“I never said I was in love,” Anne protested, though it was useless to deny it to herself. She had most definitely succumbed to Simon’s charms.
“It’s in your eyes, Anne, and in the chances you have taken, and your laughter! It’s lovely to hear you laugh again. I was worried after Ian that you would never open your heart to another. I’m certain His Grace has an explanation about Ian, simply ask him.”
“I feel certain now, too,” Anne replied. Actually, she felt as if a boulder had been lifted off her chest. It felt wonderful to give over her complete trust to him. Tomorrow, when she could see him, could not come soon enough.
Later that afternoon, after Simon had taken his sisters home and learned from Perceval that Anne had been there, he sat in Rutledge’s study facing the man. He was smiling and looking rather like a well-fed cat. “Lady Fanny said all of that? Truly?”
Simon nodded, repressing the urge to chuckle.
“I have always thought her lovely,” Rutledge said, “but honestly, I never considered that I would be in a position to court her. But now…”
“Now ye are,” Simon supplied for his friend. “And if ye find that ye suit…well, it will save the lady andyemay well end up with a wonderful wife. She seems bright and kindhearted, despite the mess she finds herself embroiled in.”
“Do you mind,” Rutledge said, standing, “if I beg off the rest of this conversation and go call on Lady Fanny?”
Simon did smile then. “I would be disappointed if ye did not,” he assured his friend and rose, as well. “I’ll see ye at the ball tomorrow night?”
Rutledge nodded. “Perhaps you will see me dancing with Lady Fanny,” he said with a smile.
Simon made his way home, though he really wished to go to see Anne. He knew at the moment it was impossible. Tomorrow night he would tell her how he intended to drive Frazier out of business, and then, perhaps, she would finally give her trust to him.
He had never wanted something so much. Not revenge. Not success. Just Anne, with her wit and her kindness, and he realized with a bark of laughter that she had awoken much more than lust in him. He wanted Anne to be his.
Fourteen
“Simon!” Elizabeth wailed, bursting into his study late the next afternoon.
He glanced up from his work to find Elizabeth waving a paper above her head. She had a look of despair on her face, and Caitlin was right beside her with a scowl.
“I take it something is distressing ye,” he said to Elizabeth, who tended toward the dramatic.
Elizabeth’s answer was to plunk the paper she had been waving down in front of him. “This!” she cried out. “Just look at what has been written in the gossip column about ye and Lord Rutledge!”
Unease filled him as he picked up the paper, and it quickly turned to anger and confusion as he read. The column was a diatribe against him and Rutledge. It painted them both as unscrupulous, blackhearted rakes, and it was signed the Sisterhood for the Ruination of Rogues. A group that he knew Anne belonged to. Simon set the paper down as his thoughts turned. Who would have written this?
“Do ye think Lady Fanny wrote this?” Elizabeth asked. “She seemed so nice!”
Simon shook his head. “No.” He was confident in the shy woman’s distress, plus writing such a column only served to stir the gossip surrounding her. He could not believe Anne would write such a thing, either, yet if she had been manipulating him to ruin him all along, as was the Sisterhood’s purpose…
No, it would hurt Lady Fanny, as well as his sisters. He refused to believe Anne capable of such cruelty. But Lady Mary… He clenched his teeth on the curses he wanted to spew.
“Perhaps we should not attend the ball,” Caitlin said.
“No,” he immediately replied. “We will attend with our heads held high. I will sort this out, I promise ye.”
“Oh, Simon! Do ye think Anne will believe the things written here?”
He himself was unsure what to believe, and he certainly could not speak for Anne. All he could do was shrug helplessly.
After allowing his sisters to scamper off in the company of the Duchess of Scarsdale, Simon stood, searching the crowded ballroom for Anne. As he weaved through the press of bodies, he had to pause to speak to each person who wanted to make his acquaintance. Normally, he would not have bothered to be so polite, especially when all he really wished to do was locate Anne, but given the gossip column and his sisters needing to make good matches, he talked briefly to each lord and lady who stopped him.
It boggled his mind how many there were. He knew they all had to have read the newspaper, but it was Anne who had told him that thetonwould look past her transgressions because of her large dowry. Apparently, they would ignore accusations of his being akin to the Devil, too, because of his duchy. It filled him with the same wariness he had felt toward women for so long, but this was now toward members of the English aristocracy in general. But Anne was different. He was certain of it.
He swept his gaze across the ballroom once more and finally he saw her. She stood with her sister under a large chandelier looking dazzling in the same scandalous gold gown he had seen her in the other day. Their eyes locked, and a tentative smile came to her lips. Had she been searching for him, too? She said something to her sister, whose shrewd gaze locked on him, but the woman turned to Anne and nodded. Anne chuckled, never taking her eyes from him, inclined her head, and discreetly pointed toward a corridor to her right.
Hope rushed through his veins, propelling him quickly through the crush but not so fast that his flight would be noticed. He did not want anyone to see him following Anne. The last thing he wanted was to bring a shadow to her reputation.
Once he entered the corridor, he realized it was a portrait gallery. At the end of the gallery, a light shone from a room. He followed the light and stilled on the threshold of the room at the sight of Anne, waiting for him, her head cocked and fingers interlaced in front of her. There was a single portrait in the room, and it was of the Duchess of Aversley. The woman was stunning.
