Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,66

through the night in the carriage.

And then at long last, they stopped in front of the Townson’s townhouse.

Simon half-expected Lady Townson to have all of Rae’s belongings packed and waiting by the door.

“I didn’t think you two were coming back,” Lady Townson said, waggling her eyebrows.

“We could have taken longer,” Simon said smoothly.

“Wouldn’t have minded that,” Lord Townson said.

“Oh Andrew, you know you were disappointed at the thought of missing Lady Balline’s soirée tonight.” She smiled brightly at her husband and clapped her hands. “Now we shall be able to attend.”

Simon looked over to Rae. His family had received an invitation. Would she want to go? The travel wary look on her face said no, but he’d still better ask her.

“Shall I ring for a footman to bring down the rest of your things, Henrietta?” Lady Townson asked.

“Yes, please,” Rae said quietly.

Simon put his arm around his wife and drew her closer to him. Perhaps their trip was catching up with her.

A half an hour later, all of Rae’s things were loaded on—and in—Simon’s carriage and they were rolling down the street toward Mr. Nelson’s office to sign another paper and get the keys to his new holdings.

By the time they arrived, Rae was near sleeping.

“Would you like to go in?” he whispered in her ear.

Rae murmured incoherently and snuggled closer to the cushions.

Simon pushed the hair away from her eyes, then as gently as he could, he pulled away from her. He quickly helped her resettle, tucking a rolled up lap blanket under her head and then readjusted the blanket that was covering her.

“I’ll be a few minutes.”

Inside his office, Mr. Nelson was grumbling about the weather and how much hotter it was inside his office as opposed to outside. The hounds of hell wouldn’t even tolerate this, he’d muttered beneath his breath just as Simon came into his office.

“How about if we shuffle some papers to get a breeze blowing in here,” Simon suggested, slowly easing himself into the chair with the least amount of broken wood. The last thing he needed was a splinter in his bottom.

“Impatient, fool,” Nelson said with a scoff. He threw down his quill and with a snarl started digging through a tall, uneven stack of paper, grumbling something else about Simon’s stupidity in marrying so young.

“Just think—” Simon put his feet up on Nelson’s desk— “had I not decided to marry, you wouldn’t have made as much of a commission.”

“Indeed,” Nelson said, pursing his lips and reaching for his riding crop. “You didn’t earn me enough of a commission to use my desk as your footstool.” He popped Simon’s left foot. “Down.”

Simon lowered his feet back to the floor and leaned back in his chair. That poor chair groaned and creaked something awful. Simon bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

Nelson pinned him with a stare and Simon leaned a little further back just to torment the cheap man just that much more, all the while praying that damn chair wouldn't break and make him bust his arse on the floor. Who knew how old and weak it was?

“Here.” Nelson shoved some paper in Simon’s direction. “Sign the top one. Put the others in a safe and hide it from your wife.”

“I get the idea you didn’t have a love match,” Simon mused, scrolling his name across the top page.

“No.” The older man scowled. “I could never decide if she was Satan’s pawn or Satan’s spawn.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Simon stood. “Perhaps if you—”

“Take your keys and get the hell out!” Nelson shouted, extending two keys in Simon’s direction.

Chuckling, Simon plucked the keys from the man’s slender fingers and slipped them in his pocket.

Rae was still sleeping when they reached his new holdings. He debated whether or not to wake her, he was a large part of the reason she hadn’t been able to get much sleep the past fortnight. However, she’d be the mistress of the house; she should go in to see it.

“Rae, we’re home,” he said, touching her soft cheek with the back of his curled fingers.

Her blue eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Home. I like that word.”

“Because you’re ready for bed?”

“Well, a bed sounds nice.” She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger. “I can think of one or two things to use one for. But,” she moved her hand up to run her fingers through his hair, “I like the sound of being home. With you.”

If it were considered in any fashion appropriate to make