Page 137 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘I do not know exactly what I feel for her,’ Simon said, acknowledging how difficult this was for him. He had enjoyed the time spent in Alice’s company, but with it had come guilt. Guilt that he was happy, living his life, whilst Robert was long gone.

‘Perhaps you don’t need to know. Perhaps it is enough to realise you make one another happier together than you are apart.’

Simon looked down at the reins in his hands, glad that there was the distraction of riding that meant he did not have to look Maria directly in the eye as they spoke.

‘I cannot just banish what I feel about Robert,’ he said eventually.

‘I know. I doubt it will ever leave you completely, Simon, but you knew Robert better than anyone else. He loved you so much, and he wanted you to be happy. That would never have changed, and I know if he is looking down on us now he will be shouting for you to stop being so pigheaded and stubborn, to stop using his death as an excuse not to live your own life.’

‘He was the best of brothers.’

‘He was, and we were lucky enough to have time with him in this world.’ Maria reached across the gap between them and grasped his wrist, waiting until he looked at her to continue. ‘Honour his memory in the way he would have wanted it. Live your life as he would, being fair and kind and conscientious. Love with all your heart. That is a greater tribute to Robert than hiding away and never allowing yourself any happiness.’

For a long time they rode in silence, Maria content to sit quietly in her saddle to give Simon the space to think on what she had said. He knew in many ways Maria was right. Robert had only ever been thoughtful and generous; he would not begrudge Simon any happiness. The feeling of guilt—that he was stealing the life Robert should have had—had come directly from himself. It was a conviction that was difficult to shake.

Yet here he was considering an alternative. As they rode through the park Simon allowed himself to imagine what his life could be. Waking up to the woman he loved, taking long, leisurely strolls whilst they discussed anything from their families to what the latest law to pass in Parliament meant for the wider country. Then home to tumble into bed together. It was an enthralling glimpse into what the future could be.

‘Lord Lathum and his wife have just had a baby,’ Maria said suddenly.

Simon was pulled back to the present and looked at his sister-in-law in confusion. He barely knew Lord and Lady Lathum.

‘I am pleased for them.’

‘They are healthy. She is not yet eighteen, chosen for her childbearing potential and sizeable dowry, I am told,’ Maria said, turning her horse around so they could start the walk back to the house. ‘He is your age, certainly no older. There have been no problems in the family previously, but their child has been born with an unnaturally large head and an extra finger on his left hand.’

Simon blinked, wondering what point she was trying to make.

‘You have lost me, Maria,’ he said eventually.

‘Let me speak plainly.’

‘Please do,’ he murmured.

Maria pressed on, ignoring him. ‘I am hopeful that in the course of the next few weeks you will see the only sensible thing to do is to commit to a full and happy marriage with the sweet young woman you decided to marry last year. You will be blissfully happy, but for your wife at least there will be one thing missing from your union.’

‘Children,’ he said, his face darkening. He knew how much Alice loved children. She spoke of their nieces with such affection, and every time they passed a young child with their nanny or nursemaid in the street, her eyes lit up. She had a patient and caring nature, and instinctively Simon knew his wife would make a wonderful mother.

‘Yes, children. Alice has never come out and said she wishes a house filled to the brim with children, but I can see it in her eyes.’

‘That is one thing I will not be persuaded to change my mind on.’

‘Lord and Lady Lathum should have had a healthy child. The odds were in their favour, yet they are devastated their firstborn son has not been born healthy.’

‘I do not get your point, Maria,’ Simon snapped.

Luckily Maria did not offend easily, and she ignored his abrupt tone.

‘None of us know what the future may hold.’

‘That is exactly what Alice says.’

‘You may drop dead tomorrow or you might live until you are a crotchety old man of ninety. Take Alice as a wonderful example. She is young and healthy, but if that knife had been thrust in with a fraction more force or an inch higher, it would have hit her liver, and Alice would have bled out on the streets of St Giles.’

Simon grimaced.

‘I have said enough,’ Maria said and nodded in grim satisfaction. ‘I know you do not wish to discuss it with me, but I owe it to Alice to at least try. I love her like a sister, and I would hate for her to find happiness with you only to realise that very happiness was stopping her from having the family she dreamed of.’

‘It isn’t as if she can choose not to be married to me. She cannot suddenly decide to go and make a future with another man, a man who does wish to have children.’