Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(4)

So he’d kept his feelings to himself. Swallowed them down deep where they couldn’t tear the world to shreds. And he’d waited for Meg and Graham to marry.

Only they hadn’t. Yet. Still. And now he looked at James, who was whispering something in Emma’s ear. He saw the love his friend felt for his new bride, and that jealousy and anger and pain burned bright again. He wanted what they had.

He wanted it with Margaret. Just as he had since he was nineteen.

“—a waltz,” James was now saying, his words drawing Simon from his dangerous thoughts. “And my wife and I are going to dance it. You and Simon should find partners, too, Idlewood.”

He smiled as he took Emma’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Once they were gone, Simon let out a long breath. Not just because he had survived a very uncomfortable conversation but because Meg and Graham had left the dance floor and immediately parted. Meg had gone to talk to a few friends, Graham headed for the terrace. At least Simon would not have to see them move together in the infinitely more intimate waltz.

“You are staring at her,” Kit said from beside him.

Simon jolted. “Who?”

Idelwood turned toward him, arms crossed. “Margaret.”

Simon froze, staring up at his friend and trying to read whatever he knew. But Kit’s face was impassive in that moment.

“Well, she has been my friend for a very long time, hasn’t she?” he asked, reverting back to the same explanation he gave whenever someone asked him about Margaret. The words weren’t untrue. Since her engagement to Graham, he and Meg had become closer. Friends.

He would venture to say, though never out loud, that she was his best friend.

Kit tilted his head slightly, his expression filled with dangerous disbelief. “I’ve known you a long time. I’ve known her a long time, too. And…it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Simon said, setting his jaw as he made to walk away. Kit darted a hand out and caught his arm.

“I wouldn’t say a damned thing,” he said softly. “You are my friend and it’s clear from the way you’re standing there, shifting in your place and unable to look at anything but her, that you are struggling. So what is it? Tell me and I swear on all I hold dear that I will never breathe a word of it to anyone. Anyone.”

Simon shut his eyes briefly. What Christopher offered was a boon, indeed, for he had no one else to talk to about this. Not James or Graham, certainly. Nor the rest of their tight group of friends, either, for they had all pledged such loyalty to each other. He wasn’t certain he wouldn’t be shunned for admitting he coveted what Graham had.

He sighed. “You may not be wrong,” he said carefully, watching Kit’s face for a flash of judgment and horror. There was none. “But there is nothing that can be done about it, is there? Meg was long ago promised to a man I consider as close as blood, and by another I hold just as dear. To pursue or even admit what I feel…it would destroy everything and everyone I love. Including her.”

Kit’s expression softened. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Forever,” he whispered. “Seven or eight years.”

“But you…you were whoring around London with Roseford back then, almost coming to blows over women you bedded.”

Simon flinched. “I had my fun, yes. I wasn’t ready to settle down. And I…I missed my opportunity. Or maybe there never was one. Even if I had been a choirboy, perhaps James still would have chosen Graham to match to Margaret. Because they’re closer friends.”

He looked out at James and Emma, close together, eyes locked on each other as they twirled. They looked blissful. Simon loved and hated them for it.

“I’m sorry,” Kit said and it was clearly genuine. “I can well imagine how painful it would be to watch the woman I loved marry someone else. Especially a friend.”

Simon shrugged. It felt a little better to say something out loud about the subject. But it changed nothing.

“In the end, James is right,” he sighed. “We must all begin to do our duty. To marry and produce the heirs that will take our place. So I suppose the best thing I can do is forget this foolishness with Meg and get about doing it.”

“So you should dance,” Kit said gently.

“Yes,” Simon said, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I should dance.”

But as he peered out over the crowd, looking for the lady he would do just that with, his heart sank. When he spoke of the future, he could never picture anyone but Meg by his side.

And that was the place she would never, never be.





Margaret hated Sarah Carlton. Oh, she had never hated her before. She hardly knew her well enough to feel one way or another about her. But now, as the other young woman was dancing in Simon’s arms, leaning up into him to talk above the music, Meg hated her.

And hated herself even more for feeling so strongly about her. About Simon.

She turned to look at the man who stood by her side. Graham Everly, Duke of Northridge, was everything a lady could desire. Only she didn’t, despite the fact that he was devilishly handsome, with blond hair that was just a little too long, bright blue eyes and a smile that lit up a room. Well, when he did smile, which he had done less and less frequently as of late.