Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(41)

“To be fair, I was hardly more than a child when I dressed her up,” Meg said with a laugh of her own. “I’m surprised you recall that at all.”

His face got a bit more serious. “I recall all of it,” he said softly.

Her heart beat a little faster at his words, at the increased intensity of his gaze when he said them, but forced herself to remain light.

“Well, Sir William would have likely enjoyed Miss Venus in all her finery, for he was having a full conversation with her. He hardly drew breath,” she said with another giggle. “I considered stopping him and explaining, but he was having a lovely time. And I didn’t want to embarrass him.”

Chuckles shook Simon’s frame and he tilted his head back. She stared at him, enthralled by seeing the Simon she’d always known and loved, right here with her again.

“Of course you’re too kind of correct him. Poor man, I wonder what he thought when his lady friend didn’t speak or accompany him back inside.”

She shrugged. “That she was a good listener? Or playing hard to get? Either way, I assume they will be wed before the year is out.”

The last sentence stopped Simon’s laughter short and seriousness entered his face again. Meg frowned. Apparently her words about a wedding reminded Simon of their own rapidly approaching one.

“I suppose you and I have no place to laugh about anyone else’s behavior,” he said slowly. “Not after what we did.”

She pursed her lips, loath to leave behind the comfort she had once again found in this man’s company. In fact, she refused to do so.

She set her teacup down and met his eyes, arching her brow in challenge. “Are you speaking of the scandal created by Lady Margaret and the handsome Duke of Crestwood?”

Simon’s brow wrinkled and he stared at her. “What are you doing?”

“Of course, is it so unforeseen that they might find themselves in this predicament?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “After all, they have been close for years.”

His frown deepened as understanding dawned. “Margaret—”

“Come, don’t be coy, Simon,” she said. “You always have a unique take on all the day’s gossip. What is it on this situation?”

He cleared his throat, and for a moment she thought he might just get up and run like he had been running for days. But then he sighed. “I think some would say that the duke is a cad and should have been called out by Lady Margaret’s former fiancé or her brother. Men have perished in duels for far less than what he did.”

Panic gripped Meg at even the thought of such a thing. That Simon would have been willing to fight, to die, over the slights he had caused Graham and her brother. And that it was only the decency of those two men that had kept a calling out from happening.

She forced herself to take a few calming breaths before she said, “I suppose some would also say that Lady Margaret should have been sequestered to the countryside, shunned forever by good Society and even her own family.”

Simon’s eyebrows lifted. “Some would say she made that very suggestion, herself.”

She smiled, though the memory of that awful day in James’s office did not make her happy in the least. “That may be true. But I think all those people would be wrong, regardless.”

“Oh?” he said. “Then what do you think?”

She scooted a bit closer, letting their knees brush against each other. Even that benign swish of fabric on fabric made her ultra-aware of her desire for so much more.

“I think,” she whispered, lifting a trembling hand to brush it over his smooth cheek. “That Margaret and the duke are simply human. That people make mistakes, especially when they’re desperate.”

His face flashed with a moment of sadness. “You think it a mistake?”

“The way it was done, perhaps.” She leaned in, letting her breasts rub his arm, tilting his chin down toward her. Their lips nearly touched when she added, “But I’m not sorry, Simon. I wish you weren’t either.”

He stared down at her, tension still coursing through his body. But then he cupped her chin and brought his lips to hers. The passion between them pulsed there as he tangled his tongue with hers, as he pulled her closer, almost into his lap. But there was something else in the kiss. Something deeper than mere desire. Something she felt and wanted to hold on to with both hands.

His mouth moved over hers, gentle at first, but with increasing passion as she wound her arms around his neck. He tilted his head, driving his tongue between her lips as the world around them faded and all that was left was powerful physical sensation and driving lust.

Meg was almost swept away by it. She could feel Simon close to the same when there was a soft sound from the doorway to the parlor.

They jerked apart, both turning to find Emma standing in the entryway. Her cheeks were flamed and she was staring up at the ceiling as if there were something interesting to be found there as she said, “Oh, hello, you two. I was wondering where you were.”

Simon lunged to his feet, backing away from Meg as he shook his head. Once more the wall he had been putting between them was slammed down and he gave her a formal bow before he said, “Excuse me, ladies. I think I should…go.”

The last word was strangled, and without further explanation he slipped past Emma and disappeared from view.