Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
L ord Fiording was at the club that afternoon as was Lord Pendleton. Simon registered the facts distantly as he strode through the well-appointed rooms, scanning for his friend. He noted, just as distantly, that heads were turning, following his turbulent progress with curiosity. Eyebrows rose and comments were made in tones too low to follow.
He didn’t care. Not today.
He finally spotted Aaron. The other man was seated with three others, playing a game of cards. Simon paced up to the table, halting directly across from his friend.
Aaron looked up and winced. “You don’t look as if you are here for a game of whist,” he commented.
“No.”
The other three men at the table also looked up from their cards, their faces expressing various emotions at Simon’s appearance. He didn’t take the time to sort them out.
“If you gentleman would excuse us,” he said, “I’d like a word in private with Lord Munro.” He didn’t even realize he’d pulled out his father’s cold, commanding tone until all three men hurried to rise. Aaron watched them scurry off with a half-surprised, half-amused expression. Then he lay his cards on the table, face-down, and turned his attention back to Simon.
“Well,” he sighed. “I see it sometimes pays to be a duke.” He shook his head sadly, eyeing the cards. “That was a good hand too.”
“Sorry. I’ll buy you a drink to make up for it,” Simon said. He signaled to a server and motioned toward a set of armchairs set well away from the rest of the gentlemen mingling in the room. “Do you mind?”
Aaron shrugged. Rising from his chair, he followed Simon to the corner. Simon sat in one of the chairs and propped his elbows on his knees, waiting for Aaron to settle in the chair opposite him. The Lord’s dark eyes were bright with curiosity as he looked across at him and raised an eyebrow.
“All right,” he said. “No one can overhear us here, I swear. What’s this all about? You look as if you’ve had a threat on your life.”
Simon took a deep breath. Now that he was here, with Aaron staring at him intently, waiting to hear why he had just caused such a ruckus, he found himself at a surprising loss for words.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” he said after a moment. “I felt like I needed talk to someone about this, but… now, I’m not sure where to start.”
Aaron leaned back. His face grew sober as he studied Simon’s tense posture and agitated expression. “Start at the beginning,” he suggested. “I can’t promise I’ll be any help, but whatever it is, Thorne, I’ll hear you out.”
The waiter arrived with their drinks. Simon took the time to try and compose his thoughts. He thought that’s what he’d been doing when he’d ridden Belshazzar over here at a pounding gallop, the icy October wind in his hair. But in reality, he realized he’d just been letting a single thought circle through his head over and over again.
The waiter left.
“I asked Lilian Weston to marry me,” Simon blurted, “and she said she’d think about it.”
For a moment, Aaron simply stared at him. Then, slowly, he began to shake his head. A disbelieving grin curved up the sides of his mouth. “Are you serious right now?” he asked. “Or is this some elaborate joke because sometimes I really cannot tell with you?—”
Simon closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead hard. “I’m completely serious,” he said. The words came out almost as a groan. “I went to her house this morning before I could lose my nerve.”
Aaron let out a bark of laughter, and Simon shushed him hurriedly. He glanced around. Fortunately, if the other gentleman in the room had noticed, they were too polite to let on. “Keep it down.” Simon glared. “Have I not made it clear that you are the only person I intend to know this?”
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Thorne,” Aaron said. His face was alive with both delight and astonishment. “You never do anything halfway.” He shook his head again, his grin refusing to fade. “What I would give to have been there to see this. Are you attempting to keep this proposal a secret because she agreed or because she turned you down?”
“She did neither,” Simon muttered. “She wants one week to think about it.”
“So, she’s considering it.” Aaron leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his eyes bright. “That’s…frankly amazing, Thorne. Considering how little you know one another—and considering what Jane has told me.” His grin faltered slightly as he considered what he’d just said. “This will no doubt come as a surprise to her. I’m very intrigued as to what led you to take this step,” he continued. “It’s a pretty large stride from a single dance to a marriage proposal.”
“It would be a marriage of convenience,” Simon clarified. “I’ve been considering what you mentioned to me about mending my reputation through association. A married man is seen as far more stable and respectable than a confirmed bachelor.” He did not find it necessary to mention that this tidbit had been brought to his attention by a hopeful Priscilla Talbot. “In my conversations with Lady Lilian, I learned that she is not opposed to marriage entirely. She simply craves independence.”
Aaron was nodding, despite the disbelief that still lingered about his wide eyes. “You promised her the freedom she desires within this union. And in exchange, you receive a restored reputation and thus open doors for your business pursuits.”
“Correct.”
“And what about children? A family? Would that be a part of the agreement?”
“Naturally—I assume this would eventually be at least a discussion between us. If she agrees to the marriage.” Simon frowned, feeling his face flush as Aaron continued to nod, his face lively with intrigue. “People do this all the time, Munro,” he grumbled after a moment. “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it.”
Aaron held up his hands, his grin barely subdued. “Of course, yes, I understand. It’s just—so unexpected. Seeing that you are my best friend, and she is my betrothed’s sister, I was elated that you had chosen at the very least to be civil to one another, but I must say, I never foresaw this development.” He squinted, studying Simon as if seeing him in a completely new way. “I would think you both would have little in common. Lilian is so proper and uptight, and you’re…”
“Uptight?” Simon’s frown grew. “I don’t see that in her. She’s quiet—reserved, maybe. But she speaks her mind, and she’s got a sense of humor.” He paused. “Apart from that first day, she’s one of the few members of the ton who doesn’t look at me like they’re seeing a list of my sins,” he finished quietly. “Or like I’m some kind of pile of gold. She looks at me like a person.”
He wrapped his fingers around his glass from which he had yet to take even a sip. Condensation had gathered on the heavy crystal, and it was cool against his heated skin. Aaron was watching him, his amusement fading.
“You’re sure you’ve thought this through entirely?” he asked after a moment. His voice was low. “I would hate to see either of you trapped in a marriage you regret.”
Simon heaved a sigh, feeling his stomach twist with renewed nerves. “I don’t bloody know, Munro,” he admitted. “It seemed like a good idea a few hours ago.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching his shoulders to try and shake the tension from them. “If she’s truly considering my proposal, she at least thinks we have the possibility of getting along,” he confided. “I’m willing to be the most upstanding husband possible for my part. That’s a fair place to build a marriage, don’t you think?”
Aaron nodded, seemingly intent on approaching the revelation with more seriousness now that he was learning to swallow it. “It is. Many a decent marriage has been built on less.” He looked up, his grin peeking through again.
“What?” Simon snapped.
“I’m just excited for you, old man,” Aaron said. “If she says yes, that is. This could change everything for you.”
“That’s the idea.” Simon glanced around. “If she says yes, and the banns are read, I should be able to walk up to any man in this room and be taken seriously, right?”
“It’s Lilian Weston, Thorne. I’d say that’s right. The question is—how sure are you that she’ll say yes?”
Simon rubbed his head, seeing again the bewilderment on Lilian’s face. The frown when she spoke of her family wanting to see her married.
“I’m not sure at all,” he admitted. “I think I would be surer of almost anyone else.” He recalled Priscilla’s vivid eagerness, heard her questing words. Why had he chosen to go after the harder target? Perhaps it was that Lilian lingered in his mind like the song she’d been plucking on the harp when he’d waited in the foyer for the butler to announce him. Perhaps it was simply his ambition. Despite recent setbacks, he had grown used to things going his way. He immediately wanted what he had been told he could not have.
Aaron chuckled again, reaching out to slap his shoulder. “You always did go for the highest jumps, Thorne,” he said. “And I know it’s gotten you in trouble more than once. But maybe this time—maybe this time, it will be your path out of trouble.”
“Maybe.” Simon looked down at his glass. “At this point, I’m not even sure whether I hope she accepts or rejects me. My stomach turns at the thought of either outcome.” He looked up, just catching Aaron’s raised brows. He knew it was unlike him to be emotionally taut. For a moment, he wished he could take back the confession, but what was the use?
Talking it out with his friend was meant to have settled the jitters that plagued his muscles, but somehow, it seemed to have done the opposite. It had made his situation more real. His uncertainty was a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. He set his barely touched drink on the glossy walnut table beside his chair and rose to his feet. Aaron rose with him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
“Are you sure you don’t want a game of whist?” he queried, crooking a brow. “It might help take your mind off things.”
Simon groaned. “I couldn’t possibly sit through a game of whist just now.” He gave his friend a warning look. “You won’t say a word of any of this, I trust.”
“I’m cut to the heart that you even have to ask.” Aaron placed a hand on his chest, but his eyes had begun to sparkle once more. “Your confidence is well-placed, Your Grace.” He accompanied the formal title with a dramatic little bow, and Simon rolled his eyes.
Turning on his heel, he strode from the room. More than one pair of eyes follow his progress. Simon could almost feel the tendrils of curiosity reaching after him, and he knew Aaron would be hard-put to say nothing of their conversation. The Lord would manage though. He’d done so before.
The air was still crisp when he stepped out of the club, but the sun had come out. Simon tipped his face upward to its mellow warmth, willing it to drive away the chill of regret that clung to him.
It’s going to be fine, he told himself. Everything is going to be fine. He had dealt with this feeling before—many times before. The ugly pull of guilt threatened to join in, and he grimaced, pushing it forcibly away. He had nothing to feel guilty of. Not this time. He had made an honorable woman an honorable offer. Now, he had simply to wait for her answer and accept whatever it might be graciously.