She didn’t answer, just gave him another look that told him this line of conversation, too, was over. So he started another. This one she would like even less than the last. “Your brother told me at the Waverly musical evening that he had not had much to do with you growing up, Claire, and that he was very sorry about that fact.”
She looked away from him and out the window.
“You dreamt about him last night, and your words told me the distance between you is painful. Have you ever talked to Mathew about how you feel, Claire?”
“My brother and I have never been close, and perhaps I am in part to blame. Anthony and I were closer in age, so we spent most of our time together after father passed. And Mathew was forced into the roll of Marquis at a young age. I’m sorry now that I did not support him more. It was just that he seemed so capable, and I did not think he needed me. However, it is too late now. After this, the distance between us will be insurmountable.”
He remembered the words she’d spoken in her sleep, her need for someone to comfort her when she was alone at night.
“You more than anyone know about living behind a façade, Claire. Did you not credit your brother with the same pretence as you?”
“It seems I should have, but now I fear it is too late to attempt to change what lies between us.”
Simon took her hands in his. “It’s never too late.”
She gave a sad little laugh. “Not all men talk like you, Simon, and Mathew is like me. We don’t share our feelings easily. I fear after this there will be an even greater divide between us.”
“You don’t know that. When he is presented with his neice or nephew, he may forgive you everything.”
“I am doing nothing wrong, Simon. It is I who will need to forgive him first.”
She was right, of course. If there was a niece of nephew awaiting them in Liverpool, then Mathew Belmont would have much to forgive himself for.
“You said your parents were not loving, Simon, but were they fair?”
He hadn’t expected that turn in conversation and had no time to school his features, so instead, he turned away from her. “Why do you want to know?” He knew he sounded defensive yet he had no desire to discuss his past.
“You were an only child?” She said ignoring his question for one of her own.
Simon had buried the years with his parents deep inside him. Not because it still hurt him–it was just something he had now put aside, as after his parents’ deaths, his life had really begun. Only then had he known it was possible to live with two people and know happiness. “I am,” He said adding nothing further. Luckily the carriage chose that moment to stop. Relieved, Simon ignored the curiosity in her eyes and reached for the door. “I will get us some food.” He had the door open before she could protest and was back within minutes with a plate of freshly baked scones. After giving Ben and Merlin some, he then rejoined Claire in the carriage.
“Ben and Merlin think very highly of you, Simon.”
Simon was relieved that Claire seemed to have dropped her earlier line of questioning. He took a large bite of his scone before answering, enjoying the warm, doughy mixture in his mouth. “I treat them fairly–that is all, Claire. Now you need to eat something.”
“I don’t really think I could eat now.” She eyed the offerings with wariness, as if they were not fresh and slathered with jam and heavenly tasting.
“Be sensible, Claire. You need to keep up your strength for what is to come.”
“You have a lot in common with my brother when you talk like that.” She took the scone reluctantly and nibbled like a rabbit on the edge.
“I begin to sympathize with him,” Simon muttered, eating one scone in three bites before reaching for another.
“At least chew before you swallow,” she said teasingly.
“Shrew.”
“Heathen.”
He returned her smile and felt something flow between them. He wasn’t sure what, but it left him feeling ridiculously happy, which, in the normal course of his life, would have terrified him spitless. However, surprisingly, it now left him feeling warm right to his toes.
Claire could barely sit still as the carriage approached the outskirts of Liverpool. The scone was not sitting well, and she felt sick at the prospect of the upcoming encounter. Across from her, Simon sat calmly, gazing, for the most, out the window. Occasionally he would look at her, and she knew it was to check that she was all right. The bruise on his chin was now a dark shade of plum, and his eye was black. If not dressed like a gentleman, he could be mistaken for someone with more nefarious intentions.
When the first ship’s mast came into view, she wanted to tell him to turn the carriage around, that this had been a mistake. But of course, she could not, not when a child relied on her–Anthony’s child, she reminded herself.