“You do not need to sound so bored about it. Surely she’s captured your attention in some way. You should be smitten.”
Smitten.Simon wanted to scoff at the suggestion, but restrained himself. He was the furthest thing from it; he did not even know the woman whom he was about to marry.
Heaven knowshow he had managed to find himself in this situation. Perhaps it was payback for his sins.
“She’s irrelevant,” Simon said instead, though it was not the full truth.
She wasrelevant,if only in that he had thought about her more than a few times since meeting her. The woman had audacity, that much was certain.
Rowan did not seem convinced. “Oh, Simon, you’re a terrible liar. You’ve thought about her. Admit it.”
“If you keep up this line of questioning, I will be sure to uninvite you to the wedding entirely,” Simon threatened. He was in no mood to be probed.
Rowan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it.”
“What about the investigation?” Simon changed the topic swiftly.
Rowan’s playful tone shifted immediately. “I’ve been asking around,” he said, lowering his voice now. “The gaming hells in London are rife with whispers if you know where to listen. My contacts are keeping their ears open, and I’m expecting news within the next few days.”
Simon nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. The sooner we have answers, the better.”
“Always so impatient, Your Grace. We need time,” Rowan said. “Not everything moves at your pace.”
“I don’t have time for patience,” Simon said grimly.
Rowan studied him for a moment. “Perhaps I was too harsh. It is only natural for you to be like this… considering…”
Rowan did not complete his sentence, silenced by Simon’s glare.
“You’re not the man you used to be,” Rowan continued anyway. “But maybe this marriage will be good for you. A fresh start, a way for you to focus on other things for a change.”
Simon’s lips curled into a humorless smile. He highly doubted that.
Rachel.
She had been so much sharper, so much bolder than he had anticipated. It was a surprise to him.
Then, his thoughts turned darker. He thought about her figure and what she had felt like when he had been close to her. Her dress was modest, but that only added to his intrigue.
What was underneath it?
He imagined—no, he shouldn’t imagine—but the thought came anyway, unbidden: what might it feel like to peel away the layers of her demure gowns? Would her blush deepen under his hands? Would she shiver if his fingers traced the line of her spine, if his lips brushed her ear?
Simon sat up abruptly, highly bothered by the trajectory that his thoughts had taken.
“Something happened?” Rowan asked immediately.
But Simon said nothing, simply shaking his head and willing himself to snap out of whatever haze that had suddenly overcome him.
His thoughts were entirely inappropriate—worse, they were entirely unproductive.
“Thinking of her, weren’t you?” Rowan said.
Rowan was smirking knowingly, as though he could accurately read whatever had been going through Simon’s head a moment ago. It only annoyed Simon, of course, and he responded with a glare.
“Mind your own business.”
“Since when have I been known to do that?” Rowan said, laughing.
