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Chapter 14
Three bronze statues lined the corners of the dining room, and stowed between them were vases of expensive flowers—hyacinths, roses, tulips, anything Simon could get his hands on in this torrid weather. The dining table was decorated with dozens of dishes, the next more exotic than the last, and he had assured their expensive china was on display, just to add some spice to the picture.
He crossed one leg over the other and rubbed the stubble of his beard. He’d fixed the distance between the plates on the table for the thousandth time, ensured the windows were shut, room was warm and…Oh, who was he kidding. He was trying to keep everything perfect. And it was all for Lady Ellie.
“And what better way than a romantic dinner,” he spoke under his breath, smiling a little at his brilliance of a plan.
He had asked his staff to overhaul the dining room. She stated her favorite color was maroon, so he made sure the curtains were changed to that, the linens, and the tablecloth. It was a subtle change, but certainly something one would notice. And it didn’t stop there.
At first, he planned to arrange a small, private dinner, but that thought was quickly discarded. This dinner was the exact opposite—it was extravagant, busy, rich, and everything he presumed a woman could wish for. He smirked to himself as he watched the staff carry a classical work of art inside the room, giving it its final touches.
All that remained was for it to be graced with the presence of Lady Ellie herself. He’d sent one of his staff to fetch her but made sure they kept tight-lipped about what they were leading her into, for it would be a surprise. He chuckled a little but quickly pressed his palm against his forehead.
A gown, I should’ve picked out a gown too.
How did he miss that glaring detail? He, himself, dressed in his most luxurious gray waistcoat, coupled with lean dark breeches; a fit that would undoubtedly make any lady drool. But it was a clear opportunity for him to dress her too. His mind wandered to lecherous thoughts for a moment, before—
“Your Grace, Her Ladyship is here,” a footman said as he marched inside the busy dining room.
Simon nodded and stood up, waiting for Ellie to step inside and be mesmerized by this palatial display. Her face and body were cloaked in a dark veil behind a bright light from the hallway, but he could see her distinct, slender figure and the way her curves stirred with each step.
“Ellie,” he said merrily, “You’ve arrived.”
“Well, you did call for me,” she teased. “But what is this all about?”
She finally stepped into the light from the chandelier, the angelic glow falling over her body and face. Her brown hair glinted an almost silverish reflection, and her hazel eyes glimmered with a foreign intimacy he had only encountered once before in his life.
Until his eyes fell on her dress. That familiar maroon gown with the embroidered floral details and gray hemshe wished to never lay his eyes on again. The very same gown that carried with it, attached memories of an incident he refused to accept ever since its passing.
Memories of Maddie.
It belonged to Maddie. And Ellie was wearing it, looking more beautiful than ever before, her skin glowing beneath its shade.
It was all still clear as day; the end of Autumn, a Tuesday, when he had offered Maddie the gown as a gift, as news of their engagement broke among the ton. It was thoughtfully hand-picked by himself after spending months seeking the perfect gift to all but officialize the courtship to the ton. Maroon red. The color of passion, desire, a fire only once before ignited in Simon. Back then, his only regret was not finding it sooner.
But now: now, he regretted more than ever not burning the garment to ashes.
“Simon?” she asked, tilting her head, her flowy curls falling over her left shoulder.
“Oh, yes, take a seat.” Pulling a pillowed chair, he gestured for her to sit right beside him. He couldn’t look at her, and for once, the rake’s gaze avoided the most beautiful woman in the room.
She did as instructed, and he forced a smile, hoping to reinvigorate his mood.
Ellie was close, her legs almost brushing his. “Did you arrange all of this for yourself?” she asked, awe present in her tone, with a hint of suspicion.
“No,” he replied, “…for you.”
She giggled. “Ah. I’m afraid it’ll take a lot more than this to win me over.”
“But is it to your liking? The dishes, I mean.”
“Yes, they’re lovely. Though I’ll admit, it is a tad excessive for a two-person dinner,” she added. “Perhaps we could invite some of the servants to join us after.”
“Good.”
“…Simon, are you all right?” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a tight line, contorted into what he recognized as worry. She was worried about him?
“I am, yes. Absolutely…Why wouldn’t I be? Oh—I know, just give me your palm,” he started.
