It was awful.
She’d been so afraid of giving herself to him because she’d feared for her heart – for the suffering she would have to endure when she finally lost him. What truly stung was knowing she’d never really had him. He would always belong to another woman – the one he’d eventually marry.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Simon said once his plate had been filled. He stared at his food for a moment before he raised his gaze and looked straight at her, “and for the assumptions I made. It just never occurred to me that you didn’t know where I stood. Which seems foolish now, in retrospect.”
“You’re not the only one in the wrong.” She’d had time to think as well, to reflect over what she’d said. “I know enough about Society and what’s expected to realize you’d never consider marrying me.”
“Ida, I—”
“And that a woman would not give her innocence to a man unless she believed they had reached an understanding, albeit an unspoken one. As such, your assumption about me agreeing to be your mistress was not misplaced. If anything, it was wrong of me not to tell you I’d no intention of ever assuming such a position.”
He watched her for a long moment before he asked, “Were you serious earlier, about not wanting me back in your bed?”
The very idea of it caused her pulse to leap. She took a steadying breath. “It’s not that I do not want you, Simon, but rather that I shouldn’t. I refuse to share you, you see. And that means we’ll have to part ways at some point. Best then to get it over with quickly instead of drawing it out, wouldn’t you say?”
He ate in silence for a long time before saying, “We have nothing planned tomorrow, so let’s take the day for ourselves. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
Exhausted by the emotional day she’d had, she shook her head. “Simon…”
“Please, Ida. Indulge me. It would mean a great deal.”
Unwilling to quarrel with him any further, she forced a smile and nodded. “All right.”
“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left London,” Simon said as they rolled along a country road the next day. “Everything all right?”
“Oh yes,” she lied, her heart heavy with the promise of loss. Although much of yesterday’s turmoil had been put to rest and they’d somehow managed to reacquire a sense of camaraderie, their relationship was now missing its luster. She shoved another piece of shortbread into her mouth and chewed to hide her unhappiness. “I’ve just been enjoying the tasty meal you provided.”
He’d bought two small chicken pies – one for each – along with some shortbread and blueberry tarts. Everything had been fresh out of the oven and utterly delicious.
“I’m glad to hear it. Now you’d best finish up. We’re almost there.”
There turned out to be a large property consisting of a grandiose manor house, a collection of stables, and several fenced riding rings. Ida’s stomach contracted just looking at it. The fall she’d taken as a child when her father had wanted to teach her how to ride came back to her with a jolt. Her arms and legs stiffened. “I hope you’re not planning to get me onto a horse.”
Without answering, Simon climbed down from the carriage and offered his hand to help her alight. She took a deep breath and slowly expelled it while letting him guide her onto solid ground.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So impressively brave.”
A squeaky sound left her throat. She didn’t feel the least bit brave at the moment. Indeed, she wanted nothing more than to turn and run. Compared with the idea of riding, everything else she’d recently been through - falling down a flight of stairs, facing Carlton Guthrie, helping Simon ward off a man who wanted her dead, and taking on a peer of the realm - were all simple tasks with little cause for concern.
But this…
She shuddered and fought the urge to dig in her heels while Simon led her toward the first stall. “Could we not have gone rowing instead? Or maybe visited Kew Gardens? I’ve heard such wonderful things about it, and there could still be time for us to—”
“Ida.” Simon had turned and planted both hands on her shoulders. Head bowed, he gazed into her upturned face. “I realize you had a bad experience once, but you don’t strike me as the sort of woman who would let one bad ride prevent her from all the good ones lying ahead.”
She broke eye contact with him and looked toward one of the stalls. A horse hung its head over the gate and was glancing in their direction. “I was thrown, my arm dislocated and my hip severely bruised, Simon. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“I promise to make sure nothing bad happens to you.” She’d never seen him look quite so serious. There was something almost desperate about it, a powerful emotion she couldn’t quite place, though it did make her heart beat faster. And then he said the one thing that was sure to gain her cooperation. “Please trust me.”
She nodded, because this was Simon and even if things would never again be as they’d once been between them, he was her friend. She wanted to push aside all her fears for his sake and prove herself able. At this moment, she wanted his happiness more than she wanted her own, the love she felt for him so overwhelming she’d get on the blasted animal and do her best to look as though she enjoyed it.
His smile and the grin that followed was all the reward she needed, and knowing he was there, determined to protect her, made the endeavor easier. In fact, once they’d selected a horse Simon claimed to be older and calmer than the rest and he’d helped her mount, she had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as she recalled.
For one thing, she was a grown woman now, which made the horse seem smaller and less threatening. And then there was the fact that someone concerned for her safety was holding onto the reins while the young, careless boy who’d taken her out for her first ride all those years ago had thought to quicken the horse’s pace with a whip. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been holding a tether. He hadn’t had the strength to restrain the animal once it bolted, and Ida had only been able to scream while holding onto dear life. Until she finally fell.
“How does it feel?” Simon asked while walking her in a wide circle around the ring.
“It’s not terrible.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
He smiled up at her and in that moment she wished she could give him what he wanted. She wished she could put aside her own dreams, be his mistress, and damn the consequences. She wished she were strong enough not to care whom he married or how many children he had with his wife. And she wished she could be content with simply knowing he wanted her in his life – that she could be happy in that cottage he’d mentioned and that her heart wouldn’t break every time he left her.
Averting her gaze, she blinked back the threatening tears, took a deep breath, and brought her emotions under control. She rode around the ring a few more times before Simon showed her how to steer the horse left and right and finally how to bring it to a halt.
“You did splendidly, Ida,” he told her, leading the horse back toward the stables.
Once they reached the appropriate stall, Simon stepped around, reached up, and grabbed her by the waist. A gasp was all she had time for before he pulled her down and into his arms. Awareness swept through her with devastating force as the scent she’d grown so accustomed to stirred her senses while his added warmth and strength seeped into her bones.
It was over too soon and yet not soon enough as he cleared his throat and took a step back. A moment of silence passed between them before he said, “All of this could be yours.”
Unease pricked her skin. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t prepared to discuss the terms of our relationship with you yesterday, and as a result, I fear I mucked everything up.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, she prayed his next words would not make things worse. “Simon, we’ve just had a lovely outing together. Our friendship, while still a bit wobbly, feels as if it’s on its way back to calmer waters. Can we not simply agree
to enjoy that?”
“I can’t let you go,” he told her seriously. “I won’t.”
“You have to,” she said, her annoyance flaring back to life on account of his selfish attempt to get all he wanted, no matter what.
“When a gentleman acquires a mistress,” he went on undaunted, “he ensures her comfort and her security. A house is generally made available to her along with a yearly allowance.”
“Yes, I am aware,” she said. “And you did mention a cottage, which I’m sure would be lovely if I did not—”
“Forget the damn cottage, Ida. That was an idea I mentioned in desperation when you said you wished to leave Town. But considering how much you mean to me, I’d like to give you more.” He turned slightly and looked toward the manor house. “As you know, my horses are my most prized possessions. I’ve turned down everyone who has offered to buy them in the past, including the king.”
Ida stared at him. Surely he wouldn’t—
“The property itself is not entailed,” he added while shifting his gaze back to hers, “so I am free to do with it as I wish, and what I wish is for you to have it. What I wish is for all of this to belong to you, to do with as you please. Sell it if you want, or live here and run it. I’ll cover all the expenses.”
Appalled by the extravagance of his offer, Ida could only gape at him as if he’d gone mad. She had no words. None whatsoever. Just a sickening feeling inside that came with the knowledge that he was attempting to buy her.
“Additionally, you will receive ten thousand pounds per annum. All I ask in return is for you and me to continue sharing each other’s company during the day and the same bed at night.”
Numbed by his words, she blinked a few times before she finally managed to say, “You still don’t understand, do you?” It was as if he’d not heard a single word she’d said, or he’d chosen to simply ignore them. Renewed anger welled inside her. “Your duty toward the title and your need for approval are both stronger than any feelings you have for me. And that’s not something I’m willing to accept. I deserve better, Simon. I want more – a husband who’s proud to call me his wife and children who’ll not have to suffer the cruelty of others because they were born out of wedlock. No object or property will ever be able to compensate for the sacrifice you want me to make.”
“Damn it, Ida. This is your chance to secure your future.”
“I’m sorry, Simon, truly, but I want happiness, and this isn’t it.”
Simon sucked in a breath and went utterly still. She was walking away from him, for the last time, he feared, and the realization made him feel like he was being strangled. It was getting harder to breathe.
Forcing himself into motion, he hurried to catch up with her so he could hand her into the conveyance. Her fingers closed around his with painful familiarity, but she did not meet his gaze. Simon’s heart shuddered in stark acceptance of the reality he now faced. Doing his best to keep a level tone, he ordered the driver to take them back to Bedford Street. After climbing in as well, he deliberately claimed the opposite bench in order to give Ida space.
A difficult silence fell between them. It seemed there was so much to say yet putting his thoughts in order and finding the right words had become an impossible task. With lead pouring through his veins, Simon averted his gaze and stared out the window.
Guthrie’s words came back in a rush. She’ll never be yours unless you put a ring on her finger.
Simon’s heart kicked up a notch. He glanced at Ida and instantly had to quash the temptation to reach out and tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, to brush his lips across her cheek and beg her forgiveness. She was the only woman in the world he would ever want. He needed her. No one else could compare.
Knitting his brow, he swung his head back toward the blurry view. All his life, he’d bowed to convention and aimed for perfection. It was what he’d been raised to do – to march along to a certain beat and not let anyone down. Yet here he was now, letting them both down, and for what? So he could please an uncle he didn’t give a fig about? Impress his peers with a bride he didn’t desire?
Christ, he’d been unbelievably stupid. And he’d hurt her terribly, that much was clear. All because he’d been stubbornly blind and unwilling to thwart expectation.
But Yates was prepared to do it for his Miss Harlowe. Hell, even Gabriella had been brave enough to do it for Huntley. And they weren’t the only examples that came to mind. There was Coventry too, and Guthrie’s wife, Regina. So then, why not him? Why shouldn’t he choose love over all else? He was the Earl of Fielding, for God’s sake. The only real obstacle in his path was the fear he’d always had of coming up short in the eyes of others. Except, he realized as clarity hit him, the opinion of others meant nothing compared to losing Ida.
His pulse leapt with increased speed as they tumbled along the dry country road.
He was an idiot. The biggest bloodiest idiot ever to walk the earth.
But he was an idiot who loved her, and by God he was going to make this right. The steady beat of hooves and the soft squeak of carriage springs filled his ears as his muddled thoughts fell into perfect order. Air filled his lungs on an intake of breath born from deep realization. He was going to make her his in front of God and the rest of the world. He’d marry her at St. James’s in the biggest ceremony Mayfair had ever seen.
Lord help him. It was so simple.
Turning toward her, he opened his mouth, prepared to make an offer right then, only to pause. This had to be done right. After telling her all she could be was his mistress, he’d have to make sure she knew he was choosing her for the right reason and that he’d be proud to call her his wife. Rushing forward unprepared would be a mistake. It would only give her cause to doubt him more. What he needed was a strategy – a plan of some sort.
Accepting defeat for now, Simon settled back against the squabs with renewed hope and began contemplating the best path forward. He had to prove himself to her. That much was clear. Somehow, he would have to convince her of his devotion.
Chapter Seventeen
“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” Simon told Mr. St. John when he and Ida met him at The Red Rose the following day.
Ida considered the man sitting adjacent to her at one of the round corner tables in the dining room. His gaze slid over her and she instinctively leaned a bit closer to Simon. Even though the air between them had been tense and awkward since the previous day’s outing, she appreciated his nearness and the sense of security he offered.
“My pleasure,” Mr. St. John said. He gave them each a pleasant smile.
Ida’s skin pricked. She’d never liked false sincerity and Mr. St. John practically dripped with it. She thanked the waiter who handed her a menu and gave her attention to the various dishes The Red Rose had to offer while Simon and Mr. St. John engaged in small talk.
Maybe she was just being difficult. She had been in a bit of a mood for the last two days. She sighed. Maybe it was foolish of her to turn down Simon’s offer. He was, after all, willing to give her the sun and the moon. Just not the stars.
She flipped the page. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
“I recommend the lamb,” Simon said, his voice scattering her thoughts like dry leaves in the autumn wind. “With a bottle of Chateau Lafite to accompany it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mr. St. John said. He snapped his menu shut.
Ida smiled tightly and gave a swift nod of agreement.
Simon threw her an odd look then returned his attention to Mr. St. John. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get right to the heart of my reason for wanting to see you.”
A waiter came and took their order. Simon waited until the man brought the wine and filled their glasses before saying, “It’s in regard to the break in that took place at one of my properties three nights ago. I know the culprit was in your employ and that Bow Street intended to have you identify him.”
Mr. St. John sipped his wine. Deep grooves app
eared on his brow as he set the glass down and folded his arms on the table. “I did so yesterday. The man’s name was Owen Princhet, and like many of my employees, he was a former soldier.”
“Is that customary?” Ida asked. “For munitions companies to hire veterans?”
Mr. St. John’s pale blue eyes met hers. “They know their weapons, have experience using them, and are often able to suggest improvements. Much of the work required can even be done by those who’ve lost a limb and would not be able to find work elsewhere.”
“So you give them a purpose?”
“In a manner of speaking. I give them the means to support themselves and provide for their families.”
“A noble gesture,” Simon declared.
“Very,” Ida agreed. So far, she’d no real reason to dislike the man, yet there was a niggling feeling deep in her gut. It was more than the result of her own misgivings over her relationship with Simon.
“Unfortunately,” Mr. St. John said, “such men sometimes have invisible scars. I’m sorry one such individual threatened your lives.”
Simon glanced at Ida quickly, then quietly added, “It was no accidental break in. He was sent there by someone. The paper found on his person was from your company and had my address written on it.”
Mr. St. John looked at them each in turn before saying, “Forgive me, but I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Since neither of us had ever met Princhet before,” Simon said, “it stands to good reason that someone must have hired him to kill Miss Strong, who presently happens to be residing at that address.”
“Kill?”
“He brought a very large knife with him and went straight for her bedchamber.”
Mr. St John’s eyes widened. “Good God.”
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