Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor Book 3) (19 page)

“It still hurts you.”

Now, Simon was thoroughly confused. “What hurts me?”

“When you…” She flushed. “You know…when we…” She fanned her face. “Must I say it?”

Yes, she must; otherwise Simon would never know. “When we what?”

“When we join.”

“What about it?” He’d assumed she’d been enjoying it as much as he had. Had he been wrong and there was a problem he didn’t know about?

“It hurts you.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he blurted, shaking his head wildly from side to side.

Rae looked at him in disbelief. “Then why every time we join, does your face pinch up like—” She scrunched her face up in a way that made him want to cringe.

“Rae, please don’t ever do that again,” he said, his cheeks on fire. “I’m not in pain when I do that. Quite the opposite.”

“That’s your look of pleasure?” Her tone was hard to read.

Simon sighed. “No, it’s more of an expression of sweet torment.” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “As I’d hoped you'd know by now, I am extremely attracted to you. So much so that if I don’t pause and regain my composure just then, I’ll embarrass myself.”

“Embarrass yourself?”

If this moment could possibly get any more awkward, Simon didn’t know how. “Spend too quickly.”

A myriad of expressions came over Rae’s face, and finally she said, “Oh.” She pulled away from him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”

Simon wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto his lap. “That’s all right.” He repositioned her so he could see her face, his lips only inches from hers. “A good husband would have explained that.”

“No, I should have known.”

Simon reached up and pushed a lock of her fallen hair behind her ear. “It’s of little consequence now, what is of consequence is: you were correct. You’ve been—and will always be—the only one I’ve taken to bed.” He leaned her back until her back hit the counterpane. “Being intimate with you is the most pleasurable thing imaginable. You—” he kissed her lips— “are the most perfect lover.”

And then, without another word, he proceeded to prove his words.

T
o Simon’s
way of thinking, everything was going perfectly and absolutely nothing could spoil it.

Including a set of parents wearing serious expressions and asking to talk to him.

No, not even whatever they had to say could ruin his good humor.

After he’d made love to Rae, he’d gone downstairs to gather a few things from the library and had almost made a clean escape and retreated back to his room where his naked wife was sleeping softly between his sheets.

Unfortunately, his parents had discovered him just as his bare foot made contact with the first wooden stair.

“Can we talk to you a minute, son?” Though Father worded it as a question, Simon knew his voice well enough to know it was anything but.

“It’s about Giles,” Mother added softly.

Simon stared at her. Was there truly anything more for him to know about Giles? “Yes?”

“Can we sit in the drawing room?” she asked, gesturing to the open door

Obediently, he followed his mother and father into the drawing room. This chat had the potential to take longer than he’d like or they wouldn’t have suggested they all go sit in the drawing room. He set down the stack of books he’d collected from the library on a nearby table and then took a seat. “Yes?”

His parents exchanged a look, both fidgeting in their chairs.

“Is this about his parentage?” Simon asked, slightly surprised at how smoothly that had rolled off of his tongue.

“H-how did you…” Mother coughed. “Whatever do you mean?” The feigned shock in her voice almost made him laugh. Almost.

“I do have eyes,” he said.

“You’ll be respectful to your mother,” Father reminded him.

“My apologies,” Simon murmured. He ran his hand over his chin. He hadn’t shaved in about two days and it was starting to make him feel itchy. “What was it you wanted to tell me, Mother?”

Mother’s petite hands gripped the armrests of her chair. “I-I don’t know.” She looked at Father. “I suppose that depends on what you think you already know.”

“That Giles looks like a younger version of Father and a slightly older version of me,” Simon said without hesitation.

Mother paled, which made his chest ache as that wasn’t his intent.

Simon sighed. “Father?”

Father reached out and patted Mother’s hand. “You’re correct. I loved your mother from the moment we met.” A wistful smile came over his face then a moment later it was gone. “But she was married by proxy to Lord Norcourt. I tried in vain to steal her away—after all, they were only married on paper, the two had never so much as clapped eyes on each other.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It was not meant to be.”

“And?” Simon prompted when it was clear neither Father nor Mother were on the verge of telling the remainder of the story.

Mother looked down at where she was using the toe of her slipper to trace the pattern of the wood on the floor. “We…er…”

“We spent some time together before his return,” Father said. “Alone.”

Simon nodded. He had already assumed as much. “And Lord Norcourt? Did he know?”

Mother and Father exchanged a look. “I’m not certain.” Tears filled Mother’s voice. “If you think that’s why Giles was sent to Ireland, the answer is no.”

Father opened his mouth, likely with the intent to offer a better explanation, but Mother stopped him with a single shake of her head.

“Giles was sent away because he was…” She wiped her hands down the front of her skirt— “simple.” Mother took a deep breath. “The old baron was advanced in years and he’d have accepted Giles as his heir, had he no other choice. But, he desperately wanted another.” She
clicked
her fingernails. “The older Giles got, the more infuriated Lord Norcourt became that Giles was his heir and did nothing to disguise his disdain. When I could bear his treatment of Giles no longer, I prevailed upon your father…” She swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “I had no idea that my actions would result in Giles being sent away.” She wiped away a few more tears. “Not long after I told him I’d conceived, he sent Giles away, and in his celebration of another heir, he died.

“I hated him so very much for what he’d done to me, and you and Giles, that before the grass had grown over his grave, I married your father.” Her lower lip trembled, and she looked up at Simon, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I am so sorry, Simon.”

“Sorry?”

“I should have told you,” she burst out with another round of tears. “I should have told you about Giles, but I was still grieving. I should have told you about your father and me, but I was too embarrassed. What must you think of me, an adulteress? I-I-I loved your father all along and I couldn’t imagine having another of his children be claimed as Lord Norcourt’s. But in my selfishness, I stole away what might have been yours.”

“A title that I had no right to?” Simon asked flatly.

She nodded. “I-I… One day you’ll have children and understand how hard it is to pick one over another,” she explained weakly. “It was the very least I could ensure to Giles for all that he’s suffered.”

“And rightfully so,” Simon agreed. Heedless to the fact he was clad in only a pair of dove trousers, he walked over to his mother and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I love you, Mother. I truly do and I understand.” He pulled back. “I’m glad you married Father.” Simon couldn’t have imagined what his life would have been like had he not had Father.

“You’re not angry with me?” The surprise in her voice made him chuckle.

“No.”

“Not even about not telling you about Giles sooner?”

Simon momentarily stiffened. “At first, I was,” he admitted. “But not…” He shrugged.

“Now?”

Simon released his mother and resumed his earlier seat. “It’s not Giles that I didn’t like. I just didn’t like that I hadn’t been told. He just turned up and suddenly the two of you couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe if he wasn’t around.”

Mother cocked her head to the side. She’d always been perceptive when it came to Simon—save these past few months when she’d become obsessed with rekindling her motherly bond with Giles. “Something’s different,” she mused. “Just a month ago, you nearly brought down my lending library about my ears at seeing Giles and Lucy’s wedding announcement in the newspaper.”

Simon scowled. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did,” Mother said with a little laugh. “Every time we’ve ever mentioned Giles, you’ve acted like you were sitting on a nail. Why, the time we had him, Lucy, and Seth over for dinner…” She narrowed her eyes on him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you,” Mother said without hesitation. “Something is going on, and I won’t rest until I know what it is.”

An image of Rae in his bed, her face resting against his pillow flashed into his mind.

“Your grin only confirms it,” Mother said with a snap of her fingers. Her eyes held that familiar excited, mischievous light they’d always had during his boyhood. A spark that had been extinguished for a brief few months. He was glad to have it back. Perhaps her worry over not telling Simon about Giles had been harder for her than Simon had realized.

Remorse of his unkind thoughts toward her filled his heart.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Simon said thickly.

Mother blew out a deep breath. “I suppose I can forgive you for your beastly behavior as of late, but—” she exhaled again— “only if you’ll tell me what has you smiling like a cat who’s spotted the cream.”

“A certain young lady,” Simon said with another grin.

Mother’s eyes tripled in size. “Who? It’s not Lady Eugenia, is it?” Before Simon could answer, his mother waved her hand through the air. “Of course it’s not that wretched young lady. Is it Lady Sophia?”

He shook his head.

“Good. I don’t like her mother.” Mother jumped off her seat and started pacing. “Miss Camille Essex?”

Simon shook his head again. Mother would never guess.

“Even better, her father is a gambler of the worst sort. He’s always borrowing money from his eldest daughter’s husband.” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Lady Elizabeth James?”

“You’ll never guess.”

“Clearly not,” Mother agreed, coming to a halt in front of Simon. “All right, who is she?”

“Henrietta—”

“Hughes,” Mother finished for him.

“Appleton,” Simon corrected.

“Pardon?” Mother and Father said in unison.

“Her father’s name is Hughes; she’s taken on her husband’s surname: Appleton.”

“
That’s
where you’ve been?” Mother burst out, her voice on the edge of hysteria.

Simon stiffened. “Is there a problem with who I chose to be
my
wife?” he asked, not bothering to mask his irritation. Because, if there was a problem, they’d be gone today. Never to return again.

“No,” Mother said quickly. “I don’t know Miss Hu—er…the newest Mrs. Appleton, but I’m sure she’s lovely.” Mother slowly lowered herself back into her chair.

“Then what is the problem?” Again, he made no strides to hide his feelings.

“Why did you marry her?” Mother asked.

“Why does it matter?” Simon countered.

“Because you’d never shown an inclination of interest toward her before and now you’ve gone from courting Isabelle to vying for Lucy’s attentions, and now you’ve just
married
Mis—Mrs. Apple—Henrietta in a span of six weeks.”

Simon bridled at her remark. There was so much she didn’t know.

“Son, your Mother and I want what is best for you—and your young lady.” He scratched his temple the way Simon had seen him do many times when he was searching for the right words. “I know you feel betrayed, Simon, but I wish you’d have waited a little longer before you involved that innocent young lady in this.”

“Perhaps the two of you should have given a little more thought to how you handled telling me about Giles’ existence,” Simon fired back. It wasn’t a fair or even a related remark, but they needed to consider their own actions before criticizing his.

“And that’s the problem,” Father said grimly.

“You’re using her to ease your pain,” Mother said bluntly. “And that’s unacceptable, Simon.”

“Using her?” Clearly these two didn’t understand. “I don’t give a hang about Giles.”

“No, because you’ve replaced your hurt and disdain with a young woman who doesn’t know she’s been made into a pawn,” Father blustered.

Father and Mother were wrong and in time he’d prove it to them, for now they were being too irrational to try to reason with. Instead, Simon stood and quietly left the room.

* * *

R
ae’s heart
hadn’t stopped thundering in her chest since she’d gone looking for Simon and instead of finding him, had overheard his parents accuse him of using her to bury his feelings about Giles.

Were they right?
She wondered and she carefully crept back up the stairs and back to Simon’s bedchamber. They knew him best. She knew of the pain Giles’ sudden arrival had inadvertently inflicted on Simon. Was she just too naïve to believe he loved her more than that?

Did it matter?

Yes…and no. It mattered to her, but it didn’t matter enough to risk losing Simon by mirroring his parents’ accusations.

The doorknob turned, sending a chill over her. Rae squeezed her eyelids closed and hoped Simon would find her actions more convincing than she feared they were.

Next to her, the mattress dipped as Simon settled next to her. “Rae?”

“Hmm,” she forced, not opening her eyes.

Simon kissed her on the top of her nose. “I have some tragic news.”

Rae’s eyes shot open, her heart slamming harder in her chest—if such a thing were even possible. “What’s wrong?”

“My parents are home.”

Rae’s fingers itched to trace the hard edge of his clenched jaw or even to whisper encouragement about his announcement. But she couldn’t bring herself to do either. “Do we need to leave?”

Simon shook his head. “Only if you’re not comfortable and you wish to.”

“What about you?” she challenged.

Simon forced his left shoulder up in a stiff shrug. “We ran off to Scotland and got married, Rae. No matter how you meet them for the first time it’ll be awkward. No sense in going downstairs and making that happen just now.”

“So then will we get the honor of choking down an uncomfortable breakfast with them or slither out the window and scale the wall under the moonlight?”

Simon let out a sharp bark of laughter. “This is why I love you.” He kissed her lips. “Whichever you’d prefer.”

She’d prefer if Simon had taken her downstairs earlier when he went to go speak to his parents and would have introduced her then as his bride—the one he loved more than any and all others. But that hadn’t happened. She closed her eyes. She needed to release these bitter feelings or her life would be miserable.

Simon
had
always been compassionate toward her. He’d never said anything unkind to or about her. She’d do well to remember that even if his intentions had been self-serving, she hadn’t been physically hurt or demeaned because of them.

She met his gaze. “I should like to meet them.”

“Now?” Simon’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.