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Difficult? That was an understatement. Her heart hurt for the young boy he’d been. She’d been old enough to understand when her mother died, as opposed to being a child who only wanted his parents to come home.
“I was grateful for my aunt and uncle, my mother’s older brother and his wife, who took me in. Taking care of a boy couldn’t have been easy, but they did their best.”
The way he said it made her think they had failed to fill even a portion of the emptiness inside him. Was it any wonder he’d become reclusive as an adult? Or that his social interactions were awkward at times? Yet those qualities also made him who he was. And that she very much appreciated.
She bit her lip, uncertain what to say or how to comfort him but compelled to try. “You are an amazing man, Simon.”
His gaze met hers, his expression puzzled.
“To have come as far as you have given your difficult childhood is a testament to your drive. I think your father would be proud of you for the museum and your research. I know I am.”
Simon blinked, suggesting her words surprised him. “Thank you,” he said at last.
“You are welcome.” Obviously, no one told him that often. If she had the chance, she’d be sure to tell him so again, since he obviously needed to hear it.
Chapter Sixteen
The sound ofvoices in the entrance hall interrupted Simon’s work the next afternoon. He had been pleased—and relieved—when he woke that morning to only a mild headache. After settling at his desk, he’d written out the facts as well as his questions about both the stolen items and the night of his injury. No surprise that he’d written down more questions than facts.
He, Marbury, and Worley had divided the list of coin dealers Norah had supplied and were steadily working their way through it. He’d also reluctantly agreed, with Marbury’s approval, to accept Norah’s offer for her and her sisters to visit other museums to advise them of the items missing from his museum.
While he pondered what other steps could be taken to further the investigation, he returned to deciphering the stone carving. Often, clearing his mind by focusing on such a task allowed room for the answers he sought to come forth. The same proved true with boxing. However, he wasn’t feeling up to returning to that practice yet. The thought of punching the bag made his head hurt.
A decidedly feminine tone reached his ears from the corridor. His heartbeat sped at the thought of seeing Norah again so soon. He rose to his feet in anticipation, only to have his hopes dashed as his cousin, Anna Clarke, the Countess of Mendenhall, strode into his study with an unhappy Fletcher behind her.
“My apologies, my lord,” the butler said with a frown at Anna’s back. “Lady Mendenhall declined to wait to see if you were receiving.”
“It’s all right.” Simon didn’t bother to greet his cousin. Based on her displeased expression, this wasn’t a social call.
Fletcher backed out of the room with one last glower at Anna. Simon noted he didn’t offer to serve tea. The servant was quickly learning who was a welcome guest and who wasn’t.
“Simon, this situation is ridiculous.” Anna gripped her reticule tightly as she glared at him from the opposite side of his desk. As always, she was dressed in the height of fashion. Her pale blue gown trimmed in cream lace set off her dark hair. Her small hat in a darker blue was embellished with a narrow veil that was decorative rather than practical. The sharp lines of her face fit her rather shrewish personality, in his opinion.
She hadn’t been especially kind when he’d come to live with her and her family and had taunted him for his somberness. The fact that they’d both lost their mothers hadn’t bonded them in any way. Her husband was a pompous ass as far as Simon was concerned, more focused on appearance than character.
Simon had often wondered if Anna was happy in her marriage and with her two young children but knew better than to ask. She’d only view him with scorn as she so often did, much like her late brother had.
“To what are you referring?” While he was feeling better, he wasn’t well enough to deal with her demands.
“The museum.” Her angry tone and expression made him sigh.
The topic was one on which they’d never agree. He had tried to be respectful of her feelings while moving forward with his plans to open the museum. He’d explained his goal of sharing her father’s collection with others. But those efforts had been fruitless.
He gestured for her to sit. “What about the museum?”
She scowled at the chair as if it might be tainted and remained standing. “Your…incident.” She waved a gloved hand in his direction.
“My injury?” He was surprised she’d heard of it. But he wasn’t surprised that she failed to ask how he was feeling.
“Yes. It is causing too much talk. This is one more reason why you should close the place immediately.”
“Because someone hit my driver and me on the head?” Simon wasn’t following her logic. Then again, logic was rarely a priority for Anna.
“Your driver?” Her mouth gaped open for a moment. Then she released an exasperated sigh, suggesting that was somehow all his fault. “The story grows worse by the moment. This is outrageous.”
“Why don’t we proceed to the purpose of your visit?” He sank into his chair, suddenly tired.
“I already stated it—close the museum.” Her dark eyes glinted with temper and determination.
