Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,12

by him, but he’d do very well to just stay away from her before he ended up with yet another romantic scandal on his hands. He shuddered and absentmindedly picked up his pace, slowing only mere seconds later when he heard the words that had the power to paralyze a man in his current state of mind:

“Oh, Henrietta dear, I told you he’d come a-calling.”

Simon’s head snapped so hard to the left he was sure he’d have a stiff neck for at least a week.

There, on a set of grey steps on the other side of the street stood Lady Townson and Rae.

Simon waved and offered a stiff smile.

Lady Townson was oblivious to his disinterest and waved him over.

He stayed put.

She was not one to be deterred he was quickly learning. “We were about to go to the park, Mr. Appleton. Would you like to come along?”

No. “I need to be getting back to my office.” It wasn’t a lie exactly. He did need to get back to his office. Just not until he got his lodgings for the evening worked out.

“Are you headed there now?” Lord Townson asked walking through the door, black hat in his hand.

Simon nodded. Lord Townson and several of his lofty friends and acquaintances made up the majority of the Appletons’ clientele. If his lordship wanted Simon to stand on his head on the street, Simon had better find a way to make it happen.

“Unfortunate,” Lord Townson said. “I was hoping to see about some future investments.”

“I have time now,” Simon rushed to say. Likely, the man didn’t wish to go on a walk with the ladies any more than Simon did.

“Perfect.” Lord Townson nodded his approval and without further invitation Simon made his way across the street.

When he reached the other side of the street, Simon bowed to the ladies and greeted them. There was no need to be rude to either of them, just not overly interested. Interest of any sort was a slippery slope, to be sure.

“Lord Townson,” he said at last, waiting for the man to show him into his study.

Townson arched a brow.

“Future investments…” Simon promoted. Was the man so besotted with his blushing wife he’d already forgotten?

“Let’s talk on the way to the park.”

Simon clamped his lips closed to resist the urge to grumble. Lady Townson, however, possessed no such restraint to keep her happy noises in check.

Reluctantly, Simon turned in the direction of the park.

Beside him, Townson cleared his throat and gave a pointed look in the direction of Rae.

With a deep breath that did nothing to steel his resolve, Simon held his arm out toward her.

“There you are, Appleton,” Townson said, proffering his arm to Lady Townson.

Simon frowned. “How exactly are we supposed to talk about your bank account with ladies on our arms, Townson?” he blurted before he could think better of how rude it sounded. Not that it mattered; there wasn’t a polite way to ask that.

“I said I wanted to see about some future investments.” He bobbed his head in the direction of where Rae barely clutched Simon’s arm, then winked at them. “I’m seeing about it right now.”

5

Rae’s heart lurched into her chest. She thought Andrew was on her side! “Traitor,” she mouthed in his direction.

The walk to the park would best be described as awkward at best.

Had it not been for his familiar green eyes and brown hair Simon would have been unrecognizable. He only spoke when spoken to and said only enough to answer the question, nothing more.

“I daresay your Mr. Appleton is in desperate need of a house party,” Brooke surmised when the footmen had finished serving their dinner platters.

Rae resisted the urge to grind her teeth and instead refolded her napkin. “Ignoring that you keep referring to him as my Mr. Appleton—”

“I don’t think you’re ignoring it at all since you just mentioned it,” Andrew said helpfully.

She cut her eyes at him. “Has Simon transferred all of his annoying remarks to you?” That would certainly explain his silence today. Noting Andrew’s raised eyebrow, she knit her brow.

“Simon, eh?” Andrew asked with a chuckle.

Dread washed over her. “Mr. Appleton. Simon. Mr. Simon Appleton.” She waved her hand in the air. “They’re all the same person.”

“That may be,” Andrew conceded, stabbing a piece of meat on his plate. “But, I’ve never heard anyone, save his father, refer to him as Simon.”

She looked to Brooke, an ill-mannered American Heathen, for support and realized a second too late, she wouldn’t be finding any