by Wendy Vella
“What would you do?” He was curious to know if she would have done the same as he had.
“I would ask both if they wanted to marry each other, then help them to do so.” She said the words instantly, taking no time to think, and as they echoed his own, he could find no fault in them.
“Merlin is to marry Jilly as soon as it can be arranged, as he has assured me he cares for her and she for him. I will also help to secure them a house to live in once they are married if they need my assistance.”
Her look was one of surprise. She had obviously not thought he would handle the matter as he had. “Did you think I would throw her out of my house, Claire?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I knew you would be fair. However, I did not realize you would be so generous.”
He gave her a steady look. “You do not have a very high opinion of noblemen, Miss Belmont—more specifically, me.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to be disrespectful, Simon. Forgive me. I am just not myself.”
“Perhaps you will be more yourself, Claire, if you close your eyes,” he added after she tried to hide a large yawn behind one hand. “I will wake you if need be.”
She did as he asked and leaned her head back on the seat. However she did not sleep; he could tell by her breathing and the way her body did not relax into slumber. Her hands, too, remained clenched in her lap. Tension was clear in every line of her body. He could not blame her, after all what she was about to do would change her life in many ways. Even if there was no child.
Simon watched her as he thought about the next few days. They would spend tonight alone in a house with no servants, and the days after that would be spent in accommodation used by many. He would need to protect her as best he could, and he hoped they encountered no one who knew them. Perhaps he should say they were related or married? If they were discovered, she would be ruined beyond repair. Her reputation would be blackened, and even her dearest friends, the duke and duchess, could do nothing to salvage it.
Night had fallen as finally, the carriage rolled to a stop. He opened the door, stepped down onto the cobbled driveway, and held out his hand. Claire’s fingers felt soft in his. Her gloves were tucked into his pocket, and he held them firm as he led her towards the house.
“It looks a lovely little cottage, Simon,” she said, looking at the façade before them.
“Yes, it has a charm of its own.”
He led her to the front steps and told her to wait whilst he found the key, which was placed under a pot around the side of the house. Returning, he opened the door and then urged her inside.
“Where shall Merlin and Ben sleep?”
“In the stables, Claire. There is a comfortable loft that will suit them both. Now find some candles whilst I collect our luggage.”
It did not take him long to organize his coach and horses and ensure his drivers were comfortable before carrying their bags into the cottage.
She was not where he’d left her. Dropping the luggage, he walked through the kitchen and found Claire in a small parlor. She had lit several candles and was walking around the shelves studying book titles.
“The owner is an avid gardener, Simon, if these books are any indication.”
“He is.”
“I sometimes wish I could live at a place like this.” She sounded wistful as she turned slowly, taking in the pale walls and soft rugs scattered on the floor. It was a special place to Simon, the first home he had thought of as his own. This was where he ran when he needed solitude or a place to think. It was small, consisting of two rooms upstairs and three down. It was simple and decorated for comfort rather than style, and he loved every inch of it.
“You want to live in a house with five rooms?” He watched as she pressed her face to the small paned windows, which he knew led to a garden filled with the sweet scent of a hundred blooms and enough color to make even Miss Bugs happy.
“Sometimes I wish to escape, Simon, if only for a day.”
“Why don’t you?”
Her laugh held no humor. “How like a man with no restrictions to suggest such a thing.” Moving back to the bookshelf, she skimmed her fingers slowly along the spines as she walked. “I cannot even leave my house alone to shop for a new bonnet without someone demanding to know where I have been and why. Were I to simply climb on my horse and leave London, my mother’s heart would give out, and my brother would lock me in my room for days.”
“I can see how that could be a deterrent,” Simon said, moving to lean against the wall. “However I, too, have crosses to bear.”
“Do tell, my lord, of these crosses you bear,” she said, stopping to stare at him. The distance between them was not great, and he could see she was nervous, being here alone with him. She was a young woman who had never done anything but follow the rules, and now she was breaking them in a spectacular fashion.
“I, as an eligible bachelor with healthy teeth and a full purse, am a hunted species.” Ignoring her scoffing sounds, he continued. “I am tittered at, called upon to pick up gloves and handkerchiefs, and must listen while mothers extol their daughters’ virtues until I want to gnash my teeth.”
“Oh please, you cannot expect me to believe the adoration you receive nightly is not welcome, Lord Kelkirk.”
She was beautiful in candlelight, the flicker casting her skin and hair golden. Somehow here in his home, she appeared approachable and imminently more touchable.
“From some it is welcome,” he said slowly, “however, when Lady Pepper pretends to trip and land on me, it is not. That woman could flatten an entire cavalry of the King’s Dragoon Guards.” Her smile was like a light appearing at the end of a tunnel. Seeing her unsettled and hurt today had affected him, but that brief flash of teeth made him feel lighter. “Besides, I had you most evenings to un-stroke my ego, Miss Belmont.”
The smile fell from her lips.
“Claire, I’m joking with you. I enjoy our conversational battles.”
Her smile was tentative. “Wh-where shall I sleep, as I would like to retire now, please?”
Pushing off the wall, he reached for her bags. “There are two rooms upstairs, both off the hallway. You shall take the one on the right. There is bedding in the hall cupboard.”
Hesitating briefly, Simon watched her as she bobbed a little curtsey and then hurried off in the direction he had indicated. He collected her bags and followed.
The cupboard stood open, and she was inside pulling out several items when he reached her.
“Do you need help with your bed, Simon?”
“I can make my own bed, Claire, but thank you for the offer.” Simon opened the door to her room and took her bags inside.
“Can you really?”
“Yes I can, really.”
“I apologize if I sound sceptical, Simon. I just have never thought of you as a man who can do chores such as making a bed. I do not know many noblemen who could.”
“I had wondered when she would make a reappearance,” Simon said, watching as she pulled the cover back on her bed and started to make it.
“Who?”
“The woman who challenges me in London. I have seen very little of her today, and I’m glad she still lurks inside you.”
“I am not being challenging, Simon. I was merely stating a fact.”
“That you believe all noblemen cannot make beds,” he said, admiring the shape of her bottom as she bent to tuck in the sheet.
“I do not deliberately challenge you.”
“Never tell me you were born with that sharp tongue?”
The look she gave him was supposed to be fierce, yet it was merely pathetic when accompanied by a yawn. “It is my duty towards your future wife not to pander to your considerable ego, Lord Kelkirk. Someone needs to set you back on your heels a time or two, and the task is not an onerous one, I assure you.”
She made the bed as she did everything,–quickly, efficiently, and perfectly.
“Can I help it if people
like me?”
“Women like you,” she clarified, smoothing one slender hand over the final blanket. “Women are foolish around you, my lord. All that fawning and simpering makes me feel ill. I have no idea how you countenance it.”
Simon laughed as she frowned. “So it is your duty to ensure I do not have all seven deadly sins and that my future wife is presented with a malleable husband she can manipulate?
He saw the flash of another smile as she turned to pick up a pillow and place it on the bed. “I am far too tired to give this conversation my full attention. Therefore we shall discuss it further when I am once again capable of putting you in your place.”
And with those words, the smile was gone again, and in its place was a frown that revealed she was thinking once more about what she was about to do, about her dead brother—the brother she loved best—and about her dead brother’s child.
“I shall take that reprieve, Miss Belmont, and collect us both water for washing and then bid you goodnight.” Simon made himself walk out the door and close it softly behind him before he took her in his arms and held her until the fear had gone.
After collecting the water and giving her some, he entered his room and quickly made the bed. He then stripped to the waist and washed, the cool water feeling good after a day’s travels. He pulled off his boots, opened the window, and lay on the bed in his breeches. His mind immediately went to Claire and what she had set out to do. He didn’t know many women who would have undertaken such a task. He also didn’t doubt there was every likelihood she would have succeeded without him, yet just thinking about her alone out there made him shudder. Closing his eyes, he hoped she was now in bed as he was, because she needed sleep desperately. Two minutes later, he was slumbering.
Claire had washed and pulled on her nightdress. Unpinning her hair, she then remembered there was no way of getting it back on top of her head tomorrow and that she should have left it up, as it was unlikely she would sleep tonight. Brushing it vigorously, she thought she could perhaps manage a simple bun or even a plait. Lying on the bed, she looked into darkness and tried not to think about Simon doing the same just a few feet from her. Would he be asleep already, his big body slumbering peacefully until morning? Claire closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts.
Was the child a boy or a girl? How old was it? The questions suddenly began to roll around again inside her head.
Determined to get a few hours sleep, she tried to clear her thoughts by counting the doors in her brother’s townhouse and then the servants. The problem was that nighttime invariably also brought out the worst of Claire’s fears and magnified them tenfold. It was lucky no one saw her, as she would probably fall on them, sobbing pitifully.
After several hours, Claire gave up and slipped out of bed and lit her candle. At least if she walked about or read, her thoughts were focused on something other than her problems and fears. Wrapping a shawl around her, she went barefoot from her room. She tiptoeed down the hall, hoping Simon would stay asleep. Remembering the carriage and how deeply he had slept, she thought it was likely he would. In fact, she was fairly certain it would take a herd of stampeding cows to disturb him. The bottom stair creaked, but she heard no sound from behind her, so she made her way back into the room that held all the books. There were so many of them. Lifting the candle, she ran her hand along the titles and settled on a work about how to nurture seedlings. Surely that would be boring enough to put her to sleep.
“Claire, what are you doing?”
She spun around so quickly that the book fell from her hands and the spine split as it landed on the hard floor. “You startled me, Simon!” Placing the candle on the table, Claire dropped to her knees and gathered the broken book into her hands carefully. “I will have it fixed. Your friend need not know.”
Large, warm hands wrapped around hers as she stood. He took the book from her and then turned her to face him. “It’s a book on gardening, Claire. I’m sure no one is going to be concerned if it is a bit damaged.”
His chest was bare, and Claire could feel the heat from it against her hands as he moved closer.
“I should have been more careful.” She couldn’t look at him. She was too tired, her emotions were in turmoil, and he was nearly naked. She had never seen a man’s chest before.
“Why are you not asleep?”
“Because I don’t.”
“You don’t sleep?”
“Must we have this conversation now? You should return to your bed and let me read up on how to nurture my seedlings.”
“I’m sure your seedlings will be fine, Claire. Now tell me what you mean by, ‘I don’t sleep.’“
“It’s really quite a simple concept to grasp. I don’t sleep well,” Claire snapped, and then she tried to step away from him, but he simply slipped his big arms around her and held her still.
“Let me go, please.”
“Why don’t you sleep well?” He ignored her request.
She dropped her head back and looked up at him. His hair stood on end, and his eyes were sleepy, and he looked dangerous and somehow more disturbing than he did when he was the immaculately attired gentleman she knew. His chest was broad and muscled, and if she just took a step forward, she could fall on it, as Lady Pepper had. Dear god, she needed to move away quickly. “Because I can’t.” Claire did not like the anxiety in her tone.
“How long have you not slept well for?”
“It feels like forever,” Claire said, feeling her resistance flee as she thought of all those nights that had stretched long and lonely before her. “And I’m so tired, Simon.”
“I know, sweetheart. I can see that you are.”
“Don’t…please.”
“Don’t please what?” His hand now cupped her cheek, and his thumb was rubbing the skin. Claire was sure an imprint would be there forever.
“Don’t call me that. Don’t be nice to me, because I am not quite myself tonight.”
“You obviously have a very good reason to not be yourself, Claire. Will you let me help you go to sleep?”
She shook her head. “I have tried many things, Simon, and still I only snatch an hour or two during the night. Plimley has made many suggestions, but none of them have worked.”
“Plimley knows?”
Claire nodded again. “Plimley is not like a normal butler.”
“He certainly doesn’t look like one.”
“He’s always been there for me.”
His thumb caressed her cheek again. “I’m glad he was there for you, Claire.” She heard the unspoken question in his voice. Simon wanted to know why her butler had been there for her, yet her family had not. She was relieved when he chose to ask her something else. “When did this sleeplessness start?”
This was a pointless conversation to be having. After all, Simon could do nothing for her. He just needed to leave her alone with the book. Soon it would put her to sleep for a few hours so that in the morning she could cope. “I’m quite all right, my lord, really. This is what I’m used to, and I should let you go back to your bed.”
“So you can walk the halls? I think not.”
“Simon!” Claire struggled as he swung her up into his arms and stalked back to the stairs and started to climb. “What are you doing?”
“You’re too tired to make rational decisions, so I’m making them for you.”
“I’m never irrational.”
“How controlled you are then, Miss Belmont, as I’m frequently irrational.”
He carried her to the room he had recently left and climbed onto the bed with her still in his arms. He then lay back against the pillows.
“Simon–”
“What happened to start the sleeplessness, Claire? Talk to me.”
“I can’t sit here like this, in your arms.” Nevertheless she wanted to, Claire realized. She wanted him to look after her, and that was foolish. She was strong and needed no one, least of all him.
“Yes you can, and remember, Claire, I’m
bigger and stronger than you, and have had lots of sleep, so I have the upper hand. Now relax and tell me when this sleeplessness began.” He pulled her down on top of him so she lay on her side in his lap with her legs beside him on the bed. One of his hands then pressed her head into his chest as he had in the carriage.
“You’re so different from other men I know.”
“Different how?”
Claire placed her hand on his chest to feel his warmth and strength. “You are never afraid to get close to people, Simon, which is not the usual behavior of a nobleman. And I do not mean close in that way…you know.”
“I know what you mean. Continue with what you were saying.”
“You touch people when you are with them–a brush of fingers or a kiss on the cheek. You seem unaware of the boundaries most people have firmly erected around themselves, and for the most, people accept that in you because you are comfortable with it yourself. You use endearments freely, too, and I see the flush of pleasure on women’s faces when you do. Tis not a criticism, you understand, Simon,” Claire said quickly when he fell silent. She had always been secretly awed at how comfortable he seemed making those gestures and saying those words.
“I spent the early years of my life with no touching or endearments from my parents, Claire. My aunt and uncle visited briefly, and they would offer me love, yet it was only for a few days, and when they left I lived without it again. After my parent’s deaths, I went to live with my aunt and uncle, and it was then I understood what those gestures really mean to a person, so I vowed never to live my life without them. Now tell me about your sleeplessness.”
Claire did not ask him further questions about his childhood, as she sensed the memories were painful for him, but she wondered who would not want to touch this man or the boy he had once been.
“I was always a light sleeper yet I slept well until Anthony returned from war.”
“Tell me?” His hand stroked her head in slow, sweeping motions that felt wonderful.
“When Anthony went away, I used to lie awake thinking about him and wondering if he would return. I still managed to sleep and it was not until he came home that the problems really started.”