“There’s no ‘but,’” Simon replied, though his tone was too quick, too defensive.
“Oh, Simon,” she said with a laugh. “You’re as transparent as glass when it comes to her. You don’t dislike her, so stop pretending you do.”
“I’m not pretending anything. This marriage is an arrangement. Nothing more.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a knowing look. “An arrangement, is it? And yet you watch her like a hawk and flush when I bring her up.”
Simon stiffened. “Aunt Jean?—”
“Don’t bother denying it,” she interrupted with a teasing smile. “It’s perfectly natural. She’s beautiful, and you’re human. But more than that, I think she’s good for you.”
Simon’s expression darkened, though not with anger. “I suppose only time will tell.”
Her gaze softened, “Oh, no. I am certain that this is a great match. And let me be earnest—I had some doubts beforehand.”
“Doubts?” Simon raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, doubts,” she said simply. “You’re a duke, Simon. A powerful man. A wealthy man. And forgive me for saying so, but when a marriage happens as quickly as yours did, one cannot help but wonder… was it convenience? Or ambition?”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “You thought Rachel was opportunistic.”
“I thought it was a possibility,” she corrected. “Not because I doubted your judgment but because I worried you might not care enough to exercise it.”
Simon frowned. “That’s rather harsh.”
She arched a brow. “Is it? You are a practical man, my dear boy, and not one prone to sentimentality. I worried you might have chosen a wife with the same cold pragmatism you apply to everything else. A woman who saw your title as a prize rather than a responsibility.”
Simon exhaled slowly. “And what do you think now?”
“Now? I think you married a woman with more heart than you were prepared for.”
Simon scoffed, shaking his head. “She is… determined.”
She let out a laugh. “Determined? That’s the best you can muster? I would say she is resilient, intelligent, and perhaps just reckless enough to make life interesting for you.”
“And you were able to gauge all of that from one meeting alone?” Simon raised an eyebrow.
Aunt Jean smirked with an air of self-assured amusement. “One meeting is enough,” she said simply. “I know how to read people, Simon. Years of experience have taught me that much.”
“Years of experience in what?Meddling?”
“Oh, certainly. But more importantly, in understanding people. And I understand your wife quite well already.”
“You cannot possibly make that claim after an hour in her company.”
She gave him a knowing look. “I can, and I will. And I can already tell that you hold a certain kind of admiration for her, whether or not you care to admit it.”
Simon hesitated. Admiration wasn’t the right word—not entirely. She unsettled him. The way she met his gaze without fear, the way she stood her ground. The way she looked at him was not as a duke but as a man.
Aunt Jean watched him closely. “Tell me the truth, Simon. Have you let her in at all?”
His gaze snapped back to hers, and his expression hardened. “I am her husband. She is my wife. That is all there is to it.”
“Oh, Simon. You can convince everyone else in the world of that lie but not me.”
Simon clenched his jaw, saying nothing.
“Rachel is not what I feared. She is not here for status or wealth. She sees you, Simon.You.And I think that terrifies you more than anything.”
