Page 100 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

“Well, it can’t be that you love her. What’s she do? Lay there while you?—”

Even he had a breaking point. “Enough, Hester. She’s my wife, and the reasons we married are our own.”

Hester’s offending hand returned to his arm, stroking it suggestively. “Well, you know where to find me when you're ready for a bit of fun.”

With his thumb and forefinger, Simon removed Hester’s hand. “I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. Now, if you would excuse me. I need to join my wife.”

“You can’t be thinking about going in the bakery. Samuel Waters will skin you alive when he sees you again.”

“It’s been seven years. I’m sure he’s calmed down.”

Simon didn’t want to go into the bakery, but remaining with Hester was just as disagreeable. What was he thinking, suggesting he and Charlotte come to Swindon? Like so many times in his life, his impetuosity led him into another sticky situation.

Although he couldn’t avoid it forever. If he lived long enough to inherit Rosehaven Park, he would have to become a staple in the community.

In six long strides, he ate up the pavement leading to the shop. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Aromas of freshly baked bread and sweet biscuits surrounded him, permeating the air stronger than they had outside, making his mouth water. Charlotte stood at the counter, her back to him, but Samuel was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. Perhaps he could whisk Charlotte away before?—

Samuel emerged from the back room, carrying a tray of tarts. “Plum tarts fresh out of the oven, miss.” His gaze darted toward Simon, his face reddening, his mouth in a grim line.Bang!He dropped the metal tray of pastries on the counter. “How dare you come in here!”

Charlotte spun around, and her eyes locked with his, confusion furrowing her brow. With a quick scan of the shop, she no doubt deduced Samuel could be addressing no one but him. “Samuel.” He tipped his head toward the man. “I’ve come to fetch my wife.”

“Wife?!”

Must everyone’s reaction to his marital status be so incredulous? Although, Samuel had more reason than most to doubt Simon’s seriousness when it came to the lifelong commitment.

Wiping his hands on a towel, Samuel gaped at Charlotte. “You’re married to this blackguard?” He pointed at Simon. “Nice young miss like you?”

Charlotte? Nice young miss? Simon withheld the laugh. No need to make matters worse.

“I am, unfortunately,” Charlotte said, the wry tone twisting the knife in Simon’s back a little more. “Now, if I could have a dozen of those plum tarts, we’ll be on our way.”

Simon wisely remained silent, hoping to deter Samuel from elaborating more fully the reasons for his animosity.

With each tart Samuel removed from the tray, he frostedSimon with a glare. Finally tying the package with a string, he handed it to Charlotte.

Simon pulled his purse from his pocket. “How much?”

“No charge.” Samuel veritably growled the words.

Charlotte’s gaze bounced between Simon and Samuel. “That is very kind, sir.”

“Hmphf.” Samuel glared again.

As Simon lifted the package from Charlotte’s hands and opened the door, Samuel muttered, “I just hope you choke to death on one of those tarts, you bastard. It’ll be better than you deserve for killing my daughter.”

CHAPTER 27

Charlotte stumbled from the bakery, her limbs numb. The baker’s words reverberated in her head, wiping away her questions about Miss Pace. Those would wait.

It’ll be better than you deserve for killing my daughter.

What in the world? Simon was not the kind of man to physically harm another.

Felix, definitely. Roland, yes. Even when Nash had been accused of Lady Worthington’s murder, Charlotte had a brief flash of doubt regarding his innocence. Both of her brothers had terrible tempers. No doubt a result of years of bottled rage from their sire’s mistreatment.

As for her, she carried her own scars. One did not survive unscathed when reared by the Marquess of Edgerton. Memories clawed their way up from where she had buried them along with her innocence, and she pushed them back, holding the door tightly shut.

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