Chapter Seven
Simon
Sleep eluded Simon, chased away by restless thoughts he could not begin to make sense of.
Once Thompson assisted him in donning proper clothes, he made his way to his study to finish up a few bits of correspondence.
Then he had plans to visit White’s. And perhaps even spend his evening at his new favorite club, the Grinning Cockrel.
It was at White’s that Lucien Westley, Earl of Ashcroft, found him.
Lucien declined the leather club chair opposite Simon’s and instead rested a forearm on the fireplace mantel. A sober air tempered his usual good-natured demeanor.
Simon watched his friend with narrowing eyes. “You look as though you’ve come from a battlefield,” he remarked dryly after several moments of silence ticked between the two men.
Lucien’s expression was grave. “You haven’t heard, then. It’s all over Town already.”
“Heard what?”
“Penelope True has vanished.”
“I’d heard she was perhaps missing, but vanished?” Simon shook his head. “That seems a bit overdramatic.”
“Apparently, she’s been missing since the house party your parents held in honor of Charlotte’s and my wedding.
Her parents are said to be beside themselves with worry, especially since it’s been confirmed she’s now an heiress with quite the fortune.
” Lucien accepted a snifter of brandy from a passing waiter and took a healthy gulp.
“There’s talk she may have been abducted because of it. ”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “Abducted?”
Lucien gave a short, mirthless laugh. “You know how gossip breeds in this city. A young lady disappears without a word, and suddenly half of Mayfair claims she’s been carried off by some scoundrel intent on forcing her into marriage.
” He studied Simon closely, then let out a deep sigh.
“I’ve not related the worst part of all this. ”
Simon’s brow arched. “And that is?”
“Some have said your sister may have something to do with the mystery. It’s common knowledge that she and Miss True are close friends. It seems the last time anyone saw the girl was the morning she left Thorne Park.”
“That’s absurd,” Simon muttered in annoyance. “Have you spoken to Wylder about this? He will be greatly interested in the fact that his new bride is suspected in a possible disappearance.”
“No. They are due to arrive in London tomorrow. Rest assured that I plan to call upon Wylder as soon as possible to apprise him of the situation. That is, if he isn’t already aware.
Oh, it’s all only conjecture and hysteria at this juncture, but it seems Lord True has notified all the proper authorities.
” Lucien’s gaze sharpened. “They’ll find her, of course, even if they must upend London onto its very head during the search.
Have no fear, Simon,” Lucien chuckled, marking Simon’s furrowed brow.
“As the last Mayfair Rakehell, you have no worries that they will ever suspect you of spiriting her away. Even if you are Emily’s brother, and Miss True is heiress or no, your aversion to marriage is well documented. ”
Simon’s lips curved, though his smile lacked any real amusement.
“My friend, you mistake me for a man with time to worry about missing debutantes. Other than the distressing fact that it is my own sister’s name being bandied about in connection with the whole sordid affair, this is a matter that hardly concerns me. ”
“Perhaps,” Lucien said lightly, though his eyes lingered on Simon’s face, searching. “Still, Simon, if by chance you hear anything—”
“I’ll inform the authorities at once,” Simon said curtly, cutting him off.
Lucien nodded, finally settling into the empty chair. Crossing one leg over the other, he subjected Simon to a curious stare and said, “Now that you are prepared to receive guests, Charlotte and I would enjoy paying you a visit at Camden House.”
“I would welcome you both. As well as Wylder and my headstrong sister.”
A grin spread across Lucien’s handsome features. “I imagine having your own residence makes it much easier to visit our old clubs. No more crawling into your parents’ residence with the ills of the night still clinging to your very clothes.”
Simon’s head tilted. “Don’t tell me you have a renewed interest in the sort of debauchery one finds within those establishments?”
Lucien laughed heartily at that, his eyes glowing softly as he shook his head.
“No, nothing of that sort. My countess keeps me well entertained, and I am deliriously happy with her. I simply find myself wishing you might discover the same brand of bliss one day. Now that both Wylder and I have married the women of our dreams, it doesn’t seem fair that you should not experience it as well. ”
“I’ve no taste for marriage. You know that, Lucien.
” Simon scowled, bothered for some unknown reason by the air of contentment that shimmered around his friend.
“And no interest in giving up membership to the clubs we all once enjoyed. As a matter of fact, I intend on visiting the Grinning Cockrel this evening if you care to join me.”
“Oh, no, Simon. That would not do at all. You see, I’ve no desire for anyone other than my wife.
She consumes me to the point of distraction.
” Lucien smiled serenely at Simon. “If you should care to know, Wylder feels the same for Emily. He confessed as much in his last correspondence with me. His new bride utterly entrances him. I thought you might find that bit of news heartwarming, given your misgivings about their marriage. It would appear he is as devoted to his bride as I am to mine.”
Simon grunted in annoyance, motioning for a servant to bring him a fresh glass of brandy.
“I’ve no desire to hear about my sister’s relations with one of my best friends.
” He thought for a moment, ducked his head, and then gruffly admitted, “But I thank you for telling me, and I’m glad to hear they are both happy.
It was not easy, standing aside as Emily married Wylder…
not when the three of us share the same proclivities.
However, since he truly does love her and will protect her regardless of threat, I am happy for them both. ”
*
It was nearing dawn by the time Simon returned home to Camden House.
Having made the rounds of his usual haunts, he found himself strangely restless and dissatisfied with the offerings of those establishments.
Even the lovely women at the Grinning Cockrel held no interest for him, although it wasn’t for lack of effort.
Madam Brussard offered the best of her girls, but the generosity did not ease the strange malaise plaguing him since his conversation with Lucien earlier that day.
After choosing a lady and selecting one of the special rooms located far below the upscale gambling den, he found himself bored by the exotic nature of the games he usually took great delight in playing.
He had wordlessly unbound the confused, naked girl from the wooden structure, put the flogger away, and handed her the corset and stockings she’d worn when he chose her.
After giving her a gold crown for her time, he sent her back to the small, elegant parlor where she rejoined other women hoping for a wealthy patron to select them.
His restraint was entirely out of character for a man with his dark appetites.
Trudging up the stairs to his suite of rooms, Simon pondered the sudden absence of interest in his usual activities. After undressing and finally flopping against the pillows, he stared at the coffered ceiling above his bed.
What the devil is the matter with me?
Having made peace with bachelorhood from an early age, he’d worn the label with pride.
Freedom was a man’s luxury and not one to be unnecessarily squandered.
No strings, no domestic entanglements, and no worrisome expectations were its rewards.
He could bed a different woman every night.
Explore his darkest desires with a multitude of willing partners.
And he never needed to worry about pleasing a wife or answering for his actions.
The world was wide open to him, full of new adventures and experiences with as many women as he liked.
But that freedom suddenly weighed on his chest like a millstone…
a heavy weight of strange regret and a sense that such a life could not possibly go on forever.
His friends all appeared quite content with their decisions to get married.
The bliss in their marriages puzzled him.
Left him to wonder if he was missing something quite wondrous and magical.
And it was the oddest thing in that moment that his scattered thoughts should swirl and slowly, but inexorably, center on one young woman he’d never paid much attention to until recently.
Penelope True.
She’d either been abducted as a way of forcing her into an unwanted marriage, or she’d run away on her own accord to avoid one.
Her disappearance was unsettling. It made Simon uneasy…
as if somehow their fates were entwined and all that was good in his world would come crashing down if she’d met with some manner of misfortune.
Simon’s fists curled into balls of irritation.
Why should any of this trouble him? Why should he care?
His limited interactions with Penelope True should hardly warrant this unexplained restlessness.
She was simply a friend of his sister. A shy debutante.
A girl under the thumb of her parents. She had nothing to do with him.
But still…
If she escaped her fate under her own power, she is far braver than I gave her credit. But if her disappearance is more sinister in nature…if someone has actually taken her…then she is in danger. And I find myself unable to abide it.
Something excruciatingly sharp twisted in his chest at the thought of Penelope in peril. An image of her rose in his mind’s eye, surprising Simon with the depth of detail his memory contained from their surprising interaction in his mother’s parlor at Thorne Park.
He’d needled her, bored to tears, and on the hunt for a harmless bit of amusement.
And she’d snapped at him in the most shocking way.
He could not even recall what she’d said to intrigue him, but something within him had instantly prickled to life.
It was ridiculous, of course, that those wide, dark-lashed, moss-green eyes and her soft, shy smile should now intrude on his sanity.
He’d known dozens of women over the course of his life… many of them intimately.
Why Penelope had abruptly taken over his private thoughts had Simon raking a hand through his hair in bewildered confusion.
“Damnation,” Simon muttered beneath his breath as an uneasy sense of foreboding crept up his spine.
Trouble was coming, and there would be no escaping its reach.