Page 4 of Loving Mister Stratford
It had to be something about her eyes or her smile, maybe the way she made him feel as if his opinion mattered. She inclined her body toward him whenever he spoke and tilted her head in his direction when she awaited a reply. It took him some time to figure out what it was about her: She made him feel comfortable. She settled his mind.
*****
Rafe ducked back into the carriage after seeing his paramour to the door of her home. Simon was a bit surprised that the carriage hadn’t been sent off to carry him home alone; that Rafe hadn’t spent the night (rather that he hadn’t been rewarded with a night in her bed after going through the effort of this night at the theater), but Simon didn’t question it. His friend dropped into the seat across from him with a sigh.
“Drinks at the club, then?” he asked with a cocked brow. Rafe could see it was on the tip of Simon’s tongue to decline, but he forged ahead.“Come on, now. Just one or two. You don’t even need to drink, you can just hold it and look handsome.” Tight-lipped, Simon turned to look out the window. Rafe took this for assent and knocked on the roof to send them into motion.
This night was proving to be endless…
Once they were settled into the fine leather chairs at Rafe’s exclusive gentlemen’s club, a warmed brandy set beside each of them upon the inlaid table between their chairs, Rafe asked a question that had been niggling at him for the latter part of the evening.
“So, who was that girl backstage after the play?” He eyed Simon over the finely cut edge of his crystal glass as he took a sip.“I hardly ever see you in the company of women, let alone a single one who’s managed to keep your attention for so long before; she must be very intriguing, indeed.”
Simon, used to his friend’s nosy interrogations and penchant for making everything about carnality after so many years, gave a little shake of his head.
“It wasn’t like that. Her name is Miss Odette Leroy; I met her rather by chance,” Simon replied, fondly recalling the unique circumstances of their introduction.
“Odette? That’s a rather unique name—very French,” Rafe commented and took another nip of his warmed brandy.“You do realize who she must be, don’t you?” Simon didn’t offer a response, so Rafe continued,“With that hair and name, I’d wager money on her being related to Stella Auclair, the female lead in tonight’s performance. Someone backstage mentioned Miss Leroy’s name in passing. I guess Mademoiselle Auclair doesn’t like for it to be known that she has a daughter who is one-and-twenty, though the ruse seems to be more of a farce than anything at this point…a stroke of vanity on her part. Everyone in the theater knows Miss Leroy is more than a companion to Mademoiselle Auclair.”
Simon’s sandy brows rose in interest. The relative whose earrings she’d borrowed must have been her mother, the French star of The Mask and Lyre. If her mother was attempting to hide a scandal over having a child out of wedlock, or if she truly was disguising the fact that she had a grown daughter, then it made sense. Though Simon couldn’t fathom why a mother wouldn’t want to tout having such a pretty, kind young woman for a daughter.
“I wonder,” mused Rafe as he stared into his glass;“It’s common knowledge that her mother is an infamous courtesan—she takes the truth that actresses are freer with their wares and creative in bed to another level. What are the odds that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree? Could Miss Leroy have set her sights on you as a protector?”
Simon frowned at his friend. It was hardly very fair to make the broad assumption that a woman’s involvement in the theater made for looser morals—it was a slippery slope if ever he’d encountered one—but still… It made Simon wonder about Odette’s unconscious sultriness, her confidence, and the ease with which she’d gotten him to converse. The last was no easy task, and all of these would be characteristics one would expect of an experienced courtesan—a woman used to enticing and entertaining men. And there was no denying that Simon had been both entertained and enticed, on top of intrigued and made to feel vastly interesting.
And yet, there had been a hint of innocence about Odette. He caught it in some of her body language, the way she’d been embarrassed at the circumstances of their first encounter. Simon didn’t entirely trust his judgment on this, however, because he was the first to admit he wasn’t always the best at reading social cues.
In all, he supposed this pondering was rather pointless because he doubted he’d meet her again.
“Is this truly what you wish to discuss?” Simon began, cocking a brow.“I hardly believe you’d prefer discussing a woman with whom I had a passing conversation, rather than the fact that you aren’t in Freya’s bed.”
“First of all, it’s Felicity—and I know you’re being purposely obtuse at this point—‘Freya’? You can’t be serious?” Rafe snorted before his lips thinned to a line of discontent.“And second…it would seem she decided to terminate our arrangement. I should have seen it coming when I caught her looking quite cozy with the Earl of Wells.”
“Ah,” Simon nodded as if he understood being thrown over by a woman with whom he’d formed a physical attachment. He didn’t need further explanation of the situation, however; he was perhaps one of the only individuals who had some understanding of just how dire the straits were in which the Blackwood Viscontsy resided. It was no surprise that a woman such as the widowed Lady Felicity Moore would jump at the chance to have a protector who could shower her with an obnoxious abundance of goods and baubles. For all his appealing looks, charm, prowess, social graces, and status as an ideal of theton, Rafe was still a man with feelings. Before Simon could open his mouth to offer condolences, Rafe slapped his knees and signaled for another drink.
“Let’s not dwell on this, shall we? I’ve already decided to call upon Lady Towbridge tomorrow afternoon—she’s been dogging me for months. I may as well give the woman something to swoon over in earnest.”
Simon shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Thank God Rafe wasn’t fragile.
Chapter Two
Simon was once again attempting to work on his research, comfortably ensconced in his warm, quiet rooms, when his elder brother, George, Viscount Sommerfeld, came to call.
George’s personality couldn’t have been more different from Simon’s had they not shared a lick of blood. Early on, Simon had realized what a disappointment he’d been as a younger brother. Though he’d tried ad nauseam in his early years, he hadn’t liked the same games or enjoyed the same pastimes as his more athletic, outgoing, golden lion of a brother. Thankfully, George had sought an even tighter bond with Jeremy Balfour, Baron Shefford, rather than torture or attempt to force Simon into changing his ways. This, of course, didn’t mean that Simon was oblivious to the chasm thatgrew and yawned between him and his male sibling.
Despite their myriad of differences, however, these past few years had gone a long way toward making Simon feel more as if he were a part of the Stratford family rather than an interloper sent to observe and not quite comprehend their habits. George, it seemed, was finally beginning to see Simon as a valuable relation; unfortunately for Simon’s work, this meant George dropped in a great deal more than he used to.
Currently, George and his wife, Meredith, were in Town for the Season. They’d been married three years already and it was easy for Simon to admit that he quite liked his sister-in-law. She’d managed to breathe humanity back into his brother. Before her, no one else had been able to pull George from the dark place into which he’d fallen following his terrible leg injury. Also to her credit, she’d always managed to listen to Simon with genuine interest. Meredith unfailingly made a point to ask Simon what he was working on whenever they saw one another. While George’s eyes usually glazed over—as most peoples’tended to do when Simon began discussing his projects—she always managed to make him feel heard and appreciated. Simon also experienced real enjoyment watching the way Meredith was the only one capable of putting George in his place. His brother’s moods were sometimes mercurial, though less so than in the past. Meredith seemed to know exactly what to say to manage her husband.
This time, however, George came alone.
“This is deplorable,” his elder brother grumbled, poking around his woefully understocked sideboard. He leaned on his cane as he righted himself, balancing to take some of the weight off of his injured right leg.“I always had a healthy supply on hand when I used to keep my bachelor rooms in Town.”
“You know I don’t drink,” Simon replied lightly without bothering to look up from the parchment spread out before him.
“It’s not for you, more so for your guests.” George trudged over to the only other chair in the room, an oversized leather-upholstered wing-backed chair set before the small hearth in the enclosed room. Though George’s limp was less pronounced thanks to the rehabilitation he’d been enduring over the years, some days were still better than others. It would seem that today was not a particularly good day.
“Have you considered the possibility that I don’t stock my sideboard as a deterrent?”
