Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(55)

Simon nodded. “If it would make it easier for you.”

“Well, if we’re talking about easier,” Graham said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you just leave London?”

Simon flinched. “I-I could do that.”

“And that house we bought in Scotland,” Graham continued.

“The hunting lodge?” Simon blinked. That was common property of all the men in their club. “We each own a part of that.”

“You sell your part to me or to James,” Graham clarified.

Pain ripped through Simon at the idea that he would be removed from his circle of friends. Because that’s what selling his portion of the lodge would represent: that he was being removed from the club. He would lose everything.

“Very well, I can arrange that.” Simon tilted his head, for Graham didn’t seem to be finished. “What else?”

“What makes you think there’s more?” Graham slurred, though his gaze was very focused now, almost clear.

Simon shrugged. “I know you. I know you value loyalty and what I did betrayed you. My penance cannot be so easy as this. What more do you need? What more do you need to take in order to balance the scales between us?”

Graham stared at him a long time. “Meg.”

Simon stiffened. “What about Meg?”

“Maybe you don’t prance around together, being a happy couple,” Graham said slowly, his voice suddenly low and dark.

Simon paused. What Graham was demanding was exactly what Simon had already been doing, trying to distance himself from Meg as atonement for his sins. Now that Graham was actually asking him to do so, the reality of the request rang in his ears.

Meg was already skating on the edge with him. She reached out and he backed away, not because he wanted to, but because he felt he should. It wouldn’t be very long before Meg would stop trying. She would be a fool not to. And then he would lose her.

So what Graham was asking for was for Simon to destroy his marriage. Finally and fully.

Before he could reply, Graham pushed to his feet. He wobbled slightly as he glared down at Simon. “You’re a fucking coward, aren’t you?”

Simon slowly rose, not to fight, but to defend himself if need be. Graham had always thrown a wicked right cross and one didn’t want to be seated when it landed.

“I know I hurt—” he began, wanting to apologize. To help somehow.

“Goddamn it, Simon, don’t fucking apologize to me,” Graham interrupted as he shoved him hard.

Simon staggered but didn’t move forward, even as the other men in the room began to circle toward them, wary but interested in this very public faceoff.

“What do you want me to do then?” Simon snapped, his patience fraying.

“Fight,” Graham growled.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Simon said softly.

Graham rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re not. You never have. Not even for a woman you clearly love. You told me you love her, didn’t you? But I mention that you should walk away from her and from friendships you’ve held for over a decade and you just…sit there.” He shoved Simon again, and this time the force drove Simon into the table. It tipped over sideways and both their glasses shattered on the floor.

“Stop,” Simon ground out. “I don’t want to fight you, Graham.”

Graham tilted his head back and laughed. “I’d respect it more if you punched me in the mouth and told me that Meg was your wife and that was the end of it. I’d respect it more if you fought for anything.”

He shoved Simon one more time and this time it was enough. Simon set his jaw and pushed back as hard as he could. Graham moved like he’d come forward again, a grin on his face, but before they could actually come to blows, the others lunged forward. Arms grabbed for Simon, others caught Graham, and they were separated at last. Strangely, Simon regretted it. Perhaps a few punches between them was exactly what they needed to ease the tension.

“Go on,” one of the gentlemen said, ushering Simon toward the door. “He’s drunk and your being here only makes it worse. Go on then.”

Simon edged to the door, but threw one last glance over his shoulder at Graham. His friend…or was it former friend…now had a bottle in his hand and he was offering loud toasts to uncertain futures as the others surrounded him, clearly trying to calm him down.

Simon frowned as he exited the club and waited for his horse to be brought around. He had always known he’d encounter Graham. They were both too prominent not to have that faceoff. But it hadn’t been what he had expected. Graham was angry, yes. Graham was betrayed, one could see it written all over his face. Graham was even spoiling to fight.

But his challenge to Simon to actually take what he wanted and stop apologizing for it was unexpected. How could that be what Graham wanted after everything that had happened? Wasn’t it spitting in the man’s face to be happy and carefree with Meg?

He’d been telling himself for weeks that it was. And now he was left uncertain of what to do and how to proceed.





Chapter Eighteen





Meg drew in a shaky breath as she looked around the master bedchamber one final time. It was perfect. Of course it should be, considering how much time and effort she had put into preparing it. Flowers were set around the room, a blazing fire brightened and warmed the space, the bedcovers were drawn back in the hopes what she would do would go well.