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Chapter 31
The dining room echoed with the sound of plates, forks, and glasses clattering together as Eloise rapped the dinner table. It had been two hours since the start of dinner, and she was yet to touch her food. Oh, was she furious. It was childish, but since the moment she woke up, her mind had been on Simon and his lack of care for her well-being, almost as if their meetings meant absolutely nothing to him. She had asked the servants more than once that she wished to see him, and they all told her the same thing, he was busy.
Busy ignoring her, she thought to herself. Now, she was beginning to seem desperate for his presence. It was humiliating.
She still wasn’t fully recovered. Standing up too quickly caused her to become light-headed and unnecessary stress caused strain on her body, alongside her already aching muscles. Yet, her body still radiated with vim and vigor, all because of Simon. Her feelings for him were so strong it was impossible to pay attention to the constant pain.
It may be easy for him to forget her. But it wouldn’t be easy for her. Clenching her fists, she stood up, eyes glued to the door. It was infuriating. He was a grown, unmarried Duke, he could do as he pleased, but he couldn’t—and she wouldn’t allow him—to act as if what happened between them was purely a mere game, with no regard for her feelings.
He ought to know that seducing a woman, an unwanted wallflower, and a near-spinster, was shameful and one of the biggest scandals a man could commit. Maybe she was exaggerating, she didn’t know herself, but her thoughts continued to turn in a negative direction as the time for her departure back to Lyndon Estate, back to the clutches of her Aunt’s plans, neared.
No, she would go see him. Right this moment. She would settle this for good, she’d let him know what their interactions meant, and she would clear any misunderstandings. If he wished to wager with her feelings, then he should be honest; it’s the very least he could do at this point.
As she stood up, black and gray figments appeared before her eyes, but she blinked them away. She rushed outside the dining room, her violet gown floating behind her the harsher her steps became. She knew where she’d go: Simon’s study, the room he, apparently, had isolated himself in over the last few days.
The climb up the stairs was a grueling task, and servants passed her by, looking on with the utmost curiosity. She must have looked like a madman, as her hands remained clenched to the side, her eyebrows remained furrowed and focused, and her face was redder than the time they first shared a kiss.
As she neared his study, her mind blanked with no words to say. But without hesitation, she pushed the door open, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of Simon. He was crouched in his office, a quill in his hands as he signed something on the papers. Dozens of opened and unopened bottles sat beside him. He looked a mess; his beard was unshaved, his eyes were hollow and empty, and his fingers trembled and halted with every movement. And once he raised his head to meet her gaze, her breath was snatched out of her throat, along with her willpower.
“Ellie…” His voice was raspy, and his eyes were wide open as he struggled to fix his posture. “Is there something you need? Antonia should be around—I don’t appreciate being bothered while I’m busy.” But the softness in his voice quickly disappeared, replaced by something else entirely.
“I…um.” Her voice wouldn’t come out properly. After everything they’d been through, the last thing she expected was to see him retreat to his old, conceited self. “I’m fully recovered now.”
“I see.” Simon turned his gaze away, rolling his eyes. “Is that all? Is that why you’re here? A servant could have told me that without the need for distraction.”
She bit her lip at his words, the harshness of them becoming too much to bear. “I was wondering why you haven’t…been seen, I guess. I was told you’re busy, but I wanted to see you… I missed you, Simon.”
She took a few steps closer to him, but he only stood up, shaking his head and stepping away. “I am busy. And irritated,” he said with the same indifference. “And I don’t like repeating myself.”
She didn’t know what to think of this. It felt as if his personality had changed overnight, and their meetings and memories together meant nothing to him. Making sense of this was impossible, yet she tried her best to replace the self-pity with the pure anger she had felt before. There must be some logical reason for his behavior, and she certainly wasn’t intending to give up on him as easily as he assumed, no matter how aloof he was behaving.
“I needed to check on you. I haven’t seen you ever since the accident, and I’ll be frank, you don’t seem busy or irritated. You seem drunk and disorderly—what precisely happened? What’s wrong?” Eloise asked. Her last question was a mere whisper.
He clenched his jaw, placing his quill and papers to the side. “You’re right, I’m neither busy nor irritated right now. I am, however, bored and distracted. Is there something you want?” he repeated. “If it’s a carriage, I can arrange one for you tomorrow morning, and you can leave, or if it’s to vex me, I’d rather not deal with this right now—and preferably not ever.”
Eloise pressed her lips in a tight line. “You won’t push me away that easily if that’s what you intend to do. You mean far too much—”
“Is that why you’re here? A childish infatuation? Or is there something else? Just let it all out. I don’t want the picture of a teary maiden when I next go visit a gentlemen’s club—my consciousness can only handle so much.”
Eloise stumbled back, her eyes tingling with tears that she quickly blinked away. “I don’t believe you.”
He stared at her for a moment.
“You won’t do that—you told me you’ll stop your rakish ways.”
“I did? Huh, I must have been equally childish. Didn’t you say it yourself?” He stood by the window, not even turning to look at her. “A rake doesn’t change?”
“Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop acting this way. I know something is wrong, why aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he turned to stare at her with an icy glare. There was a small silence as he studied her. “…I see what the issue is now—this is why I never correspond with wallflowers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Is it because I took your innocence? Is that the issue?”
Eloise flinched back, embarrassed and unable to respond.
“The wager doesn’t count any longer,” he continued, “It was entertaining, but that’s all it was for: entertainment. I wasn’t intending on pushing it further, and I didn’t assume you’d wish to either. It’s quite obvious it meant something to you now, but it wouldn’t be the first, nor will it be the last time that I engage in something like this. So perhaps, it’d be wiser for you to forget about me. And leave.”
“But you—”
“I’m serious. I’m not in the mood for puerile conversations—go find someone else to entertain you.”
