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Chapter 6
Richmond Castle, Sussex, December 1814
Simon rubbed his temples, hoping to alleviate the headache that was looming. His day had not started as expected. He awoke early, much earlier than his schedule anticipated, at precisely four o’clock in the morning, and while he foolishly expected Antonia to be waiting for him at the door, he was met with an eerie silence. All of the staff knew his schedule by heart, and they would accommodate his needs accordingly. So for hours, he was left aimless, allocating his time to his correspondence and other menial tasks instead.
It all began with an odd dream. Whereas usually he was tormented by nightmares, this time he was met with a masked woman, the very same from the masquerade ball. Her glossy lips felt soft against his own, and as he reached out to unlace her mask and unravel her identity, she disappeared, and he awoke. It was the first night in several months he felt well-rested in the morning, and if for that reason only, he had concluded, he needed to find out the masked woman’s identity.
And so, after a messy day, it was with great enthusiasm he took to the news of the postponement of the evening dinner. Lady Alexandra Lyndon had arrived eager. Eager to talk, eager to brag, and eager to push her daughters to flirt with him. He didn’t understand the reason, of course, as he had already made it adamantly clear he wouldn’t marry.
Focusing back to the Broadwood Grand pianoforte, he ran his fingers lightly over the keystrokes, continuing a soothing legato. It was all that could satisfy him today. Well, that, along with the expensive brandy burning his insides. A heavy knock on the door broke his concentration.
“Your Grace,” Richard, his valet, said.
“Enter.”
The door opened wider, inviting the man inside. Richard’s shadow drifted like a leaf on the back wall as the flame from the candle slowly died down. Simon removed some flint from the tinderbox, lighting it again.
“I do hope this is regarding the lady at the ball, all I require is the list of the attendees. Do you have that?”
“I do, Your Grace,” Richard said. “but there is another slightly more pressing matter at hand.”
Simon exhaled, letting his head fall back on the spine of his chair, waiting on him to elaborate.
“A young Lady…” he cleared his throat. “She just arrived at the Castle. It’s Lady Lyndon’s niece.”
“All right.” Simon shifted his body on the leather chair. “We can arrange a carriage to send her back.”
“But Your Grace...there is a blizzard.”
Simon turned to the nearby window, confirming Richard’s words. The storm had picked up, and he could barely make out the stableyard amid the thick hail. It was blinding, chilling, intimidating. Reminiscent of that final night with…Maddie.
He sighed, tossing a lick of brandy into the hearth to fire it up again. The last thing he needed was this. It wasn’t the young Lady’s fault, of course. She was as inconvenienced as he was, but he felt as though any hope for salvaging the day was far gone.
“I see,” Simon paused. “I suppose we can’t send her away, then. Would you be so kind as to ask Antonia to prepare a guest room for her? Make sure she’s well-taken care of.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
After a small pause, Simon spoke again, “And could you hand me over that list. Are you certain our mystery woman will be on it?”
“She should be, Your Grace. She was one of the attendees at an invitation-only ball, so it is the only plausible explanation.” Richard moved closer, handing the list to Simon, who placed it against the lid of the pianoforte, scanning it with his utmost attention.
Richard excused himself, exiting the room and leaving Simon alone. Gulping down another glass of brandy, he allowed himself to think positively for the first time today—perhaps if he found the mystery woman, all wouldn’t be damned.
As for his temporary guest, well, as long as they stayed out of each other’s way, which wouldn’t be difficult in such a large Castle, it wouldn’t be a problem.
