“Come now,” Grace said, smoothing the fabric of her dark gown. “I would have thought you’d remember something so personal.”
“Speak plainly, or I walk out that door.” Simon was not one to be intimidated.
Grace smirked. “Think long and hard. Your father certainly would have remembered me if he were here.”
“Careful what you say. Bringing my father into this is not going to absolve you of anything,” Simon warned, though her tone had sent a chill down his spine.
“Oh, I am,” she murmured. “More careful than your father was when he had an affair with me.”
The confession hung in the air, and neither Simon nor Rowan had a response to it at first.
“You are lying,” Simon shook his head finally. His father was not exactly a great man, but it was far too easy to blame him when he was not here to defend himself.
“How many times do I need to tell you that I do not need to lie to you?” Grace countered. “I suggest you think back a bit more. Don’t you rememberGracie?”
The word unlocked some sort of memory that Simon had forgotten even existed. And suddenly, he found himself transported back to years ago.
Simon had come back to the house after spending a long evening playing outdoors. He was tired from the sport.
“Father? Mother?” he called out as he walked in, but his steps slowed as he reached his father’s study. There seemed to be an argument that had erupted inside of it.
Curiosity gripped him immediately. His parents were not usually argumentative, but then he realized that the voice did not sound like his mother at all.
“I told you never to come here again.”
“Oh, Your Grace,” a woman’s voice answered, one that he could not place, “I think we both know you don’t get to decide that.”
Simon had pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding. He had never heard his father sound so desperate.
“I told you not to come here at this hour,” his father was pleading. “Leave now. This ends here.”
“Ends?” the woman laughed. “Don’t be foolish. I could ruin you if I wanted to.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, but I would.” Her tone had changed, taking on a shade of amusement. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I speak to your dear wife instead?”
“You would not do that to me.”
“It is not up to you to decide what I should do.”
“Gracie,” his father’s voice shifted then. “You will not.”
“I do hate when men beg. It’s so very… undignified.” Simon could hear the smirk in the woman’s voice.
Simon pressed his ear to the wall harder, and he heard the sound of a drawer opening and then something hard dropping against a hard surface. A pouch full of coins.
“Take it and leave.”
Simon had heard enough. He had turned and run, promising himself never to think of it again.
“He gave you money,” Simon said to her, finally coming back to his senses. He had not seen the woman’s face that day, and he had blocked out the memory from his mind.
“Finally,” she smiled. “You remember now. I saw you running away when I stepped out of the room, and I knew that one day you would have to come to grips with the reality of your father’s actions.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Simon barked out. “He could have paid you for anything.”
“Denial is not a good look, Your Grace,” she taunted. “Your father had a fine time with me, I assure you. If only for the night. I am sure that he must have remembered it fondly if he was not worried about your mother finding out.”
