Page 16 of Loving Mister Stratford
Viscountess Sommerfeld—Meredith—had made it clear that this was a very close family with uncommon warmth and a penchant for poking into one another’s business. She’d assured Odette that it was, however, all done with the purest of love and the best of intentions. She had also told Odette to let her know if her husband, Simon’s elder brother, ever overstepped and became unbearably annoying and she’d be sure to handle it. Their fierceness Odette witnessed in Meredith’s eyes had made her grin and giggle. It was so nice to feel like she had someone on her side.
This knowledge bolstered her courage as she smoothed her skirts and stood up straighter to take one last assessment of her appearance. She practiced her smile with varying degrees of warmth, closed her eyes, took a bracing breath, and tipped her chin up. Her mother’s words echoed in her head: It’s all a play.
*****
Odette cursed herself for not considering that she’d need a guide to reach the dining room. Why, oh why hadn’t she paid more attention when Meredith and the countess had shown her to her rooms?
Oh yes.
Because she’d been so nervous she’d practically been shaking in her serviceable traveling boots.
She released another groan of frustration when she turned a corner to find only another corridor lined with doorways instead of the staircase. The cobbled-together nature of the manor meant halls were connected at odd angles and levels, dead-ends were common, and you sometimes believed you had descended one story only to discover it had been an illusion.
“Was it two rights, three lefts, and one smaller flight of stairs?” Odette muttered to herself, trying to remain calm as the minutes ticked by. What an impression that would make upon Simon’s family: She’d miss supper entirely and they’d find her corpse huddled in some far-flung corner weeks later.“No, no… One right, two lefts, then another right? Gah! Damn and blast!”
“I’d no idea you had such a mouth on you.”
Odette shrieked and whipped around at the sound of a man’s voice, terror lancing through her like lightning. Her shoulders slumped dramatically when she found only Simon standing a little ways behind her.“My goodness, Simon. It’s only you,” she breathed with a heavy sigh of relief.
“Don’t worry,” he said, cocking an eyebrow;“the family ghost resides in the South tower, not this wing.”
She chuckled nervously, unable to quite tell to what degree he was joking with her.“R—Right. Well. As you can see, I’m terribly lost.”
“I’d surmised as much when I found you wandering near the nursery.” He approached her, gesturing to the door just ahead, and she noticed for the first time the state of his dress.
He’d removed the charcoal coat he’d worn to greet her, now dressed only in his shirtsleeves and dove gray waistcoat. His cravat was unwound and hung in loose loops around the strong column of his neck. Perhaps most interestingly, the fingers of his right hand and the once-pristine cuff of his sleeve were stained with dark, unmistakable blotches of ink. It would appear that he’d been working quite furiously in the hours since her arrival.
He halted less than an arm’s distance away and she caught the distinct scent of warm parchment, leather, and beeswax; coupled with his heady, masculine scent, it was enticing in an unexpected way. A warm curl of something foreign unfurled low in her abdomen. Odette swallowed hard.
“N—Nursery?” she asked stupidly.
Simon inclined his head and then reached around her to open the door. Inside was a large, cheery room papered in daffodil yellow with three tiny beds for Stratford offspring, a larger bed for a nursemaid, a plush rug, tall cases brimming with books, chests for toys, and even tiny desks off in the far corner for lessons. Wide windows had been fitted with bars to keep children from tumbling out. Those windows allowed in ample sunlight and, when open like they were, a fresh, floral-scented breeze was carried in from the gardens below. An enormous fireplace also took up nearly one entire wall. She could likely easily stand inside of it with room to spare. The enormity of the mantle and stonework told even her untrained eyes that she’d meandered into one of the older areas of the manor. She strode into the room without thinking, taking in the cavernous space with its high, dark paneled ceiling.
“The space used to be the old earl’s chambers. A wall used to separate the bedroom from a sitting room, but it was removed to create a space more suitable for a nursery,” Simon explained as he stepped within the doorway.
Odette ran a gloved finger along the back of one of the miniature chairs for the child-sized desks.“Which one was yours?” she asked with an impulsive, mischievous smile.
His fascinating eyes locked onto her with boring intensity.“You’ve found it.”
Odette looked back down at the tiny furniture. She could picture a younger Simon sitting there, so studious and serious beyond his years. It made her mouth tip in a wistful smile. When she glanced up again, she found Simon had strode further into the room…and she was suddenly very, very aware of how alone they were. In fact, they hadn’t been this alone since that evening in the darkened room before they’d been discovered. She could still feel his arms around her, his firm body beneath hers, smell the light waft of the pomade he used. She swallowed again.
There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much they needed to discuss. And, even if they never got the chance, they’d still be wed, regardless, in less than two weeks.
“Simon…I…” He merely inclined his head to indicate he was listening. He didn’t press her or urge her to finish, simply waiting in patient silence.“I want you to know I am sorry. How all of this happened…it…it wasn’t fair to you.”
His brows crinkled.“Is it not as equally unfair to you to have your hand forced?”
“Yes. I mean, no!” She sighed in frustration.“That is…I don’t want you to believe I’d been forced.”
“But you were.”
“Technically yes.” She nearly groaned in frustration. Her cheeks began to burn uncontrollably when next she spoke.“The timing of the betrothal was forced, but I’ve never felt forced to spend time with you.” Simon simply stared at her; assessing, examining, considering. She steeled her resolve.“I quite enjoy it, actually. Spending time with you, that is. I only wish we’d been able to pursue this on our own time and terms.”
He approached her then, standing more closely than even when they’d danced. She swore her heart stopped when he reached up, his hand hovering a breath’s width from her cheek, so close she could feel its warmth, like when she stood too near to a fire—comforting and dangerous at the same time. His swirling blue-green eyes darted across her face, mesmerizing her with their ethereal intensity. His lips parted, but he only sighed and leaned forward, his lips barely grazing the top of her head. She felt him take a long, shaky inhalation before he spoke.
“I, as well, Odette. All of it.”
Surprise and pleasure ebbed through her in equal measure. She tilted her head back to look up into his face. The intensity in his eyes was heart-stopping, so her eyes flitted to his sensuous lips. Her cheeks warmed again, the heat melting her coherent thoughts and painting her throat and chest a rosy pink.
