Chapter 10
“For her third task, Psyche was sent to fetch water from the River Styx, where no human could reach its treacherous source.”
Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses
Madeline could feel the blush of shame rising up her neck and over the shells of her ears when Molly and Simon returned.
She hoped it was not evident on her face, but her cheeks were regrettably warm.
She wanted to blurt out how she had violated Simon’s inner sanctum, but she was determined to stick to the plan she and Molly had devised.
I am doing it to help him. When all this trouble is a distant memory, I will confess what I have done.
The reassurance did little to settle her discomfort.
“Molly will not be able to attend dinner, so you shall be my guest.”
It took a second for Madeline to register that Simon was addressing her, but once the words filtered through the recesses of her mind, she felt a quiver of pleasure.
It might all be contrived, but she had never been invited to dinner in the baron’s home before.
She wondered what Molly had said to explain her absence.
Their initial attempts to think of an explanation had led to frustration until Molly had concluded it would be easier to think of an explanation on the spot than continue to anticipate it.
“That would be lovely,” she responded. It would. At some point in the future, this murder would be resolved, and they would be able to court. Tonight would be a hint of what was to come, and she would enjoy meeting him in public for the first time. Even if that just meant a family dinner.
“However, we must organize a chaperon.”
Molly nodded. “Simon has pointed out that he cannot declare you as his guest without a proper companion to protect your reputation. Do you suppose Mrs. Bigsby or your sister can attend?”
Madeline clenched her teeth, her stomach growing agitated. How would she explain that? Mama was going to have outspoken reservations to entering this building with her. Madeline was still pinching herself that she had visited not once but twice.
This is but a step on the path to happiness.
Pursuing one’s dreams was never easy. Her mother could attest to that, so perhaps Eleanor Bigsby would be more amenable than Madeline presumed. Steeling her nerve, Madeline announced her reply with only a hint of shrillness to belie her confident tone.
“My mother would be the most appropriate. I suppose I must be on my way so I can join her at work, where I might make the arrangements.”
“Of course.” Simon stepped forward to offer his hand. Madeline accepted, a frisson of pleasure at his touch thrumming over the surface of her skin. She rose, peering up at him with a yearning in her heart as his blue eyes gazed down at her to reflect the affinity she knew she must be exhibiting.
She and Molly must conduct their searches as quickly as possible because her future beckoned her. This chapter of death must be closed to proceed.
“Do you … have plans for the day?” Madeline hesitated in letting go of him after she rose to her feet, wanting to prolong contact for just a second more. She had waited a lifetime to join her Eros. Now that they were approaching that day, her impatience knew no bounds.
He nodded his head toward the desk. “I must respond to our stewards. These past few days I have fallen behind … due to distractions.”
Such as being accused of murder.
He did not say it aloud, but Madeline could sense the words quivering in the air between them. Simon’s gaze never left hers, and he was clearly longing for some time alone with her. Perhaps he was thinking of their kiss? The first proper one they had shared?
As if to confirm this theory, his gaze dipped to her mouth for a second before he stepped back to release her. Madeline steadied herself, offering a faint smile. Soon, she told her aching heart. Soon, when this darkness lifts, we shall begin anew.
“You are quite aware of who they are, so I shall not formally introduce them.” Simon’s voice was firm.
Mrs. Bigsby was accompanying her daughter to dinner this evening.
They had been neighbors for decades, nodding to each other in the street when boarding their respective carriages.
His late father had feuded with Mrs. Bigsby through their solicitors before eventually giving up on obtaining sole ownership of the shared garden that joined their estates.
His mother sniffed. “I fail to comprehend this attitude. It is how we conduct ourselves in polite society.”
“You will condescend by taking full advantage of your rank to lord it over them, and I will not allow it. We shall greet each other as longtime acquaintances and proceed to dinner.”
“Why are you so adamant about this?”
Because Madeline will be my wife if I can prove my innocence. And Mrs. Bigsby will be my mother-in-law.
That, however, was not a discussion he intended to have tonight. Madeline and her mother would be arriving soon, so it was imperative he obtain agreement from his mother without provoking a war as they walked through the front door.
“I value my friendship with the Bigsbys, and I do not wish to make them feel inferior.”
John coughed into his fist, his face pale in the light of the oil lamps.
“I concur with Simon. We shall greet them as longtime friends. Father took it too far with Mrs. Bigsby in the past, talking nonsense about her at his clubs in an attempt to get her dismissed from projects throughout the peerage. It was not his finest hour, and being amicable is the least we can do to extend an olive branch.”
Simon shot his older brother a look of gratitude.
It was a flash of the man John had been before his health had begun to suffer, and he could not be more grateful for John’s timing in revealing his true character.
He had become so belligerent of late, which Simon assumed was due to his declining health.
“Your father would be most displeased,” Isla retorted.
Simon’s brother gave a dry laugh. “To be fair, Isla, Father spent a great deal of his time being displeased.”
“It was his primary calling in this life,” announced Nicholas with a sour tone.
Simon shot a fierce glance at his little brother, who was in an apathetic sprawl on the settee near the window. “Pray assure me you are not here merely to provoke discord for you own amusement?”
Nicholas shook his head, his expression foul. “I am here because we agreed I should be. I cannot help it if refraining from drink is making my head thrum like a toneless harp.”
“Quiet it, then. I need you to display courtesy and respect for our guests.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes before shutting them with an agonized expression. “Aye.”
“Mother, we have lived next door to the Bigsbys for thirty years. We have greeted them in the street, and I have grown up alongside Madeline and Henrietta in the garden. I insist we treat them as old acquaintances.”
Isla exhaled with a slight parting of the lips, the only sign she was appeased.
“Very well. I suppose we can do away with the formalities in lieu of the time you spent together as children. But what if they are confused by the lack of introductions? Eleanor Bigsby knows well that we have never been formally introduced.”
Simon had considered this, but he planned to welcome them as old friends. “MacNaby will announce dinner within minutes of their arrival, and then we shall engage in delightful conversation to make it clear what our attitude is.”
That was the flaw in his plan. Isla tended to pick at her food while barely speaking, and of late, John grew grumpier as his bedtime drew closer.
Nicholas had grown dour since they had learned of their nephews who were to inherit in Simon’s stead, and ever more sullen since embarking on sobriety in the past day or so.
That his family had not known about their guests did not help, or John might have slept in this morning to improve his stamina.
This dinner was so unexpected. Nevertheless, Simon was invested in its success.
Once he settled this quarrel with the duke and his relations, it would be time to pursue his own path, and Madeline was the companion he wished to have at his side when that day arrived, so Mrs. Bigsby must be treated as an honored guest. He would carry the entire conversation himself, if he must.
MacNaby spoke from behind, interrupting his thoughts. “Mrs. and Miss Bigsby.”
Simon spun on his heels, rushing forward to bow over the hand of Mrs. Bigsby and then Madeline’s. “Welcome to our home. We are, indeed, honored to have you.”
Rising back up, Simon sought his composure as Madeline winked at him with mischief in her eyes. “Thank you for having us, Mr. Scott. We have long wished to enjoy the company within your home.”
Mrs. Bigsby smiled politely in agreement, her amber eyes wary as she turned her gaze to the other occupants of the drawing room.
Simon flashed a grin, composing his face to turn back to his family. “Lord Blackwood, Lady Blackwood, Mr. Scott, are we not honored to host Mrs. Bigsby and her daughter?”
John had risen from his armchair, appearing heavy as he lumbered forward. “Welcome, Mrs. Bigsby. It is indeed our honor to host you this evening.”
“My lord.” Mrs. Bigsby sank into a curtsy, displaying an unexpected grace for a woman of her stature.
Being nearly the same height as Simon, it was one of the qualities that had fascinated him as a boy.
He had imagined her as a warrior from an epic tale, striding into battle to strike fear in the hearts of her competitors.
“It is a pleasure to visit your home. The art is splendid, and I notice several works by Thomas Lawrence. A true privilege to behold.”
She pointed to the opposite wall where several large portraits of Scott ancestors stared at the inhabitants of the room.
“You know Lawrence’s work?”