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Chapter 39
Eloise’s heart leaped from her throat as she spun to face the owner of the mysterious voice. Incoherent words formed in her mouth, but she couldn’t utter a word as she finally locked eyes with Simon in confusion—why was he here? His dark waistcoat was slightly wrinkled as if he’d arrived in a rush, and his cravat, crooked and out of place. But he looked just as handsome as usual, if not more, as the late-night moon shone alight his figure.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her back pressing against the willow tree in nervousness.
In three long strides, Simon was near her, his hands on either side of her body against the thick trunk. She lost her will to speak. And her mind was finally able to register what he had uttered before. But as he moved to touch her face, she flinched once more, not allowing him to.
“How did you know that?” Eloise asked. Simon tilted his head in question. “…What you said before, someone else said it to me at the Winter Season ball…how did you know?”
Simon’s lips tugged into a faint smile. “It’s hardly an original thing to say, don’t you think?”
She whispered, “Why are you here?” His breath brushed against her lips, and a warm feeling resided deep in her breast, though quickly replaced by anger and despair. His words from their last meeting floated back, and she flinched.
“I’m here for you, Eloise,” he said in a low voice.
Ignoring the way he uttered her name and just how exactly he learned of it, she continued. “You shouldn’t be here. Not after…”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry for everything I said and did before. Just—just give me the chance to explain everything to you.”
She hesitated, turning her cheek, and refusing to look back at him, afraid she would forgive everything he’d done in an instant. He didn’t deserve that, not after what he’d done. You mean nothing to me anymore.
“You should go…You need to go,” she repeated. The back of Simon’s palm brushed against her cheeks, and goosebumps appeared all over her skin from how much she desired him. She missed him, she couldn’t hide that. But he was surely toying with her again. With that in mind, she ducked under his arms and pushed away from him. “How do you know my name? You said, Eloise. How do you know that?”
“We’ve met before. I mean before the storm.” Simon stood still, his shoulders slumping slightly in dismay from her reaction. It took everything in her not to crumble into his arms and accept his apologies immediately.
“No, we haven’t. I would have remembered if we had,” she added quickly.
Simon nodded and turned to face her. “I would too, or so I thought. We met at the masquerade ball. Here, in the gardens.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
Simon inched his way toward her, but she took an equal step back. “Please stop,” she said quietly. “I was with someone else in the gardens that night, the man I was looking—”
Eloise’s eyes widened at the sudden realization that came over her, and she took another step back, intent on studying his features more carefully. The masked man couldn’t be Simon, no. Well, they did share the same charming essence, seductive smiles, and gentle—but forward temperaments. But Simon… No, he was surely jesting. He didn’t like her, he had already made that much perfectly clear.
So no matter how gentle and caring Simon appeared at this moment, she had her doubts about the sincerity of his intentions. The words he’d uttered just a week ago had sown fresh wounds in her heart, and all she could think ever since was what else had been a ruse between them. Was the story about his betrothed even true? Did he visit some reputable gentleman’s club, as a rake would do soon after? Or perhaps brag to his friends about their…interactions?
“Are you here to play with me again, is that what this is? Are you still trying to win that wager of yours,” she asked, her eyes growing teary as her emotions began spilling across her face.
“No,” Simon breathed out. “See for yourself.” He stepped closer to her, swiftly this time, and grasped her left palm, holding it against the top half of his face. “Don’t you see?”
“I remember everything,” he continued. “You ran outside, you wore that flamboyant feathery gown, and you fell…and the cramp in your leg. I helped you to the bench right over there. I was here, Eloise, with you.” He let her arm drop to her side, gazing deep into her with his honey-brown eyes. “What I said back at the Castle…I didn’t mean a word of it. Everything I said was a lie. I was being immature—no, worse, I was a plain fool for letting you go. I see that now.” His hand reached out for her cold cheeks. “I hurt you. I know it. But every word I’ve said today is the truth.”
“So, you-you’re my masked man?” Eloise asked.
“Yes,” he repeated. “And I have been looking for you ever since that night at the ball. Your mere existence, it soothed me in some way. Every night I was plagued by nightmares of my cursed past, but after that encounter, I only had dreams of you. Until I saw you again at the castle, and I fell for you all over again. It appears even fate couldn’t keep us apart.”
Eloise’s eyes widened. His story seemed to match with hers. She, too, would have dreams of him, and she, too, had sought him ever since that fateful night. “So everything you said back at the Castle. That was not true?”
“Eloise,” he said, “I burn for you. You don’t compare to any of the women I’ve met. In fact, you don’t compare with anyone I’ve met. Our secret meetings meant everything to me, and hell, I know I’m horrible for what I put you through and what I said, but you must believe me. I have wanted you since our first meeting, first interaction. The wager…It was a feeble attempt to spend more time with you, an excuse for me to lay my hands on you. But I couldn’t keep to my own rule. I couldn’t stay away from you. And I still can’t. I’ve fallen for you. I love you.”
The words hung in the air for a moment that felt like an eternity. I love you, I burn for you, I want you. His features were contorted into an unfamiliar expression, one she’d only seen him hold once before; the night at the billiards room and their most intimate moment soon after. She wanted to push him away, tell him to leave her alone and never return, but the moment she was scooped up in his arms, her skin melted into his, and she lost all control.
“I was afraid I’d lose you. When Maddie died, I lost a part of myself, and I promised I’d never put myself through something like that ever again. But I did. With you. And then you almost died too. The snowstorm—”
“I didn’t almost die.”
“You didn’t see yourself laying there, so cold, unconscious…hopeless. I thought it was my fault, that somehow I was cursed, and you were to be punished for my sins too.”
