My Daring Duchess Page 8

  He scowled, and when he dragged his hand through his hair frustration flickered across his face. Her stomach knotted. She felt like a spectator watching a man battle himself. Simon was struggling with what he wanted and what was right.

  The study door suddenly swung open, and Caitlin was there, holding the blanket that Simon had ordered his butler to fetch. Simon’s sister glanced at the two of them with a knowing look. She tsked at her brother. “Ye’re standing too close to Miss Adair. Ye know what mother always said…”

  Simon’s chuckle filled the room as he moved back from Anne. “Aye,” he rumbled. “Leave enough room between ye and the lasses for the Lord.”

  “Your mother sounds very sensible,” Anne said. “Where is she? I’d love to make her acquaintance.”

  Simon and Caitlin exchanged a swift, strained look, and then Caitlin cleared her throat and said, “Our mother passed some years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Anne replied, thinking of her own mother. “My mother passed less than two years ago, which is when my sister and I came to meet our grandfather.”

  Simon frowned. “Why did ye not meet yer grandfather until yer mother passed?”

  Before Anne could respond, Perceval appeared in the doorway. Behind him was Lord Rutledge. Anne’s heart leaped at the possibility of speaking to Lord Rutledge on Fanny’s behalf.

  “Your Grace, Lord Rutledge is here to see you,” Perceval said.

  Anne tensed, half expecting Simon to chastise the butler, who had botched his duties by bringing Lord Rutledge to the study to announce him to Simon. But Simon simply smiled and said, “I can see that, Perceval, as Rutledge is standing right behind ye.” Simon motioned to the door.

  Perceval inclined his head and murmured, “I’ll just take my leave, then, Your Grace.”

  “By all means,” Simon replied. Anne could see that he was fighting a smile.

  Rutledge entered the room as Perceval exited. When Rutledge’s gaze fell on Anne, his eyes widened. “Miss Adair,” he said in a formal, stiff tone. “I cannot imagine what brings you to Kilmartin’s home.”

  Anne felt herself frowning as she looked at Lord Rutledge. The smirk he tried to discreetly direct toward Simon seemed to belie his claim that he could not imagine what had brought her here. She had a sinking suspicion that these two men had discussed her already. She refused to dwell upon it, though.

  “Since you and His Grace are such close friends, I came here to urge him to encourage you to do the honorable thing and request Lady Fanny’s hand in marriage.”

  Rutledge turned an alarming shade of red. “Lady Fanny tried to trap me into marriage, which is quite simply sad!”

  Anne clenched her teeth. “Fanny did no such thing!”

  Rutledge cocked his eyebrows at her. “And who told you that?” he snapped. “The scheming lady in question?”

  “Rutledge,” Simon growled. “Mind yer tone with Miss Adair.”

  Rutledge’s face grew tense, but he nodded. “As you wish. I believe I’ll depart. Send word when you have a moment to meet with me, Kilmartin.”

  Oh dear! She needed Rutledge to stay so Simon could offer him a position. “I must go, so you should stay,” Anne assured him, aware he was leaving because of her presence.

  “I will see ye at one o’clock tomorrow as we discussed, aye?” Simon asked.

  She was going to have to be careful not to raise her grandfather’s suspicions, but she nodded, knowing she would find a way.

  “I’ll see ye out,” Caitlin said.

  “Thank you,” Anne replied, moving toward the door. As she and Caitlin strolled away from the study, Anne asked, “How old was Simon when your mother passed?” If he had lost his mother at a young age, it might explain why he had not been taught how to properly treat ladies.

  “Simon was eight and ten,” Caitlin replied, a sad, wistful look coming to her face.

  Hmm… He most definitely had been educated on how to be an honorable gentleman, then, assuming an honorable Scot was mostly the same as an honorable Englishman. She yearned to discover what made Simon embrace such roguish ways. If she could learn what compelled the man, she could quite possibly help him to change.

  “What was your father like?” she inquired, knowing he had to be deceased since Simon had inherited the dukedom from his grandfather.

  Caitlin stopped and faced Anne. “He was wonderful, giving, and a most honorable man—just like Simon.”

  Of course Caitlin thought that. Simon was her brother.

  “Did your family spend much time in London and here in the country with your grandfather?” Anne prodded. Surely, they must have and that had to be when Simon had met Mary.

  A dark, angry look settled on Caitlin’s face. “No.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Caitlin cast a wary glance behind her toward the study. She nibbled on her lip for a moment and then said in a hesitant tone, “My grandfather cut off my father financially when he married my mother. Grandfather believed she was only marrying Father for his money.”

  “Oh my!”

  “Aye.” Caitlin pushed away a lock of red hair that had fallen in her face and tucked it behind her ear. “He gave Father a choice: to not marry mother or to lose all funds, which of course, he would come into when Grandfather died. Father married Mother, and they left England for Scotland and never returned.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Anne murmured, realizing that Simon’s situation was rather like her own mother’s in that she, too, had chosen the man she loved over her father’s wishes. Of course, Anne’s father had turned out to be dishonorable, exactly as Grandfather had suspected, whereas it seemed Simon’s mother had been a good person who had been wrongly judged.

  Caitlin shrugged. “There is no need to be. I honestly feel I was spared by not meeting our grandfather. Only Simon met him and that wasn’t until after Father died.”

  So had that been when Simon and Mary had met? Unaware of the questions in Anne’s mind, Caitlin continued. “Simon went to him to ask for aid, as we were in desperate need with our crops failing and Father having spent all our coin on new equipment. We had no funds to even feed ourselves, and Mother was gravely ill and needed medicine.”

  She knew Simon had been turned away by his grandfather when he had discovered what Simon had done to Mary, but that made no sense to Anne. If Simon had needed money, he could have wed a willing Mary and received her hefty dowry. “Lady Caitlin—”

  “Please call me Caitlin,” the woman asked as her sister had.

  Anne smiled. She truly liked Simon’s sisters and how unpretentious they were. “It will be my pleasure if, as I told your sister, you call me Anne.”

  “Anne it is,” the woman agreed pleasantly.

  “Caitlin,” Anne began once more, “I was curious, has Simon ever spoken to you about what happened to him while he was here requesting aid from your grandfather?”

  “No, just that he was turned away for something he did not do. He went straight to Edinburgh from Grandfather’s to try to earn coin, and Mother died at our home in Oban while he was away. He blames himself, but it was our grandfather’s actions that killed our mother.”

  Anne stood silently, her mind turning. Someone was not telling the truth, and she was unsure who it was. Either Mary had lied to her or Simon had lied to his sister. Anne desperately wished to know who was the untrustworthy party. If Mary was lying, and she had somehow wronged Simon, Anne could see why Simon would have developed a mistrust for women and even become a rogue as a result of it. But if Simon was lying, perhaps he was beyond redemption.

  “I’ve said too much,” Caitlin announced suddenly. “If ye have any more questions, ye’ll need to ask Simon.”

  Anne nodded, appreciating Caitlin’s loyalty to her brother. She was shown out, expecting to walk home, but there, waiting for her, was Simon’s coachman. He informed her that Simon had instructed the butler to have the carriage readied for her to use whenever she wished to depart. She could not imagine when he m
ight have done that, except perhaps when he’d whispered to Perceval when she had first arrived. Either it was a most thoughtful gesture by a truly good man or it was a calculated move to aid him in seducing her. She found she wanted it to be a little of both.

  How contrary she was today! She wanted him to desire her so greatly that he would scheme to have her, yet she wanted him to be honorable. Perhaps it was neither.

  She shivered in the cold. She was about to ascend into the carriage when she recalled her fur muff. After instructing the driver to wait, she knocked on the front door and waited what seemed like an eternity until Perceval answered.

  He glanced at her with a blank expression. “Yes?”

  She wondered if the man might have some problems with his memory. “It’s me, Miss Adair. I was just here to see His Grace.”

  “Ah yes!” the butler boomed. “Shall I announce you once more?”

  He’d not truly announced her the first time, but she kept her silence on that point. The poor man honestly looked weary, and since Simon did not seem stuck on strict rules of etiquette, she shook her head and gave Perceval a pat on the arm. “Why don’t you take a respite?”

  He looked at once relieved and oddly suspicious. “How did you know I took respites?”

  Well, that explained a great deal. The man was too tired to be working on his feet all day but too proud to say so. She would somehow have to mention this to Simon. “I did not know,” she replied. “I myself love a good midmorning, midday, and late-day respite,” she fibbed to make him feel less uncomfortable. Truthfully, she was not one to close her eyes until the end of the night. “I’ll see myself to the study. I simply need to retrieve my muff.”

  “If you insist,” he replied, giving her an encouraging look.

  “Oh, I do,” she assured him with a smile. Once he turned and trudged away, she made her way toward the study, fully expecting to encounter one of Simon’s sisters, but she got all the way to the closed study door without seeing anyone. She raised her hand to knock, but as did, she heard Rutledge growl, “So you’re no longer committed to truly offering me aid but you’re still committed to your plan for revenge!”

  The dreadful sentence lodged in her brain and froze her fist, hovering at the door. Her body tensed as she waited with bated breath for Simon’s response.

  A long paused ensued and then Simon said, “I am still fully committed to both endeavors. I will have my revenge through Miss Adair, and—”

  “What are ye doing, Miss Adair?”

  Anne startled so badly at the voice behind her that she squeaked. Please, oh please, she thought as she turned, let it be the youngest sister, Elizabeth, and not Caitlin. She blew out a relieved breath as she stared at Elizabeth. This sister seemed much less likely to drag her into Simon’s office and announce she’d been eavesdropping. Anne forced what felt like a smile so brittle it could crack her cheeks. Her anger practically sizzled inside her.

  “I was just leaving,” she lied in hushed tones. She refused to allow herself to feel guilty for deceiving Elizabeth. Her blackguard brother was the one who should feel guilty. Oh, how she wished she could have heard the rest of what he’d been about to say, but the best thing to do now was take the information she did have and depart as quickly as possible. Simon would pay. She would make sure of it.

  “I must take my leave,” she whispered.

  Elizabeth frowned at her. “Are ye feeling unwell?”

  She nodded. It wasn’t a lie. She felt positively like she could cast up her accounts. Simon had not deceived her about wanting to seduce her, and it had naught to do with her dowry as she had feared, nor did it have anything to do with a desire for her, as she had foolishly allowed herself to absurdly hope it might. Shame she had vowed to never feel again settled like a heavy, cumbersome blanket upon her shoulders. She felt like drooping, but she held herself rigid. “It’s my throat,” she whispered. The fact that tears clogged her throat actually helped to make her sound as if she were unwell.

  “Oh dear!” Elizabeth said in a voice that Anne feared was loud enough that Simon might hear and come out of the study.

  “I better be—”

  The study door swung open, and Simon appeared in the threshold in all his devilishly handsome glory. His thick, rumpled hair made him seem rather innocently charming. What utter rubbish! A crease appeared in his brow, and he glanced in concern and what looked like guilt from his sister to Anne. “Did ye forget something, Miss Adair?” he asked, looking behind his shoulder before facing her once more.

  She simply had to get out of this house before she told him what she thought of him. Her instincts told her to keep what she’d learned to herself. She shook her head. “I’m just departing after speaking with your sister.”

  Elizabeth nodded, thankfully unaware Anne had already departed and returned. “Anne does not feel well.”

  A look that seemed like genuine caring settled on Simon’s face. The man was a master deceiver. Anne wanted to snort at the falseness, but she bit the inside of her cheek instead. “Miss Adair, I insist ye take my carriage home. I’m certain that ye are feeling unwell because of yer walk through the cold to my home.”

  “I appreciate your kindness,” she said through stiff lips and turned to leave. She got no more than four steps before Simon was at her side, his hand coming to her elbow.

  “Allow me to escort ye,” he said, his very masculine presence both irritating and overwhelming.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she bit out. She gave a firm tug on her elbow, to which Simon responded by gripping it a bit tighter. He leaned in close to her as she picked up her pace so that she was nearly walking at a skipping stride to leave his home.

  “Is something vexing ye, Anne?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she snapped. “My throat is aching something terribly, and now I’m horribly cold,” she added, though that was the truth. When one discovered they had once more been on the precipice of being made a fool by a rogue, it did make one feel bitterly frigid.

  They passed through the door Perceval had opened and continued down the steps. Anne tugged her elbow once more, and this time, Simon released it. But the minute they came to the carriage steps, he took her hand in his large, very warm one. Oh, how she wished she had her fur muff! Though perhaps it was best it was still in Simon’s office as she could well imagine hitting him with it, the insufferable rake. “What are you doing?” she growled.

  “Helping ye into the carriage.” He offered a devastating smile.

  “I have been managing to climb into carriages since I was a child,” she said, tugged her hand out of his, and settled herself into the carriage.

  Simon was still grinning, looking vexingly handsome. “I’ll not take offense at yer surly behavior, as I’m rather surly myself when taken ill. It’s lucky for ye, I know just the things to aid a sore throat. My ma made a special concoction that would always make my throat feel wonderful when I was ailing. I’ll fetch it for ye now.”

  “Oh, no,” Anne protested, but Simon was already backing out of the carriage. She watched through the window as he disappeared inside his home. His ability to seem genuinely concerned amazed her, but then she thought on it for a moment. Likely, the scoundrel wanted her to stay well so that he could quickly seduce her for revenge, but against whom and for what? The only person who came to mind was Mary, but how would seducing Anne be revenge against Mary? And whyever would Simon want revenge against a woman who had wished to marry him? Anne needed answers, but Simon was not the person to seek them from.

  Who else was she connected to that Simon might want revenge against? The only person she could even think of was her grandfather. Had he been involved in persuading Simon’s grandfather to send Simon away those many years ago? But even if he had, Simon had no one to blame but himself. If he’d never led Mary to believe he loved her and taken the innocence she’d naively given him, there would not have been a reason to wish him gone. Anne ground her teeth, hardly believing she’d almost started
to soften toward the man.

  When she saw Simon coming toward her once more, she forced a smile to her lips. He stepped into the carriage with a carafe, a handkerchief, a blanket, and a foot warmer. If she’d not known about the revenge plan, she would have honestly thought him considerate.

  “You’ve thought of everything to see to my comfort,” she said sweetly. “Though I should expect no less from a dangerous rogue such as you.” If she did not need him to offer Rutledge a position, she might have abandoned her plan to make him honorable. It was likely a lost cause, anyway.

  Heavens, her mood was bleak! And it was all Simon’s fault.

  He frowned as he held out the things he had brought her. “Ye are the first woman I have ever nursed in sickness besides my sisters.”

  “Ha!” Anne blurted.

  Simon narrowed his eyes at her. “I take it yer exclamation means ye don’t believe me.”

  “How very perceptive you are, Your Grace.”

  “What happen to ye calling me Simon?” he growled.

  “As you said, my ailment must be affecting my mood,” she boldly lied.

  “Indeed,” he replied, though she detected a note of disbelief in his voice. “I hope ye are feeling well enough for our dance lesson tomorrow. I have already offered Rutledge a position at my company, so I have stayed true to my word to ye. I am assuming ye will do the same.”

  “I will,” she assured him. She had no intention of letting the man seduce her and attain his revenge, but she had every intention of doing all she could to make him think he was seducing her so she could use that advantage to help Fanny. Perhaps she could convince Simon that he could lead her to scandal if he persuaded Rutledge to marry Fanny. Once the man did that, she’d inform Simon she knew what a rotten rogue he was. She was supremely pleased with herself and her plan.

  “Ye have the loveliest smile,” Simon said, startling her.

  Heavens! She’d not even realized she’d been smiling. “Thank you,” she replied, certain it was more of his roguish nonsense.