Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,19

madness. Now. She opened her mouth to object to Simon staying, but nothing coherent came out.

“—perfect time to announce your betrothal.”

Simon hadn’t considered staying at Crumbles longer than the fifteen minutes it’d take to throttle her. She might not understand all of Society’s rules, but even she had to know that insinuating to her family that they were courting could have some serious ramifications for him.

However, watching her blush and shift in the seat next to him made a brief stay far more appealing.

“I don’t know if I can stay so long,” Simon said as innocently as he could. “I’d hate to impose on your generosity.”

“It’s not an imposition at all,” Juliet countered. “Is it, Patrick?”

“Not at all,” Lord Drakely said, his apparent amusement was growing by the moment. “He’s practically family, after all.”

Beside Simon, Rae looked like she wanted to explode. He schooled his features to remain impassive. “Indeed,” he agreed, boldly pressing his thigh against hers, delighting in the way she nearly leapt out of her skin at the gesture.

A dark red blush covered her cheeks. “Nothing has been decided, yet.”

“Decided?” Lord Drakely snapped his fingers. “Right. Appleton, now I understand the reason for your visit. You want to discuss the contract.”

All humor left Simon. The last thing he wanted to discuss with Lord Drakely was a betrothal contract. He was vaguely aware of the ladies taking their leave. His chair held him captive. “I don’t see the need to rush to make any arrangements,” he said as evenly as he could.

Lord Drakely gave a slow nod and drained his glass. “Well then, Appleton, why don’t we go talk about some of my investments in my study and then rejoin the ladies in the drawing room so they can drive you to the edge of tedium with talk of wedding frippery.”

Simon swore under his breath and followed the viscount to his study. Investments were better than betrothal contracts and far preferred over wedding frippery.

Or perhaps not.

“What the hell are the two of you about?” Lord Drakely said without ceremony as soon as the door to his study banged shut.

“Perhaps I’m not the one you should ask.”

Lord Drakely flopped down onto his black leather divan. “But you’re the one I asked.”

Simon released a breath. “The truth?”

“Is always preferred.” Lord Drakely yanked off his cravat with a grimace.

“Then you’d better ask Rae, because I have no bloody idea what that hoyden is about.”

“Rae?”

Simon scowled at the grinning jackal. “Henrietta.”

Lord Drakely’s eyes glistened with humor. “You must be genuinely smitten.”

“No,” Simon countered. He leaned against the edge of Lord Drakely’s desk and crossed his ankles. “She doesn’t like her name so I helped her find one she preferred.”

Lord Drakely choked on a cough.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Simon said, frowning. Why was everyone of Rae’s acquaintance fit for Bedlam?

“Then what is it?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” Simon threw his hands into the air. “But I know as much—or less—as you.”

“How is that possible?” Lord Drakely asked.

“Because I’m not privy to female scheming!”

Lord Drakely roared with laughter at that. “Female scheming, indeed,” he said on a chuckle, slapping his open palm on his knee. “I can assure you Henrietta is the last young lady you’d have to worry about trying to scheme her way into marriage with you.”

A dull pain stabbed Simon in the chest. Grimacing, he shoved that traitorous feeling away. “That might have been before you sent her to live with Lady Townson.”

“Juliet was right,” Lord Drakely said quietly. “Lady Townson was good for her.”

“Good for her?” Simon echoed with a snort. “You think scheming about how to trap men into an unwanted marriage is a good trait for a young lady?”

“Unwanted?” Lord Drakely scoffed. He waved a hand through the air. “Actually, I do think it’s a good thing. When I first met Henrietta, I thought she had a personality akin to my quill.”

Simon snorted. “That’s not the Rae I know.”

“No, it seems not.” Lord Drakely shook his head. “You’re like the fine musician who can make the old, dusty pianoforte fill a hall with music.”

“I’m not sure if I’d consider Rae old or dusty.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear that,” Lord Drakely said dryly.

“Delighted to hear what?” Lady Drakely asked, coming into her husband’s study, Rae right behind her sister. “Can we assume the arrangements have all been made, then?”

Simon caught Rae’s eye, daring her to speak up and settle this. When she didn’t, he smiled at her sister and said, “I’d say everything is in