Chapter 23
Edward stepped back quietly from the doorway, the sound of Lady Amelia’s soft crying and Beatrice’s low, soothing voice following him into the corridor. He lingered only long enough to draw a steady breath, then turned toward the stairs.
Finding Simon could not wait.
He descended quickly, shrugging on his coat as he crossed the hall. Hargreaves appeared to ask whether he needed the carriage, but Edward dismissed him with a curt shake of his head.
“No. I’ll manage.”
The front door closed behind him with a muted thud.
Seeing Beatrice’s arms fit around the child as though they had never known another place had made his jaw tighten. He had watched as Lady Amelia’s tears rolled down her cheeks, her entire world gathered in that small bundle, and his guts twisted.
For weeks, he had chased the answers to the questions that formed the foundation of his marriage. Tonight, the truth had walked straight into his house and laid itself bare.
This changed everything.
Lady Amelia’s arrival had turned uncertainty into obligation. Not just for her, but also for Simon.
Edward quickened his pace as he walked in the starless night, his resolve hardening with each step. There would be no more excuses. No more hiding behind their fathers’ names or Society’s indulgence.
Simon would face what he had done. He would take full responsibility publicly, and Edward would see to it.
He reached Simon’s townhouse within minutes. He didn’t bother knocking gently.
The butler opened the door at once. “Your Grace.”
“Where is he?”
“In the drawing room, Your Grace. He returned not long ago.”
Edward strode past him, the crackle of a fire and the clink of a glass guiding him.
Simon sat slouched in an armchair, staring at a near-empty tumbler, his coat discarded over the back of the chair, his waistcoat undone. Not drunk—Edward knew the difference—but unsettled. Deeply.
He looked up when Edward entered. “Well,” he drawled, “you’ve found me.”
Edward didn’t waste a moment. “Get your coat.”
Simon blinked. “Ed—”
“Now.”
Simon’s mouth tightened. “I’ve been at every damn tavern in Mayfair for the past two hours. If something were wrong, you’d have dragged me out of a card room or a tavern. The fact that you came here instead… that doesn’t bode well.”
Edward crossed the room in three long strides. “There is indeed something wrong, and you will come with me.”
Simon’s jaw clenched. After a beat, he set the tumbler down, rose, and reached for his coat. “You’re frighteningly good at ruining an evening,” he muttered.
“Good,” Edward said, turning back toward the door. “You deserve it.”
They walked in silence for a moment before Simon finally asked, “Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
Simon frowned. “Why?”
Edward didn’t slow down. “Because the consequences of your actions arrived at my front door.”
Simon stopped walking.
Edward didn’t. “Keep moving.”
“Edward… what consequences?”
Edward’s voice came out hard, clipped. “A child, Simon.”
Simon froze. The night seemed to go still around them. “You mean it is truly... mine?”
Edward turned to face him fully. “Yes.”
A gust of wind rattled the branches overhead.
Simon’s breath left him in one long exhale, his face paling. “But I’ve been asking. You told me to. I’ve spoken to—I didn’t think…” His voice cracked. “Are you saying it’s certain now?”
Edward’s expression didn’t soften. “You’re the only man involved.”
Simon ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling. “Good God, I didn’t think it was real.”
Edward’s lips pressed together. “It is no longer speculation. Lady Amelia Kensley is at my house.”
Simon looked like a man whose worst fear had just been confirmed. “God. And the child…?”
Edward held his gaze. “She is yours, Simon.”
Simon blinked quickly. “I thought—I hoped—I prayed that none of them…” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I didn’t think it would be real. I thought you were warning me—trying to frighten some sense into me.”
Edward’s voice was low, controlled. “I was. And you should have taken it seriously.”
Simon swallowed, his throat bobbing. “So it’s Amelia? I-I didn’t know. I swear it. She vanished, Edward. Her parents—I thought she had simply… left.”
“And you didn’t look for her,” Edward said sharply. “Not hard enough.”
Simon winced, guilt contorting his features.
Edward let out a slow breath. “Her parents sent her away. She was pregnant with your child. And now she is in my nursery, holding the infant she was forced to give up.”
Simon closed his eyes briefly, devastated. “Dear God… what have I done?”
Edward resumed walking. Simon followed, shaken into silence
When they reached the townhouse, the butler stepped aside wordlessly, recognizing the tension rolling off both men.
Edward led Simon inside and down the corridor to the nursery.
“Come inside. She is here.”
Simon swallowed, turning paler. “Amelia… and the baby?”
Edward stepped into the nursery without ceremony. “Yes.”
Beatrice stood near the hearth, her hand resting lightly on Lady Amelia’s shoulder. Lady Amelia was seated, cradling the sleeping baby against her chest, her head bowed, her dark curls falling forward.
Simon froze. His eyes darted to the baby, then to the young woman holding her, then back to the baby, as if his mind couldn’t piece the picture together.
“Amelia?” he breathed.
Her whole body jolted at the sound of his voice. She dragged her head up as if it hurt to do so. “Simon?”
The sight of him seemed to hit her like a physical blow. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes welled instantly, betraying her even though she tried to keep her composure. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away too late.
“Simon,” she whispered hoarsely.
He stared at the baby. “That’s—Is it—?”
“Yes,” Lady Amelia whispered.
Edward gently closed the door behind them.
Beatrice stepped back, giving Lady Amelia space. Edward remained by the door, silent, watchful.
For several long seconds, Simon didn’t move at all—his face draining of color, his body tipping forward slightly, as if the moment had knocked him off balance.
“God,” he breathed. “This is real.”
Lady Amelia’s lip trembled. “She… she always was.”
Simon winced. He moved toward the chair across from her, as if pulled by a tether, but didn’t sit. He looked down at the tiny face nestled against her shoulder.
Beatrice stepped away. “Perhaps we should go to the study.”
Edward nodded in agreement.
Lady Amelia followed them out after placing Pip in her cradle. Simon moved last, each step heavy.
Once they were all in the study, Edward gently closed the door.
Simon went to the fireplace, his hands twitching. Lady Amelia settled in a chair, twisting the hem of her sleeve. Beatrice stood beside her like a quiet, protective shadow.
Edward remained by the door, his arms folded.
Finally, Simon spoke, his voice rough. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t—I’ve thought of nothing else since you left London.”
Lady Amelia let out a soft sound of disbelief.
“I—This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Which part?” Edward asked evenly. “The child? Or are you running from the mother?”
Simon swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Lady Amelia. “I didn’t run from you.”
“You did,” Lady Amelia said softly. “You left the moment things got real.”
Simon winced. “All right, I ran. I did—God, Amelia, you know how I was. I’d been living like an idiot since I was twenty.
Drinking, gambling, listening to fools who made vice sound like freedom.
” He raked a hand through his hair. “I cared for you. I did. But caring felt like a trap then, and I panicked. I thought I’d ruin your life. ”
“You nearly did,” Lady Amelia whispered.
Beatrice watched them, her expression neutral.
Simon stepped forward, only to stop short. “I know.”
Silence stretched.
He looked at Lady Amelia, his shoulders lowering, something helpless but sincere tightening his expression.
“I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted—”
He broke off, shaking his head. “No, that’s wrong.
I didn’t think. That’s the truth. I lived as if nothing mattered.
” He hung his head. “I was a coward. Because everything I learned from every man I admired was worthless. Everything my father praised in me was wrong—swagger, recklessness, charm. I used it to hide from anything that mattered.”
His throat worked. “I cared for you. More than I said. More than I showed. I should have not kept my distance out of fear. I should have courted you properly lie you deserve. I should have protected you. I should have claimed you both.”
Lady Amelia’s chin trembled, though she kept her head high.
Simon swallowed hard. “If you’ll… if you’ll still have me, Amelia, I want to make it right. I will marry you. Publicly. Immediately. And I will be a father to him—” He glanced toward the door. “To her.”
Lady Amelia closed her eyes, more tears spilling over. Beatrice rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I…” Lady Amelia took a deep breath. “Yes, I want that. I do.”
Simon exhaled shakily, relief looking almost painful on his face.
“But listen to me,” Lady Amelia added, her voice gaining strength. “I will never abandon my child again. Not for my parents. Not for the ton. Not for you.”
Simon nodded at once—earnest, humbled. “I wouldn’t ask you to. Never again.” He swallowed. “Amelia… I’m so sorry.”
She rose from her seat and stepped toward him. He reached out and touched her gently, as if afraid he might cause harm with too much pressure.
Edward watched quietly from the door. Beatrice watched too, a mix of protectiveness and tenderness flickering in her eyes.
Simon looked around at them. “I… I can’t thank you enough for taking care of her.”
Beatrice’s voice was soft but firm. “She deserves nothing less.”
Simon’s eyes glistened.
For the first time in years, Edward saw not the reckless cousin he had spent years dragging out of trouble, but a man trying earnestly to straighten himself out.