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“You didn’t . . .” She swallowed. It might be better to simply accept his kind words graciously and move on. “Thank you.”

He released a tight breath. “Forgive me. I am usually better at controlling my tongue.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “It was very nice of you.”

“Honest rather than nice.” He paused. “I hope this Robinson fellow did not hurt you badly.”

Was the emotion in his dark eyes empathy?

“At first, it was hard,” she admitted, “but now I realize that it was for the best. Jeremy may be wrong about some things, but he was correct about us not being right for each other.” Keeping her eyes on him, she tested her hunch. “What about you? Why is the handsome Lord Bancroft not already married or truly courting someone?”

Half expecting him to tease her about her use of the word handsome or to blow off her question with a superficial response, Isla was taken aback when Simon looked away.

“I’m sorry.” Regret filled her. Her words had obviously hit a nerve. “I didn’t mean to be flippant or to pry.”

He shook his head. “It is only fair that I answer the same question I posed to you.”

“Maybe. But you certainly don’t have to.”

“I believe I do.” His gaze flitted to the right and the distant chimneys of Greenbriar Manor before returning to her. “Despite our differing circumstances, our experiences are similar. Our sham betrothal is not my first. I was betrothed once before, but the young lady ultimately chose another over me.”

Isla’s unsettling pang of jealousy was tinged with indignation. “But I thought that was severely frowned upon.”

“It is. However, in the case of that particular young lady, the allure of being a duchess was enough to offset the stigma of broken vows.”

Simon’s opposition to Martha’s suggestion that he and Isla pose as an engaged couple suddenly made sense. He had been forced to reenter Society with a black mark to his name already. What on earth would two do to him?

“A second broken betrothal, Simon?” Without thinking, she reached for his hand. “If I’d known, I never would have agreed to our charade.”

“Then, it is well that you did not know,” he said. “Martha is fully aware of my situation, and she would not have suggested our role-play if there had been any other way to accomplish what must be done. Those who know me may offer their condolences at my lack of good fortune in acquiring a wife, but I daresay I shall eventually rise above the blight on my manhood.”

Simon had fallen back on his teasing again, but Isla didn’t feel like smiling. Not when she was the one who could shatter Simon’s reputation once and for all. “There has to be another way.”

“Not unless we wish to introduce a significant risk of failure,” Simon said.

“But your good name—”

“Isla, this is not your burden to bear.” He squeezed her fingers lightly before releasing her hand. “My reputation may be sullied for a short time, but eventually, the stigma will fade. Besides, the blame for any besmirchment that comes my way does not lie with you. It can be placed firmly at the feet of Catsby, Fawkes, and their coconspirators—and, perhaps to a lesser degree, Lydia.”

“Lydia?” Isla asked. “Is that the name of the young lady you were courting?”

“It is.”

Isla pulled a face. “I’ve never liked that name much.”

As she had hoped, the anxiety in Simon’s eyes was replaced by amusement. “Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s the name of an obnoxious, self-centered character in a wildly popular book written in the late 1700s.”

“Ah, so you are employing perfectly logical reasoning for your aversion of the Greek name given to one who is beautiful and noble.”

“That’s right.” Isla rose, and Simon immediately followed suit. “Perfect logic coupled with feminine intuition. It can’t be faulted.”

Simon chuckled, and with a smile, Isla led the way back to their waiting horses. Her apprehension over what lay ahead had yet to abate, but this morning’s outing had taught her that she and Simon could navigate a difficult conversation and emerge strengthened. That knowledge lifted her spirits and brought new hope for the challenges that awaited them in London.

Chapter 11

Simon stood at the edge of the front lawn, waiting for Isla’s signal.