Because the more he cared about her, the worse he felt about lying.
Simon tapped the end of his quill on the wooden surface.
He was going to have to tell her about Thompson tonight. If he didn’t, she might hear it in public, and she deserved better than that. He only wished he didn’t have to waste precious moments alone with her discussing her former fiancé. He much preferred making her smile.
Thompson’s return wasn’t fair to her—the events of the past had been cruel enough; she shouldn’t have to face them all over again.
Only this time, she wasn’t going to have to face them alone.
The bet was beginning to seem less important with each passing day, and his resolve to carry it through till the end was slipping.
Was it worth it?
He glanced at his timepiece—nearly half-past five. Greystone had gone off hours ago on some urgent errand, but Violet, Posy, and their aunt ought to be returning from Lady Merkle’s garden party soon.
And right on time, the sounds of a carriage outside filtered into his small office. Simon shoved the file into his desk, ran a hand through his hair, and then took his place at the door. What had been something of a novelty, in the beginning, was becoming rather tedious.
One of the first things he was going to do when this was all over, he decided, was give all his servants raises.
Excited chatter grew louder from outside the door just as Simon pushed it open.
Violet must have been watching for him and when he caught her gaze, she flashed a smile that damn near made him forget everything.
In fact, all of them were unusually jovial—even Greystone—who, with Miss Diana Jones on his arm, looked to be over the moon.
While Posy squealed with delight and their elderly aunt touched a hand to her forehead, Violet laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful, Mr. Cockfield? My cousin and Miss Jones are engaged!”
“It is.” Simon grinned back at her and then dipped his chin in agreement. Greys, it seemed, had finally listened to his heart.
Simon extended a hand to one of his most valued friends. “My congratulations.” Later, no doubt, Westerley, Spencer, Chaswick, and himself would taunt Greystone for such a hasty engagement—in the most benevolent fashion, of course.
Because not one of those gentlemen stood on solid ground as far as unanticipated engagements were concerned.
“I am a lucky man, indeed.” Greys shook his hand with an abundance of enthusiasm. He met and held Simon’s stare meaningfully, and Simon nodded. “Would you send a missive off to Byrd House? Invite the baron and baroness to dinner?”
“Chaswick knows, then?”
“I have his heartfelt blessing.” Greys shook his head. “Never realized what a know-it-all he could be, though.”
This was why his friend had been distracted as of late.
“I’ll send a message right over. Anything else?”
“Tell Cook to spare no expense. And bring up a few bottles of Clicquot—the 1814. Nothing but the best to toast my future bride.” Greys stared down at the woman at his side, looking utterly besotted, and then glanced back up at Simon. “And a scotch, as well.”
The scotch, of course, was for later—after the ladies retired.
And as the excited group stood in the foyer discussing all sorts of arrangements, Simon conceded he’d have to deliver less-happy news to Violet another time. But, for now, Simon was going to have to tell the kitchen there was a slight change in plans for this evening’s meal, and he apparently also had missives to send out.
Violet lay in bed later that night following a very happy evening of celebration. But as thrilled as she was for Greys and Diana, she couldn’t help but wish that Simon would come. She knew he could not. He’d nearly been caught before, and she’d convinced him they needed to exercise greater caution.
But too many nights had passed since they’d last been together, and as she lay there alone, she ached for him.
Yes, she ached.
In ways that she had never ached for another human being.
Physical, sleep-depriving desire, but that wasn’t all. Her heart ached for the moments when she could simply look at him—watch his smile, listen to his voice. But having spent the evening watching Greystone with Diana, touching her elbow, holding her stare, and not caring who witnessed it, Violet wished for more. Greystone’s love for Diana was real. Neither ever need deny it.
