Page 32 of How to Ruin a Duke
Mystified, Simon shut the door and placed the parcel on his bed.As soon as he untied the twine, he realized what was inside.
His horn case.Popping open the latches, he saw the brass instrument—shining and intact as if it had never left his possession.
Somehow, Rowena had redeemed it.How had she known where he’d sold it?He patted his coat pockets.No pawn ticket.It must have fluttered from his pocket in her workroom.
He lifted the bell, wondering at the heft of the cold metal.He hadn’t thought the instrument would be his again.He hadn’t thought he’d mind if it wasn’t, but here he was choking on emotion like a child given a beloved toy.
What was this?Papers, rolled up and tucked into the bell of the horn.Simon tugged them free, heart thumping wildly.
Here was the letter he’d torn in half and discarded.And here was a note from Rowena.
All right, he’d read the damned letter from Market Thistleton.He spread the pieces out flat, lining up the torn edges.
It was brief, and he was surprised to be disappointed by that.A few courtesies of greeting, a willingness to communicate with Mr.Thorn “in any way he sees fit.”It was signed simply “Howard.”
Had Elias Howard himself written this?Signed this?What was the feeling behind the tidy script?Was there any feeling at all?
Carefully, Simon refolded the pieces and tucked them into the pocket of the case where he sometimes carried sheet music.Then he opened the message from Rowena.It was even shorter than the letter, a mere four words.
Go make it right.
Maybe she had understood, after all.This was a good-bye, but it was also a farewell.Fare well.Have music.Be forgiven.
He would never deserve someone like Rowena—no, correction, he’d neverthinkhe deserved someone like Rowena—and would never be able to enjoy life without doubt and guilt, unless he went to Howard.Put the money in his hand, saw the operation completed, and apologized.Begged for forgiveness.
Could he do it?After all this time?
Until he bought a ticket to Market Thistleton, he hadn’t been sure he really intended to go.Before the coach departed, he had just enough time to pack a satchel and buy a copy ofHow to Ruin a Duke.Something to read along the way.A distraction from the everyday, as Rowena had described it.
And he was off, away from London.Traveling northwest to Staffordshire like a bird flying home after a long winter.Unlike a bird, free and fresh, he’d spend the four-day journey in a cramped carriage full of odoriferous strangers.The thought was distracting enough that he’d wedged himself into his seat, the horses clopping off for the journey’s beginning, before he realized he had neglected to ask Rowena about the final terms of the lease.What would the fate of Fairweather’s be?
He could guess: She wouldn’t give up.She’d keep the building, the business, the name.She would manage it all.Hadn’t she offered him everything he’d asked, to see him packing?She’d made it possible for him to leave, just as he’d always told her he wanted to.
He ought to be happy about that.He was on his own, unfettered and free to try whatever he wanted.He could be anything.
But for a little while, he’d been a part of something valuable.He’d been Rowena’s, and how grand it had been.
After dispatchingAlice with the pawnbroker’s ticket, papers to tuck in the horn, and a banknote, Rowena made her way upstairs to the parlor.As she’d expected, Nanny was ensconced on her favorite seat.
“Last day of May.”Nanny peered over her spectacles.“How do we stand?”
Probably she referred to the lease, but a different matter was foremost on Rowena’s mind.“Simon has left.”
“Ah.”Nanny sank against the back of her seat.“That’s a shame, that.”
“He was always preparing me for it.He promised that he would.”Rowena swallowed, her throat tight.“He kept every promise he made to me.That one was no different.”
“It’s all right with you, then?”
“Of course it’s not all right.I wanted him to stay.Forever.”Boneless, Rowena sank to the floor at Nanny’s feet.They had sat this way on many evenings throughout Rowena’s childhood, as one read to the other, or as they talked about matters light or difficult.It seemed impossible that Rowena would not always be able to sit before this chair, pick at the threads of this carpet, confide in Nanny.
Just as Nanny had on hundreds of occasions before, she ran a gnarled hand over Rowena’s hair.Stroking the thick locks, a soothing gesture.“You love him.Does he know?”
“He does.Nearly.I…admitted as much, then tried to take it back.”How embarrassing, to share one’s heart and have it not matter in the slightest.“I can’t make him stay.I don’t want to be an obligation to him.”
A lease of ninety-nine years in human form.A building too large, too costly to manage.From the first, Simon’s presence in her life had been tied to the fate of Fairweather’s.She had hoped to keep them both.
“We’ve lost the lease,” Rowena admitted, closing her eyes as Nanny continued stroking her hair.“Lifford was offered four guineas a week.There is no way I can match that.”
