Page 128 of A Portrait of Love

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Simon was pleased to find Honey in the breakfast room when he came in from his ride.

“Good morning,” he said, unable to look at her without thinking about last night.

She must have guessed what he was thinking because her face flushed a fiery red.

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her, aiming for her mouth but getting her cheek when she moved away—no doubt horrified by all his dirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I must smell like horse. Shall I go change?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m nearly done.” Her smile was cool and polite.

Simon glanced down at her plate; it was three-quarters full.

“You’ve hardly eaten. Do you not feel well?”

“I am fine,” she said, so frosty he was surprised there were not icicles on her tongue.

Simon dropped into the chair beside her. When she began to rise, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

She turned on him. “Don’t think you can just manhandle me whenever you like.” Her eyes glittered coldly.

Simon tightened his grip when she tried to yank away. “You will sit here and tell me what is amiss,” he said, more than a bit irked. “I thought we’d settled our misunderstanding last night. What have I done to displease you?” The now at the end of his sentence was unspoken, but hung in the air between them, all the same.

She jerked hard and he released her arm before she hurt herself.

“I woke up this morning to the sight of you riding with Lady MacLeish.”

He blinked. “So?”

She sneered. “Last night you claimed to have no interest in her—yet now you are riding with her? So that all and sundry might see the two of you together?”

Simon gave a perplexed laugh. “But we are neighbors—we shall have to socialize with Bella and her family for the rest of our lives. I would far rather be on easy terms with them.” He paused and frowned. “Especially as Wyndham has treated them all so shabbily.”

“So that means riding with her? Even when I am not welcome to come?”

She bit her lip and Simon saw regret and mortification flood her lovely face.

“That is hardly fair, Honey. I’ve asked you repeatedly to join me on my morning rides but you never wish to come.”

Her jaw moved from side to side, but she didn’t speak.

“As for riding with Bella, you were there in the sitting room yesterday—didn’t you hear what we talked about? Our arrangement?”

“What arrangement?”

“That Bella would ride some of my hunters.”

The way her eyes widened told him that she had not been listening.

“She’s a bruising rider and her father, Sir Charles, has no money to keep hunters for her,” he explained.

“So you’re going to furnish her with horses?” she asked in disbelief.

He took a deep breath and told himself to be patient. “Have you ever heard of rough riders?”

She crossed her arms. “No.”