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Clearing her throat, Eloise looked down at her dress, straightening out some invisible creases. She felt slightly uncomfortable with the way he phrased things; she, out of all people, was judging a man like him based on the words of some newspaper. The very same she who had vowed to never lend any credence to the despicable chatterings of the ton.
“So they are lies, you say?”
“They aren’t.” He chuckled, and she returned a look of disdain as he lifted an index finger. “But—they are also not accurate; they like to embellish details, make a person seem better or worse than they really are. Not that you out of all people would understand.”
She bit her lip at his remark. She understood exactly what he meant. But she couldn’t reveal it without stirring up a hornet’s nest of inquiries that would soon follow if she did. “I believe that doesn’t answer my question. How many wagers such as this one have you made over a woman’s heart?”
“None,” he said, taking yet another sip.
She backed away slightly, expecting the answer to be close to a hundred, really, if that was even possible. Why would he choose to engage in a cat and mouse chase with her of all people? It would be flattering if she didn’t feel suspicious of his intentions.
“How could that possibly be true? Out of your hundreds and hundreds of… partners, you’ve never actually—”
“I’m not usually the one doing the chasing. So no, I haven’t placed a wager of this manner before—you’re the first to hold that honor,” he paused, “I believe it’s my turn for a question.”
She fidgeted with the fabric of her long gown, expecting something personal or offensive, but nothing he could say would surprise her. She was growing used to his controversial ways.
“Would you be as kind as to offer me a kiss?” he finally asked.
Sighing, she rolled her eyes in frustration. “That is not a question, Simon.”
“It has the grammatical characteristics of a question, Ellie, so I believe it classifies as such. Now, onto your answer.” The corner of his lip curled up, and she wanted to punch the smirk off his face.
“Whyever would I say yes to that? Wouldn’t I be falling right into your trap, and wouldn’t it defeat the purpose of our wager?” she asked.
“Should I take that as a yes?” He shuffled closer to her, their legs lightly brushing. “Surely you don’t believe a mere, innocent kiss would be enough for me to win this wager—make you swoon?”
“Of course not.”
“So why resist?”
His body inched closer, his breath caressing the nook of her neck, sending shivers up her spine. But the moment he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, she fell paralyzed, stiffening up.
He was focused on staring between her eyes and down to her lips, as if he was expecting her to make a move and permit this. And to her surprise, a deep familiarity took over, calling out to her. As all of her senses succumbed to a senseless yearning, she found herself inching closer, inviting his soft lips to her own. And just when they were about to touch…
“Your Grace!” a gruff voice yelled out from right outside the room. Eloise quickly pulled away before they were seen, and it left her feeling breathless as she shivered from the almost act.
“Enter,” Simon said to whoever it was. He then guided his gaze to a stifled Eloise, who was still holding her breath, “so…midnight?” he whispered.
An old man entered the room, worried and nervous, just as Eloise stood up to leave. She paced to the door, opening it and exiting, but not before hearing the ringing of a shout, guiding her to believe that something had gone terribly wrong, though Simon’s calm voice led her to believe otherwise.
She scolded herself for what she had almost done.
I must be losing my mind…
“Calm, Richard. Now tell me, what precisely happened?” Simon asked.
“Your Grace—,” Richard’s words came out as a splutter, the man was evidently out of breath, “the stables—their roofing sheets, they’re taking the brunt of the snowstorm, we must fortify the building before it falls into a state of disrepair!”
Simon galloped to a nearby window, setting himself against the perch to see for himself if it was indeed the case. But all he was met with was a flurry of haze and spatters of snow mist, preventing him from seeing more than a few yards ahead. “Blast this storm, man! Is Walter back inside? And the horses, how are they faring?”
A familiar voice spoke from just outside the corridor, followed by squeaking floorboards. “Walter is fine, he is resting up with Sally and the others at the Servant’s Quarters.” It was Antonia.
“But the horses,” Richard added, “I fear they won’t survive the night in these torrid conditions. If I may, Your Grace, I say we fortify the structures at once.”
“Grand idea, gather some footmen, we must rake a path…,” he paused for a moment, shuddering at the word as his mind drifted back to Lady Ellie.
“…Your Grace?” chimed Richard.
“Apologies, as I was saying, we must…carve a path through the snow at once. I’ll take a few footmen with me, grab some spare bitumen sheets, and we will reinforce the roof where we can.”
“It’s no use, no matter how fast the footmen clear the passage down to the stables, the snow is piling on twice the rate,” Antonia said, and Simon nodded.
“I suppose we will have to work twice as hard then. Richard, gather the fittest and bravest of the lot, tell them I’ll triple their pay. No time for dallying, get to it.”
“As you say, Your Grace.” Richard scurried out the study toward the West Wing like a man on a mission, dragging a few footmen along his way to inform them of the task at hand.
Simon moved to the back end of his study, grabbing a thick coat off the clothes rack and a pair of gloves out of a compartment of his desk.
This was going to be a long night, and he had to make it back in time for the piano lesson with Ellie. A nagging feeling told him she wouldn’t wait.
