Rescued By A Viscount(36)
“You’re a good man, Simon.”
“You sound disappointed by that observation.”
“I’m disappointed I did not allow myself to see it before now,” she corrected him.
“Sadly, I know when this is all over, you’ll retract those words and once again be tart-mouthed towards me.” Simon sighed, his breath stirring her hair.
Her hand smoothed the front of his jacket, and even through the layers of cloth, he felt her touch. “I shall try not to be.”
He knew that at this moment in time, Claire had no defences in place. If he pressed her, there was every chance she would tell him whatever he wanted. Yet he could not do that to her…or maybe he could, just a bit.
“But where will the fun be in that? Lord, don’t tell me you will start simpering and giggling behind your hand when I draw near? It would shock me, Claire, to the soles of my large feet. I love to watch your eyes narrow as they turn on me. It is an honor that only I can make you drop that polite façade the rest of society sees. “
“Most evenings I am simply hiding behind that façade of respectability, Simon.”
“Are you not respectable then?” He lifted the long curl and ran it down his cheek before speaking.
“Of course I’m respectable, but sometimes it is a struggle.”
Her words made him smile as he imagined her suddenly doing something rash in a ballroom, like lifting her skirts and kicking her legs in the air.
“We all have other sides to us, Claire.”
“Do you?”
He thought about his estate and the aunt and uncle who lived there and the large glasshouse that enclosed his treasures. Yes, he had secrets and other sides to him, too. Perhaps they were not dangerous or exciting. Nor was he ashamed of them. However, they were his secrets to hold close–his alone to share with whom he wanted, when he wanted to.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I have another side to me that only a few people know about.”
“You like to read those dreadful sensation novels my mother is so fond of, don’t you?”
Simon snorted and gave the curl a tug. “I do not.”
“You like to dress in purple satin and wear jewel heeled slippers away from the prying eyes of the public?”
She’d always had the ability to make him smile, even when he’d wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. “No. I leave the jewel heeled slippers to Captain Cummings.”
“He is such a silly man and cannot seriously think he looks anything but foolish, can he, Simon?”
“To his mind, he is a man of elegance and beauty, a pinnacle for the rest of us to aspire to, and if he causes no one harm, Claire, then who are we to change him?”
She sighed, not a delicate lady’s sigh but a gusty man’s one. “Oh dear, not only are you a good man but a kind one, too.”
“Poor Claire. Are your illusions being shattered?’
“I think I always knew you were a good man, Simon. After all, we share friends.”
“Georgia loves me best, however–she told me.”
Her laugh sounded rusty. “Will you tell me your secrets, Simon?”
“I think not. At least, not yet.”
She was silent, and he could almost hear her thinking as she tried to guess what his secrets were. “D-do you have a child, Simon?”
“Do I seem like the kind of man who would have a child or two hidden away?” Her answer suddenly meant a great deal to Simon.
She lifted her head to look at him, and he lost himself in her lovely eyes. “No, you do not, but then, neither did my brother,” she said solemnly.
“God I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t think–”
She placed her gloved fingers over his mouth. “You have nothing to apologize for, and I should never have asked you that question, as you are, indeed, an honorable man and would not abandon children to their fates.”
The sadness in her eyes broke his heart. “I should imagine Anthony never knew of his child, Claire, so do not judge him harshly without all the facts.”
“Do you think so?”
Simon nodded.
“I hope you are right,” she said and then muffled a yawn behind one hand.
“Rest now, Claire, as you will need your strength for what is to come.” Pressing her head into his chest once more, he leaned his head back on the seat and closed his own eyes, and in minutes he slept.
Reluctantly, Claire pushed herself upright and away from the warmth and comfort of Simon’s chest as she felt his body soften into slumber. Moving to the opposite seat, she looked at him. She had often studied people when they slept–mostly her mother whilst she caught naps between journeys–and tried to understand the miracle that had put them into the blissful yet elusive state called sleep. She had once been like that, able to sleep for long hours and awake refreshed, but no longer. Now she woke irritable and haggard. Such a small thing to many, yet to her it meant so much. Envy was a sin, and she had it tenfold whenever she saw someone sleeping peacefully.