The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,13

bet his fortune on them being wrong.

“What about you?”

Simon blinked. “What?”

“I’ve told you a great deal about myself and how I came to be where I am. So what about you?”

“Well, I was born into a wealthy upper-class household with little effort on my part.” He shrugged to dismiss a strange new feeling of inadequacy he’d never experienced before. “My father died while I was away in Spain, and I just lost my mother last year.”

“Oh.” Her free hand settled over his as they walked. “I’m so sorry.”

Even though his mother had been difficult to please, and he’d always felt like she’d been unreasonably critical of him, Simon knew she’d just had his best intentions at heart. No one will care much about what your brother does, Simon. As the heir to the earldom, all eyes will be upon you. One wrong move and your entire reputation will be put into question. Never forget that. Appearances matter.

“Thank you.” He instinctively glanced around to make sure no one he knew was about.

“At least you have your brother for support.” Her lips settled into a flat line. “Going through loss as an only child is incredibly hard.”

“Yes,” he muttered while blindly placing one foot in front of the other in order to keep on moving. Discussing Jack was not going to happen.

“Are the two of you close?”

Simon took a deep breath. His stomach was rolling over with nauseating rapidity. “Not anymore.”

“Oh. What a shame.”

Too agitated to comment, Simon focused on the hard click of his heels against the pavement. He was immensely glad when the building they were headed toward came into view and prevented further questioning.

“Here we are,” he said and promptly steered Miss Strong up the front steps. Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he retrieved the necessary key and unlocked the door. “After you, if you will.”

Chapter Three

Ida stepped over the threshold with the same kind of trepidation she would have felt had she been entering a lion’s den. Hands balled into a pair of tight fists and with her heart lodged somewhere in her throat, she did her best to pretend being here was perfectly normal, that she would be safe in this house, and that Fielding would not betray her. The door closed with a click and she drew a sharp breath.

“One moment,” Fielding murmured. He moved past her, gently brushing her shoulder with his as he went. Her stomach lurched, not from nervousness this time but because of some other feeling she had trouble placing.

Light bloomed in the darkness, pushing back shadows as he adjusted the flame of the oil lamp he’d found. “This way.”

Grabbing the banister for support, Ida followed Fielding up the long staircase that led to the second floor. From what she could tell so far, the house wasn’t large, yet even in the dim light it was clear that it had been fashioned with all the splendor one might expect from a stately manor, complete with a massive entryway mirror and gleaming marble floors.

Once upstairs, she trailed after Fielding while shadows flickered across the walls. She noted four doors on this level, and he selected the one at the end of the hallway. With fluttering heart, she entered the room where she would be staying for the foreseeable future. Fielding, who’d crossed the floor while she lingered near the door, placed the oil lamp on top of a dresser.

“I hope this will do,” he said and glanced around as if seeing the space for the first time. He scratched the back of his head, and it occurred to Ida that he was just as uncomfortable with this scenario as she.

“It’s perfect,” she said in the hope of offering some reassurance.

He spun toward her as if surprised to hear her voice, froze, and then quickly shoved his hands into his pockets. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad.”

Ida bit her lip and moved farther into the room. It was sparsely furnished, though with what appeared to have been very careful deliberation. Fleetingly, she wondered if he’d been in charge of the décor or if he’d allowed a servant to have the responsibility.

And then she wondered how many women Fielding had entertained here, a question that forced her attention toward the large bed standing to her left.

“You should find everything you need,” he said, distracting her from the brief and very unsettling image of him and a faceless woman performing some of the acts she’d witnessed during her time at Amourette’s. He crossed to the