Simon's Brides (14 page)

“And, you said you wouldn’t mind having Agatha for an aunt,” Amy said as she started for the door. “Maybe you had better reconsider your choice of a mate.”

Think about someone older, more settled,
Amy thought to herself, someone who could provide a home miles from this estate.

Amy gazed over her shoulder at Ellie as the youngest member of their family pushed away from the desk and stood.

She grinned, then answered, “What can I say? I like his looks.”

Nine

Amy smoothed her ivory satin gown and glared at herself in the mirror. She’d tried to tell Agatha that she didn’t like the design, that the gown showed too much of her, but Agatha ignored the comments--as usual.

Amy paused.

What would Simon think of her gown?
Would he like it, think it was too daring?
Suddenly, those same sensations she’d been experiencing slammed through her.

“Fear,” she mumbled. What else could it be, when she knew that Simon held her life in his hands. Yes, she pursed her lips, it was fear. Still, she tugged at the neckline of the bodice attempting to raise it. It didn’t move.

Amy glanced at the ornate clock on the dressing table. She should have been downstairs minutes ago to receive their arriving guests. She thought of the gowns her sisters wore and sighed. Agatha made certain they all wore the latest style and that each gown displayed the wearer’s attributes.

Amy gritted her teeth. She wanted this night over in the worst way. She didn’t want to meet any men, wasn’t interested in marriage, but Simon refused to consider spinsterhood for her. Once more she groaned and stared at the bodice’s lace trim.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered then blushed. Now she was starting to sound like Simon. And, if her father had heard her, he would have been most disappointed in his oldest daughter.

Simon! She remembered the conversation she had with him earlier in the week when she repeated what her sisters had told her about acceptable husbands. He’d chuckled when he learned that Dora had been impressed with Mr. Hazelton and he swore when Ellie said she wanted to get to know Mr. Anderson better. That left Caro and Beth. She hesitated but then mentioned that Beth had talked about a quiet, gentle man, and that age and wealth were unimportant to her. Caro wanted someone who loved horses and was taller than she, or at least as tall.

Amy also mentioned it might be best to settle each sister with someone older, someone who had a decent income, property and was settled. At first Simon seemed to agree with her, then, after he had paced the floor for what seemed like an hour, he’d shaken his head. She couldn’t get him to tell her what he was thinking.

When he’d quizzed her about what she wanted in a husband, they had ended the discussion in a fierce argument. She couldn’t convince him that she had no desire to marry--ever. She didn’t want to die trying to birth some man’s get, but she couldn’t tell him that. Her reasons for refusing to exchange vows were her own.
Period!

She gazed in the mirror once more and groaned. She knew she better get downstairs before Simon sent someone for her, but still she waited. This ball was the last thing she wanted.

Finally, gathering her courage, she slipped from the room and tiptoed down the hall. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at the group gathered in the foyer. Then, she took a deep breath and started down the steps.

Simon must have sensed her arrival, for he turned. For a moment, she could have sworn he looked stunned. He appeared to recover and glowered at her.

As she joined her sisters, she glared back.

“I thought perhaps you had decided not to appear,” he commented. “I was about to send Caro to get you.”

She gave him a bitter smile, “I’m not a coward. Of course I would attend, if only for my sisters’ sakes.”

“You look lovely, my dear,” Agatha gushed. “We’ll find someone special for you, don’t you worry.”

Amy glanced at Simon. Clearly, he’d said nothing to Agatha about Amy’s refusal to wed. Well, she would have to take care of that matter herself, now.

“Aunt Agatha,” she said, “Simon failed to tell you that I have no intention of marrying--anyone. You don’t have to find someone for me.”

“Oh, dear,” Agatha looked stunned. She gazed first at Amy, then Simon, then back again.

“My dear, he never said a word. And, Amelia, your father wanted you married. Simon is only trying to carry out your father’s wishes.”

“My father was well aware of my feelings.”

“Never mind, dear,” she patted Amy’s arm, “we will discuss this another time. Our guests are arriving.”

She turned her attention to the rest of the women. “Now, girls, stand up straight, smooth your skirts, bite your lips, pinch your cheeks, yes, that’s good. Now smile. Amelia, you stand next to me. Simon, you stand on my other side. Now, everyone--smile.”

She took a deep breath and Amy watched the ruffles on Agatha’s black gown rise and fall as if she was girding herself for battle, just as the front door knocker sounded.

“Bol--ton,” Agatha yelled, “Get the door.”

“Aunt, please,” Simon muttered. “The guests will hear you.”

“I told you to get rid of him, Nephew. He’s too old and much too slow to be a proper butler.”

Not now,
Simon thought to himself, fighting the emotions coursing through him. Seeing Amy coming down those steps had sent his blood roaring through his veins, his heart pounding, and a consuming need to draw her next to him, to press his lips to hers. Every part of his body throbbed with desire. He willed himself to consider the responsibility he faced. Then he offered a silent prayer that before the night was over, he’d find husbands for these women.

He had to get away from Amy while he still had his sanity. Yes, he’d shake the dust from this place and get back to his office, take one of his ships out to sea. That thought did not produce the euphoria he expected. He cursed to himself then he forced himself to welcome their first guests.

Over the next hour, Simon welcomed men he had told his aunt not to invite. Apparently, she had ignored his wishes.

Grimacing, he watched the Hargrove sisters beguile those same men, lechers every one of them. He was remiss in not sorting through the addressed invitations, but it was too late now.

He glanced in Amy’s direction and was disgusted to see Thornburgh heading toward her. He was a rake of the worst order. Only a step above Harold Bottomsworth. Thornburgh had had at least three mistresses and there were rumors he had fought a duel over another woman. Simon also thought he remembered that Thornburgh had gone through his inheritance and was looking for a rich wife. With Amy due to inherit the estate on her marriage, she would indeed be a trophy wife. However, one of Neville’s daughters was not going to have to endure a rake.

“Thornburgh,” Simon greeted as he made his way toward the couple. Benjamin Smithson, Lord Thornburgh glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to the woman who had garnered his attention.

“Amelia,” Simon said, “I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I do believe this is my dance.” With that he placed Amy’s hand on his arm and escorted her across the room.

“What do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

“That man,” Simon snarled, “is after your inheritance. He should never have been issued an invitation. He’s--he’s nothing but a rake.”

“I’ve already told you I have no intention of becoming a wife to a rake or to anyone else. You have nothing to fear.”

“Amy,” Simon murmured, “your reputation will suffer being seen with the likes of him. Even if you don’t wed, you don’t need to have your name connected to someone like Thornburgh.”

“And who are you to judge?” she demanded.

Simon winced, for her voice had grown in volume. Oh, she wasn’t yelling, but the couple nearby had heard her and turned to look at them.

“Come,” he walked toward the French doors leading into the gardens, “let’s discuss this privately.”

“No, Simon.
That
will not do my reputation any good. Now, go dance with one of my sisters.”

She jerked out of his grasp and took off in the direction of Aunt Agatha and several older women chatting together.

Simon groaned. He had led Amy onto the dance floor for her own good and look where it had gotten him.

Bloody hell!

He marched out of the ballroom ignoring several of his own friends. At the moment, he didn’t want to talk to anyone. This situation, from the ball to the running of the estate, was getting to him. He wanted--no! He
had
to get back to his ships.

He made his way to the study and a decanter of brandy waiting there. He poured a glass and slumped into a chair. How much longer? he asked himself.

A knock on the door had him jerking upright.

“Yes,” he growled at the closed door.

He watched the knob turn, the door open and stared at one of his best friends.

“Yes, Ben, what can I do for you?”

Ben looked embarrassed. “Simon, you told the men to keep their eyes open, that I should report about this time.”

“And?”

“Just wanted you to know they haven’t seen a thing outta the ordinary. Everything appears to be shipshape.”

Something drew Ben’s attention behind him.

“Simon, there’s another bloke here to see you.”

Ben stepped aside. The Reverend Robert Sudsberry stood in the doorway.

“Yes, Vicar, what can I do for you?” Simon asked.

The Reverend Mister Sudsberry cleared his throat and stepped into the room.

“My Lord,” Sudsberry’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as the door closed behind him. Nervous about something? Simon wondered.

“Yes Reverend?”

“My Lord, ah, that is, you see...”

“Just spit it out, man,” Simon said.

“Yes, my Lord. I--I came to ask if I might court-ah-”

Simon felt his heart drop. He knew Aunt Agatha wanted Sudsberry for Amy.

“Miss Hargrove,” the vicar finished.

“Miss Hargrove?”

“Yes! Miss Bethany Hargrove.”

“Beth?” Simon couldn’t keep the elation out of his voice. He refused to wonder why this made him happy. Later, he’d think about that.

“Yes, my Lord. That Miss Hargrove. I told her I would speak to you and she did not discourage me.”

Simon drummed his fingers on the desk. Amy had mentioned Beth’s desires in a mate.

“You are older than Beth, sir,” Simon pointed out.

“I know. But not by that many years. I’m only thirty five and she does seem older than her sisters. More settled.” The vicar clinched his fists and cleared his throat once more, “I--I think we would suit. So, I’m asking if--if I may spend time with her so that we can determine if a union would please us both.”

“Permission granted. When do you want to begin this courtship?”

“Immediately. Ah--if--if that’s all right with you.”

Simon smiled, he couldn’t help it. One down and four to go. He watched as the vicar bowed out of the room. His smile slipped into a scowl. And what about Amy. He had no idea what he was going to do about Amy.

~ * ~

Amy watched Simon stomp out of the ballroom. It felt as if he had dragged her heart from her chest. She gritted her teeth, and told herself to ignore the weight of loss that seemed to claim her at the moment. She reminded herself that, despite Simon inheriting the title of Baron, he was the temporary caretaker of her father’s estate. Nothing more. He couldn’t mean anything to her. After all, she knew deep in her soul that the minute he accomplished the task her father had set for him, he would be gone, back to his ships and the sea.