Page 35 of Eliza and the Duke
“I’ll be there directly once I read this.” She held up the letter from Lord Mainwaring.
Jenny rose to leave, but Eliza called after her, “Wait! What was the rumor you wanted to tell me last night?”
Jenny grinned devilishly and sank back down beside her. “I overheard Lady Hanford and Mrs. Thistle discussing Lord David.”
Eliza vaguely recognized the names of two Society widows. Lord David had been briefly linked to one of them by gossip, but she couldn’t remember which one. “What about him?”
Her sister leaned closer. “I can’t be certain, but I believe one of them said that he had an adornment.” Jenny raised an eyebrow as if Eliza should know what she meant.
“An adornment? Where? Jenny, what does that mean?”
“There.” She vaguely gestured in the area of her groin. “Hisprivatearea.”
“No.” Eliza covered her mouth in shock. “It’s not possible.”
“I didn’t think so, either.”
“How would that even work?” Eliza asked.
“It must be quite painful.” Jenny started laughing and Eliza followed suit.
“I don’t believe it,” Eliza finally managed.
Jenny shrugged. “I can’t decide if I do or not, but I for one will be looking at him very differently the next time I see him.”
They both devolved into laughter again until Jenny managed to stand. “I must go ready myself. Don’t be long.”
She hurried out, leaving Eliza alone.
Eliza sighed and retrieved the pewter letter opener to cut through the envelope and pull out the single sheet of paper. A sense of dread settled in her stomach while she did. It always did when the subject of her fiancé came up. She scanned theletter quickly. He wrote that the food was too spiced for his taste and that he couldn’t wait to come home to her. He made no mention of his coffeehouse visits. He signed the letter with his title. Had he even given her leave to use his name? No, he hadn’t.
Their life would be a series of niceties while he trotted off to coffeehouses. She was sure of it. She closed her eyes and forced a calm that she was far from feeling. It would be so very foolish to throw away a quarter of a million dollars on something that wouldn’t amount to anything. Jenny was right.
She resolved to move on from Simon, but as she stood, her gaze lingered on the stack of clean parchment waiting to become letters. The urge to write to Simon nearly had her sitting back down. No, she would move on from him faster if she made herself forget him.
Eighteen
Training, visiting Daisy, and working.Those three things were Simon’s entire life for the next several days, and often in that order. They were the only things that mattered. The encounter with Brody had spooked him. Simon did not trust the man. Even though he claimed the final fight would free her, Simon kept waiting for something to happen. He kept expecting that he would visit the little attic room where she lived and she wouldn’t be there, so he went more often.
He woke and trained, then hurried to Daisy, then came back to start working until late into the night, except on the days when his shift started early, and then he would peek in on her as she slept and assure himself that she was well. The next day was more of the same. The only part of that routine that came to anyone’s notice was the training. He sparred with a relentless energy that caught the attention of nearly every partner he encountered.
Most of it was because he was concerned about what Brody had asked him to do. Aside from a couple of early fights when he’d started out, Simon had never lost on purpose. Throwing a fight intentionally was almost as difficult as winning; especially this fight, because the man he was fighting was good. Dangerous and good. He never wanted to be on the losing end of that man’s fists, because sometimes they didn’t stop until it was too late. The loser generally received more damage than the winner.
He couldn’t deny that some of his passion was pent-up frustration that he couldn’t have Eliza. That night in Whitechapel had shown him what he had always feared. That she was a deep and thoughtful person. That what he had suspected had come to fruition. She was so much more than the impulsive behavior that he loved about her. She was sweet and soft and bitter and hard. Every facet of her held him spellbound. She shined like a jewel, and he wanted to hold her in the light, in the dark, and everywhere in between to see how she shimmered.
He wanted to pursue her, but to what end? She was too passionate to settle for a sexual interlude, but even he knew that wasn’t the only thing he wanted with her. He wanted more. He wanted everything. For the first time in his entire life, he wanted to spend time with a woman and learn more about her. He wanted to share more of himself with her. At night before he went to sleep he imagined taking her and Daisy to the park. They’d walk hand in hand while Daisy played around them. They’d settle on a blanket to eat their bread and cheese and then feed crumbs to the ducks like he’d seen other families do.
It was foolish to hope for such things. Eliza didn’t even know that Daisy existed. He couldn’t assume that she wouldwant to join their little family even if he was successful at placating Brody. She had another life all planned with her betrothed. Simon couldn’t offer her anything better. He couldn’t even offer her safety. If Brody ever thought that he could use her to get to Simon, he wouldn’t hesitate.
Those thoughts left him little time to rest because they drew him out of bed and to the gymnasium. Sparring and training was the only time he could focus on anything else. He’d just finished a hard but satisfying sparring session on one such morning. Drenched in sweat and with his lip nicked by an errant knuckle, he sucked on the blood as he made his way to his office. It was a little room off the service corridor outfitted with a wooden desk and chair and cabinetry for files. Much of his tasks involved working the floor and dealing with members and various events, so he kept member files and event diaries. Only one of the shower baths was functional today, so he had let his opponent who had taken more than his fair share of the beating shower first.
He walked into the room intent on sorting the stack of morning post that had been left there for him. The post generally came addressed to the club. The rare letters addressed to him were from members thanking him for his handling of a delicate situation or they were writing ahead to request a special arrangement for when they were in town, which was the case today, except for one letter from someone named Anne Leybourne written in a neat and sloping hand, a feminine hand. The only Leybourne he knew was George Leybourne, the performer he and Eliza had seen in Whitechapel. His heart thundered as he turned over the envelope and broke the seal. It couldn’t be from her, but he hoped it was.
Dearest Simon,
I told myself that I wouldn’t write to you, yet here I am, putting pen to paper in the hopes that this finds you well. Thank you for everything. I will always be indebted to you.
Should you have need of me in the future, please do not hesitate to write to me. We will be moving to the Devonworth townhome directly, which is where you should look for me.
