“Simon,” she whispered, not able to say more, feeling a lump of emotion like a plum pit in her throat.
“Genevieve,” he continued, “I am asking you for your hand.”
Dear God! The most unexpected phrase out of the earl’s mouth, and it was the very mimic of Cousin Ned’s. Except her name was correct on the earl’s lips.
“Two proposals in one week!” she exclaimed before instantly regretting her thoughtless words yet unable to retrieve them. In the next moment, her legs felt wobbly. “I need to sit.”
She half-stumbled to a wrought iron bench with fanciful scrollwork, sitting down with the weight of astonishment and uncertainty weighing heavily upon her.
Simon rose from his position with an oath of annoyance.
Instead of sitting beside her like a civilized gentleman, he circled the bench like a tiger about to pounce.
“Two proposals! What on earth are you talking about?”
“Sorry,” she offered at once. “I am in no way equating the previous proposal to yours. I am simply astounded. The minute a girl puts her own person firmly upon the shelf, men become more insistent upon pulling her off it again. I should wonder that it doesn’t become yet another coy tactic for the ton. Create a room at each ball designated ‘the shelf’ and see if the suitors don’t flock there to conquer the as-yet unconquered.”
“Most women are on the shelf due to some perception that they are undesirable,” he protested, “whether fair or unjust. However, that is blatantly not the case with you. Yours was a shelving due to financial circumstances beyond your control.”
He swore loudly yet again before coming to a standstill in front of her.
“Why are we discussing the bloody ton and wallflowers. I demand an explanation.”
Hm. Simon Devere demanded, did he?
Her mind was still going in every possible direction, refusing to settle on the one important issue. He had asked her to marry him. Jenny slowed down the thought to see if it made any more sense. He. Had. Asked. Her! To. Marry. Him!
“Well?”
“The reason my cousin left abruptly was because I turned down his proposal. I knew he had feelings for me and had been trying to put him off for days. Once he declared himself and I refused, I knew he would leave in high dudgeon. And he did.”
“Ha!” Simon exclaimed. “I knew it.” Then he laughed, a genuine full laugh. “What a dunderhead! How could that puffy-faced, weak-willed maggot hope to win your affection if he wouldn’t even help you rescue Thunder?”
Jenny shrugged slightly. “It would have made no difference even if he’d brought me an entire team of prize stallions.”
The earl quieted and finally sat upon the bench beside her.
“I had no feelings for him,” she explained.
He didn’t speak for a moment. Then in a low voice, she heard him add, “That is understandable.”
She couldn’t help a quick giggle that slipped from her. Beyond nervous, Jenny desperately wanted to examine the feelings swirling inside her. She was flattered, appalled, somewhat insulted, and intrigued—all at once.
And curious.
“You would marry me in order to have a bookkeeper by your side?” It sounded as absurd as she thought it would.
Simon smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t marry merely any bookkeeper.”
“This is not the time to be joking with me, my lord.”
“No, perhaps not. However, I will confess that I think we will be, if I may say so, well matched. We converse easily, laugh often, and …” he trailed off.
“And?” she prompted.
“And we have already discovered that we enjoy a certain passionate response to each other. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She would definitely agree but not out loud. Besides, there was the delicate matter of his mean-spirited and quite definite words to his butler.
“I must tell you that I am entirely confounded by your proposal.”
Simon frowned. “Really? Have I not made love to you nearly every time we are alone?”
Her face heated. In truth, he had. And she had let him. Moreover, her feelings for him had grown quickly from the concern one would feel for any suffering being to a genuine desire to help him heal.
Even more than that, his wellbeing now mattered to her. She enjoyed every moment with him except for when he suffered, and then she suffered, too.
However, there was the matter of his proclamation.
“Quite plainly, you said that you would not marry me even if I were the last woman on earth. What has changed in two weeks?”
It was the earl’s turn to look confounded. “I never said such a thing. Where did you get the idea that I had?”
“I heard you with my own ears. You were speaking with Mr. Binkley, the same day that you offered to pay for a Season for my sisters.”
Frowning a moment, Simon looked up at the sky, down at his lap, and then back into her eyes. At that point, recollection dawned on his face, smoothing the lines.
“I remember now. However, we were not discussing you. We were speaking of Maude Devere. It was after you first told me she’d moved in. I had questions for Binkley about the hows and the whys of it. My butler is of the opinion that Tobias’s widow should not be at Belton.”
Simon paused as he always did when discussing his cousin, his gaze becoming distant and distracted. Jenny understood that his keen mind took him back to the moment of Tobias’s death. Sure enough, the earl shuddered slightly before refocusing on her.
“Binkley thinks, in his bourgeois way, that with Maude and the children living here, what with them all being practically my family, people will start to suggest I marry her.”
He sighed. “There is a slight unseemliness to the arrangement, I suppose. At least one could conclude that, seeing as we are of an age and both without partners.”
Jenny nodded. That made sense. A weight lifted off her shoulders and off of her heart. His words had been hurtful, and she’d tried not to let them bother her, but they had. Tremendously, in fact.
“I had not meant to eavesdrop. I was walking past to retrieve my coat. My apologies.”
“Think nothing of it.” He lifted her gloved hand from her lap and placed it upon his leg, imprisoning it quite thoroughly with his large hand.
She stared at their hands. Hers was entirely hidden, pressed against his pant leg, feeling the warmth of him seeping through. Was she really sitting with an earl, discussing relationships? And marriage? She swallowed.
“May I ask why Maude Devere would be the last person on earth whom you would marry?”
“Is this a trick?” Simon asked. “Some woman’s game you’ve contrived to get me to compare your attributes to hers? For I will gladly tell you why I admire you above anyone else.”
The idea! Jenny had merely been curious. It was not idle gossip that spurred her on, but a genuine desire to know Simon’s mind. And, of course, to discover why he would select her over the comely widow.
“Lady Devere is fair of face. She might not be wealthy, but then neither am I. Plus, she is already a member of the Devere family, which many would think makes for a smooth transition.”
Simon made a decidedly disparaging noise. “Maude is not plain, I’ll grant you that. Nor is she a raving beauty. Regardless, she holds no attraction for me. I will tell you the matter of it. In London, about seven years back, I did put my name on her dance card a couple of times. However, it was a mere flirtation. I don’t think we spoke more than twenty words to each other. We certainly never had a conversation as you and I are doing now. Tobias was there, as well, of course, and became quite besotted by the lady. Since she chose my cousin over the heir to an earldom, I must assume she really and truly loved him.”
He reached up and tucked a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear, causing a delicious shiver to race up her spin.
“I could never get myself to play second fiddle all these years later,” Simon concluded. “If the woman was going to care for me, she would hav
e done so the first time round. Moreover, if I was going to care for her, I would have fought Toby for her hand. However, asking for her hand was the furthest thing from my mind, then and now.”
Jenny digested the tale in silence.
Simon ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, stealing her breath with his touch. “Are we finished discussing your cousin, my cousin, and his widow?”
Unable to speak, his thumb still on her mouth, she nodded.
The earl smiled but then his expression became serious.
“Don’t you think, Miss Blackwood, that we are well suited in all the respects I mentioned?”
She nodded again.
“You are a practical person. Therefore, you must agree that if we’ve both found someone who suits each the other, then we should not waste such a lucky circumstance. You know numbers, Miss Blackwood. There are a lot of people in England. Do you know how many?”
“Oh, goodness, no. Millions, I believe.”
“About thirteen million. At least, that was the number at the last census before I went away. What’s more, you’ve had nearly two full seasons and have met many of those considered marriageable. Yes?”
Her third nod, and Jenny was starting to feel as if someone had stolen her voice, but she was absolutely fascinated by his mouth when he spoke so earnestly.
“And of all the people we’ve each met, why, I would wager there aren’t more than a handful that would make either one of us a suitable mate. Do you agree?”
Moving her head slightly in such a way as to dislodge his thumb, she cleared her throat.
“I do agree. If even that many.”
For her part, she had never felt even the smallest percentage of the feeling that the earl engendered in her heart and in her person. In fact, this was the first time she considered digging out her long-hidden copy of Aristotle’s Masterpiece, obtained in a used bookstore in London at the start of her first Season. Wrapped innocently enough in brown paper, the book was considered by her peers to be the best introduction to what occurred in private between men and women. In the bedroom.
She had stuffed it in the bottom of her trunk and left it.
Oddly, when she was briefly engaged to the viscount, she hadn’t felt the least compunction to read what many her age whispered about. Even with the impending marital relations in her future, she had felt no desire to know. Perhaps because she’d felt no desire.
Now, however, with her emotions—and other things—stirred by the virile man next to her, Jenny thought it high time she devoured the book that claimed to divulge many sensual secrets.
“Genevieve?”
He brought her excited thoughts back to the present with a whisper of her name. “Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
Chapter Seventeen
Considering how she felt about this impressive man, Jenny found the answer came easily.
“Yes, I will!”
His face appropriately expressed the same happiness she felt inside. What a strange and wondrous turn of events to her otherwise ordinary day.
“I will call upon your mother this evening. Naturally, I should have asked her first. Yet, due to your age and independent manner, I rather let myself get carried away. I hope she will not take offense and hold it against me.”
“I’m sure she will be thrilled for us.”
Then her gloved hands encircled his neck and pulled his head down to kiss her. She certainly liked the Belton gardens and their benches!
*
Simon thought it had been a bang-up day. He could feel nothing but pleasure at the idea of Jenny becoming his wife. Intelligent, soft-spoken, beautiful, passionate, and even compliant in his arms, she was everything he’d ever hoped for. Yes, he’d done well. And now that he’d kissed her again and seen her off in her carriage with the promise of calling on her mother that evening, he had the far less pleasant task of hunting down Maude Devere.
When he could find her in none of the common rooms, he told Binkley to announce him at her private chambers. Feeling like David bearding the lion in his den, Simon entered behind Binkley while Maude was still deciding whether to see the earl or not, or more likely, she was thinking up another prevarication to keep him away. No one could have that many headaches!
He had a right to see her. After all, now that he had returned, she was living in his home by his inclination. Granting him an audience, or rather not granting one, was not a choice Simon felt like giving her. He wanted some answers.
She sat on a small salmon-colored settee with a newspaper on her lap. Her children, he noted, thinking of what Jenny had said, were nowhere to be seen. It seemed as good a time as any to talk.
“Thank you, Binkley. That will be all.” Simon sent the butler on his way. If Maude was squeamish about being alone with him, then she could ring for her maid.
“What is the meaning of this?” Maude asked. She didn’t stand but gave an indication of towering indignation nevertheless. Her French accent thickened with her unease.
“I didn’t intend to alarm you, Lady Devere. I simply wish to speak with you regarding some affairs of my estate, and of course, the sale of Jonling Hall.”
She paled, and Simon knew it was not going to be an easy discussion.
“I didn’t know I shouldn’t sell it, I swear to you. I thought it was entirely mine to do with as I pleased.”
“Yet it was not.”
She reared back as if he’d slapped her. “There is nothing that can be done now. Tobias should have told me that we held the hall only by your father’s pleasure, and now yours.”
“Yes, I suppose he should have. I have only your word that he didn’t.”
Now, he had brought forth her ire as her skin flushed. It was far preferable to pale skin and cowering eyes for he didn’t like to think he was harrying a woman.
“Why would my father-in-law suggest I sell it if I didn’t have the right?”
Simon was taken aback. Had his uncle truly counseled her to do such a thing? He had heard nothing yet from his missive to his father’s younger brother, but he was starting to think he would have to take a trip to South Wingfield and speak directly to him. Meanwhile, he still needed answers.
“Where is the profit from the sale?”
“Profit?” She blinked at him, and he sensed her stalling.
“Yes, the earnings, the proceeds, the takings. You sold a dwelling that you had not paid for, nor had ever made payments on, therefore whatever Jonling Hall sold for would be pure profit. Where is that money?”
She glanced down at her lap. “Gone,” she said, her voice low. “Mostly.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, my lord. There were debts to pay.”
“Debts? Whose? Yours, or are you going to attribute them conveniently to your husband whilst he is no longer here to deny or verify your words?”
“That is not my fault. I wish he were here more than anything else on earth. I certainly wish he had come back instead of …” She clasped a hand over her mouth.
Thankfully, Maude didn’t complete the heinous statement. Simon had thought more than once how much better it would have been for everyone if Toby had, in fact, been the one to return. He had a family, an heir, a living father. The transition of the earldom from one side of the family to the other would have been quite simple.
Instead, Simon had returned to find he had no father to whom he could ask advice, and only someone else’s widow and children. And he’d been mentally unstable for months. He couldn’t hold Maude’s words against her. If their situations were reversed, he would feel the same way.
But they weren’t reversed. What’s more, he was taking himself in hand and doing what he could to get back to the person he had been, and now, there was Genevieve Blackwood who made him want to live again. Because of her, life was once more extremely precious.
He nearly smiled thinking of his Jenny, except that would have been unkind to Maude.
“You know I am aggrieved over my cousin’s
death, and extremely sorry for your current circumstances.” He took a few steps farther into the room and then, though she didn’t ask, he sat down upon a very feminine wing chair opposite her. It might have come from the hall, or it might have been his mother’s. He didn’t recall.
“You have no money, no income. Tobias left you without any savings either?”
She nodded.
“Why would he do something so out of character? He always seemed responsible, even earnest in taking care of his family. He looked after my father’s ledgers.” Saying this, Simon kept a keen eye on her, and sure enough, she tightened her lips and looked away from him yet again.
Had Toby truly been stealing from the estate’s coffers? If he had, where was the money?
“I cannot get any information out of you that you do not know. However, here is an easy question?”
She raised her gaze to his once more.
“Who purchased Jonling Hall?”
“I do not know, my lord. It was handled by my solicitor.”
“Yet you told the new master’s servants at the hall not to speak of their new master to anyone, not even to me. Why would you do that if you didn’t know who he was?”
She opened and closed her mouth like a carp. He had her, thanks to Jenny.
“I don’t know why you’d say such a thing,” Maude finally said.
“Because it is the truth. I know it.”
Silence. Long and unbroken. Until the lady began to cry.
Simon rolled his eyes. Clearly, she was expert at this—deny, deceive, and distract.
How long could she keep it up? He waited. She cried, then sobbed, then sniffled. He supposed all that performance would give her quite a headache.
When finally, she quieted, he said simply, “Give me the name of your solicitor.”
Her wide eyes and her face now blotchy indicated they were back where they started.
“Lady Devere, I will not toss you out of my home because of Peter and Alice, as well as a sense of duty to my cousin. However, my patience will only go so far. I will not be made a fool of. You will tell me now your solicitor’s name and how to reach him, or I will march you over to the hall and we will speak to the staff together.”
Beastly Lords Collection Page 20