His arm stiffened against her back, yet he did not move it. “I neither need nor want yer fortune,” he said. “Is it truly so hard for ye to believe a man would want to seduce ye simply for ye and ye alone? Yer wit and yer beauty make for a very enticing combination.”
It was as if Simon had delved into her secret thoughts and discovered the one thing she had long hoped for but had abandoned. A spark of her old, foolish dream lit within her, even though she knew Simon was speaking only of seduction and not of love. Still, after years of feeling less than desirable, to have this man, the Adonis, tell her he desired her for simply her… Well, it made her heart skip several beats. She was not made of stone, after all.
“You are an excellent wordsmith,” she said. “I am sure years of practice seducing women has honed your talent. Bravo, Simon. If I were a foolish woman, I would believe—”
Cutting off her words, his lips captured hers in a demanding, ravenous kiss. She thought briefly to pull away, but then a tide of ecstasy washed over her as he traced the crease of her mouth with his tongue and parted her lips to delve inside. He tasted of whisky and seduction, and left her mouth burning with fire. Her senses reeled, and her knees weakened, as she wantonly returned his kiss while promising herself that this would be the only time she allowed such a thing. Yet, her passion was being roused with a swiftness that shocked her and scared her, given her lack of desire to resist him.
She called upon the memory of how Lord Cad had nearly destroyed her, and with renewed purpose, she broke Simon’s kiss, stepped back, and pressed her fingertips to her throbbing lips. Good heavens, the man could kiss in a way she had not known possible.
“Do not ever do that again,” she said, pleased her tone sounded severe, though it was her anger with herself creating the tension in her voice.
“Why? Do ye fear ye could not control yerself with me?”
Yes!
“It’s not honorable,” she said, “to kiss a woman to whom you are not betrothed. You claimed to be an honorable rogue, though I feel obliged to point out that the very definitions of honor and rogue contradict each other.”
He scowled, and when he dragged his hand through his hair frustration flickered across his face. Her stomach knotted. She felt like a spectator watching a man battle himself. Simon was struggling with what he wanted and what was right.
The study door suddenly swung open, and Caitlin was there, holding the blanket that Simon had ordered his butler to fetch. Simon’s sister glanced at the two of them with a knowing look. She tsked at her brother. “Ye’re standing too close to Miss Adair. Ye know what mother always said…”
Simon’s chuckle filled the room as he moved back from Anne. “Aye,” he rumbled. “Leave enough room between ye and the lasses for the Lord.”
“Your mother sounds very sensible,” Anne said. “Where is she? I’d love to make her acquaintance.”
Simon and Caitlin exchanged a swift, strained look, and then Caitlin cleared her throat and said, “Our mother passed some years ago.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Anne replied, thinking of her own mother. “My mother passed less than two years ago, which is when my sister and I came to meet our grandfather.”
Simon frowned. “Why did ye not meet yer grandfather until yer mother passed?”
Before Anne could respond, Perceval appeared in the doorway. Behind him was Lord Rutledge. Anne’s heart leaped at the possibility of speaking to Lord Rutledge on Fanny’s behalf.
“Your Grace, Lord Rutledge is here to see you,” Perceval said.
Anne tensed, half expecting Simon to chastise the butler, who had botched his duties by bringing Lord Rutledge to the study to announce him to Simon. But Simon simply smiled and said, “I can see that, Perceval, as Rutledge is standing right behind ye.” Simon motioned to the door.
Perceval inclined his head and murmured, “I’ll just take my leave, then, Your Grace.”
“By all means,” Simon replied. Anne could see that he was fighting a smile.
Rutledge entered the room as Perceval exited. When Rutledge’s gaze fell on Anne, his eyes widened. “Miss Adair,” he said in a formal, stiff tone. “I cannot imagine what brings you to Kilmartin’s home.”
Anne felt herself frowning as she looked at Lord Rutledge. The smirk he tried to discreetly direct toward Simon seemed to belie his claim that he could not imagine what had brought her here. She had a sinking suspicion that these two men had discussed her already. She refused to dwell upon it, though.
“Since you and His Grace are such close friends, I came here to urge him to encourage you to do the honorable thing and request Lady Fanny’s hand in marriage.”
Rutledge turned an alarming shade of red. “Lady Fanny tried to trap me into marriage, which is quite simply sad!”
Anne clenched her teeth. “Fanny did no such thing!”
Rutledge cocked his eyebrows at her. “And who told you that?” he snapped. “The scheming lady in question?”
“Rutledge,” Simon growled. “Mind yer tone with Miss Adair.”
Rutledge’s face grew tense, but he nodded. “As you wish. I believe I’ll depart. Send word when you have a moment to meet with me, Kilmartin.”
Oh dear! She needed Rutledge to stay so Simon could offer him a position. “I must go, so you should stay,” Anne assured him, aware he was leaving because of her presence.
“I will see ye at one o’clock tomorrow as we discussed, aye?” Simon asked.
She was going to have to be careful not to raise her grandfather’s suspicions, but she nodded, knowing she would find a way.
“I’ll see ye out,” Caitlin said.
“Thank you,” Anne replied, moving toward the door. As she and Caitlin strolled away from the study, Anne asked, “How old was Simon when your mother passed?” If he had lost his mother at a young age, it might explain why he had not been taught how to properly treat ladies.
“Simon was eight and ten,” Caitlin replied, a sad, wistful look coming to her face.
Hmm… He most definitely had been educated on how to be an honorable gentleman, then, assuming an honorable Scot was mostly the same as an honorable Englishman. She yearned to discover what made Simon embrace such roguish ways. If she could learn what compelled the man, she could quite possibly help him to change.
“What was your father like?” she inquired, knowing he had to be deceased since Simon had inherited the dukedom from his grandfather.
Caitlin stopped and faced Anne. “He was wonderful, giving, and a most honorable man—just like Simon.”
Of course Caitlin thought that. Simon was her brother.
“Did your family spend much time in London and here in the country with your grandfather?” Anne prodded. Surely, they must have and that had to be when Simon had met Mary.
A dark, angry look settled on Caitlin’s face. “No.”
“May I ask why?”
Caitlin cast a wary glance behind her toward the study. She nibbled on her lip for a moment and then said in a hesitant tone, “My grandfather cut off my father financially when he married my mother. Grandfather believed she was only marrying Father for his money.”
“Oh my!”
“Aye.” Caitlin pushed away a lock of red hair that had fallen in her face and tucked it behind her ear. “He gave Father a choice: to not marry mother or to lose all funds, which of course, he would come into when Grandfather died. Father married Mother, and they left England for Scotland and never returned.”
“I’m so sorry,” Anne murmured, realizing that Simon’s situation was rather like her own mother’s in that she, too, had chosen the man she loved over her father’s wishes. Of course, Anne’s father had turned out to be dishonorable, exactly as Grandfather had suspected, whereas it seemed Simon’s mother had been a good person who had been wrongly judged.
Caitlin shrugged. “There is no need to be. I honestly feel I was spared by not meeting our grandfather. Only Simon met him and that wasn’t until after Father died.”
So had that been when Simon and Mary had met? Unaware of the questions in Anne’s mind, Caitlin continued. “Simon went to him to ask for aid, as we were in desperate need with our crops failing and Father having spent all our coin on new equipment. We had no funds to even feed ourselves, and Mother was gravely ill and needed medicine.”
She knew Simon had been turned away by his grandfather when he had discovered what Simon had done to Mary, but that made no sense to Anne. If Simon had needed money, he could have wed a willing Mary and received her hefty dowry. “Lady Caitlin—”
“Please call me Caitlin,” the woman asked as her sister had.
Anne smiled. She truly liked Simon’s sisters and how unpretentious they were. “It will be my pleasure if, as I told your sister, you call me Anne.”
“Anne it is,” the woman agreed pleasantly.
“Caitlin,” Anne began once more, “I was curious, has Simon ever spoken to you about what happened to him while he was here requesting aid from your grandfather?”
“No, just that he was turned away for something he did not do. He went straight to Edinburgh from Grandfather’s to try to earn coin, and Mother died at our home in Oban while he was away. He blames himself, but it was our grandfather’s actions that killed our mother.”
Anne stood silently, her mind turning. Someone was not telling the truth, and she was unsure who it was. Either Mary had lied to her or Simon had lied to his sister. Anne desperately wished to know who was the untrustworthy party. If Mary was lying, and she had somehow wronged Simon, Anne could see why Simon would have developed a mistrust for women and even become a rogue as a result of it. But if Simon was lying, perhaps he was beyond redemption.
“I’ve said too much,” Caitlin announced suddenly. “If ye have any more questions, ye’ll need to ask Simon.”
Anne nodded, appreciating Caitlin’s loyalty to her brother. She was shown out, expecting to walk home, but there, waiting for her, was Simon’s coachman. He informed her that Simon had instructed the butler to have the carriage readied for her to use whenever she wished to depart. She could not imagine when he might have done that, except perhaps when he’d whispered to Perceval when she had first arrived. Either it was a most thoughtful gesture by a truly good man or it was a calculated move to aid him in seducing her. She found she wanted it to be a little of both.
How contrary she was today! She wanted him to desire her so greatly that he would scheme to have her, yet she wanted him to be honorable. Perhaps it was neither.
She shivered in the cold. She was about to ascend into the carriage when she recalled her fur muff. After instructing the driver to wait, she knocked on the front door and waited what seemed like an eternity until Perceval answered.
He glanced at her with a blank expression. “Yes?”
She wondered if the man might have some problems with his memory. “It’s me, Miss Adair. I was just here to see His Grace.”
“Ah yes!” the butler boomed. “Shall I announce you once more?”
He’d not truly announced her the first time, but she kept her silence on that point. The poor man honestly looked weary, and since Simon did not seem stuck on strict rules of etiquette, she shook her head and gave Perceval a pat on the arm. “Why don’t you take a respite?”
He looked at once relieved and oddly suspicious. “How did you know I took respites?”
Well, that explained a great deal. The man was too tired to be working on his feet all day but too proud to say so. She would somehow have to mention this to Simon. “I did not know,” she replied. “I myself love a good midmorning, midday, and late-day respite,” she fibbed to make him feel less uncomfortable. Truthfully, she was not one to close her eyes until the end of the night. “I’ll see myself to the study. I simply need to retrieve my muff.”
“If you insist,” he replied, giving her an encouraging look.
“Oh, I do,” she assured him with a smile. Once he turned and trudged away, she made her way toward the study, fully expecting to encounter one of Simon’s sisters, but she got all the way to the closed study door without seeing anyone. She raised her hand to knock, but as did, she heard Rutledge growl, “So you’re no longer committed to truly offering me aid but you’re still committed to your plan for revenge!”
The dreadful sentence lodged in her brain and froze her fist, hovering at the door. Her body tensed as she waited with bated breath for Simon’s response.
A long paused ensued and then Simon said, “I am still fully committed to both endeavors. I will have my revenge through Miss Adair, and—”
“What are ye doing, Miss Adair?”
Anne startled so badly at the voice behind her that she squeaked. Please, oh please, she thought as she turned, let it be the youngest sister, Elizabeth, and not Caitlin. She blew out a relieved breath as she stared at Elizabeth. This sister seemed much less likely to drag her into Simon’s office and announce she’d been eavesdropping. Anne forced what felt like a smile so brittle it could crack her cheeks. Her anger practically sizzled inside her.
“I was just leaving,” she lied in hushed tones. She refused to allow herself to feel guilty for deceiving Elizabeth. Her blackguard brother was the one who should feel guilty. Oh, how she wished she could have heard the rest of what he’d been about to say, but the best thing to do now was take the information she did have and depart as quickly as possible. Simon would pay. She would make sure of it.
“I must take my leave,” she whispered.
Elizabeth frowned at her. “Are ye feeling unwell?”
She nodded. It wasn’t a lie. She felt positively like she could cast up her accounts. Simon had not deceived her about wanting to seduce her, and it had naught to do with her dowry as she had feared, nor did it have anything to do with a desire for her, as she had foolishly allowed herself to absurdly hope it might. Shame she had vowed to never feel again settled like a heavy, cumbersome blanket upon her shoulders. She felt like drooping, but she held herself rigid. “It’s my throat,” she whispered. The fact that tears clogged her throat actually helped to make her sound as if she were unwell.
“Oh dear!” Elizabeth said in a voice that Anne feared was loud enough that Simon might hear and come out of the study.
“I better be—”
The study door swung open, and Simon appeared in the threshold in all his devilishly handsome glory. His thick, rumpled hair made him seem rather innocently charming. What utter rubbish! A crease appeared in his brow, and he glanced in concern and what looked like guilt from his sister to Anne. “Did ye forget something, Miss Adair?” he asked, looking behind his shoulder before facing her once more.
She simply had to get out of this house before she told him what she thought of him. Her instincts told her to keep what she’d learned to herself. She shook her head. “I’m just departing after speaking with your sister.”
Elizabeth nodded, thankfully unaware Anne had already departed and returned. “Anne does not feel well.”
A look that seemed like genuine caring settled on Simon’s face. The man was a master deceiver. Anne wanted to snort at the falseness, but she bit the inside of her cheek instead. “Miss Adair, I insist ye take my carriage home. I’m certain that ye are feeling unwell because of yer walk through the cold to my home.”
“I appreciate your kindness,” she said through stiff lips and turned to leave. She got no more than four steps before Simon was at her side, his hand coming to her elbow.
“Allow me to escort ye,” he said, his very masculine presence both irritating and overwhelming.
“That won’t be necessary,” she bit out. She gave a firm tug on her elbow, to which Simon responded by gripping it a bit tighter. He leaned in close to her as she picked up her pace so that she was nearly walking at a skipping stride to leave his home.
“Is something vexing ye, Anne?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she snapped. “My throat is aching something terribly, and now I’m horribly cold,” she added, though that was the truth. When one discovered they had once more been on the precipice of being made a fool by a rogue, it did make one feel bitterly frigid.
They passed through the door Perceval had opened and continued down the steps. Anne tugged her elbow once more, and this time, Simon released it. But the minute they came to the carriage steps, he took her hand in his large, very warm one. Oh, how she wished she had her fur muff! Though perhaps it was best it was still in Simon’s office as she could well imagine hitting him with it, the insufferable rake. “What are you doing?” she growled.
“Helping ye into the carriage.” He offered a devastating smile.
“I have been managing to climb into carriages since I was a child,” she said, tugged her hand out of his, and settled herself into the carriage.
Simon was still grinning, looking vexingly handsome. “I’ll not take offense at yer surly behavior, as I’m rather surly myself when taken ill. It’s lucky for ye, I know just the things to aid a sore throat. My ma made a special concoction that would always make my throat feel wonderful when I was ailing. I’ll fetch it for ye now.”
“Oh, no,” Anne protested, but Simon was already backing out of the carriage. She watched through the window as he disappeared inside his home. His ability to seem genuinely concerned amazed her, but then she thought on it for a moment. Likely, the scoundrel wanted her to stay well so that he could quickly seduce her for revenge, but against whom and for what? The only person who came to mind was Mary, but how would seducing Anne be revenge against Mary? And whyever would Simon want revenge against a woman who had wished to marry him? Anne needed answers, but Simon was not the person to seek them from.
Who else was she connected to that Simon might want revenge against? The only person she could even think of was her grandfather. Had he been involved in persuading Simon’s grandfather to send Simon away those many years ago? But even if he had, Simon had no one to blame but himself. If he’d never led Mary to believe he loved her and taken the innocence she’d naively given him, there would not have been a reason to wish him gone. Anne ground her teeth, hardly believing she’d almost started to soften toward the man.
When she saw Simon coming toward her once more, she forced a smile to her lips. He stepped into the carriage with a carafe, a handkerchief, a blanket, and a foot warmer. If she’d not known about the revenge plan, she would have honestly thought him considerate.
“You’ve thought of everything to see to my comfort,” she said sweetly. “Though I should expect no less from a dangerous rogue such as you.” If she did not need him to offer Rutledge a position, she might have abandoned her plan to make him honorable. It was likely a lost cause, anyway.
Heavens, her mood was bleak! And it was all Simon’s fault.
He frowned as he held out the things he had brought her. “Ye are the first woman I have ever nursed in sickness besides my sisters.”
“Ha!” Anne blurted.
Simon narrowed his eyes at her. “I take it yer exclamation means ye don’t believe me.”
“How very perceptive you are, Your Grace.”
“What happen to ye calling me Simon?” he growled.
“As you said, my ailment must be affecting my mood,” she boldly lied.
“Indeed,” he replied, though she detected a note of disbelief in his voice. “I hope ye are feeling well enough for our dance lesson tomorrow. I have already offered Rutledge a position at my company, so I have stayed true to my word to ye. I am assuming ye will do the same.”
“I will,” she assured him. She had no intention of letting the man seduce her and attain his revenge, but she had every intention of doing all she could to make him think he was seducing her so she could use that advantage to help Fanny. Perhaps she could convince Simon that he could lead her to scandal if he persuaded Rutledge to marry Fanny. Once the man did that, she’d inform Simon she knew what a rotten rogue he was. She was supremely pleased with herself and her plan.
“Ye have the loveliest smile,” Simon said, startling her.
Heavens! She’d not even realized she’d been smiling. “Thank you,” she replied, certain it was more of his roguish nonsense.
“Yer smile,” he continued, “is full of life and kindness.”
Well, that was the nicest compliment she had ever received. If only it were genuine… He was a superb rake who had the ability to flatter in a way that did not seem roguish at all. What if it was sincere? What if she had it all wrong? She shivered at her foolishness, and before she knew what was occurring, Simon had taken the blanket from her and was situating it over her legs. She watched in fascination as he tucked it snug at her sides, then motioned toward her feet.
“May I?”
“May you what?” she asked, feeling rather as if in a daze.
“I’d like to remove yer slippers and put the foot warmer under yer feet.”
“You want to touch my feet?” she blurted.
“I want to warm ye,” he said in a suggestive tone that made her imagination gallop. She envisioned herself lying on her bed with him straddling her, his thighs caging her in and her foot in his hands. But the daydream abruptly shifted when he realized one leg was most assuredly shorter than the other, and he gawked at her.
“I can warm my own feet, thank you.” There was nothing on Earth that could compel her to allow him to handle her shoes and see that one had a lift built in. She could think of nothing more mortifying.
“As ye wish,” he conceded and laid the foot warmer down beside her feet. “If ye will be certain to keep yer head and feet warm, ye will stay warm all over.”
“My mother used to tell me the same thing,” Anne replied softly.
“Aye?”
Anne nodded.
“Mine did as well. Seems our mothers were very astute women.”
She could hear the sadness in his tone. There was no faking that emotion, nor could he know the sad look he had on his face. Her heart wrenched for him.
“You miss your mother,” she stated.
“Oh, aye. Every day. Don’t ye?”
“I do,” she replied, her throat tightening with emotion. “I better depart now.”
“Aye, and I need to return to Rutledge. We’ve some matters left to discuss.”
Indeed! They needed to discuss the best roguish ways, she was sure. “Don’t allow me to delay you,” she said.
“I’ve been more than pleased to be delayed by ye, Anne,” Simon replied and then departed from the carriage.
She watched him stroll away with easy grace. The man walked with an air of utter confidence, which she found admirable rather than annoying, as she normally would. All the way home, his face and things he had said to her filled her thoughts so that the minute she entered her grandfather’s estate, she went straight to his bedchambers.
She entered her grandfather’s sitting room to find him reclined on a chaise with a blanket over his legs, a book in his lap, a scowl on his face. Dr. Talbot was standing beside him wagging his finger at her grandfather. She suspected he was not being a cooperative patient.
“And how are we faring today?” she asked cheerily, glancing first at her grandfather and then Dr. Talbot.
“I feel perfectly well,” her grandfather grumbled.
“He has a fever,” Dr. Talbot countered, “and the congestion in his chest sounds no better.”
“I’m hale and hearty,” Grandfather said as a coughing fit overtook him.
“You are not,” Dr. Talbot said, using the sternest voice she had ever heard from him. As her grandfather threw off his blanket and started to rise, Dr. Talbot said, “If you do not heed my advice and stay in bed until you are well, you will likely become so ill that you will die and leave your granddaughter here all alone and unmarried.” Dr. Talbot gave her a quick, apologetic look to which she inclined her head with a smile. She understood he was trying to scare her grandfather, and she prayed it had worked.
Her grandfather slowly sat back on the settee with a guffaw. “You make me feel like an old man,” he snapped at his friend, at which the doctor simply chuckled.
“I have other patients to attend to, Rowan, but I will return tonight to see if your fever has broken.” Dr. Talbot turned to Anne. “He needs plenty of rest and fluids, and to stay calm so as not to cause unnecessary coughing.”
Anne nodded, thinking upon how she wanted to ask her grandfather about Mary and Simon. She’d have to be careful, though, so as not to upset him. Once Dr. Talbot departed, she sat in the chair facing the settee, picked up her grandfather’s cup of tea, and held it out to him. “Drink,” she commanded.
He cocked his eyebrows at her. “I’m not so sick that you can order me about.”
She smiled, pleased that he was showing surliness. That meant he was, indeed, not too ill. “Drink this please, Grandfather.”
After he took several sips of tea and handed it back to her, she said, “I met the new Duke of Kilmartin last night.” She watched for his reaction.
Her grandfather’s face clouded with obvious uneasiness. “At the ball, I presume?”
She nodded, noting her grandfather was drumming his fingers in his lap. “I was taken aback, as you had never mentioned that the old duke, your friend, had a grandson.”
“I did not mention him because, er, I have never met him. His grandfather cut him out of his life many years ago.”
She tried to school her features into an expression of indifference. She couldn’t believe her grandfather was lying to her! She knew very well he had met Simon when he had demanded Simon wed Mary!
“So you never met him? Not even once?” she pressed.
“No,” her grandfather replied, darting his eyes away. “But I was wondering when he would return to attend to his estates after his grandfather’s passing.”
She ran her hands over her skirts, thinking upon the best way to learn what she wanted. Her grandfather was not being forthcoming with information, nor the truth. Perhaps, if he thought she had a fondness for Simon…
“He’s very nice and easy to talk to,” she said.
“Did he seek an introduction to you, or was it given as a matter of course?” her grandfather asked.
“Oh.” She grinned purposefully. “I do believe he sought an introduction to me. I think I might be ready to be courted again.”
A ferocious scowl came to her grandfather’s face. “Not,” he said in a severe tone, “by that man.”
She cocked her head as if confused. “You sound as if you don’t like the new duke, but you said you never met him. So whyever would you not care for him?”
“It does not matter. You will simply do as I say,” her grandfather growled. He hadn’t used such a commanding tone with her since they had come to truly know each other.
“I’m far too old for you to order about, Grandfather,” she said, “and I’m far too old for you to try to protect my sensibilities by lying to me.” If she was correct, that was what he was doing.
His lips parted momentarily before he clamped them shut. After a moment of his shifting around, he let out a long, rattling sigh. “How could you tell?”
“Your face,” she replied, motioning to him. “Being ill must be taking a great deal of energy because you are showing your emotions clearly. It’s quite unlike you. Usually, you are like a blank canvas.”
He smiled at that. “Excellent.” He paused a moment and cleared his throat. “Now, what I’m about to tell you is a very private matter.”
“I’ll not say a word to anyone, I swear it.”
“Kilmartin is a rogue,” her grandfather said, his disdain for Simon obvious. “Many years ago, he convinced Mary that he loved her, and Mary, the foolish girl she has always been, ruined an excellent match I’d made for her because of it.”
Anne frowned. “Mary was matched? As in betrothed?” She was unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
“Yes.” Grandfather offered a wry smile. “She has not always been the dour creature you know.”
Anne felt a flush of guilt to which her grandfather responded with a chuckle. “I arranged a rather excellent match for Mary with Lord Darwimple.”
Anne felt herself inhale a breath of shock. She immediately pictured the slovenly, hunting-obsessed son of her grandfather’s close friend. Not only did Anne honestly believe the man only bathed a couple of times a year—based on his stench, that was—but he spoke only of his latest kill or what he wanted to kill. And the man had to be at least thirty years older than Mary.
“Oh, Grandfather! Why would you have betrothed her to Darwimple? Surely, she did not wish the match?”
Her grandfather’s befuddled expression told Anne he honestly did not see what could have been wrong with the arrangement. “Whyever not? Darwimple has a grand title, and he would have been true to Mary. What more can a woman ask for?”
“A man who does not smell like a swine,” Anne said. “And one who is not old enough to be one’s father,” she added. “Did Mary object?”
“She did,” Grandfather said, a contemplative expression coming over his face. “Honestly, though, I thought she was being unappreciative and dramatic. If I recall, I told her she could either marry Darwimple or find a new home to live in.”
“Grandfather!” Anne said aghast. “I must say, I’m awfully glad you have softened in your later years.”
“Perhaps I pushed her into Kilmartin’s arms with my unbending ways. I had not thought of that…”
He sounded so miserable that Anne patted his hand and found herself saying, “You cannot change the past, so there is no need to dwell on it.”
“I suppose not. I tried to make Kilmartin wed her once she confessed to me that she had, er, given her innocence to him, but the devil refused.”
Anne tried to imagine Simon being so awful and failed, which made her worry that she had fallen under his spell. He was an admitted rogue. He certainly could have been that terrible.
“And then his grandfather cut ties with him because of what had occurred?” she asked.
Her grandfather nodded. “He was reluctant to do so at first, as I recall. He’d cut ties with his son many years before when he had married a Scottish woman who the old duke was certain was only after a husband with a lofty title. He’d lost his son to the woman, and I think he wanted to keep his grandson in his life. I was not going to intervene, but when Mary found out that Kilmartin might go unpunished for how he’d used her, she became hysterical and threatened to kill herself if I did not ensure the man was served some form of justice.”
As her grandfather took a sip of his tea, Anne thought upon what he’d just told her. It did not make sense to her that Simon would come to England to seek aid from his grandfather and then rather than marry a woman who could provide needed money he chose to defy his grandfather’s demand that he wed Mary which Simon knew would result in his grandfather cutting all ties with him. As a result, Simon hadn’t gotten the help he was after for his family.
“How did you convince the duke of his grandson’s guilt?” she asked.
“It hardly matters now,” her grandfather said, looking away.
Anne frowned at the back of his head. He was evading her question, but she had no idea why.
“The man seduced Mary, and once a rogue always a rogue. Stay away from him,” her grandfather commanded in an unbending tone. “He can have no good intentions toward you.”
“And why is that?” she asked, thinking on what she’d overheard Simon say to Rutledge earlier.
“Because,” her grandfather said, turning to meet her gaze once more, “before he left, he vowed to obtain revenge against myself and his grandfather. I’ll never forget it, and I don’t doubt for a moment that he remembers it, as well.”
“And you think he’d use me to obtain revenge on you?” she asked, though she was certain that was exactly what Simon must be doing. He was obviously seducing her as some sort of plan to get revenge against her grandfather, but exactly what the plan was, she did not know. She did know she had to see him again no matter what, and do all she could to aid Fanny, but it was more than that. She had a gut feeling that she was missing an important fact in this story, and she intended to discover what it was.