Page 75 of The Duke of Ruin
“Simon, I asked you not to get angry.”
He turned from her and walked to the windows facing the drive. “Forgive me if I can’t help myself.”
The room fell quiet for a few moments, during which he regained his equilibrium. He shouldn’t get angry. Servants would talk, and they meant him no harm. They’d all stayed here despite the potential damage to their reputations, hadn’t they?
Before he could apologize, Diana said, “I wanted to ask you why you allowed Mrs. Marley to stay after what she said.”
Simon turned. Diana was watching him warily but with empathy in the depths of her gaze. “What was I to do, cast out a loyal retainer for telling the truth?”
“No, but no one would blame you for not wanting her here. She’s a reminder of what happened.”
He lifted his hands and dropped them sharply to his sides. “Allof it is a reminder of what happened.” He put his hand on the back of his neck, anxiously massaging the flesh as emotion raged within him. “But I can’t turn someone out because they told the truth. Especially not when they demonstrated extreme remorse. Did you know she offered to leave, out of guilt, but Nevis convinced her to stay?” Simon had learned that about a year ago.
Diana came toward him and took his hands. “Simon, if it’s too much, we can leave. Why don’t we just go to London?”
God, her understanding and compassion nearly undid him. “I told Nevis we’d stay at least a week. I haven’t toured the estate in…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how long.”
“But I can’t stand watching you tortured.”
“Why are you so forgiving?” They were all so forgiving—the staff who’d remained and demonstrated fierce loyalty, Nick who never failed to bolster his spirits, and now Diana, who stood by him even in the face of his inability to forgive himself. “Did Mrs. Dodd tell you exactly what happened, the specifics?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Tell me.” To hear Diana recite his crimes was like putting himself on the rack, but he deserved nothing less.
Diana swallowed. Her eyes were dark and unflinching. “She said you and...the duchess argued, that you grabbed her. Marley turned then and didn’t see exactly what transpired.”
Though she held his hands, he felt cold. “So you see how it happened. How it was my fault.”
“I’ve decided fault doesn’t matter. As you said, it was a tragedy. Whatever happened to cause it, the damage can’t be undone.”
His throat tightened, and he clasped her hands as if she could save him from drowning in the sea of his emotion. He would never know what he’d done to deserve her. “I will thank God every day for you.”
She smiled and let go of one of his hands to touch his cheek before pressing her lips against his. Her kiss was soft and sweet and gave him the strength to let the pain go—at least for now. “It seems we are a gift to each other, just when we needed it most.”
He kissed her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She speared her fingers into the hair at his nape and held him tight, kissing him back with a heat that made him weak.
When she pulled back, her lips were still smiling. “Now about this wedding. When is it to take place?”
Grateful for the distraction—no, he was grateful forher—he launched into the plans he’d discussed with Lowell. As expected, she was quite thrilled to take part.
Then he realized they should be here for the nuptials. And since they needed three consecutive Sundays for the banns to be read, that meant staying here for a month.
He wasn’t sure he could do it. The week he’d promised stretched long and harrowing before him. But perhaps with Diana at his side, he could muster the strength to put the past where it belonged: in the past.
If not, he’d do what he did best. He’d flee.
Chapter 15
Simon strodeinto his office four days later and mentally checked off another night in his quest to see how long he could stand to be here. So far, he was managing all right—thanks to Diana. She brightened his days and seduced his nights. It was a bittersweet relief as he grappled with being here with her while still trying to hold on to the promise of remembering and loving Miriam.
That latter part was growing harder every day, and the strain of guilt was wearing on him. Well, more than it usually did.
Activity on the drive drew his eye. A carriage had just pulled up to the portico. He craned his neck to see who climbed out. Hell, it was his mother.
He turned on his heel and stalked to the entry hall, working to ignore the pricks of unease that always stabbed at him in that space. A footman was already opening the door to the portico, and a moment later, his mother breezed inside, her small spaniel following at her heels.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she said without preamble as she removed her gloves and handed them to the footman.
