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Chapter 25
“Would you mind letting Antonia know I would like a special dinner prepared? I want it private. Tell Cook I also desire French pastries, but he should take great care in preparing them—they aren’t for me,” Simon said.
He was sitting in his office, one leg dangling over the other as he thought of ways he could prepare something special for Ellie. A dinner. Maybe he should have asked her what she preferred, but he decided not to spoil the surprise. He would keep the dinner close and intimate this time, a small gathering with only the two of them, and all her favorite dishes. Gathering a list of them wasn’t that difficult; he had to ask the servants, who gladly provided the information. Afraid they would ruin the surprise, however, he made sure that they stayed out of her way, and he decided to keep them as busy as possible.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Richard replied. “Is it to be…romantic?”
Simon looked at the old man with raised eyebrows as if he was trying to insinuate something. Something that was quite obvious among the servants by now, just not official. And that was the nature of his and Ellie’s strange relationship.
“I’m simply trying to understand, so I can articulate the instructions better,” Richard defended.
“Chivalrous, I would say,” said Simon. “Is the theme clearer now?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I’m glad,” Simon said.
Not wanting to be interrogated by Richard’s curiosity, Simon buried his head down to his notes, pretending to be busy. Though, his mind conjured images of Ellie out of nowhere, not allowing him a moment of peace and rest.
“Your Grace,” he said. Simon clenched his teeth, bracing for a thorough cross-examination. “I wanted to ask…Would you still like the final list of the attendees for the Season ball? To find that mystery woman…?”
Simon’s fingers tapped against the wooden desk as he took a moment to process Richard’s words. The list, right. And the mystery woman. There was a side of him that wanted to know who she was; she had managed to stir his curiosity and his indifferent streak. But then, there was Ellie… Still, he found himself curious, more so to confirm the mystery woman was indeed Ellie, a fact he had all but long-established to himself by now.
“…Of course,” he paused. “Leave it on the desk, please.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Richard pulled out a scroll of sheets from his pockets and compiled it in front of Simon on the desk.
After a moment, the valet stepped out of the room, the door thumping shut behind him. Simon sipped his brandy, finishing the second glass for today—perhaps a not-so-wise mood. It only helped to increase the burning of his body as memories of Ellie had inundated every thought in his mind.
After what happened the night before, Simon felt as if it was he who had lost his innocence to Ellie. He had learned early enough that he was a carnal man, but self-control was a strict rule he adhered to. Never lay with the same woman twice. Yet, his rules mattered no longer. Ellie was different. Her skin was soft and warm, and it carried with it the scent of spring lilies, a scent he had learned to cherish over the past week.
Despite the softness of her skin, the enchanting scent she emitted, and her overt charms, Simon saw something else inside her. It was something that made his soul quake with powerful emotions he hadn’t ever experienced before, an unknown and foreign feeling. His heart would beat faster at the image of her, and his blood would boil at the thought of her with any other.
But then, there was the damned list, facing back at him. Ellie had managed to crack—not yet break—parts of the stone wall he had built around himself, and she meant more to him than he’d ever like to admit. Groaning, he stood up in frustration. He stood by the window, glaring outside into the blankets of snow and the whiteness of the unstoppable tempest laying waste to everything it touched. He could have sworn he saw something move beneath it all, but he soon realized it was twigs and branches being carried away by the harsh wind.
“Right. The list,” Simon muttered beneath his breath, mostly to encourage himself to get it over with.
Turning back to his desk, he scooped up the list, grasping it tightly in his hands. It stared back at him with a mocking glance, and he swiped it open, searching tentatively for the name ‘Ellie’.
Please, be here.
But as he continued searching through the scattered first names of all ladies whose names began with the letter ‘E’, he soon discovered Ellie was not among them either. Disappointment surged through him, and he slammed his hand on the desk in unexplainable frustration.
Why did she want the list then? She implied that she attended it, yet her name isn’t here. What are you hiding, Ellie?
Taking yet another sip from his brandy, a pit intensified in his stomach. Damnation, he needed to see Ellie. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t at the ball, all he needed was to hold her again, and all of his doubts and questions would go away at once.
A faint yelp reached his ears, its origins from the bottom of the stairs, further away from his office. It sounded like a cry for help, though barely audible. Then he heard it again, except this time, it sounded as though it was coming from outside. The hair on the back of his neck raised, and he tossed the papers aside, making haste outside of the study and down the corridor to his right.
Quickly, he neared the stairs with heavy strides, his long legs beginning to ache. The sound echoed again. ‘Help’. It was clear now. Sprinting down the stairs, not caring if he fell to his face, a terrifying coldness overtook him, and his blood chilled and froze. Could it be Ellie? No, that wouldn’t make sense.
“Oh, please, someone, I don’t know what to do,” a young maid said. “It’s okay, stay still.”
Simon barged into the large room, watching the scene unfold in disbelief. Walter was on the floor right beside the veranda door, a trail of wet streaks shading the carpet, while a maid held him close, trying to keep him conscious.
“What happened?” Simon yelled, breathless.
“Y-your Grace!” she called out. “You…Walter…”
