The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,56
titles can be extremely useful.”
Simon stared at him in dumbfounded shock. Considering their history, he wouldn’t have expected such assistance. Huntley and Gabriella were staking their own reputations on keeping Ida safe. “I scarcely know what to say.”
“Thank you,” Ida supplied. “You’re extraordinarily kind. I—”
“Gabriella,” a shrill voice exclaimed. “Get away from that woman this instant!”
Simon winced and immediately stiffened. Dear God. Not this.
Gabriella gave him a pointed stare – the sort that begged him not to interfere – and turned toward the approaching firestorm. “Mama. Please. You must calm yourself. People are starting to stare.”
“Do you know who she really is and what she has done?” Lady Warwick screeched.
“Her name is Miss Smith,” Huntley told his mother-in-law sharply, “and she is our guest, so please contain yourself, madam.”
Simon’s eyebrows shot upward. His respect for Huntley increased tenfold.
“Of course you have no qualms with her presence.” Lady Warwick glared at Huntley with disdain. “Why am I not surprised?”
Gabriella’s expression hardened. “Lower your voice this instant, and apologize to my husband.”
“Sorry,” Lady Warwick hissed with what looked like extreme difficulty. “But you need to get rid of her this instant. A traitor’s daughter has no place among Society. Never mind the fact she was spotted in a brothel. By God, she’s just a dressed up whore.”
“Mama,” Gabriella snapped while frantically glancing about. “Huntley and I have just told everyone she’s our friend and that they’re mistaken about her.”
Lady Warwick’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she suddenly blurted, “My poor dears. You were obviously just as deceived as the rest of us.” She stared down her nose at Simon. “I always held you in the highest regard, Lord Fielding. Shame on you for deliberately forcing such vermin upon good Society. Of course, the sooner we’re rid of her the sooner you may be forgiven for your blunder. Come now, let’s have her turned out so we can enjoy the rest of our evening.”
Simon stood, paralyzed by the hateful words pouring from the despicable woman’s mouth, fearing he might punch her squarely in the face if she didn’t shut up, or worse, snap her neck. Hot rage poured through him, bunching his muscles and straining his tendons. His heart beat wildly against his ribs, pushing blood rapidly through his veins, producing a roar in his ears that muted all sound. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing.
He forced air into his lungs while awareness sank into his bones. A crowd had formed around them, people were staring and whispers were racing around the room with alarming speed. Simon caught a few words. Traitor. Whore. Scandalous. Mistress. His insides shuddered in response while the choice he was faced with cemented itself in his brain. He could walk away from Ida right now, pretend he’d had no idea who she really was, lie until he restored his reputation completely.
Or he could break free from the restraints of Society once and for all, stop giving a damn about how people viewed him, and offer Ida his full support.
He blinked, dropped his gaze in her direction, and blinked again. “Where is she?”
“She left,” Huntley said. “When you didn’t say anything, she walked away.”
“Bloody hell.” Simon instantly turned, frantically searching the crowd and, failing to spot her, pushed his way through it. Christ, he was a dolt. All this while he’d fancied himself a hero, saving the damsel in distress, but when she’d truly needed his help – depended on him for strength and support – he’d paused. Christ. He was no hero. He was a useless, incompetent failure whose every decision had always been guided by ridiculous values. And for what? So people he didn’t even like would marvel over how wonderful he was?
Sickened by the misguided priorities he’d been controlled by since birth, Simon stormed into the hallway and broke into a run. He had to catch her, comfort her, apologize. She was all that mattered, ensuring she was all right and convincing her to forgive him his only objective. Somehow, they had to find a way back from this, because the alternative was too awful to contemplate. So he prayed while occasionally skidding across the polished marble – prayed she wouldn’t hate him forever and prayed his inability to act had not just cost him the most important relationship of his life.
Panting, he rounded a corner, spotted the billowing hem of her gown as she hurried outside. “Ida! Ida, wait!”