Page 105 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘The headaches have all but gone. A doctor in Florence tells me it is not my time to leave this earth just yet.’

‘That is a relief.’ Wetherby eyed him cautiously. ‘So you are back for good?’

For a long moment Simon didn’t answer. It was a question he had put off thinking about throughout his trip home. When it became apparent his headaches were abating, he had been left unsure what to do. The doctor in Florence had been clear he wasn’t giving Simon the reassurance that he wouldn’t one day succumb to the same condition that had killed his father and brother, just the likelihood that it wouldn’t be yet. For a few months after this news, Simon had stalled, trying to enjoy the solitude in his remote Tuscan villa, but all the while, home had been calling.

He had wanted to see his mother and sister-in-law, to receive the bear hugs he loved so much from his nieces and see how they had grown. He felt a deep unease at abandoning his responsibilities and the need to remove the burden he had placed on so many when he had left. More than all of that, to his surprise, was this burning desire to be home. Italy was beautiful and peaceful, but he felt the pull of the familiar.

Yet now he was back, he needed to decide what the future would look like. The likelihood that one day he would die suddenly and violently hadn’t changed, it was merely the time frame that had been altered in his mind. He still didn’t want anyone he loved to witness his death, and that would mean keeping his distance, yet his heart called for the opposite.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then there was the question of his wife. He pushed the thought aside. Lady Westcroft made an already complicated situation even more difficult to untangle.

‘At least for a while. I will head to Northumberland soon. I wanted to reacclimatise myself to life in England before heading back home, but I should see the family soon.’

‘I expect you wanted to see your wife too,’ Wetherby said, his eyes flicking up to examine Simon’s expression.

‘In truth I did not realise she was in London.’

‘She has been here for quite a time now. Lady Westcroft has made a significant impression on London society.’

Simon raised an eyebrow. It was clear what his friend said was true: his wife had a busy social calendar and chaired a benevolent society despite arriving in London a mere eight months earlier with no friends and no connections.

‘You have met her?’

‘Of course. I invited her to share my box at the opera just last week,’ Wetherby said as he leaned forward. ‘She is your countess, Westcroft, although I hasten to give her credit for the impression she has made. People gave her a chance because you married her, but she has grasped hold of that chance and charmed everyone at every opportunity.’

‘It does seem as though she has been busy.’ He thought back to the wide-eyed, uncertain girl he had met at the masquerade ball. No one could deny the change in his wife since then, and perhaps it was to be expected. He had left her to fend for herself, and she had thrived. He was pleased for her—the last thing he wanted was for her to be unhappy—but he felt a little uncomfortable too, although if he was asked to articulate why, he would have found it difficult.

‘You will take her back to Northumberland with you?’

‘I will ask, but I get the impression Lady Westcroft has a full social calendar these next few weeks.’

Wetherby laughed. ‘I expect she does. Her company is very much in demand.’

Simon felt a flicker of guilt. There was a lot to feel guilty about with respect to his wife. He’d married her and then abandoned her, and even though he had been completely honest with her before their marriage, he had known that she wouldn’t have quite understood the realities of the change in her circumstance. Now he had this horrible feeling that he had trapped her. The deal he had promised her was a short marriage to save her reputation, followed by the freedom of widowhood. She would be wealthy enough to make her own decisions and, after a short period of mourning, could either cultivate a life as a wealthy widow or start to look for a second husband, someone she could share a full and proper marriage with.

He swallowed hard, covering the movement by raising his glass to his lips. He had the sense that he had stolen her life away from her and as yet she wasn’t quite aware of it. If he lived for another forty years she would be trapped in this union, never experiencing a love match, never getting to have children of her own. It was not what he had promised her.

He took another gulp of his drink before setting the glass down on the table. Somehow they would find a way through this mess, but he had an overwhelming feeling that he had deceived Lady Westcroft. Never had he pressed her to marry him, only laid it out as an option, but he wasn’t sure she would have accepted if she had known it would mean being tied to him for an indeterminate amount of time, unable to move on with a life of her own.

‘How are you, Wetherby?’ Simon asked, wanting to change the subject, needing the distraction of talking about something else for a while.

‘I am well, thank you. I leave in a few weeks for a trip to Africa. I hear the earth is littered with diamonds in places, and I want to see for myself whether this is true.’

Simon grinned. His friend had always had difficulty staying in one place for too long, and every few years would announce a new voyage. Wetherby had shaken off the bad luck that had made him an easy victim during their schooldays and seemed to find success in each of his ventures. Even if the ground wasn’t littered with diamonds, no doubt there would be some opportunity his friend would spot and bend to his advantage.

‘I must leave you,’ Wetherby said, standing and clapping him on the shoulder. ‘We should talk properly, perhaps when you are back from Northumberland, but today I have a prior engagement with an architect.’ He leaned in closer. ‘The chap is a genius, and I’m trying to persuade him to take time away from his other projects to build me a nice little house in the Sussex countryside.’

‘I wish you luck,’ Simon said, rising and shaking Wetherby’s hand.

He was left alone with his thoughts, wondering how to make things right with Lady Westcroft, but aware that short of dying there was no way of delivering the life he had promised her.

Chapter Ten

Simon had risen early, keen to busy himself with some of the many things he had neglected in the time he had been away. He had spent much of the morning going over correspondence that had been kept for him whilst he was in Italy and then around lunchtime had met with his solicitor to discuss some minor legal issues that needed his input. Although he had not consciously sought to avoid Lady Westcroft, he was aware that he had organised his morning so their paths were unlikely to cross.

Now that he was walking home he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t that he disliked his wife—far from it. Despite hardly knowing her he felt certain she was good and kind, a sweet young woman who had thrived in difficult circumstances. In a way, that made what he was doing to her even worse. His return had once again thrown her life into turmoil.

Simon slowed as he approached the Serpentine. He had decided to take the longer route through the park back to his townhouse, enjoying the warmth of the early-summer afternoon and also feeling a need to delay his return when he might have to sit and have a serious discussion with his wife about their futures.