Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(45)

“Different?” Meg asked, clenching her teeth as she thought of her future mother-in-law’s nasty behavior. She’d forced herself to be kind in order to ease Simon’s discomfort, but what she’d wanted to do was slap the duchess across the face.

“Yes,” Emma said. “Why is she so cruel to Simon?”

Meg sighed heavily as she stepped down from her perch and crossed to the fire. Memories mobbed her, including one strong one of Simon standing in the stable six years ago, tears streaming down his face as he tried to process his father’s death. She had held his hand—it was all she could do.

“Simon’s father wasn’t like ours,” she said at last. “Not abjectly cruel. He ignored Simon, though. Utterly ignored him. Nothing he could do ever brought him attention. Good marks in school, good behavior, bad behavior, all of it was for nothing.”

“He must have longed for connection,” Emma said softly, her hand straying to her stomach, as if to shelter the baby inside of her from such cruelty.

Meg nodded. “And he found it, with my brother and their club full of friends.” She sighed. “Part of why he is so devastated by his role in the breaking of his friendship with Graham, I think.”

“And his mother was the same as his father?” Emma asked, returning to the original subject.

“No, she has always been all about appearances. Looking to be the perfect family, the perfect duke, the perfect everything.” Meg folded her arms. “But when Simon found acceptance with his friends, he stopped seeking it from his father. He spent holidays with us, not them. Just before his father died, the duke sent Simon a letter. It was horrible, filled with demands.” She winced. “Simon didn’t answer. His father died shortly thereafter and Simon did not go home for the burial.”

“The duchess was angry,” Emma said with a sad shake of her head.

“That service was to be one of her finest moments, with all eyes on her in her loss. I’m sure she had it planned perfectly, from every sniffle to each twist of her handkerchief,” Meg said, unable to keep the disgust from her tone. “And instead she had to spend it explaining why her son was not there. Of course, it was because Simon was here, trying to process the death of a father he’d never truly had. But she’s never forgiven him.”

Emma sighed heavily. “Well, that certainly explains a great deal about Simon.”

Meg wrinkled her brow. “Like what?”

Emma shrugged. “Well, the past few weeks aside, he is never serious. When he’s with others, he often pretends that he has no depth, though it’s obvious that isn’t true. And he doesn’t…fight, even for what he wants or believes in.”

Meg flinched. That last observation hit so very close to home. Simon had never fought for her.

“A-And you think that is because of what he experienced as a child?” she whispered.

Emma nodded. “We all carry our past with us, don’t we? I know I do. James did for many years, and even now when the weight is lighter, he still holds it on his shoulders. Simon is no different. I can imagine if he spent his life never receiving his father’s attention or meeting his mother’s impossibly high standards, it would make him reluctant to try to win anything.”

Meg pondered that. She’d never thought of it in those terms before. “I suppose you’re correct. Pretending to be easy and satisfied at all times would be easier than striving for what was unattainable.”

The seamstress returned then and Meg stepped back into place as Emma changed the subject to something less personal in front of the stranger. But Emma’s words rang in Meg’s head.

It was possible Simon was incapable for fighting for what he wanted. But if he didn’t, she wasn’t certain she would be able to fight hard enough for both of them.





Chapter Fifteen





Simon had been married for eight hours. Though the service was small, with only the vicar and their families in attendance, somehow the day had still stretched long. He and Meg had never been alone, dragged from one duty to the next.

But now, as they stood in the parlor, after-dinner drinks in hand, Simon was beginning to see a light at the end of this very long tunnel. And the light was going to bed…with his wife.

He shivered at that thought, of having her after so many days apart. Of having her when she was truly his and he was truly hers. There was meaning in that, even if he wanted so desperately to deny it.

James was talking, and for the first time in several moments, Simon actually took in the words coming from his friend’s mouth. “—back to London in two days,” James said.

Simon blinked. “I’m sorry, I must have been woolgathering. Why return to London so soon?”

Emma tilted her head and her gaze slipped between him and Meg. “James believes that returning to London as a family group, rather than hiding in the countryside, will show the world that we give full-throated support to your marriage. It will encourage acceptance no matter what level of scandal remains.”

Simon pressed his lips together. He could well imagine the level of scandal was high, indeed. Unless someone else did something truly horrifying, he and Meg would be the topic of conversation for what was left of this Season and likely all of the next.

“We must go on with life,” Meg said, her tone falsely bright. “I agree that a return to London will give us the opportunity to do so.”