Page 45 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

Henry grinned. “I see, so your interest in the raven-haired siren is purely intellectual then.”

Simon glowered at him, holding up his glass as a footman hurried over and refilled it.

Simon eyed Henry’s smug expression, his fingers tightening around the glass in his hands as his friend raised his eyebrows at him suggestively.

“You are being very amusing this evening, Henry, are you in your cups?” he asked, surprising a snort out of his friend just as Henry took a sip of his drink. Simon leaned back with satisfaction as brandy splattered all over him.

“Blaggard,” Henry muttered as he dabbed at the dark stain across his breeches with a handkerchief.

Simon laughed under his breath as a servant materialized at Henry’s elbow, offering a napkin, and for a short while, he was alone with his thoughts as he watched his friend with dry amusement.

Henry knew him better than anyone and understood the passionate nature that Simon kept hidden from the world.

He rarely allowed his true personality to shine in public, knowing that he would be open to criticism if he did so.

Yet, Simon also understood it was this unbridled, private nature that might be his chance of winning Scarlett’s affections. One can but hope.

But the idea of shedding the carefully constructed armour he had built over so many years was a terrifying thought.

Society was a nest of vipers, waiting to strike whoever was foolish enough to tread on the wrong tail. Simon did not wish to expose himself. He was a private man for a reason, and Scarlett had never shown any interest in him.

What if I expose myself to the woman, I care for most in the world, and she still has no interest in me save for this sham of a marriage?

He sighed, sipping his drink as Henry sat back in his chair, frowning at him.

“I can see this topic is making you vicious,” he said lightly, swirling his glass in his hand. “If it makes you feel any better, I, too, have a lady to whom I wish to be closer acquainted, but she is quite unaware of my existence.”

“If you are speaking of Lady Anna Pembroke, that is utter nonsense. She knows very well who you are because you keep jesting with her at every event where the two of you meet.”

Henry cocked his head to one side in an acknowledgement of that.

“Mayhap that is true, but she is so easy to jest with. One of the most beautiful creatures I ever beheld, and clever like Lady Scarlett.”

Simon could hardly deny that. Anna Pembroke was Scarlett’s closest friend. Where one went, invariably the other followed. Simon watched with fascination as Henry’s cheeks became rather pink.

“Are you blushing, Carter? Oh, Heavens, the man’s in love,” Simon said with a pleased smirk and Henry rolled his eyes at him.

“And you believe you have the upper hand here, do you? Think again.”

Henry crossed his legs, extending them outward toward Simon’s chair, and placed the glass against his chin as his eyes raised to the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Perhaps now that my best friend is walking into the marriage mart, I should do the same.”

Simon smiled. “All jesting aside, I would be happy to see you settled. You are a fidget at the best of times, perhaps a good woman will allow you to stand still for five minutes together.”

“How dare you?” Henry said without much heat.

Simon looked up as a mutual acquaintance passed by. Lord Val Fawcett was a close friend of the Hayes family, filthy rich and handsome to boot. Simon nodded to him as Val gave him a thin smile, skirting between the chairs and tables as he passed them and headed onward to the card room.

Val’s charm was well known in their circles, but it had always rung hollow with Simon. Nothing Val said ever seemed genuine, as if he were trying to carve out a personality for himself that was the opposite of who he really was.

Simon shook off the prickle of unease as Henry finished his brandy and rose to leave.

“Will I see you at the race on Friday?” Henry asked.

“I should think so. Prepare to be thoroughly trounced. My curricle is much faster than yours.”

“True, but it is not always the carriage and horse, but the rider that will win the day.” Henry quipped, tapping Simon playfully on the head as he walked away.

Alone now, Simon stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the candlelight, his thoughts a tangle of dread and anticipation ahead of the service on Sunday.

He felt the weight of his duty lowering onto his shoulders, the expectations and wishes of his father always an anchor around his neck, waiting to pull him down at the slightest mistake.

On Sunday, he would stand beside Scarlett, a woman he had loved for almost a decade, announcing to the world that they would be bound forever in matrimony. Yet, he could feel no joy at the prospect.

She made him feel like a crow must be feeling when it sees a glittering gem before it. He wanted to treat her as the most precious jewel in the world, placing her on an exalted pedestal where he could admire and love her every day as she deserved.

But will she ever feel the same? Might she ever look at me the way I look at her?