A dread filled Simon’s stomach. “And what was that?”
“You can stop pretending,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “In fact, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you were to ask for my hand right here in this very spot where you rescued me?”
Simon swallowed. A month ago, this would have seemed like good fortune. Miss Waterford and her family’s fortune were the answer to all his problems.
After all, he’d never expected to marry for love. Marriage, he knew, was a transaction. A chance to increase one’s wealth, power, and prosperity. A way to continue the line and the title with heirs. It was a rational decision, not an emotional one. Yet…
“I’m afraid I cannot stay,” Simon said. “I didn’t get your message and only came to visit my family’s crypt. It’s a mere coincidence I saw you here.”
“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” Lady Waterford said as she stepped forward, “only what is meant to be.”
Simon nodded in greeting to Lady Waterford and said, “Unfortunately, I have a pressing matter to attend to and must take my leave now.”
“This is not a problem, my lord.” Mr. Bonetti eyed him up and down again. “I have your likeness locked in my memory.”
“Indeed,” Simon said coldly. He disliked the artist’s invasive way of looking at him, and he had not asked for his likeness to be committed to his memory. Then he bowed to the ladies, turned, and strode in the opposite direction.
“Lord Rodwell.” Simon heard Lady Waterford coming up behind him and turned.
The lady took a moment to catch her breath before saying, “As I’m sure you are aware, my daughter has an enormous dowry—enough to save your estate.”
“Excuse me?” Simon could not keep the annoyance out of his voice.
“Your father was a well-known gambler, Lord Rodwell. You owe people money. Nonetheless, you are an earl, and you come from a prestigious family. One that dates back centuries.”
“I’m aware of my family’s history,” Simon said tightly.
“Then you understand what a shame it would be should you lose your family’s estate in Kent, which was a gift to your ancestors from Henry V, I believe. I am certain you don’t want that stain on your conscience. Unless you are more like your father than society thinks.”
“That won’t happen,” Simon said through gritted teeth. “I am nothing like my father.”
“Excellent, then we are in agreement.” She smiled. “Good day, my lord.”
“Good day,” Simon said. He turned and hurried back to his carriage, cursing his decision to return to Highgate Cemetery.
Chapter Five
Grosvenor Square, Mayfair
December 31, 1857
Lady Cheshire arrivedat Simon’s residence swathed in a luxurious forest green velvet cloak. She handed her white fur hand muff to his butler and shrugged off the garment, revealing a matching forest green gown underneath, the skirt of which was so wide that Simon wondered how she had fit through the doorway.
“Aunt,” he said, striding forward to greet her. “I’m surprised to see you. Why aren’t you getting ready for your party tonight?”
“I am, but I wanted to make certain you had not forgotten about it.” She untied the silk strings to her large bonnet, removed the headpiece, and handed it to Simon’s butler.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Simon said, taking his aunt’s arm and leading her to the drawing room.
Minutes later, they were seated in front of the fire, sipping tea, when Simon’s valet, James, entered carrying a large, rectangular parcel wrapped in brown cloth.
“What is that?” Simon asked, getting to his feet.
“A gift for you, my lord, delivered by Lady Waterford’s footman.”
“Lady Waterford”—Lady Cheshire stood up, and strode forward—“how marvelous! Do open it!”
Simon hesitated. He had been avoiding Miss Waterford since their bizarre encounter at the cemetery. But there’d be no avoiding her tonight at his aunt’s New Year’s Eve ball, and it seemed Lady Waterford knew as much.
