“He’s a dead man,” St. Aldwyn growled, rage in the edge of his voice. “Will you confront her with your suspicions?”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “She will shut me out and I will have no chance to pierce her reservations.”
She may even disappear, scatter into the wind, just as her brothers had years before. He’d never see her again. So fine, he might be a tad overly dramatic in the direction of thoughts, but when it came to her, he’d rather overthink than overlook something of importance.
“Should I have a word with my wife? She may shed some light on your suspicion.”
“Not necessary, I will manage on my own. I’d rather not take the chance of losing her.”
“Well, no matter what you do, at least you’ll not make more of a mess than Grey did with your sister.”
Laughter rumbled in Simon’s chest. “Perhaps it cannot hurt to receive advice from an expert.”
“Expert, my ass.”
Be as it may, Simon now had some notion to what his friend must have felt when Evelyn declined his offer of marriage and resisted his relentless pursuit.
“When did women become so damn independent?” he muttered under his breath.
“Around the same time we allowed them to wrap us around their dainty little fingers, would be my guess.”
“So I should continue to grovel and beg?” Simon muttered, not at all appalled at the prospect.
St. Aldwyn snorted. “The most dangerous tool in the world is the one women use to seduce men, my friend. Unfortunately for mankind, they are discovering how to wield that weapon to their advantage.”
“I do not know if I can watch her be happy while I’m miserable.”
“So make her miserable.”
“That would hardly be gentlemanly.”
“No, but it will make you feel better about being miserable.”
“You are an evil man,” Simon muttered, but the notion did hold a measure of intrigue.
“No more evil than women who knowingly wield their charms to their advantage.”
Simon took a sip of his tea. He wished only for Belle to be happy. Even though the prospect of her being happy without him made his chest burn. “I daresay I could never be the cause of her unhappiness.”
“You’re as soft as a baby’s hide,” St. Aldwyn mused. “Why not inform her brothers of your indiscretions?”
Simon groaned. “The youngest already suspects. It’s Bradford I’m concerned about.”
St. Aldwyn snorted. “Why? He might demand her to marry you when he learns the truth. You’d finally have her.”
Yes, but not out of her free will.
Dammit. From the beginning, he hadn’t been imagining her breath quicken whenever he was in her presence. The way she’d steal glances at him when she believed him unobservant had been real. Even before he made his terrible blunder in the gardens, he hadn’t imagined her response to his touch. Now, after this morning, he corrected her initial mundane impression of their physical capability. But how else beyond the bedchamber could he convince her of their match? Why did she so stubbornly refuse to marry him?
“Blast it, perhaps I did drown and I’ve gone to hell.”
“If you’re in hell, the devil is a woman—a terrifying prospect. A man can be reasoned with.”
“I’ve never had trouble courting a woman before.”
“You’ve never courted a woman before,” St. Aldwyn drawled. “You’ve seduced, there is a difference.”
“Well aren’t you a bloody fountain of wisdom.”
