Page 139 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Simon frowned, looking hard at the man before shaking his head. ‘It sounds like I should know him, but I do not recognise him.’

‘He’s coming over. Perhaps he will introduce himself to me.’

The man approached quickly, and then when he was five feet away he stood stock-still and looked at Simon strangely.

‘My apologies, sir. I thought you were someone else.’

‘We do not know each other?’ Simon asked.

‘No. I thought you were the Earl of Northumberland, an old friend of mine.’

‘I am the earl,’ Simon said, his voice dropping low.

‘The Earl of Northumberland?’

‘Yes. You must have known my father or my brother.’

‘I knew Robert,’ the man said, looking a little uncomfortable.

‘My brother. He died a few years ago.’

‘My deepest condolences. I apologise profusely for the misunderstanding. I have been out of the country some time, and I had not heard about your brother’s death. You are very much like him in looks and countenance.’

Alice sucked in a sharp breath as she felt Simon sway almost imperceptibly beside her. She wanted to pull Simon away, to stop him from hearing the man’s words. She knew he found it difficult to hear how similar he was to Robert. It brought to the fore the feelings that he had stepped into his brother’s life, replacing him in every way.

‘It is an easy mistake to make,’ Simon said, nodding to the man before turning away.

‘We can return home,’ Alice suggested as they began to put space between them and the man.

‘There is no need. I am perfectly fine.’

‘It was an unsettling encounter. It is not weakness to admit you are a little upset.’

‘I am not upset, I am not unsettled. I told you I am fine.’

Alice fell silent. Her husband was far from fine, no matter what he told her. He started walking a little quicker now, his head bent and his eyes darting from side to side. At first Alice tried to keep up, but as they walked faster the movement pulled at her scar, and after a couple of minutes she slipped her arm from his and stopped. Simon did not notice, at least not for a good few seconds, and when he did finally look up and around, it was with an air of barely suppressed irritation.

When he spotted her, he returned quickly.

‘I think I want to return home,’ she said, looking back over her shoulder at the way they had come.

‘Of course.’ He offered her his arm, but Alice waved it away, plastering a wide smile on her face. ‘I am fine, Simon. I will walk home by myself. I am sure you have other things to do.’

For a moment she thought he would brush off her suggestion and escort her home, and they would return to their normal routine of the last few weeks, but instead he nodded, turning absently away from her.

Alice felt her heart squeeze and then shatter. Everything had been going so well, and then with one reminder of the brother whose place he had taken, Simon had completely regressed. Of course she did not mind if he showed emotion, if he leaned in and told her how difficult it was when he was mistaken for the brother he had loved so much: they could have shared that sadness. But instead he had blocked her out completely.

Quickly she turned, walking away before Simon could see how distressed she was.

The footman opened the door, surprise on his face that she had returned alone. Alice hurried in and struggled up the stairs to her room, forcing herself to remain calm. Simon had been upset, that was all, and she did not begrudge him some space to work through the emotions he felt at being mistaken for his brother. She would rather he talked to her about it, but she could not force that.

‘Be calm,’ she told herself, resisting the urge to pace over to the window and see if Simon had changed his mind and was returning.

For hours Simon walked, without sparing a thought for where he would end up or what direction he was travelling in. He thought he knew London well, but the streets passed in a blur, with the buildings getting smaller and closer together as he moved farther away from the centre of London to the poorer outskirts. At some point early on he must have crossed over the river, for when he stopped walking hours later he was well south of the Thames, but he did not have any recollection of doing so.

It was the fading light and lengthening shadows that brought him back to his senses. For a long time he had walked, head bent, trying to gain control of all the awful thoughts running through his mind, but he felt completely overwhelmed.

He took a moment to look around him, feeling as though he had just come out of a trance. He was out of the city proper, the roads widening and only a few scattered houses on either side. Vaguely he recalled travelling by this road on a few occasions: it was one of the few that led out of London to the south, the route travellers to Sussex would take to start their journey to the coast.