Chapter 8
“Next, Venus ordered Psyche to gather golden wool from dangerous wild sheep, whose very touch could kill her.”
Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses
He was in their garden, a full moon casting a silver glow on Madeline, who was dressed in a silk gown that flowed in the slight breeze. Trees stood watch over them, rustling like the roar of waves pounding a moonlit beach to create a bubble of time and space far removed from the ordinary world.
She turned slightly, smiling over her shoulder, a teasing curve of lips that caught the starlight. Mischief glimmered in her eyes, tender and knowing, and the sight pierced him with the ache of longing.
Simon stepped closer, his heart hammering as he reached for her hand. Her fingers trembled as they met his. He drew her toward him, unable to resist the pull that had haunted his thoughts for a decade.
Her breath caught. Beneath the silver light, she seemed not merely a woman but a vision from his dreams—graceful, luminous, and wholly his undoing.
He bent his head, and the world held its breath. Her perfume—sweet fruit and moonlit air—wrapped around him, stealing reason and silencing thought.
“Madeline,” he whispered, his voice breaking on her name.
She tilted her face upward, her eyes closing as though in surrender to something larger than either of them. His lips found her temple—a reverent kiss, brief yet full of promise. The contact sent a tremor through him, a fire kindled by restraint.
And then … nothing but moonlight and the echo of her soft sigh.
Simon woke with a groan, his body taut, his heart racing. Dawn crept through the curtains, pale and merciless. He tried rolling over to recapture the intoxicating dream, but it was no use.
He had found respite from his legal problems in his slumber, but now they clamored for his attention, shoving the illusion of Madeline out of reach. If he wished to wed his elusive Psyche, he would have to clear his name so he could claim her as his wife.
Madeline stifled a yawn as she entered the breakfast room, finding her sister seated at the table with a news sheet in one hand and a forkful of eggs poised in the other.
“Where is Mama?”
“She was summoned earlier for a meeting. Now that the coronation is done, the King has turned his attentions to building a palace worthy of his magnificence.”
“Ah. The one that has Parliament fearful over his grand tastes.”
“If grand means expensive, yes. They are still choking from the coronation bills.”
Madeline collected her plate of food, taking a seat at the table. After tossing and turning all night with worry over Simon, she was looking forward to speaking with Molly. She needed to eat and remove herself to the garden in short order.
She cut her fruit and raised a piece to her mouth when she realized Henri was staring at her with an apprehensive expression. “What is it?”
“The news sheets.” Her sister reached over to drop the folded page in front of her.
Madeline peered down, pulling a face as she read the report. “I thought Home Office was keeping it unofficial.”
“It appears someone spoke out of turn. There is no mention of an official declaration from Home Office.”
Madeline laid her fork down and leaned back to think. “He did not do it.”
“So you have said.”
“Mama agrees with me.”
Her sister twisted her lips in displeasure, capitulating. “Even so, if Simon’s reputation is destroyed by this, he could drag you—us—down with him. You must at least acknowledge the need for caution.”
Madeline sprang to her feet, vibrating with outrage. “Are you suggesting that I desert an old friend because of what people might say? Do you believe me so fickle?”
Henri leaned back in her spindly chair to think. “I suppose that would not be in character. It is just that … Oh, Madeline. I am your sister, and I do not wish to see you hurt again.”
Madeline dropped back down. “I appreciate that, but he is my closest friend. Simon has had a difficult time since his brother’s accident, but this is almost as terrible as that night. I cannot be selfish when he needs me.”
“He has not always shown the same loyalty.”
“To be fair, I have a sensible mother and a sister who never cause any drama, while Simon …” Madeline sought the right words. “He lives in a household of idle aristocrats who suffocate him with endless bother, so we cannot say what he would do if I were in a muddle.”
Henri’s foul mood lifted in an instant when she burst out laughing. “I am not one of your clients, Maddy! Do not bury me in your charming flattery.”
Madeline responded with an unrepentant grin. “My flattery is always sincere. It does not work otherwise. It is true you are an excellent sister to seek me out about my welfare, and I appreciate it. We might not always see eye to eye, but I know you have my best interests at heart.”
“I do, you know. This whole business with Simon has been on my mind. And Uncle Reggie has not said much, but I can tell he is worried.”
“What is the latest at Westminster?”
Her sister picked up her fork to toy with her eggs, a reticent expression settling over her face.
To Madeline, it was like peering into a mirror, because it was the same expression she had seen while she was dressing.
They might have disparate personalities, but their current concerns matched as closely as their features.
“It is not good news, I am afraid. Simon might be in hot water. What with the heirs that have been discovered in Italy and the fact that his alibi has been disproven … he must find a defense, Maddy. This is not going to simply fade away.”
Madeline moistened her lips, agitated at this pronouncement. It was as she had feared. If Simon was not the brother of a baron, the coroner might have already arrested him.
“Why is Home Office holding back from announcing an investigation?”
Henri shook her head. “From what I can tell, Simon is fortunate that the new Lord Filminster was unjustly accused of the crime. They are afraid to accuse another member of the nobility without sufficient evidence after such an embarrassing error.”
“Which means that, ironically, the men accusing Simon of the crime are also the reason for the reluctance to investigate him officially?”
Her sister bobbed her head in agreement.
“Precisely. Home Office are loath to misstep after the coroner’s egregious mistakes in the days after the baron was killed.
That is why they are allowing the duke to take the lead.
From all accounts, it was what Halmesbury wants, probably because His Grace desires discretion.
” She pointed at the news sheet. “Unfortunately, that report brings it to the broader public’s attention. ”
Madeline stared down at the cut strawberry on her plate that she had abandoned, her stomach knotted with anxiety as she considered the peril Simon was in. It was incredible to think of him being arrested for a crime he had not committed.
She considered her options as she had done throughout the night until the first threads of dawn had stolen into her room to inform her sleep was a futile pursuit.
If coming forward to testify that Simon had been with her that night was the last remaining option, she would do it.
But first, there was more to learn. Lady Blackwood’s impulse to help her son had made his predicament worse.
Nay, Madeline was determined to apply logic to untangling the web that ensnared Simon.
It was not dissimilar to acquiring an important new client. One collected information about them and employed strategy to guide them into working with Bigsby’s.
“There is still time for Simon to divert their suspicion.”
“Agreed, but he needs to prepare.”
Simon watched his solicitor exit the front door with a heavy cloud of foreboding hanging about his shoulders.
The respectable old retainer had not yet heard of the newly discovered heirs, but he confirmed that once their parentage was verified, he and Nicholas would fall back upon the list of potential successors.
He was mildly regretful to hear the news.
The past ten years had been dedicated to learning about the Blackwood estates and tending to the needs of their tenants and households.
It had been a point of pride to be competent and to care for all within his charge, so it was difficult to imagine a stranger taking up the reins as he stepped out of the way.
On the other hand, it opened the door to him going into trade.
Simon had long been fascinated by the world of industry, especially by Mrs. Bigsby, who had fashioned a successful enterprise despite the odds stacked against her as a woman.
He, too, wanted to build something enterprising.
The life of landowners and peerage was dull compared to what Eleanor Bigsby had done to construct her empire.
Simon was at a loss about what to do with the rest of his morning without direction about the murder.
Their legal firm was to send a barrister to discuss the ramifications of the investigation.
The solicitor, specializing in estate law, had been unwilling to proffer any advice on the accusation without consulting with his colleagues, so Simon expected to receive a note later that day to inform him of the details of the meeting.
Nicholas came traipsing down the stairs while Simon was still lost in thought, his gangly form showing signs of wear from his slumped shoulders to his haggard countenance. He was aging faster than Simon was.
“Nicholas!”
His little brother flinched, glancing over the balustrade to find Simon peering up with a stern expression. God help him, he was going to force Nicholas to have a conversation this morning.
“Simon.”
“Where have you been? I have not seen you since …” Simon raked through the past few days. “Since the family met over the news about the heirs.”
“Drowning my sorrows.”
“Deuce it, Nick, must you be so melodramatic?”