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Chapter 13
To Reginald, it seemed as though the duke loved a good challenge, just as he did. There was no reason to get offended, but there was every reason in the world to admit that he’d won the wager and move on with his life. Lord Reginald Simmons needed to remind himself that he was Patrick Day.
If he were to step out of Sarah’s life now, perhaps everyone would remain unscathed. Yes, it was best for Sarah to marry the duke. He could actually support her and take care of her in a way that Patrick could not. So why was it that Patrick wished to keep up the rouse for longer? He wanted to feel Sarah’s lips upon his cheek once more. He wanted to touch her hand, her face—every part of her. Longing seemed to prevail.
Seating himself again at the table, Reginald tried to enjoy the lavish meal, but the duke’s words continued to reverberate in his mind. He was an opponent now. Reginald caught the duke looking in his direction from time to time. While under his scrutiny, Reginald also noted that he was under the scrutiny of Sarah’s father. In fact, it seemed like all eyes were on him from all directions.
The person sitting to Reginald’s right spoke. “You truly arrived only yesterday and met the duke for the first time?”
“That would be correct.”
“How extraordinary. And you were to travel on your grand tour?”
“That is also correct.” Reginald cleared his throat. “The trip is merely postponed. I can go at any time.”
That would be Reginald’s excuse to make an exit. At any moment, he could say that he was on his way and bid adieu to Sarah, telling her that perhaps they’d meet again in the future. It was a plausible excuse and much easier to pull off than continuing to court her.
From across the table, Reginald caught Sarah’s eyes through the candlelight. They were transfixing in the flickering flames, and Reginald’s heart became emboldened. No, he could not leave. His heart and his body would not let him. Reginald would have to find a way.
As the evening progressed, the ladies were excused from the table, and the gentlemen remained as port was served and cigars were brought out. That was when Lord John Crawford came and seated himself beside Lord Reginald.
“Good evening, sir,” he said, already smoking a cigar.
“Good evening, My Lord.”
“Come, come. No need for such formality. My daughter expresses that she’s just met you and that you’re an upstanding man.”
“She is kind to say so, but Iwouldconsider myself an upstanding man.”
“And what of your estate? Tell me about it.”
Reginald searched his mind, trying to recall the estate of the Earl of Buckland. “It’s situated on a cliff overlooking the sea. The home is well-appointed, with several servants.”
Reginald felt like kicking himself. That was the most mundane description that he could have given.
“And what of your parents?”
“They both passed away some time ago.”
“Yes, I believe that I heard of that.”
Reginald turned to him and lifted his brow. “You did?”
“Indeed. The former Earl of Buckland would often come to London.”
Reginald scratched his chin. “Yes, I remember that now. I must have been a young boy.”
“And your mother? She died during the birth of her second child, did she not?”
“Yes … yes that would be true.”
Reginald truly had no idea how the Countess of Buckland died. For all he knew, Lord John could be testing him to see if he really knew the truth.
“Would you care for a cigar?” the earl asked.
“That would be favourable; I thank you.”
Lord John took out a cigar and handed it to Reginald. If there was one thing that he didn’t need to fake, it was smoking a cigar. Patrick Day was always fond of them, and whenever he, Jimmy, Ned, and Bo got their hands on some, they’d all smoke happily.
