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Chapter 20
Simon would laugh if Ellie wasn’t as panicked as she was. Her eyes widened, her body froze, and she was stunned in place, glancing between her garment on the ground and him—as if he would know what to do. She looked an inappropriate mess. Her chemise showed everything a woman shouldn’t show, and her hair was loose and messy as sweat lustered across her forehead. As enchanting as she appeared, and despite wanting to keep her this way, he knew this could be bad.
Another knock thudded, forcing him to act. He hurried to her side, picking up the layers of clothes and tossing them to her. “Dress up,” he instructed, his voice a yelling whisper.
She didn’t move. She simply stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “What if…” she started, but he didn’t let her speak.
He grabbed the soft fabric back in his hands, helping her put the first layer on; followed by the second and third. Tying the strings in a messy way, he checked on her one last time to make sure she looked at least half-presentable to not raise suspicion, though, of course, it didn’t do much. It looked as if she had been running for hours. At least, she was dressed now.
“I’m coming!” he called out, then turned to Ellie. “Your hair.”
She quickly ran a hand through her hair, then placed it up in a half-up hairdo, which he decided looked suitable enough. He fixed up himself too, then sprinted to the door, unlocking it and finally allowing Richard inside.
“Your Grace, apologies for the disruption. I have some news regarding the list of—” Richard halted his words just as he noticed Lady Ellie in the room, who tilted her head in question. “My Lady! What a…wonderful surprise to see you here. How are you?”
She smiled with hesitation and a shaky breath, then turned to both of them and asked, “I’m good, thank you—What is this list you speak of?”
“Uh, not a list,” the butler cleared his throat, “I meant letters. His Grace has some love letters from his mistresses in the morning-room that need to be dealt with. We, uh… are changing the décor, yes! So the letters are an inconvenience, you see.”
Simon threw his face in his hand—Richard was a bad liar—and he didn’t know which was worse. Her finding out he was doing it, or her finding out about the love letters, which were sadly a troublesome truth?
“Love letters, you say?” A dash of displeasure spawned on her face, her nervous smile shifting into a slight frown and her previously confident stance disappearing. It was bad. She turned to Simon. “Can I see?”
“There’s no need for that,” Simon said. “Maybe it’d be better if you—”
But it was all too late. She stormed out of the room, the door opening wide behind her as her steps traveled down the hall and toward his study. Simon winced. He shared a look of worry with Richard and then yanked the list from his butler, attempting to focus back onto the task at hand. Finding out if his mystery woman truly was Ellie.
Think. Think. ‘E’…
“Oh, and Your Grace, the mixed breeds, the horses I mean—”
His eyes sprawled across one sheet, two sheets, but it was no use. His mind kept drifting back to thoughts of Ellie reading through those damned letters, and Richard’s ad-libs were not helping.
He lifted a hand to his butler’s shoulder with a thud. “Hold that thought.” And with that, he rushed out behind her.
She flowed ahead as fast as the rapids, her dress floating behind her. And as she entered the room, she fell into search. Her hands rummaged through the mess of the scattered letters as she picked them up one by one, almost chuckling in disbelief. He shut the door behind them, not wanting her voice to echo through the Castle.
“Before you get angry—”
“I’m not,” she said. Her caring tone was veiled under layers of iron. “I’m just…just surprised, that’s all.” She held them up one by one, rustling the letters together. “I expected something of that sort, but these are in the dozens! And they’re all swooning. Just how many women have you been with?”
His heart broke at the sight and sound of her self-consciousness. She was hurt. No amount of curious words and denying could hide this. And it was at this moment, he realized what he had in front of him. Ellie meant a lot to him, more than he had dared to admit. And goodness, if he wanted her. A surge of guilt grasped him, and thoughts of his mistresses crossed his mind—his past was tainted.
“They mean nothing to me,” he whispered.
“What?” Ellie asked, the letters still in her hands. He walked closer to her, with hunger and desire, needing to consume her and show her that he truly meant it. She tangled the wax seal off, her eyes scanning the contents until he pulled her arm back down.
“Don’t read them,” he instructed. “They don’t mean anything to me—you already know that.”
“Do I?”
He closed the gap between them, crumpling and throwing the letter to the hard floor. He could see and sense the insecurity radiating from within, and he wanted to kiss some sense back into her.
“You do,” he said louder this time. He leaned closer into her, pushing her against a blue-painted wall. Her breath hitched in her throat as he bumped his nose against hers and trailed his fingers down to her tiny waist. “They’re a thing of the past. My past is tainted, I can’t change that, and no amount of apologies will ever be enough to prove to you how I feel. But stop making that face, stop looking that way.”
“What do you mean?” She struggled to catch her breath as she spoke.
“You feel insecure, and you’re comparing yourself to them.”
