He didn’t say anything but instead swallowed hard. And then…
“My name is Simon Cockfield, but it is not my full name. I am Simon Benjamin Alexander Harold Cockfield, Duke of Blackheart, but also Marquess of Rowland, Earl of Webb, Viscount Hill, and heir presumptive to a number of other titles.”
Violet blinked and then glanced around as though someone was, indeed, pulling a prank on her.
“That day at Heart Place, I was showing you my own home. I… made love to you on my own bed.”
Her gaze flicked down to his hands. His own…? “The watch, it was on the dresser in Blackheart’s chamber.” She shook her head. “You did not steal it?”
His eyes widened a moment. “No. It belongs to me. I didn’t think twice about taking it. But you noticed. And you…”
“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I loved you anyway.” Violet stood, remembering… his beautiful horse, his ease on a ballroom floor, the respect he seemed to receive wherever he went. “I was going to have to have a talk with you about curtailing such habits in the future.”
Simon laughed but all she could do was shake her head. Was she sleeping? Was she dreaming?
“I didn’t realize…” she was dumbfounded. How had she not put it all together?
“Are you angry?” Simon was watching her closely. “Initially, it was refreshing, spending time with you the same as any other gentleman could. Having you joke with me, challenge me. I especially enjoyed it when you put me in my place.”
“I never meant—” She wanted to cover her face but couldn’t, not with Simon’s arms holding her.
“But as I came to know you, as I came to love you, I wanted you to know all of me.”
Violet tilted her head, realizing… “You took me to your home…”
He nodded. “I was caught between lying to you and making good on a promise.”
“What sort of promise? Why would you pretend to be the butler at Knight Hall? I don’t understand.”
Simon tightened his arms around her.
She would have married me as a butler!
And now he owed her the explanation for all of it. He exhaled. “I cannot imagine the presence of these fine gentlemen here today has gone unnoticed.”
He’d never been one to stall, but this part was going to be… a little awkward.
“It has not,” she answered, waiting patiently for the explanation that was long past due.
“I accepted a particularly foolish wager last March.” He winced sheepishly. “And without going into a good deal of detail, what’s relevant is that I lost.”
Violet nodded. “To Greystone?”
“Yes.”
“You set your title aside for a… bet? And please, don’t skip the details on my account. I’m most curious as to how this came about.” Then, pressing herself against him, she stared at him like a schoolteacher might stare at one of her students who had misbehaved.
He couldn’t help smiling. She was just so… Violet.
“The details are less than gentlemanly,” he admitted.
“Of course they are.”
She deserved to hear all of it. Resigned, Simon prepared to rehash the bet he’d entered into at Westerley Crossings last March. “I’m going to preface my explanation first by telling you that, at the time, we’d consumed copious amounts of scotch.”
“I see.”
“Yes, well…” Simon cleared his throat.
