Simon Linwood, Duke of Everly, sat in the drawing room of his dear and perhaps only friend. He had escaped his own estate to come out here.
He had a glass in his hand, filled halfway with the drink of his choice. He swirled it in the glass absentmindedly and kept his gaze focused on the fire that was burning in front of him.
Rowan, the aforementioned friend, lounged casually on the other side of the room. He had a drink of his own, but he had company besides him. A lady. She was listening intently to some story of his while Simon mostly ignored it as noise.
“And so,” Rowan relayed in his usual dramatic fashion, “the poor fool realizes that he’s been betting against his own luck all evening. The result? He loses the deed to his townhouse—and the diamond earrings his mistress was wearing at the time. She wasn’t too pleased with him, I can assure you.”
The woman laughed brightly. Her dark eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to Rowan, her laughter softening to a purr.
“You do have a way of making trouble sound delightful,” she said.
“Oh, it is a matter of how you look at things. What you consider trouble, I might consider an opportunity.”
Simon would have rolled his eyes at the sentence if his mind were not so otherwise occupied. Instead, he remained silent, his gaze never leaving the fire. He had little patience for Rowan’s theatrics tonight. His purpose here was clear, though it seemed Rowan intended to make him wait for it.
The lady turned her attention to Simon.
“Your Grace, you have been so quiet all evening. Surely a man like you has stories of his own. Or perhaps…” She leaned forward slightly. “… you prefer your entertainment more… private?”
Simon’s eyes flicked to her, his expression cold. “I prefer silence.”
The last thing he wished to do was entertain the attention of some strange lady.
In fact, in no circumstance would he pay her any attention, much less when he was spoken for.
Spoken for.Ah, the words themselves sounded so strange, and sometimes Simon had a hard time accepting that this was what his life had come to now.
The lady seemed taken aback by his bluntness, if not completely offended.
“Well… I…” she looked towards Rowan for a rescue, but the latter only laughed loudly.
“Do not take it personally, dear,” he told her. “Our dear duke is a man of singular focus. You’ll have to save your charms for someone less disciplined.”
The woman’s smile faltered briefly before she recovered, her attention shifting back to Rowan, who welcomed it fully.
All the more for him,Simon thought. Besides, she was not his type.
It did not matter to him how outwardly beautiful a woman was. If she was someone whose attention and affection were so easily claimed, then he was not interested in the slightest. Rowan had often given him a hard time for beingfar too pickywith his tastes, but it was not an opinion to which he gave much importance.
He had every right to be as picky and as particular as he wished to be.
Simon took another sip out of his drink, suddenly wishing that the lady would disappear into thin air. Her presence was annoying to him.
Rowan seemed to read his mind, because a moment later, he spoke up again.
“My dear, will you give Simon and me a moment alone?” Rowan asked the lady, who initially looked disappointed but agreed nonetheless. She left the room promptly, and his friend turned to him.
“You really are more disciplined than I could ever be,” he noted. “To turn down a woman like that.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t care less.”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear,” Rowan laughed. “I fear there’s no hope for your soul.”
Simon shot him a dark look but said nothing. Regardless, Rowan caught on quickly.
“Fine, then. Tell me about this marriage of yours—I can see that you want to. What’s it like to finally be shackled?”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “I feel nothing. It is just what needs to be done.”
