Page 75 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

Chapter 37

“Faster. Faster!” Simon rapped the top of the carriage with his cane.

The carriage swung relentlessly against the blustering wind but somehow managed to stay upright. He tapped his feet impatiently against the footing as his body leaned outward in hopes to make out anything other than the dark and dreary streets of London. Then, falling back to his seat, he groaned, waiting.

It was difficult to ignore or disregard the uneasiness he was feeling, afraid that at any given moment, he could lose Eloise forever and never see her again. Oh, he was a fool. Not only had he pushed her away, but he had inadvertently also hurt her the same way as that scoundrel George Maxwell had. Damn him for being this way. But he would make everything right. He would find her, confront her, and explain everything. Except this time, he would not make the choice of their relationship for her.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, and he snatched his walking stick and exited hurriedly before the doorman could even make a move. With long strides, he paced over a russet stone pathway barely illuminated by oil lamps and toward the front door of the Lyndon estate.

He tapped his cane on the door. The wait felt endless and torturous. Not being able to bear this any longer, he tapped once more, harder and louder, hoping that the servants would hear him soon enough.

“Come on, any day now,” he muttered to himself in frustration. He raised his fist in the air, ready to bang on the door once more, but it opened before he had the chance.

An older man with wrinkles around his eyes and reddish graying hair peered through the gap, then opened it wider. “Sir?” The man cleared his throat, his adam’s apple wobbling until he spoke again, “Your Grace. We were not expecting you so soon. Please, do enter. And do mind the clutter. His Lordship is at his office, he’ll see you there.”

“I don’t need to see—” but Simon paused, thinking it through. Blast it. He’d meet with Lord Lyndon first, then he’d call upon Eloise. It’d be the proper thing to do. If he wanted to make things right, then he may as well extend that courtesy to her family. “Thank you.”

The footman ushered him in and up a red-carpeted bifurcate staircase at the back of the entrance hall. But his thoughts drifted back to Eloise. Finding out that she was the masked woman was perhaps the one blow he needed to realize what he had done. God knows why it had taken him so long, and God knows if she would ever forgive him.

“Your Grace,” the red-haired man spoke out before reaching an unassuming door and knocking. “Lord Lyndon is presently in his study.”

Simon nodded as a noise of approval came from within, and proceeded to step inside the old study. A scent of fresh ink and copious medication reached his nostrils, both, no doubt, from Lord Lyndon. The man was seated by a chair in the back and pressed his Pince-Nez over his eyes at Simon’s entrance. Then, abruptly, he brought a handkerchief to his face, coughing into it.

“Your Grace,” Lord Lyndon said, standing up with a struggle.

“Please, there’s no need—” Simon quickly said.

“Oh, nonsense. Do take a seat.” Lord Lyndon gestured to a maroon chaise by the side of the room as he made his way to it too. “To what do we owe the honor? Of course, I wanted to thank you for taking care of my niece during these unprecedented circumstances. I assume this business is related to belongings leftover at Richmond Castle. There was no need to deliver them personally.”

Simon tugged at the collar of his shirt slightly. He hadn’t felt so nervous since he was a child, but he was here for a specific reason.

“Well, actually. I’m here for a different purpose,” Simon paused. “I have heard El—Lady Eloise is to marry Lord Hackberry from an…acquaintance of mine. I believe that’s a mistake.” In reality, Simon had connected the dots himself, from the first time they met at the ball and her fiery rant that ensued shortly after.

Lord Lyndon leaned back a little, raising a bushy eyebrow and awaiting elaboration.

“Pardon me for being blunt, but Lord Hackberry is a scoundrel. I have had the unfortunate prospect of being acquainted with the man during my early years of training. Training in fencing.”

Lord Lyndon hunched forward this time, removing his Pince-Nez. “Expand.”

“He was notorious back then for leading many women on, attempting to swindle them out of their inheritance. Fortunately, he was turned down at every opportunity, but with that, the matter was dropped entirely.”

Simon unraveled a roll of newspapers from inside his coat pocket, handing them over to Lord Lyndon, who took them in his hands and began to study them carefully. And then he continued, “Not only is he a man of ill-repute, I am almost certain he has coerced your niece into accepting the marriage. It is the only plausible explanation after what he did.” Simon was not entirely certain about that last claim, but when he had first met Eloise at the ball, she had stated her betrothed was seen kissing another lady. There was no way she would have willingly gone along with the marriage after that.

Lord Lyndon’s eyes flickered as he read through the papers, his grip tightening. Soon he thumped them down to his lap and looked back over to Simon. “And what precisely did he do?”

“Has Lady Eloise not told you?” Simon paused. “I apologize, but if she has not, I do not believe it is my right to share, even if it may help my cause.”

After another short silence, but what felt like forever, Lord Lyndon spoke once more. “And is that the only reason for your visit here today? To warn me of the upcoming betrothal of my niece—my daughter?”

Simon bit his tongue. He knew he had to lay all his cards on the table now or risk losing her forever. “My Lord, I know your family’s reputation is in danger if the marriage is called off, but you cannot allow her to throw away her life like this. I am no saint—you must have read many stories about me in the papers. But I’m willing to change. I will marry Lady Ellie. I have strong feelings for her. I do, I admit it now. And she will attest to the same.”

Lord Lyndon appeared slightly skeptical, narrowing his eyes, but after a short moment, widened them again. “Who is this Lady Ellie you speak of?”

Simon chuckled a little. A rare show of emotion beneath the dread he was feeling. “It’s a long story, actually.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

For the following hour, Simon relaxed his posture, lowered his voice and leveled his gaze. And he explained everything to Lord Lyndon. From the way they first met and interacted, to the moment he learned who she truly was and everything in between. Of course, he omitted some details of their more than sensual encounters. But he explained how she supported him despite his horrible nature and how slowly but surely, they fell for each other. It was hard to continue at times. When it was time to explain why and how he pushed her away, his body stiffened at the memory, and he had to urge himself to keep going. But Lord Lyndon remained calm, listening to every word without interruption.

“So you see, I must see her,” Simon finally concluded. “I wish to make things right and tell her how I feel. Please, My Lord, allow me to do just that.”

Lord Lyndon crossed his hands over his lap, inching his body forward. “Had you not personally come to me, I wouldn’t have believed you,” he continued. “She’s at the Bennet ball with Lord Hackberry. If you wish to see her, you need to be fast. Their betrothal is to be announced to the whole of the ton soon.”

Simon held his breath. “Thank you, My Lord.”

He stood up, ready to rush out, but Lord Lyndon called to him, staggering to his feet. “I’ll come with you,” he announced. “I need to have a talk with that rogue of a man myself.”

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