The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,103

ought to be judged not based on a first impression, nor even by how they spoke or how educated they were, but by the nature of their character.

Ida had taught him that. She’d made him realize that he himself could be misjudged by those who chose not to venture beyond the façade he’d created. Beneath the stiff polish of perfection, he was a man with fears and flaws who relentlessly strove to do the right thing. That was what he’d always attempted to do, however misguided his goals might have been, or his blindness toward what mattered. Uncertain of himself, he’d allowed others to influence his opinions and his choices. He’d believed in a life he hadn’t wanted, a future destined to make him unhappy. Until she’d come along and opened his eyes.

God, how he missed her.

“It’s almost eleven,” Huntley said. His voice prompted Simon to shake himself out of his reverie. “Our guests will be arriving soon so we ought to start getting ready. If you’ll please come with me, gentlemen, I’ll show you into my study where you can be comfortable until it’s time for you to make your appearances.”

Fifteen minutes later, the butler escorted them back to the parlor.

Simon gave Fletcher a few last words of encouragement since the poor man was starting to look a bit green around the gills. The door was opened, the butler stepped aside, and Simon entered the room.

He strode forward, propelled by anger and frustration and a deep desire for justice. “Uncle, Kirksdale, Elmwood.” He greeted each man with a curt nod before directing the frostiest stare he could manage at Mr. St. John.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us,” Elliot said. His expression was guarded and strained – a reminder of their disagreement and the anger they harbored toward each other. “And Windham is here too, I see. Whatever have we done to deserve such excellent company?”

“In case you’re unaware, the duke and earl are friends of mine,” Huntley said. “As such, I’m sure you’ll find a way to tolerate their presence.”

“Of course,” Kirksdale said while Elliot merely gave a tight smile. They served Fletcher a questioning look. All except Mr. St. John, who kept his face purposefully averted.

“Let’s pull up a few more chairs, shall we?” Elmwood suggested. He’d already gotten up and was looking around for the chairs in question, as if they might simply materialize from thin air.

“That’s quite all right,” Guthrie muttered. “I prefer to remain on my feet, over here by the door.

Mr. St. John rose. “I’ve actually just recalled a prior engagement, so I really must get going.”

“But you only just got here,” Kirksdale said.

“Feel free to use my chair, Lord Fielding.” Mr. St. John moved to step past Simon, only to find his path blocked.

“Sit. Down,” Simon snarled, his patience with the man facing him so far gone it might as well have travelled to the opposite end of the universe.

“Now see here,” Elliot said, pushing himself to his feet. “If Mr. St. John wishes to leave you’ll allow him to do so this instant. Really, I must apologize for my nephew’s lack of good manners. He’s been keeping bad company lately and it seems—”

“Be quiet,” Simon snapped. “If you’d listen rather than speak, you might actually learn a thing or two.”

Elliot blustered. “Well, I never. Your poor mother would be dev—”

“Enough!” Stepping back, Simon crossed his arms and glared at the assembled group. He took a few breaths to calm himself. Already his uncle and Mr. St. John had pricked his nerves, which wouldn’t help him at all. What he needed right now was a cool head. He glanced at Guthrie who merely shrugged.

Right.

“The doors have been locked,” Simon added in a more even tone. “Guards have been placed outside. Nobody leaves until the matter I wish to discuss with you has been settled.”

“You clearly have a great deal on your mind,” Kirksdale said, “but we’re here to listen to a business proposal of Huntley’s, not to your lamentations, so if you don’t mind, I’d like for the duke to begin his presentation.”

Elmwood coughed. “I have a sneaking feeling there isn’t going to be one.”

Kirksdale frowned. “Am I to understand we’ve been brought here under false pretenses, Huntley?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, that does it. You know, my instinct said not to trust you.” Kirksdale snorted. “You really are a disgrace to your title.”

“I’m sure you think so,” Huntley said with impressive calmness. He looked at Simon. “Go ahead and say your piece, Fielding.