Graham tilted his head back and laughed. “I’d respect it more if you punched me in the mouth and told me that Meg was your wife and that was the end of it. I’d respect it more if you fought foranything.”
He shoved Simon one more time and this time it was enough. Simon set his jaw and pushed back as hard as he could. Graham moved like he’d come forward again, a grin on his face, but before they could actually come to blows, the others lunged forward. Arms grabbed for Simon, others caught Graham, and they were separated at last. Strangely, Simon regretted it. Perhaps a few punches between them was exactly what they needed to ease the tension.
“Go on,” one of the gentlemen said, ushering Simon toward the door. “He’s drunk and your being here only makes it worse. Go on then.”
Simon edged to the door, but threw one last glance over his shoulder at Graham. His friend…or was it former friend…now had a bottle in his hand and he was offering loud toasts to uncertain futures as the others surrounded him, clearly trying to calm him down.
Simon frowned as he exited the club and waited for his horse to be brought around. He had always known he’d encounter Graham. They were both too prominent not to have that faceoff. But it hadn’t been what he had expected. Graham was angry, yes. Graham was betrayed, one could see it written all over his face. Graham was even spoiling to fight.
But his challenge to Simon to actually take what he wanted and stop apologizing for it was unexpected. How could that be what Graham wanted after everything that had happened? Wasn’t it spitting in the man’s face to be happy and carefree with Meg?
He’d been telling himself for weeks that it was. And now he was left uncertain of what to do and how to proceed.
Chapter Eighteen
Meg drew in a shaky breath as she looked around the master bedchamber one final time. It was perfect. Of course it should be, considering how much time and effort she had put into preparing it. Flowers were set around the room, a blazing fire brightened and warmed the space, the bedcovers were drawn back in the hopes what she would do would go well.
She turned toward the mirror. She was wearing her finest gown, and Fran had done her hair to perfection. What had Emma said to her before? That her clothing and her hair were her armor. Well, if so she was prepared for war now. She only had to wait for Simon and then somehow manage to say the words she had been rehearsing all afternoon.
As she paced her room, she tried to calm her racing heart. For years she had waited, loving Simon from afar, doing what she felt was right and best for everyone around her except for herself. Today she was taking the first step toward the future she wanted. With the man she loved.
And yet she had no earthly idea what his response would be. Hecouldfall into her arms, surrendering at last to the feelings he had fought so hard and long to deny out of a sense of guilt and duty. She sensed that he wanted to do that. Or she hoped he did.
But he had such a strong sense of what he’d done wrong. Which meant he might put up a stronger wall than ever between them. One she feared she might never be able to climb, no matter what she did.
The risk was very high. The reward was even higher. And it was time, at last, to be brave. To fight this last fight and to hope that he would do the same. To think of her own wants and stop worrying about anything but her heart.
There was a light rap on the door and she jumped, as she faced the entrance. “Yes?”
The door opened and her heart sank. It was only Simon’s butler.
“Yes, Finley?” she asked, trying to keep her expression serene. “Do you have word from His Grace?”
“No, Your Grace, not yet,” Finley said, with apology lacing his tone. “He went to his club is all I know, I’m afraid there is no word from him as of yet. But youdohave a guest, the Duke of Roseford.”
Meg wrinkled her brow. Roseford had not sent word he was calling. “He came to seeme?”
“No, to see His Grace, but since he isn’t here…”
Meg nodded. “Of course, I’ll be right down.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll tell him.”
Finley left and Meg looked at herself in the mirror once more. She was in no mood to have company, especially not Robert. Thanks to James’s slip of the tongue all those weeks ago, she knew Roseford had once been Simon’s partner in debauchery. Who knew what he was encouraging her husband to do now?
She smoothed her skirts and made the short trip downstairs and into the parlor. Roseford turned from the fire when she entered, and he actually caught his breath when he looked at her.
“Roseford,” she said with a blush. “I did not expect you.”
He caught the hand she offered and lifted it briefly to his lips. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I ought to have sent a card ahead, especially as it looks as though you are on your way out. You look lovely.”
She smiled at his compliment. “Thank you. I am not going out, actually, I’m just waiting for Simon. He should be returning from his club shortly.” A brief shadow crossed Roseford’s face, and Meg’s heart leapt. “What is it? Do you have news?”
“No, not at all. I-I actually came here looking for Simon, myself. You see, he isn’t at the club.”
Meg swallowed. “No?”
“No, when I arrived there a while ago, he had already left.” Roseford shifted with discomfort. “It seems he—he encountered Northfield there.”
