They climbed into bed and Ida settled her head against Simon’s arm. It felt good being back together like this. “I’d like to go with you. To meet with Mr. St. John.”
“Do you doubt my investigative skills?” Rolling onto his side, he pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her shoulder.
“Of course not.” Ida said, “but two pairs of eyes and ears are better than one.”
“Quite right.” He placed another kiss on her cheek, so tender and warm it seeped all the way to the tips of her toes. “Try to sleep, my lovely sleuth.”
Ida closed her eyes with a smile and did precisely as he asked.
When she woke, Simon was gone. She glanced at the clock. Good heavens, it was almost four in the afternoon. After scrambling out of bed, she located a clean chemise and front lacing stays along with a pink dress she’d not worn before, then did her best to get dressed on her own. Finding the top buttons hard to reach, she went to the door and prepared to call for Miranda, only to stop at the sound of loud voices coming from the parlor.
Men’s voices.
With a frown, she grabbed a shawl and flung it over her shoulders to hide the gap at the back of her gown and proceeded downstairs. As she went, her stomach began to clench tighter and tighter because, dear God, she recognized not only Simon’s voice but Guthrie’s as well. The Duke of Windham had returned much sooner than she’d expected.
Hesitantly, because she was more inclined to flee than keep moving forward, she eased the parlor door open and entered the room. Guthrie reclined in one of the armchairs, looking much like a flamboyant king, while Simon stood, hands clenched, his entire body straining for action. Blayne, who completed the trio, had propped his massive body against the fireplace mantle and silently watched the exchange between the other two men.
“Ah.” Guthrie’s cat-like eyes latched onto Ida. “There you are.”
“Welcome back, Guthrie.” Ida moved toward Simon, determined to give him whatever support he needed. “I trust you and your wife had a lovely journey?”
“An excellent one to be sure,” Guthrie informed her jovially. He even smiled. “Now, gather whatever belongings you need so we can be on our way. I have to return home before—”
“I’m not coming with you.” As much as she valued Guthrie’s concern, it was time for her to fight for what she wanted. “I’m staying here. With Fielding.”
“No you bloody well aren’t.” The pleasantry Guthrie had shown toward her was gone. In its place was a hard glower. “I’ll not let you ruin yourself for him, Ida. You’re destined for better things than that.”
She grabbed Simon’s hand. “I’m a traitor’s daughter, and if that’s not enough, all of London thinks me a whore, so there is nothing better for me than where I am right now.”
A shadow crossed Guthrie’s eyes. He shifted his gaze to Simon. “I should have you flogged.”
“While I’m grateful to you for all you have done,” Ida said, “I am old enough now to choose my own fate.”
Guthrie scoffed. “And you think he will provide a happy one, do you? Ida, you’ll never be more than his mistress. He won’t marry you. Not ever. I’ve already asked him to do so and he has declined. Do you know what that means, luv?”
Ida clutched Simon’s hand as hard as she could to distract herself from her crumbling heart. She’d known he would never offer marriage, but it still hurt having the fact thrown in her face with cold brutality.
Refusing to be cowed, she straightened her spine. “It means he and I will be together for as long as we wish.”
“And in the eyes of the world, you will only ever be the woman who fills his bed until he finds another.”
Simon lunged forward so fast Ida didn’t realize he’d let go of her hand until she saw Guthrie rise and ward him off with one agile movement. He glared straight into Simon’s eyes. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Fielding. You’re more of a man than I gave you credit for. But that doesn’t mean you deserve her.”
“You’ve no right questioning what I deserve.”
“Marry her,” Guthrie insisted while Ida shrank back in embarrassment.
“I can’t,” Simon hissed.
And there it was, spoken out loud for her to hear. Something inside Ida shriveled and died in that moment – a distant hope she’d not even known she’d been holding onto.
“Coward,” Guthrie snapped. He pushed his way past Simon and stepped toward Ida. Sympathy overshadowed his angry expression. “Come with me now. Let me help you avenge your father.”
It was a good offer. Guthrie was not the sort of man who’d go back on his word. He would fight for her every step of the way, but so would Simon, and between the two, there was only one choice. Even if her heart was breaking and her head felt like it might explode with anger. “Thank you, but Fielding and I have been working together on this for some time now, and I really don’t think you’ll accomplish something we haven’t.”
Guthrie inhaled deeply. “MacNeil mentioned the assassin and according to the papers my butler has been collecting during my absence, there was also a fall at the Huntley ball. Whoever you’re after is dangerous, Ida, and while I am all too familiar with the need for revenge, I also know it can blind you. Perhaps it’s time to stop stirring things up and just—”
“What? Let someone get away with pinning a heinous crime on my father?” She couldn’t believe he of all people would suggest such a thing. “I’m not dropping this until the right man pays for what happened.”
