Page 36 of My Daring Duchess
Mary turned away for a long moment, and Anne feared she would not agree, but finally she said, “All right. I give you my word.”
Anne departed feeling concerned and confused. Instead of going to speak with her grandfather, she retired to her bedchamber and dressed for bed without calling her lady’s maid. She climbed under the covers and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Simon.
Was he a rogue or the most wonderful man she had ever met?
She wished she knew for certain.
Twelve
“I cannot ice-skate,” Anne said again in a suffocated whisper, looking from Simon to the ice below her feet and back to Simon.
For a moment, doubt about his decision buffeted him, but he shoved it away. Anne could do this. He would help her. Simon had been immensely pleased with himself last night for thinking of taking Anne ice-skating today after the dance lesson. He had needed a reason for her to linger longer at his home, so he could have more time with her. He had felt confident he could persuade her to give skating a try, given how she strived to appear just as capable as others. The thought of being the first person to do this with her also pleased him.
After he had taught Anne the quadrille—with the help of his sisters and Perceval—he, Anne, and his sisters had come out to ice-skate, with Anne’s reluctant agreement to try. But the moment she’d actually stepped onto the ice and nearly fallen, she’d changed her mind.
“Ye will be wonderful,” Elizabeth insisted.
Anne gave Elizabeth a wary look. “I’ll fall!”
Simon held out his arm to her. “I will not let ye fall. The insert in yer skate will help to keep ye balanced, I swear it. Trust in me.”
Anne gave him an accusing look. “You ask that very often.”
“And ye have yet to do it,” he pointed out. He winked at her to soften what might have sounded harsh.
She sighed. “I will trust you in this—” she took his arm “—but as for the rest, that is a weightier matter.”
“Aye,” he agreed, slowly helping her glide across the ice and far enough from his sisters that they could talk openly. “Trusting me with yer heart is a much more important thing, but I am trusting ye with mine.”
Her surprised gasp pleased him. He had never spoken of matters of the heart to a woman before. He had never wanted to. But Anne had done something to him in the short time he had known her. She had made him believe once more in the goodness of women—who weren’t his sisters, that was. Anne made him want to take down the wall he had erected around his heart and let her in, to welcome the possibility of what she could bring to his life.
“You are trusting me with your heart?” she asked, her disbelief evident in her voice.
He paused, turned her to face him, and cupped her cheeks. The desire to kiss her was so strong it made him ache. “Aye, Anne. So don’t break it.”
Before she could respond, Caitlin, who had always been a natural on her ice skates, swooshed up to them and stopped so quickly that shavings of ice flew up around her ankles. “No more staring at each other on the ice. Let us skate!” his sister pronounced.
And that is what they did. Simon first led Anne around the lake by her waist. His fingers rested on the gentle curve of her hip, and the faint scent of lilac that always followed her around stirred desire in him so hot he didn’t feel a bit chilled by the cool winter air.
As they glided over the ice, he thought about all he had learned so far about her. He had so much he still wanted to discover. And now seemed as good a time as any. “Anne, why did ye not know yer grandfather or England until yer mother died?”
She held his arm in a near death grip as they skated slowly. “My grandfather did not approve of the man my mother wished to marry, so he cut ties with her.”
Simon gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Seems that is quite a trend with English lords.”
Anne frowned. “I supposed it does seem that way, given your own grandfather, but mine has told me often how very much he regrets his actions. Perhaps your grandfather did, as well.”
“I doubt it,” Simon said flatly. “He never tried to bridge the gap he’d created in all the years before his death.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, “he simply did not know how.” A heartfelt look of sorrow swept across her face, making his heart tug. He was glad he had her to talk to about it.
Her words struck Simon to his core. Was that it? That would explain a great deal. There had been things since he’d come to England—first to the town house in London and then to the country house—that had not painted a picture of a cruel man. Perceval, for one. If his grandfather were completely heartless, he would not have kept Perceval in his employ. Simon could not continue to refute this. Previously, he’d cast aside the possibility that his grandfather might have actually cared for him or regretted how he had acted toward Simon, based on Simon’s experience with the man, but now he wondered. He took a deep breath, thinking on the letters he had found in London between his grandfather and the Bow Street Runner. “When I went to my grandfather’s Mayfair home, I discovered letters from a Bow Street Runner.”
“What sort of letters?” Anne asked.
“Correspondence between my grandfather and the runner who had worked for him. It seems my grandfather tracked the progress of my timber company,” he said. “The runner reported on different things my grandfather asked, such as the size of my company, the worth, my employees, how I handled them and my competitors.” Simon narrowed his eyes, considering it all. He had not even told his sisters about the letters because he had assumed his grandfather had been plotting something nefarious, yet now he wondered, were those letters proof his grandfather had felt remorse? “And when my mother died,” he said, his thoughts turning, and things that had not made sense now starting to, “and we did not have enough money for a proper burial, we received an anonymous donation. Do ye know”—shock was flowing through his veins—“there was a letter in there to my grandfather, and I do believe the runner mentioned Oban. I assumed the donation was from people in Oban, but now I have to wonder if it was my grandfather. If he had the runner make a donation.” Amazement filled his chest.
Simon had been looking ahead as he revealed the information to Anne, so when he glanced over at her and saw tears brimming in her eyes, his chest tightened almost mercilessly. “Are those tears for me?”
