Tell her, you great buffoon,he said to himself.Tell her you love her and that, as your wife, she will return home to Hartmoore with you.
Nay,he argued.I have done too much telling and not enough asking for far too long.
Yea, he loved her more than his own life, but because of that, he would keep his word and let Simone decide.
“What say you then, Simone?” Nick asked, wishing they could be alone but needing her answer given freely, before all. “Will you return to France?”
She seemed to think for a moment, her fingers twisting in the skirt of her gown.
Jehan stepped forward. “Simone, would that I could have you with me after all these years, but you are a woman now and you must decide your own way. If you wish to stay, I have…I have your mother’s coin safe in London.”
“Coin?” Charles snorted rudely. “Think you she cares about coin, Jehan? She needs a husband who will care for her, a home!”
“Hold your tongue against such slander of my person if you please, Charles,” Jehan reprimanded in an offended tone. “The coin is hers any matter, and she should know it is at her disposal.”
The blond man drew his prissy self up. “I meant you no—”
“Will Evelyn stay at Hartmoore, my lord?” Simone’s soft query cut Charles’s empty apology short.
Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Unless she has returned to the convent—”
“She’s not,” Charles squawked eagerly, “and you well know it. She was at Hartmoore when you returned from battle.”
“Interrupt me again,” Nicholas warned, “and I shall toss you off yonder cliff. You did not seem so concerned about Simone’s welfare while you cowered in the wood.”
Charles’s face turned red in the dwindling light of the dripping hall. “I was merely waiting for—”
“Oh, do shut up.” Nick turned to Simone and said solemnly, “Yea, Evelyn is still at Hartmoore.” He paused, saw Simone’s face fall. “I shall send her away should you but breathe it.”
“Nay,” she answered quietly. “Nay, Nicholas. There has been too much…too much,” she finished simply. “You never wished to marry me and since you have, I’ve brought naught but heartache to your family.” Nick opened his mouth to refute her, and Genevieve did as well, but Simone continued on quickly. “I very much wish to be with…my father. I—I miss…my home.”
The words cut Nick so deeply, he had the urge to look down and see if there was blood on his chest. Still he could not help but ask, “You would return to the people who shunned you?”
“For the people here did not?”
Nicholas had no answer for that.
She huffed a little sigh. “I think it best for us both if we seek the annulment discussed in London. I will return to France and…and marry Charles as my mother wished. You will return to Hartmoore, and things will be as they were meant to be before…before Armand.”
Nick wanted to scream in rage and pain. He stepped forward and seized her hands, heated and marred from where she’d held the rope that had held him aloft. She loved him. She must!
“Simone, are you certain this is what you want?” he asked, silently begging her to change her mind.
“Please, do not touch me,” she whispered. Nicholas flinched and dropped her hands. “Yea, ’tis what I want.”
Nick felt the room tilt for a moment, saw Charles smirk, heard his mother’s little mew of sorrow. And then Nicholas had no choice but to close himself off. He gave Simone a stiff little bow.
“Very well. I must travel to London on another matter, regardless.” Nicholas looked to Jehan because he could no longer stand to see Simone, Charles’s arm again about her shoulders. “You may accompany us, if you wish. I am certain the annulment will be issued posthaste once William learns the details.”
“Merci,Lord Nicholas,” Jehan said. “Your offer is very kind. Of course we will accompany you.”
Nick nodded, and then quit the hall at a brisk pace, passing into the darkness, grateful that it would hide his grief.
Chapter 30
It took the party three days to make the trip to London, and the whole of the way, Simone felt as though she were slowly dying. She and Nicholas spoke not a single word to each other, and as far as Simone knew, she was already dismissed from his life.
She spent her nights between Jehan and Genevieve, her days on horseback, trying to avoid conversation with the now buoyant and loquacious Charles. It seemed each word out of her soon-to-be-husband’s mouth sent long, jagged splinters into her head. He tried to be humorous; he was juvenile. He tried to be attentive; he was annoying. He tried to talk with Simone about their future and she was completely disinterested.
