“Her?” Christopher said incredulously, jabbing a finger in Rachel’s direction. “You mean Rachel?”
“Yes,” Simon replied.
The tension in the air was almost suffocating now. Christopher turned on Rachel once more. “You conniving little?—”
“That will be enough,” Simon said, leaving no room for further argument. Christopher froze again, his mouth working soundlessly.
Rachel surprised herself with how little regard she had for her father’s anger in that moment. Normally, she would have been scared, but all she could think about right now was Simon.
And how he would react.
Simon Linwood had an air of danger about him, like anyone would be a fool to cross a line with him. Rachel wondered if she had done just that.
But somehow, she found herself wanting to see the situation through. She noticed the way that his shirt seemed to cling to his body. She was delicate compared to his muscular frame.
The thought made her flush.
For a nobleman, he also appeared to have something of a… rugged appearance. Rachel could not quite place it. She knew dukes to be well-polished and prim, and while he was by no means ragged, there was something else about him that was raw. Authentic even.
Now is hardly the time,she chided herself on her internal monologue.
A flicker of something—amusement or respect?—crossed Simon’s face. “A bold move on your daughter’s part,” he said, almost to himself. “Certainly, one that demands a reaction. I am here to see it through.”
Rachel gulped. How was it that this was the most intimidating thing he had said so far?
“Your Grace,” Christopher interrupted, his tone pleading, “surely, you cannot take her seriously. Whatever she’s done, she meant no harm. There is no need to grace her misgivings with a reaction.”
“I am aware,” Simon replied, his gaze never leaving Rachel. “But harm or not, the rumors are out there. My name is attached to hers, whether by her design or not. It would be prudent to proceed.”
Rachel’s eyes widened.Was he being serious?His gaze seemed to pin her in place.
Could he pin her into place?The wayward thought arrived without warning—the image as clear as day. She cleared her throat abruptly.
Meanwhile, his eyes continued to search hers. It felt like she could not look away even if she wanted to.
“This was your doing,” Simon addressed only Rachel now, his voice low and steady. “You spread the rumors. You tied my name to yours.”
Rachel struggled for a response. What could she possibly say? That she hadn’t expected him to show up, to make himself real when he had been little more than a convenient story? That she had underestimated the force of his presence, even when standing perfectly still?
So instead, she said nothing at all.
He grew more irritated at her silence. “You should have thought twice before lying.”
“I should have,” she nodded, biting on her lip, “but I was doing this to protect my sister.”
Simon pressed his lips together, and Rachel could not make out whether he took that as a reasonable explanation.
“And what of you, Viscount? Were you aware of this scheme?”
“Of course not, Your Grace,” Christopher responded immediately, “Rachel has always been… impulsive. A silly girl. I would give it no more thought. In comparison, my daughter, Letitia, is composed and mature. She is the daughter you ought to be considering.”
At the mention of Letitia, Simon’s expression shifted. He rolled his eyes. “I have no interest in considering anyone else lest they be connected to my name as well, nor do I wish to hear your suggestions on the matter. I have only come here to see Miss Rachel.”
There was no more arguing with him. Even Christopher seemed to be deliberating about what to say next.
“You cannot mean that,” Christopher spluttered at last. “Letitia is the more appropriate choice. Rachel… she is?—”
“Enough,” Simon interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “I will not involve myself with more women. The choice is made.”
