Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(51)

Self-hatred burned within him at that memory.

“I-I don’t want to talk to you about that,” Simon said.

James jerked his face toward him. “And nor do I wish to discuss my sister’s habits with her husband, but I am left with little choice. Meg’s future and her happiness are important to me. As are yours.”

Simon caught his breath as he turned in his seat to look at James. There was nothing false to his friend’s expression. He looked frustrated, perhaps even angry, but he didn’t hate Simon, even though that was exactly what he deserved.

“Mine shouldn’t be,” he said softly.

James’s jaw tightened. “So you insist on punishing yourself?” he asked.

“I deserve to be punished.”

“And you will punish Meg in the process,” James snapped. “Damn it all to hell, Simon, haven’t you destroyed enough?”

Simon returned his attention to a spot on the horizon.

James sighed. “Look, you want to hate yourself, fine. You want to destroy your relationship with me, apparently I can’t stop you. But I swear to God, if you destroy Meg…” He reached and out and grabbed Simon’s shoulder, making him look at him. “There will be hell to pay, Crestwood.”

Without breaking their intense stare, James lifted his fist to indicate the train of vehicles and animals should stop. As everyone did so, he swung down from the horse.

“I’m going to ride inside with my wife and my sister for a while,” he said, “to afford you the opportunity to think about what I’ve said. I suggest you do so, Simon. I understand why worthiness is such a challenge for you. I knew your father, I’ve spent time with your mother. I even understand why you hate yourself for Graham. But you are on the precipice of making a terrible mistake. One that you will not come back from. Think hard about what you want to do or you’ll find yourself losing everything.”

When Simon said nothing, James walked away, tossing the reins of the horse to a footman who had scurried from the top of the carriage and would now ride the horse for a while. Simon knew his friend was right.

He just wasn’t certain how he could accept the future that had been given to him and atone for the past all at the same time. Until he figured that out, he couldn’t be a husband to Meg or a friend to James. He certainly couldn’t be a friend to himself.

So he was left to his own mind, which was currently a very dangerous place to be.





Meg stepped into the foyer at her new home in London and drew a deep breath as she faced a line of smiling servants, ready to greet her. Of course she knew some of them already. She had come to Simon’s townhouse so many times over the years, accompanying James when he called. She had all but memorized the rooms. She knew what chair was Simon’s favorite, she knew how he always arranged his desk just so.

“Welcome, Your Grace,” the butler, Finley, said as he stepped forward to take her wrap and Simon’s hat and gloves. “We are so pleased to have you home.”

She smiled as she was introduced along the line to the rest of the staff. All seemed genuine in their greetings and none reflected any hint that they might have heard gossip about their new mistress. Of course, she knew they had. Something so big as the compromising position she and Simon had found themselves in would ripple not just through her world, but the worlds of servant and merchant alike.

Which did not help her with Simon in the slightest. It was partly why he withdrew from her. Him and his damned penance.

“Your Grace, I know you and the duchess had supper at the Duke of Abernathe’s after your arrival in London,” Finley was saying as the other servants drifted away back to their duties. “But may we provide any dessert or drinks?”

Simon glanced at her and she shook her head slightly. He smiled at the butler. “Thank you, Finley. As much as we appreciate the offer—and I know Mrs. Giles would likely whip up something very tempting if we asked—I think Her Grace and I are simply too tired from travel to partake tonight.”

Finley nodded. “I understand, sir. Of course, ring if anything changes. Otherwise, your chamber is prepared.”

Simon lifted his brows and Meg felt there was some kind of silent communication going between the men. “Fully prepared?” he asked.

Finley smiled again. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good man, thank you,” Simon said, nodding once more as the butler bowed his goodnights and left them alone.

Simon offered her an arm. “Let me show you to our chamber.”

Meg shivered as she touched him. Their chamber. Actually, his room was one of the few in this house she had never seen. She wondered what it would look like, as well as the duchess chamber that would be adjacent.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. He guided her up the stairs and to the end of a long hallway. It was the last room where he drew her through elaborately carved double doors. She entered into an antechamber that was entirely masculine and very Simon. It had gray walls with stark white accents and a large fireplace where two chairs faced the bright flames. She tilted her head as she stared at one of them, a sunny yellow armchair that looked very familiar and very out of place in his space.

“Is that…is that my chair from my room at my mother’s home?” she asked, spinning on him briefly before she moved over to look at the piece.