Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(56)

She turned toward the mirror. She was wearing her finest gown, and Fran had done her hair to perfection. What had Emma said to her before? That her clothing and her hair were her armor. Well, if so she was prepared for war now. She only had to wait for Simon and then somehow manage to say the words she had been rehearsing all afternoon.

As she paced her room, she tried to calm her racing heart. For years she had waited, loving Simon from afar, doing what she felt was right and best for everyone around her except for herself. Today she was taking the first step toward the future she wanted. With the man she loved.

And yet she had no earthly idea what his response would be. He could fall into her arms, surrendering at last to the feelings he had fought so hard and long to deny out of a sense of guilt and duty. She sensed that he wanted to do that. Or she hoped he did.

But he had such a strong sense of what he’d done wrong. Which meant he might put up a stronger wall than ever between them. One she feared she might never be able to climb, no matter what she did.

The risk was very high. The reward was even higher. And it was time, at last, to be brave. To fight this last fight and to hope that he would do the same. To think of her own wants and stop worrying about anything but her heart.

There was a light rap on the door and she jumped, as she faced the entrance. “Yes?”

The door opened and her heart sank. It was only Simon’s butler.

“Yes, Finley?” she asked, trying to keep her expression serene. “Do you have word from His Grace?”

“No, Your Grace, not yet,” Finley said, with apology lacing his tone. “He went to his club is all I know, I’m afraid there is no word from him as of yet. But you do have a guest, the Duke of Roseford.”

Meg wrinkled her brow. Roseford had not sent word he was calling. “He came to see me?”

“No, to see His Grace, but since he isn’t here…”

Meg nodded. “Of course, I’ll be right down.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll tell him.”

Finley left and Meg looked at herself in the mirror once more. She was in no mood to have company, especially not Robert. Thanks to James’s slip of the tongue all those weeks ago, she knew Roseford had once been Simon’s partner in debauchery. Who knew what he was encouraging her husband to do now?

She smoothed her skirts and made the short trip downstairs and into the parlor. Roseford turned from the fire when she entered, and he actually caught his breath when he looked at her.

“Roseford,” she said with a blush. “I did not expect you.”

He caught the hand she offered and lifted it briefly to his lips. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I ought to have sent a card ahead, especially as it looks as though you are on your way out. You look lovely.”

She smiled at his compliment. “Thank you. I am not going out, actually, I’m just waiting for Simon. He should be returning from his club shortly.” A brief shadow crossed Roseford’s face, and Meg’s heart leapt. “What is it? Do you have news?”

“No, not at all. I-I actually came here looking for Simon, myself. You see, he isn’t at the club.”

Meg swallowed. “No?”

“No, when I arrived there a while ago, he had already left.” Roseford shifted with discomfort. “It seems he—he encountered Northfield there.”

Now Meg staggered and Robert actually reached forward to keep her from falling. He helped her to a chair and she drew a few breaths as she tried to remain calm.

“He and Graham saw each other. How bad was it?”

“A bit of shoving is all,” Roseford said, his mouth thinning to a grim line. “At least this time.”

She bent her head. “God, how I hate that their friendship is on such poor terms because of me.” She sighed and stared at her clenched hands in her lap. “You saw Graham?”

Roseford nodded. “He was still there.”

“And how…how was he?”

He hesitated. “Do you want the truth, madam, or some lie meant to comfort you?”

She jerked her face up at the faint disdain in his tone. She deserved it, after all, for the friendships between all the men in their club had been strained with her as the cause. “The truth, Your Grace. I am not some dainty flower who requires only positive words.”

He arched a brow at her calm reply and she thought she saw a flicker of appreciation in his stare. “Very well. Graham is…troubled. Betrayed. He is not handling it well.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she thought of the pain Graham was in. “It’s my fault.”

He didn’t deny that charge, but let out a long sigh. “We’ve all had our part in this debacle. You shouldn’t have run off in a fit. Simon shouldn’t have followed you that day. I should have made Crestwood leave the moment he said he wanted to—”

She stood up slowly and stared at him. “Leave?” she repeated as her entire body went cold and numb. “What are you talking about?”

Roseford’s jaw set. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head. “Know what?”

“I ought not say something if Simon hasn’t.”

She moved toward him, her hands clenched at her sides. “You’re implying that my husband intended to leave, but you won’t tell me any more details. You must understand that you cannot drop such an explosive accusation in my parlor and then walk away as if you did nothing. Tell me, Roseford. What do you mean that you should have made Simon leave? When did he want to leave?”