Simon's Brides (11 page)

“A woman could change Simon’s mind,” Caro murmured and turned to leave the room.

Amy sputtered, “I--I--not me.”

Caro chuckled and slipped through the doorway. “Maybe, then again, maybe not,” Caro said and swept toward her own room.

Amy put her hands to her scorched face. Had her appearance told Caro that she’d been thoroughly kissed by the new Baron Kirkley?

She prepared for bed, but sleep was impossible. She tossed and turned through the night, aware that her lips still burned from Simon’s kisses. When sleep came, her dreams held the image of a tall, good-looking man on the deck of a ship.

She knew at once Simon had invaded her dreams. He beckoned to her, but when she got close, he and his ship faded into a thick cloud of mist. An aching loneliness descended and when she awoke, her pillow was wet. She had wept during the night.

She rose early, not interested in falling asleep and facing more disturbing dreams. And, throughout the morning, Simon kept visiting her thoughts as she and her sisters restored the rooms Harold had decimated. At one point, she cursed Simon, who was working with estate manager, Jonathan Miller. He had no right to taunt her in her dream and then plague her waking thoughts as well.

~ * ~

“I don’t understand,” Simon said. “Why would Neville leave all the household monies to Amy for distribution? Oh, I realize he willed her the estate if and when she married or reached a certain age, but what of his last wife, Patience? I think he would have left her the authority.”

“Baron Kirkley knew that Patience had no mind for finances,” Jonathan Miller said. “Did you ever meet Patience, my Lord?”

Simon shook his head. “Neville invited me for the wedding, but I couldn’t come.”

Jonathan smiled. “Patience was as pretty as her step-brother is repugnant.”

“Her step-brother?” Simon snarled. “You mean to tell me that Harold Bottomsworth was her step-brother? That Eleanor is not related except by marriage?”

“Why, yes, my Lord, but, I thought you knew. Harold is no blood relation to Patience at all. That was why I refused to give over any funds for the household to him, why I refused to pass out the income to pension off Bolton. I knew if I gave Harold that money, no one would see a shilling.”

“I agree,” Simon nodded. “But, why didn’t you give the money to Amelia?”

Jonathan Miller took a deep breath and sighed. “My Lord, the income is distributed on a quarterly basis. I gave Miss Amelia the funds for the third quarter several days before Patience died. Then when I returned to administer the next quarter’s payment and give Miss Amelia the funds to pension off Bolton, I found the women gone from the house, Bolton dismissed and Harold in complete control. Baron Kirkley, before he died, made it clear that only you or Miss Amelia could receive those monies.”

“How much is each quarterly amount?” Simon muttered.

“More than enough to run the estate. Of course, with three more quarters added to the monies owed,” he glanced at the ledger in his hand and named a large sum.

Simon sucked in a deep breath. There was more than enough to see the estate maintained in a manner befitting a barony.

Simon leaped from his chair and with his hands behind him, began to pace. “How was it that you had no idea of the women’s location? I find that hard to believe.”

“At first--” Jonathan looked a little pale as he twisted his head following Simon across the room. “At first, Mr. Bottomsworth insisted they had left the property to live with relatives in London. At the time I wasn’t privy to all the terms of the will. I did know you had been summoned. I figured you would arrive soon, but at the end of the spring quarter, I did try to find Miss Amelia. Each time I came to the house, to question Mr. Bottomsworth he demanded the estate funds. I also traveled to London only to discover there were no close relatives with whom the women stayed.

“I inquired in the village and after several weeks, I learned the women were staying in an estate cottage. I sent a message to Miss Amelia asking her to meet with me, but I believe she never received the message. I waited for her every afternoon for a week. Twice after that I started to the cottage, but each time someone followed me. Then your summons came.”

Simon paused and glared at him. The women had probably been without funds for months. Unfair. Simon brushed his guilt away. After all, he
had
come as soon as he had learned of Neville’s death.

He sat. “I’ll want a complete accounting. I’ll also need some idea of the value of the missing property. It appears that Harold helped himself to anything not nailed to the floor. And, the horses. I want the value of Neville’s horses. In fact, make inquiries about those horses. Caroline told me Harold sold them. I intend to buy them back.”

The accountant scribbled as Simon dictated. “And, make arrangements for a local dressmaker,” Simon added at the end. “The women need clothing, something fashionable.”

Anything else, my Lord?” Jonathan asked.

Simon ran his finger threw his hair. “Perhaps you should send for a Bow Street runner. Once the list of missing property is prepared, people must be hired to find whatever they can.”

A hesitant knock sounded on the office door.

“My Lord,” Bolton interrupted through the door, “there are some ah--men here who claim to be in your employ.”

Simon opened the door and glanced at the stooped figure of his butler-valet.

“Yes, Bolton,” he announced, “Bring them to me.”

Seven

Two weeks later, Simon relaxed in his office chair and smiled with satisfaction. The house had been cleaned and returned to its former beauty, estates rents collected and Ben had arrived. Ben’s men and the Bow Street runner had searched for Harold Bottomsworth, however, reports said there had been no strange behaviors from anyone near the property or in the village. Harold seemed to have disappeared.

Just this morning Jonathan Miller sent word he’d located some of Neville’s prize horses. Simon stood and began to pace. At the moment, Caro and Amy had agreed to accompany him to identify the animals. Simon only hoped Caro would recognize the steeds.

He hated to admit it, but he felt a great deal of satisfaction in restoring Neville’s property to its previous glory. There was only one thing wrong. Being confined to the estate with Amy affected him more than he wanted to admit.

If he followed her into a room, her fragrance trapped him in a sensual web. If he got to close to her, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her body. He wondered if the other people in the household noticed the effect she had on him.

To be on the safe side, he escaped as often as he could, because, just being in the same house with her made him want to grab her, carry her off to his bedroom, strip her naked and sink into her warm body. He couldn’t, of course. She was to become another man’s wife and he had to return to the sea and his business. Damn! He should never have kissed her.

He kept remembering that kiss. Bloody hell! When he did, his body let him know he desired that woman more than any other woman he’d ever known. He didn’t like it, not at all.

He forced thoughts of Amy from his consciousness. Much to his surprise, restoring Kirkley Manor had been something he’d enjoyed. Of course, he had yet to address the problem of husbands for Neville’s daughters. Even Aunt Agatha mentioned it the night before during the evening meal.

He couldn’t work up enough enthusiasm to sort through his acquaintances and begin the search. He’d told himself he had to settle matters at the estate first. After all, finding husbands would take time and the estate demanded immediate attention.

Who did he think he was kidding? He didn’t want to think about husbands and marriage. The thought of finding a husband for Amy had him cursing Neville with everything in him. Of course, Simon didn’t think much of marriage anyway.

And, he had good reason. The concept of a happy home made him groan. The examples of wedded bliss and family life he’d seen as a youth had him cringing with horror.

First, there were his own parents who appeared to hate each other. As soon as she could leave him, his mother had gone to live with her spinster sister in Scotland. His father had stayed near London to make his fortune. Simon had only seen them together on two occasions. Both of those events had ended with the two adults yelling at each other like fishwives. They seemed to mix like oil and water. He’d always wondered how on earth they had gotten together to have him. And, he’d been stuck in a rambling house with a nanny, then a tutor until Neville had rescued him and sent him to school.

Next, Neville’s own example wasn’t that great. His benefactor had married more wives than Simon could remember just because he’d wanted a son. Indeed, Neville reminded him of King Henry the Eighth. Of course, Neville’s wives had all died naturally leaving him with a number of girls to raise. Simon’s parents and Neville gave one cause to shun saying vows.

Simon would have to get Amelia and her sisters married, no matter what he thought of the institution. Neville had left instructions and he owed it to the previous Baron Kirkley. Yes, he had to find some husbands.

A brisk knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he ordered.

The door opened and Bolton announced, “The carriage is waiting, my Lord.”

Simon frowned at the stooped figure in front of him. He’d forgotten to ask Jonathan about delivering Bolton’s pension. Well, he’d ask the accountant about it this afternoon.

“The young ladies?”

“Are both waiting for you at the entrance, my Lord.”

“Thank you, Bolton. We’ll return for tea. Would you inform my aunt?”

Bolton made a face, but nodded his head. Aunt Agatha and Bolton did not get on. Simon had to do something about that as well. Pensioning Bolton off would take care of that problem. Yes, he and Jonathan would need to address that matter this afternoon.

Caro and Amy waited at the front door. Amy patted her curls and tucked them under the ribbon of her new bonnet. She smoothed the skirt of her new apple green day dress and glanced at her sister. Caro wore the dark blue day dress from her refurbished wardrobe.

Amy smiled as she glanced at the new boots Caro wore. At least her sister had decent shoes now. All of them appreciated Simon’s concern for their depleted wardrobes and to be honest, it had been fun picking out fabric for newer garments. She must remember to thank Simon. Just that thought brought a flood of warmth to her face.

This was getting to be too much. She dreamed about him at night, she thought about him during the day and now the thought of having to say
thank you
heated her skin. She didn’t understand any of this, for she didn’t like Simon at all. He refused to consider her plea to remain unmarried and he made it plain to everyone in the house that he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her.

She didn’t appreciate having to go with him this afternoon, but Caro had insisted. Agatha had heard the conversation and insisted Caro and Simon could not travel alone. Someone had to accompany them and since Amy was the oldest, Agatha insisted Amy should go.

A door opening and closing announced Simon’s approach. She bit her lower lip as her heart began to pound and her blood raced through her veins. Her breath caught and she felt like shouting her displeasure. Every time he came near her she had trouble breathing and her heart pounded against her breast. But, why him? She flounced down the steps toward the waiting vehicle.

“Caro, you’re certain you’ll recognize your father’s animals?” Simon asked as he followed the women toward the vehicle.

Caro chuckled. “I’ll bet they’ll know me as well. Some of those horses I helped train. Wait and see. They’ll let us know the minute I approach them.”

Simon helped Caro into the shay and then turned to Amy. She gritted her teeth, prepared for the tingling that always accompanied his touch.

Sure enough, the minute he put his hands around her waist she felt that strange surge of sensation that raced through her. Why? she wanted to scream. Did she dislike him so much that his touch sent tremors through her? It was the only answer that made sense to her.

She took her seat and sucked in air, praying neither Simon nor Caro would notice the quickness of her breathing.

She managed to avoid their scrutiny because they spent the time discussing the missing mounts. Amy scooted closer to the edge of the shay and fingered the reticule on her arm. These sensations that Simon caused in her had to stop. She couldn’t go through another day dreading his approach.

Whatever was causing the problem must be discovered and removed.

If she didn’t dislike him, perhaps he wouldn’t affect her so much. She decided to spend the rest of the day and tonight thinking about the things she should like about the man. Enveloped in her own thoughts she ignored Simon and Caro as they moved through the estate gates and continued down the road.

“You are too quiet,” Caro said, reaching over and giving her a quick punch in the ribs. “What on earth are you thinking about?”

Amy sighed. She couldn’t tell Caro what she was thinking. Her sister would never understand. And, Amy didn’t want Simon to hear her comments. He was arrogant enough already.

Quickly, she said, “There’s so much in the house that must be addressed. I was wondering where Harold might have sold the portraits and the bric-a-brac. Some of Mother’s collection is gone, Priscilla’s jewelry is gone, and some of Irene’s silver is missing.”

Simon turned and patted her shoulder. “We’ll find as much of it as we can,” he said as she flinched. She sighed. If she didn’t stop reacting to him as she did, they’d all guess she and Simon had a problem with each other.

Simon and Caro continued their conversation about the horses and Amy slumped back in her seat. She’d just as soon not enter the discussion, not when the wrong remark might draw attention to her.

It took the better part of an hour before they arrived at the stables. Jonathan Miller approached the shay followed by the man Jonathan identified as the stable master.

Amy watched Simon exchange pleasantries. She heard him explain why they had come and what he wanted. Then he asked if there were any papers for the horses Harold had sold him. First Simon offered Caro his help. She started toward the stables. Amy refused Simon’s aid in descending from the carriage. One bout of dizziness was all she could handle this afternoon. Once her feet touched the ground, she had to laugh at Simon’s facial expression. The noise from the barns indicated Caro had found the horses and they were welcoming her.

Amy chuckled. There was never any point in telling people about Caro’s affinity to her animals. Seeing was believing. And, Simon was just about to see.

Caro led first one then another of their father’s horses from the stable; five mares strutted through the doors as if Caro had told them they had to put their best foot forward. Amy chanced to look at Simon as Caro led the stallion from his confinement. To say he was stunned, didn’t describe his expression. Amy giggled. She couldn’t help it.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Amy asked.

“Dear God, if I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Now,” Amy said quietly, “Do you see how Harold convinced the villagers there was something wrong with Caro, with all of us?”

Simon nodded and turned his attention back to the master. Money exchanged hands and they started back the way they had come, leaving Jonathan Miller to make arrangement for the transfer of the animals back to Kirkley Manor.

They accomplished their return in record time. Simon seemed in a hurry to be done with the business at hand and Amy couldn’t have agreed with him more. The sooner they were back at the house, and she was away from him, the happier she would be. It was obvious, at least to Amy, that Simon felt as she did. Out of sight and out of mind.

Simon drove the shay up to the house and they all stared at the vehicles parked in the circular drive.

“What the...” Simon muttered as he dragged both Caro and her from the conveyance.

He rushed up the stairs and threw open the front door, not bothering to wait for Bolton or for them. Amy followed him as he strode into the parlor.

The scene that greeted them had Amy frowning. Simon seemed furious and she could only guess what was going on.

Aunt Agatha sat on the sofa between Bethany and Ellie. Dora sat in a chair opposite them, beside a tea cart. Three men sat in other chairs.

“Aunt,” Simon snarled, “what is going on here?”

“Simon, you’ve ignored you responsibility long enough. I want you to meet my nephew and his friend. Philip Anderson is Clarence’s sister’s boy.”

Amy stood in the doorway looking at the three men who now stood. Clarence’s sister’s boy could not be called a boy. Close to thirty, Amy figured, and good looking. Tall, taller than Caro, he had brown eyes the color of dark chocolate and dark brown hair that tended to curl against the collar of his shirt. She made a mental note to find out just who Clarence and his sister were. Agatha pointed to the other young man standing.

“This is Oscar Hazelton, Esquire. He and Philip hunt together.”