“I don’t believe it for a moment.”
And, Emilia was right. Although Simon was humble, he did know that he was a great painter, or at least had the capacity to be in the future if he remained focused upon it. If Emilia was impressed by his work, he’d be immensely flattered.
Simon thought of what Kingsley had said the day before; how he once loved a lady that didn’t approve of his standing in society. Then, Kingsley made a fortune and no longer had affections for the lady that slighted him. Simon had to wonder if his life would have a similar trajectory.
“Are you feeling better?” Simon asked, yet again concerned with Emilia’s health.
“Yes, I feel far more stable,” Emilia said, beginning to stand. Not wishing her to do so alone, Simon quickly got up and grabbed Emilia’s arm once more, helping her to her feet. He could feel the softness of her skin and hoped that his reaching out to her did not offend her in some way. “I do hope that your heart will mend,” she added, turning towards him.
“Have you ever had your heart broken?” Simon asked her, wondering why he should have the gall to ask such a personal question. For whatever reason, he very much desired to know.
Emilia turned thoughtful and looked down to the ground once more. “I fear that I have not.”
“Why do you fear that?” Simon asked with a laugh.
“Because, the heart must break to truly open,” Emilia replied.
“That is wise.”
“I have spent so much of my time with myself, working on my art, reading books, and exploring as much as I can. I suppose that I’ve been too selfish to get my heart broken.”
“There’s nothing selfish about the way that you live,” Simon assured her. “These are all noble pursuits and a fine way to spend a life. I admit to being much the same. That’s why I left town to ensconce myself in this hermitage.”
“This is far from a hermitage,” Emilia said with a laugh, looking back towards the grandness of Montgomery House. “You must be so happy here.”
“As I have said, I am fortunate,” Simon replied.
There was a moment of silence between the two, and far from feeling the need to punctuate it, Simon let it rest. He felt at ease in the silence whilst in Emilia’s presence. Then, the weight of everything that transpired that day was finally felt. Simon had proposed a plan that could change the course of both he and Emilia’s lives.
When she had stumbled into the studio that morning, she was a stranger. And now, Emilia Spencer was someone that Simon had tied himself to. Never in his life had he done such a thing, but it seemed entirely necessary. He knew from the moment he first saw her that he didn’t wish to have her leave his sight.
“There is rain off in the distance,” Emilia finally said wistfully. Simon turned to where she was looking, and sure enough, he saw dark clouds. He couldn’t help wondering whether that was foreboding.
“Hopefully it will not tarnish your journey home,” Simon said and watched as Emilia sighed, seemingly dreading returning to town. Simon wished more than anything that she could stay at Montgomery House, but there was still a bit of finagling that he needed to do with Kingsley to put his plan in motion. “Will you come back in for tea?” Simon asked, not wishing to see her go.
“It will be quite cold by now,” Emilia said with a smile.
“We can secure you a fresh cup.”
“No, I fear that I need to be on my way. There’s much to think about.”
Simon’s heart sunk in his chest as he thought that maybe Emilia wasn’t yet resigned to his plan. How would he keep in contact with her? What if, during the ride home, Emilia suddenly decided to change her mind and this would be the last time that Simon should ever see her?
“You do not wish to continue with this plan?” Simon asked.
“What makes you think that?” Emilia asked, her brow knit in confusion.
“I’m unsure. I just sensed . . .”
“No, I fear that this plan is now inevitable,” Emilia said with a laugh.
“In that case, Emilia Spencer, my intention is to court you,” Simon said, bowing his head.
“I thank you, Simon James. I accept your courtship,” Emilia replied, giving a curtsey.
“I warn you, though. I do not court with subtlety,” Simon said, not entirely joking that time. He watched as the flush returned to Emilia’s cheeks, and it gave him tremendous satisfaction to see it.
“And I warn you,” Emilia replied, “I’m not so terribly easy to court.”
From all that Emilia had said about her character, Simon sensed that there was truth to her statement, as well. Considering that he liked a good challenge, it was exciting to hear.
“How can I reach you in town?” Simon asked, making sure that no matter what happened, he could get in contact with Emilia again.
“35 Pershing Street.”
“35 Pershing Street,” Simon repeated.
“Take pains not to forget it.”
“Believe me, I shall not forget,” Simon said, and the two gazed into one another’s eyes for a moment longer in silence. Her beauty could melt him, Simon concluded. Not only that, but also her nobility and honesty, and the very fact that she was willing to trust him. All these things came together to give Simon a feeling of ecstasy. Lady Susana had never made him feel that way. With her, it was as though Simon was always reaching out to her and she was escaping his grasp, if only for the reason of making him love her more. With Emilia, she was reaching out to him, just as Simon was reaching out to her. The feeling was something new and indescribable for him.
Just then, again by instinct, Simon reached down to Emilia’s cheek and wiped the charcoal from it. As he did so, Emilia’s eyes widened, and Simon had to wonder whether he was impossibly in love.
“So embarrassing,” Emilia said, looking away.
“It’s charming,” Simon replied. Without saying anything more, Emilia walked to the coach, and Simon followed her, opening the door and extending his hand to help her up. There was more that he wished to say, but Simon was tongue-tied and simply watched as she reclined in her seat and the coach sped off, the coachman no doubt satisfied that he could finally continue with his day. As Simon stood in the courtyard watching the coach race off into the horizon, he could see Emilia turn her head to look back at him.
Simon stood there until the coach was completely out of sight. Already the storm clouds were drawing nearer, and Simon concluded that if he stood in that place for much longer, the rain would come pouring down upon his head. Simon turned to look back towards Montgomery House, up to the top floor where the studio resided.
In the window, he could see Kingsley looking down at him. Simon had to wonder how much of that exchange the master artist saw. There would be a lot of explaining to do, and Simon would need to be diplomatic in how he did that. He then watched as Kingsley turned from the window and returned to his stool to paint.
So much had happened that day, and Simon could scarce tell what hour it was. Since Emilia came up into the studio, time had stood still and rushed ahead, all at the very same time.
“35 Pershing Street,” Simon said to himself as he walked towards the estate.
Chapter 4
Emilia felt a fit of nerves take over as the carriage rode through the countryside on its way back to London. Could Simon’s plan work? And, should Emilia really trust a man that she had only just met? There was something about the way that Simon spoke to her and the look in his eyes that told Emilia that she could trust him.
Never had a person had such a sudden impact upon her. Perhaps it was mere desperation that caused her to see hope in the form of Simon James. Whatever the reason, Emilia was going to go with her instinct and proceed with their plan.
Despite all of this contemplation, Emilia still couldn’t take her mind off of Simon’s dashing handsomeness. In fact, she laughed to herself when she considered that Simon might be the most handsome man she had ever met. Were such a fellow out in London society, he’d get grabbed up
by a lady of great esteem in no time. But Simon was seemingly of lowly birth and chose to devote all his time to his art. Emilia found this noble, and not unlike her own wishes for her life. But as a woman, it could not be. Simon James could be perfectly accepted by society for his choice in life.
In fact, if he became a painter of great esteem such as Sir Gregory Kingsley, Simon could enter into the bon ton without so much as a title. But society could never accept a female painter in the same way. Emilia knew that if she proceeded on the course that she wished for her life, there was a very good chance that she would be shunned. Still, Emilia would not relent. Her passion was painting, and a life married to Lord Huntley Pendergast might be the end of her. In the face of this, Emilia decided that she would devote herself to the plan that Simon had proposed.
And, just as she was trying to take her mind off of Simon James, the memory of Lady Susana came to mind. How could any woman, no matter her standing in life, turn down someone the likes of Simon? It seemed impossible.
Surely, Lady Susana must have been forced into the marriage with the prince. It would not make sense any other way. At least, not in Emilia’s estimation. She considered the fact that Lady Susana did not deserve Simon, and she secretly hoped that when Lady Susana proclaimed her love, as Emilia assumed the lady would, that Simon would turn her down.
Secretly, Emilia wished that Simon’s eyes might turn upon her.
As the coach pulled up to 35 Pershing Street, butterflies fluttered in Emilia’s stomach. She would confront her father about the situation with Simon James and would do so that very afternoon. There was no time to delay and only a possible future of happiness and freedom ahead of her. Walking up the stone steps to the front door, their footman Clyde opened it with a dour expression upon his face.
“Good afternoon,” Clyde said in his customary gloom.
“Good afternoon,” Emilia replied, entering the door and walking down the hall. The home always felt sad to Emilia since her mother was gone and her father’s health was ailing. Dominic Spencer was always a proud man, but his great, lion-like pride diminished as he was pushed around in a rolling chair, his hair nearly entirely grey. Ironically, much of the staff was let go after his illness struck and the house lost all of its cheer. Even Emilia’s younger sister Rose was not as spritely as she should be at ten and five years.
“Emmie, where have you been?” Emilia could hear Rose’s voice ask from the parlour.
“I had some matters to attend to,” Emilia said to Rose, not wishing to convey the whole truth.
“Father won’t stop coughing,” Rose said, her embroidery sitting upon her lap.
“I’ll go to him,” Emilia said, taking off her gloves. Going up the stairs to enter her father’s room, Emilia knew that it was the moment of truth. Either Dominic Spencer would flat-out refuse her entreaties, or he’d finally see that his daughter’s heart was much more important than her future income. Emilia greatly wished that it would be the former and not the latter. “Father,” Emilia said, discovering him in his rolling chair situated by the window. There was a cup of tea on a table beside him, and he appeared to be reading a book.
“Child,” Dominic said with a tender smile. “You have abandoned me.” Emilia’s father broke into a fit of coughing, and she raced to pour some water from a pitcher that stood on the sideboard.
“There, there,” Emilia said, bringing her father the glass. “I had some important business to attend to.”
“A girl your age shouldn’t have important business,” Dominic said, taking the glass and sipping from it. His coughing quickly abated. “You should be attending balls and enjoying your life.”
“There will be time for that.”
“I can only imagine the parties you’ll throw as Lady Pendergast.”
Emilia went silent, a wave of dread overtaking her. There was no time to waste. Emilia would dive into the difficult conversation that very moment.
“There’s something about that which we need to discuss,” Emilia said, seating herself on the cushion in the bay window so that she could face her father.
“When that day comes,” Dominic went on, seemingly not hearing what his daughter had said, “you’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy your life without worrying about having to take care of me.”
“Father, did you hear what I just said?” Emilia asked.
“That’s all that I want for you, child,” Dominic went on, most obviously not hearing what his daughter had just said.
“I do not love Lord Pendergast,” Emilia said, having out with it. She watched as her father’s face dissolved in confusion.
“What’s that?” Dominic asked.
“I said, I do not love Lord Pendergast. I know that he is rich, prestigious, and a very good match for our family, but I love another.” Dominic’s coughing spell quickly returned, and Emilia reached over to where he had set down his water glass, returning it to his hands. “There, there, Father,” Emilia said, rubbing his back. Guilt overtook her. Emilia knew that it was wrong to lie to her father so, but it was the only way that she could break free from her dark fate.
“Please, explain this to me,” Dominic finally said once the coughing abated.
“For a long while now, there has been another man that I love. I did not wish to tell you about him because I knew how strongly bent you were on my marrying Lord Pendergast. But now, I cannot hold my feelings back any longer. Simon says that he wishes to court me, and he wants to discuss it with you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Simon?”
“Yes, his name is Simon James, and he’s the man that I love.”
“Who is this Simon James?” Dominic asked, his brow knit.
“He’s an artist’s apprentice,” Emilia went on.
“Oh, Emilia. All of this art nonsense is going to your head. It could ruin your future!” Dominic protested.
“He is apprentice to Sir Gregory Kingsley.”
Dominic went silent, and his eyes widened. Emilia was quite sure that that name would have an effect upon her father, for he, himself, was a fan of the fabled landscape painter.
“Do you jest?” Dominic asked.
“I do not jest,” Emilia went on. “Simon, himself, is a great artist and could perhaps eclipse his master, with time,” she added, knowing full-well that it was yet another lie. She had not seen Simon’s work, but she did sense that there was truth to what she was saying.
“Emilia, I understand that he might be a man of some standing in the future, but on this very day, Simon James is a nobody. He cannot forward your position in this world.”
“I do not want my position to be forwarded!” Emilia said with great conviction. “If I marry, I want it to be for love, Father. What kind of happiness will Lord Pendergast’s money bring me? You know better than anyone that possessions mean nothing to me.”
“But I’ll tell you what does mean something to you; food on the table and clothing upon your back,” Dominic said.
“I shan’t go poor in Simon’s company.”
“And how do you know that?”
Emilia couldn’t think of a credible response, but something needed to be said in reply. “I just know. He will take care of me.”
“Oh, child,” Dominic said, turning to gaze out the window. “You threaten to make my health condition worse with your words. What am I to do? Marry Rose off to Lord Pendergast?”
A wave of revulsion came over Emilia. “Heavens, no! That is not the solution, either. I think that Rose cares as much for her happiness as I do my own, and there’s no chance that either of us could be happy with that deplorable man.”
The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 4