Page 99 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

As sure asif a cold wind had swept in, Charlotte’s mood changed. Simon prided himself on understanding women, but Charlotte was another matter altogether. She’d seemed pleased when he insisted she buy the bonnet with the ridiculous feather Miss Throckmorton had been considering. And there could beno doubt she adored little Trifle. He mentally patted himself on the back for the stroke of genius in giving her the kitten.

But somewhere between the milliner’s and the bakery, she’d grown taciturn and sullen.

Not that that was out of the ordinary for his wife. But he’d been encouraged by the few smiles he’d coaxed from her so far that day, only to have his hopes dashed as she grew more distant during each interaction with other people.

But was itallpeople or certain people in particular? When he greeted Mrs. Peabody, a widow near Aunt Kitty’s age, Charlotte’s hand on his arm remained relaxed. Charlotte even sent the old woman a smile.

Before Simon could puzzle it out further, his stomach tightened when Charlotte said, “Oh, a bakery. I wonder if they have plum tarts.”

He tugged on Charlotte’s arm to direct her to the other side of the street.

Charlotte scowled. “What are you doing?”

“We have a cook who bakes.” True, but not his primary reason for avoiding the shop.

“Simon! Simon!” Simon’s stomach clenched at the familiar feminine voice, and he tugged a little more aggressively on Charlotte’s arm.

But it was too late. Mixed with the sweet scents of the bakery, Hester’s cloying perfume assaulted him from behind.

And the day had been going so well. Simon exhaled a sigh.

He had not ended his brief liaison with the woman on good terms. She had misinterpreted his need for comfort and escape from grief for something more lasting, and when he’d enlisted in the military, she’d cursed him for toying with her feelings.

As Charlotte swiveled toward Hester’s voice, her hand on his arm tightened. “Who isthat?” she whispered.

With his most charming smile plastered on his face, Simonturned. “Why, hello, Hester.” He kept his voice chipper, as if he’d truly been happy to see her.

Time had apparently erased all negative feelings from Hester’s mind. Her gray eyes flashed with interest as she seductively ran a hand up his free arm, not once giving Charlotte even a cursory glance.

“Portia Throckmorton told me you were back, and I had to see for myself.” Hester batted her eyes at him.

Charlotte cleared her throat, reminding him she was there. As if he could forget.

“Lady Charlotte, may I present Miss Hester Pace.” He shifted his attention to Charlotte, but her gaze was locked on Hester. “Hester is a serving maid at theHungry Hound.”

Charlotte’s hold on his arm became a death grip.

Hester’s hand remained on his other arm, the caress much too intimate for encounters in public.

“Lady Charlotte is my wife.”

The moment he uttered the additional words, Hester’s hand dropped from his arm. “Wife?!” Her brow furrowed, and her mouth dipped as she puffed out her bottom lip. Simon never believed any woman ugly, but the scowl on Hester’s face at that moment was decidedlynotattractive.

Not like Charlotte’s, where he itched to kiss between the lines forming between her eyes.

“Darling”—Simon patted Charlotte’s hand, at the same time sliding a glance toward Hester from the corner of his eye, certain the endearment landed when she winced—“Why don’t you go ahead? Choose any store that pleases you, and I shall join you in a moment.” He leaned and whispered, his next words for Charlotte’s ears only. “Unless you wish to stay while I tell Miss Pace I am a happily married man. Your reaction might lead her to question my veracity.”

“Very well.” Charlotte nodded toward Hester. “Miss Pace.” Her tone could have frozen the air around them.

Both Simon and Hester remained silent as Charlotte slipped into the bakery. Simon sighed. Why couldn’t she have chosen any other shop?

“So it’s true?!” Hester’s high-pitched voice drew his attention back. “I didn’t want to believe that scandal sheet. And why’d you marry such a cold fish?” Hester’s eyes widened. “Oh! She’s a hoity-toity lady. Did you marry her for her money?”

Sharp words crowded on his tongue. Had he been around Charlotte too long? He reminded himself even a serving wench should be treated like a lady. “You know very well I don’t need money.”

“Her connections to high society, then?”

“No. I already have connections with a duke.” Lord, he hated using Drake as a counterargument.

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