“Then don’t let go,” the dowager said. She cleared her throat and her usual sour expression returned. “My head is throbbing now. I think I shall go find something a bit stronger than tea. Good afternoon, Margaret.”
Her mother left and Meg sank hard into the closest chair to ponder their unexpected conversation. This moment of clarity was not one that would last, she would wager. There was too much pain for her mother to overcome without the help of alcohol. But this was the first time she’d connected with her mother in years—decades, even. And that she could, even in this dark moment, gave her hope.
A hope she decided to cling to with both hands as she faced the uncertain future with a man she no longer understood.
Chapter Eleven
Simon stood in the billiard room, watching as the Duke of Roseford, the Earl of Idlewood and James played a round. By entering the room late, he’d excluded himself from participating, but he was just as happy. Tonight he was in no mood for games.
He was in no mood for a ball, either, but that was what was about to start in less than an hour. Worse, it was his engagement ball and the final event at the country party before the others made their way back to London. The final event before he married Meg and made her his.
His in name. In body, he had already claimed her. Since then, he had avoided her, trying to rein in his lust and his feelings and all the things that had led them to this place. If he didn’t, he feared he’d be swept up in her and not recall what he’d done to get her.
“Will the Duchess of Crestwood be joining the party for the wedding?” Robert asked after he’d taken a shot and passed his cue to Christopher.
Simon flinched, dragged back into the conversation by both the question and the topic. It was yet another unhappy one, for his relationship with his mother had long been strained, to say the least.
“She is my only family, so I’ve asked her to come,” he said. “I sent word two days ago. The message should have reached her today, and if she departed tomorrow to join us, that would have her arrive here at Falcon’s Landing by Tuesday evening at the latest.”
“Youronlyfamily,” Kit said softly. “That wasn’t always the case, was it? I mean, weren’twesupposed to be like brothers?”
James straightened and shot their friend a look. “Idlewood,” he said, a gentle warning.
But Christopher didn’t seem deterred. He faced Simon, crossing his arms across his chest. “We talked about this the night Meg and Northfield announced the date of their wedding. Didn’t we?”
Robert and James swung their attention to Simon and both looked confused at the reference. Simon gritted his teeth. “You asked me about my…my situation when it came to Meg and Graham, yes.”
“And in that moment you told me you recognized it was helpless, hopeless, because to act on those thoughts or feelings was to betray a friend. But here we are, aren’t we?”
“Enough,” James said, setting his cue aside and physically stepping between the two men. “This is not helpful, Idlewood. Simon is obviously punishing himself enough for his part in this situation.”
“As I should,” Simon said, turning away from his friends. “IdeserveIdlewood’s censure, as I do all of yours. Our friendship, our club, was about brotherhood and support, honor and fealty. That meant the world to me, but I still broke those vows, I don’t claim I did anything else. Because of that, I don’t deserveanythingbut the contempt of Idlewood and the hatred Graham feels for me. I don’t turn away from it or make any excuse where I can free myself from it. I’ll carry what I did for the rest of my life.”
As Simon looked back at the men, Kit’s expression gentled slightly, but he remained with his arms folded. Simon could well imagine that with Graham’s return to London, once the story of what had happened here with Meg spread far and wide, the others in their club would very likely take sides. They might talk to him still, they might be gentlemanly about it, but clearly he would lose friends over this.
He deserved nothing less.
James stepped forward. “The ball will begin in about ten minutes. Perhaps we should join the others, yes?”
Robert cleared his throat, his gaze moving to Simon. “Should we toast the engagement before we do?”
Simon stiffened at that question. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said softly, and left the room without another word.
Already guests were entering the ballroom at the end of the long hallway and he heard arrivals of other partygoers from the foyer. He drew in a long breath, set his shoulders back and strode down to join the party.
Meg’s cheeks hurt from the false smile that had been plastered onto her face for the past half an hour. A brave face, Emma called it, and her friend occasionally reached out to squeeze her hand and offer support as they stood together at the edge of the dancefloor with James at Emma’s side.
“So far I would call tonight a success,” James said, though Meg heard the faint tension in his tone.
She felt the same tension in herself. A success, it seemed, was to be measured in the fact that there had been no scandal and people were still speaking to her. A low bar to calculate by, indeed. Especially when she looked across the room and saw her fiancé standing alone.
He would not look at her.
Simon’s avoidance, which had begun the day after they made love, stung more than a lash could have. She would have preferred a physical blow at this point. At least that kind of wound presented a chance at recovery if it was treated. But this dragged-out distance that now seemed to loom up between her and Simon…
Thatwas something else entirely. And the longer it went on, the more it permanently scarred her, scarredthem.
Emma’s foot tapped beneath the hem of her gown, and Meg sent her a side glance. Once a wallflower, Emma had been reluctant to dance at first. But a few months of marriage to James and Meg knew the new duchess had grown very fond of spinning around in a quadrille or tucking herself into James’s arms for a waltz. Soon enough her growing belly would prevent her from doing either.
