All three of them chuckled at that, but when Anne finally sobered, she asked, “Why does Simon keep Perceval on when he so obviously lacks, er, the usually wanted qualifications in a butler?”
The sisters exchanged a knowing look. “Perceval was our father’s personal valet before he left. He is like a connection to our father. Sometimes, when his memory is working well, Perceval will tell us stories of what Father was like as a young lad.”
Anne frowned. “Your grandfather retained him after your father left?”
Both sisters nodded. “Odd, isn’t it? Grandfather wanted nothing to do with Father. He cut all ties. He never asked or tried to meet any of us, and when Simon came to him for aid, our grandfather turned him away based on untruths,” Caitlin said, giving Anne a pointed look. “Yet, Grandfather kept Perceval employed when surely his mind must have been slipping before Grandfather died. It almost makes one think Grandfather actually had a sliver of goodness in him.”
Anne nodded. “Yes, it does.” And it made something click in her head. Her own grandfather had seemed as if he had guilt that weighed on him in regard to the old Duke of Rowan. She would have to question him more. “Shall we depart?” she asked.
Both women nodded, and shortly after, they were rumbling down the road in one of Simon’s carriages toward Jemma’s country home.
Eleven
“Your Grace,” Mr. Davis, Simon’s solicitor, said, surprise flashing across his face as the dark-haired, thin man scrambled from his desk chair to stand. “Did we have an appointment today?”
“No,” Simon replied, taking the seat opposite Davis’s cluttered desk. “We did not. I’m sorry to drop in to yer office unannounced—”
Mr. Davis waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it,” he said pleasantly. “I’m the only one in the office today. Merely catching up on paperwork.”
“Aye,” Simon nodded. “I noted yer clerk is not here.”
Mr. Davis smiled as he pushed his spectacles up the long bridge of his bony nose. “How might I be of assistance?”
Simon took a deep breath, quickly thinking over the decision he had come to after Anne had told him of Ian Frazier and how the man had tricked her into thinking he loved her and wanted to marry her when all he had truly wanted was her fortune. Rage on Anne’s behalf still curdled in Simon’s gut. Simon leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m going to take over a company, and ye are going to help me do it.”
“Of course,” Mr. Davis immediately agreed. “Whose company do you wish to purchase?”
“A Mr. Ian Frazier. But first, I wish to bring the company almost to the brink of ruin. Then I will purchase it for a fraction of what it is now worth.”
Mr. Davis grinned, showing he was far more hard-edged than his unassuming appearance would make one think. Simon had known this, of course, which was precisely why he had chosen Mr. Davis to be his solicitor.
The man smiled. “Tell me exactly what part you wish me to play.”
Not an hour after leaving Mr. Davis’s office and seeing the cobbler, Simon found himself at the home of Anne’s sister and brother-in-law. Simon had rushed back to his house, aware of how late he was to meet Anne, only to discover that she and both his sisters had left to call on Lady Harthorne.
Simon was eager to see Anne, so he stood shifting from foot to foot at the bottom of the winding staircase with a very evasive Harthorne. Simon had liked the man immediately upon meeting him. At least until the earl had refused to tell Simon what the ladies were up to. He’d simply directed Simon to the bottom of the stairs where he said he’d dutifully been standing for the last hour.
“Have they come down in the time ye have been standing here?” Simon asked.
Harthorne grinned. “Oh yes. Many times.”
“What the devil are they doing?”
“Being women,” Harthorne said with a chuckle. Suddenly the sound of feminine laughter echoed off the walls and seemed to float down the staircase. “Here they come,” he said. “And for God’s sake, tell them all they look stunning so that this can be finished.”
Before Simon could question the man, Elizabeth came sashaying down the stairs in a green gown he had never seen his sister wear before. She grinned at him and dipped into a deep curtsy. “Do I look like a proper English lady?” she asked, her Scottish accent giving away the fact that she most assuredly was not English.
“Ye do,” he assured her. “Ye look stunning.”
“Good man,” Harthorne leaned over to whisper.
Next was Caitlin, who looked equally as lovely in a gown a deep shade of blue.
Then came Harthorne’s wife in a sparkling gown of silver. Harthorne nudged Simon. “Is my wife not the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?”
Simon opened his mouth to agree that Lady Harthorne was lovely, but at that moment, Anne appeared at the top of the stairs in a daring gown of gold that plunged scandalously low and made Simon’s blood thicken.
“She looks better in my gown than I do,” Lady Harthorne said with a chuckle.
