Simon dismounted and came around to assist her. Regardless of his rigid nature, Petra had to admit Simon cut an impressive figure. The dark blue of his coat paired with light tan riding breeches tucked into polished black boots set off his athletic build and gave him an air of command. The breeze ruffled his hair and his cheeks were reddened from the slight chill in the early morning air. Who could blame Petra for swooning a bit when he decided to court her? Or for overlooking certain flaws in his character?
A pair of sapphire blue eyes and an unruly mop of black hair invaded her thoughts.
“Stop it,” she whispered under her breath.
Simon looked up at her in question, and Petra shook her head. “The horse was twitching.”
He helped her down, his hands firm about her waist and lingering not one moment longer than necessary. Intentionally she allowed herself to brush against him hoping for some type of reaction.
Simon stepped back immediately with a murmured apology.
Petra was only mildly surprised. Looking back, she realized Simon had never touched her with anything remotely resembling passion. Not so much as an improper touch of his hand.
“Thank you, my lord.” Petra tried to imitate Katherine’s seductive drawl. Moving closer, she allowed her skirts to wind around his legs in a deliberate manner.
Simon didn’t move away, but neither did he give any indication of interest in her actions. There was no flicker of desire in his eyes, nor did his body coil around hers as Morwick’s had. If Simon possessed any passion at all for her, it was buried so deep she couldn’t see it.
Because it doesn’t exist. I’ve mistaken his lack of desire for me as respect.
To be fair, she felt nothing either. No tingling of awareness or hint of a racing pulse. The breathless intoxication that was ever present with Morwick was sadly lacking when she interacted with Simon.
Petra turned and looked out across the vastness of the moors, watching the rows of heather wave back and forth in the breeze. The air smelled clean with just a hint of earthy undertone and the faint scent of pine. She inhaled deeply as she took in the glory of White Peak laid out before her and thought of Morwick.
Simon’s property, situated as it was in the region of the White Peak, was actually closer to the lower moors and blocks of limestone which made up this part of the district. The moors gave way to gently rolling pastures and farms. She could see a dozen or so sheep from where she stood, looking like tiny swatches of cotton moving about a pasture. A cottage stood nearby with a roll of smoke curling out of the chimney. She wondered at the inhabitants of the cottage. A young man and his wife? Perhaps children?
“It’s so beautiful here,” Petra said, meaning every word as she glanced at the cottage, her heart full of longing for something she couldn’t quite put a name to. The scene before her was so peaceful and…real. There was no artifice in the sheep below, nor in the carefully tended garden behind the back of the cottage. “You must find it difficult to return to London after a visit here. The city must feel stifling.”
“Not at all.” Simon was looking down at the cottage, a mild look of contempt on his face. “This is only a tiny slice of the world. My tenants have been content to farm the same land as their father’s for a century and will likely continue to do so for another hundred years. This is my home, of course, but I’ve never been so enamored of the area as some people I know.”
“You’re speaking of Lord Morwick,” Petra guessed, then added quickly, “Your sister. She told me the three of you grew up together roaming the moors, along with Baron Kelso.”
A breeze blew Simon’s hair against his temples, momentarily obscuring the frown wrinkling his brow. “We did, though Morwick possessed a wildness I did not aspire to. After a time I found his rebellious nature tiring. Kelso is a bit more of a gentleman, I grant you, but he is no less wild. At least Kelso wasn’t running out to dance with the Gypsies who camped in the moors.”
So Morwickhadrun with Gypsies. Petra thought of the ridiculous rumor that he’d actually been fathered by a Gypsy, recalling the story Lady Pendleton related to Mother their first night at Brushbriar. She’d no doubt the source of those rumors.
“Morwick and Katherine were always together; as they became older, their relationship bordered on impropriety. Once, I had to retrieve my sister from the Gypsy camp where Morwick had taken her.” He turned to Petra, a hard look on his face. “They were dancing before the fire. My sister looked like a common harlot. Because ofMorwick. Thankfully, Whitfield appeared a few months later and whisked Katherine off to London before my sister could create any more scandal.”
No wonder Simon disliked Morwick. Simon, with all of his fear of scandal and upstanding morals, had been worried his sister would be dishonored. Petra inhaled sharply, ignoring the slight pinch in her chest at thinking of the voluptuous Katherine, arms entwined around Morwick’s neck as they danced in the firelight of the gypsy camp.
“While at Oxford,” Simon continued, not noticing her silence, “I rarely came home. I preferred to spend my free time either in London or as a guest at some of my friends’ estates. Once I was finished with school, the first thing I did was leave Brushbriar and open up our house in town. When my father passed away and I took his seat, I found my calling. The moment I walked into Parliament for the first time I felt…” Simon looked out over the moors.
She’d wanted passion from Simon; unfortunately, the deep longing and desire on his face wasn’t for her, but for Parliament. “I hadn’t realized you and Lord Morwick attended Oxford at the same time.” Petra liked the way the long grass brushed her skirts as she walked.
“Yes, until he was expelled for brawling.” Simon’s lips ticked up. “Unfortunate.”
Smug.Petra wondered if Morwick’s expulsion from Oxford had had anything to do with Simon and thought it probably had.
“I hired an excellent manager.” Simon snapped his crop against his leg as they walked. “He runs the mines with no trouble. I’ve spent little time here since, other than to visit my mother who rarely comes to London. I’ve a highly competent secretary and a solicitor who look after the affairs of Brushbriar and my other estates with precision. I studied law at Oxford for a few years, before my father died and I’ve found it an excellent basis for my work in Parliament.”
It was hard to argue with a man’s purpose. “Your political career means everything to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” He gave her a solemn look. “It’s of the utmost importance. I daresay it will be the most important thing I can do with my life. The reforms I’m trying to enact will impact the lives of thousands of people. The bill I’m currently in the process of drafting has to do with the way in which financial institutions deal with the lower classes.” He waved his hand. “It’s complicated to say the least and the concepts difficult to grasp.”
Petra kept her features calm and placid, like the sheep in the pasture below. It would be futile to acknowledge Simon’s insult to her intelligence, for he didn’t see it as such. Any woman, in Simon’s world, wouldn’t be considered capable of understanding such difficult concepts. It wasn’t personal nor especially directed at her. It stung all the same.
“As my wife, you’ll be expected to preside over political gatherings and dinners. I’ll expect you to stay informed on current events, though you’ll rarely need to speak on them.” He gave her a reassuring nod.
“What a relief.” The breeze blew through her hair, and more of the pins pulled loose, falling to the ground. She didn’t bend to pick them up. Simon’s opinions were not unusual; most gentleman considered women less intelligent than themselves.
