Page 14 of The Duke of Ruin
The conversation turned to Mr. Watt’s mushroom sauce when Mr. Alby complimented its flavor. This led to a detailed instruction of the methods he employed to create and preserve the sauce.
Simon picked at his food but didn’t eat much more.
“Mr. Byrd, you’ve hardly touched your greens,” Mrs. Watt fussed. “I hope there is nothing amiss. You can’t be ill on your wedding trip.”
“I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Watt. Just a bit tired from traveling. I suspect Mrs. Byrd feels the same, don’t you, my love?” He turned his body toward Miss Kingman, who was just finishing her Madeira.
“I am.” She offered Mrs. Watt a weary smile. “Would you mind terribly if we retired?”
“Not at all. Tired or no, newlyweds need their private time.” She exchanged another knowing glance with Mr. Watt.
After saying good night, Simon escorted Miss Kingman from the dining room and upstairs to their room. As soon as they were inside, Simon leaned back against the door while she made her way to the window overlooking the front yard.
“That wasn’t so awful, was it?” he asked.
She looked outside a moment, then pulled the curtains closed. Turning, she shook her head. “A bit awkward, but not awful.”
He pushed away from the door. “My apologies. I should’ve prepared you for a few things.”
“Such as this story you concocted of us being newlyweds on our way to Wales.” She arched a coal-dark brow at him.
“I came up with that in the moment, actually. I thought I handled it rather well. As did you, explaining why I was pining after you for years.”
A soft but guttural sound came from her throat. “You were a bit excessive. ‘No other woman in the world’ for you?” She looked at him as if he were daft.
Chuckling, he went to the hearth, where someone had stoked their fire while they’d been at dinner. “If I’m going to spin a tale, I’d much prefer an exceedingly happy one, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose.” She joined him in front of the hearth, holding her hands out to the heat. “I’d heard you don’t take spirits. I wasn’t sure if it was true.”
“It is. Obviously.”
“What do you do after dinner with the other gentlemen when they drink port? At the house party, did you simply abstain? Does no one question your behavior?”
He turned to face her. “Honestly, no. That house party was the first polite invitation I’ve received in two years. I think most of the gentlemen there were content to keep our dialogues focused on the completely inane. If they even spoke to me.”
Her eyes widened briefly. “Some of them didn’t?”
Most of them, actually. “Your father didn’t.”
She made that sound in her throat again, but this one was clearly due to disgust. “That doesn’t surprise me. He thought it was scandalous you were there in the first place. When he heard that we’d kissed—”
She abruptly turned her attention to the fire. Since her cheeks were already pink from the heat, Simon couldn’t tell if she was blushing.
“It was a silly party game.” Simon hoped to put her at ease, but when she whipped her gaze to his for a brief, surprised moment, he wanted to take it back. Maybe it had been more than that to her.
“Yes, it was.”
Or maybe, in his desperation, he was looking for affection where none existed.
He turned from the fire and contemplated the bed. It was neither big nor small and would support a blanket between them. However, there was no dressing screen to allow for privacy.
He wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the sensitive topic of disrobing, but since they would be spending several nights together, it had to be done. He looked back at her over his shoulder. “You aren’t planning on sleeping in your clothes again, are you?”
She turned in front of the fire but didn’t come toward him. “I’d rather not. But I’m afraid I’m in need of assistance. Unfortunately, my wardrobe depends upon a maid.”
“I’d be happy to provide help. Just remember I’ve no experience as a ladies’ maid.”
“Did you never undress your wife?” She looked away, angling herself back toward the fire. “Forget I asked that.”
