A scornful laugh erupted from Simon. “Of course, that would save you ten thousand.”
“You can keep the money,” Harry said with a shrug. “Use
it to repair that pile you have in Kent. At least I know you won’t gamble the funds away.”
“I’m not sure ten thousand would come close to fixing the place. I think Barnes got the better of me. It will cost more to refurbish it than the debt was worth.”
“Still, it should make a nice family home. Emma could help you. With her artistic talent, she’s certain to have excellent taste in furnishings.”
Simon closed his eyes and pictured Emma helping him with the updates that the manor home needed. She would bend over the drawings, her golden hair would fall into her face, and he would be pleased to push the curls back behind her ear with a kiss. Irritation with Harry coursed through him. Damn his brother for putting images in his head that don’t belong there.
Simon counted to ten before he spoke. “Enough, Harry. I am not selling Hell, and I am not marrying Emma.”
“Then you should stay away from her.” Harry tilted his head and gave him an inquiring glance. “Are you in love with her?”
“No. And the only time I’m in her company is at family functions and the occasional ball I attend.”
He could not tell his brother about the other times she had come to Hell. Harry would be furious to discover she’d been there without Simon immediately sending her home and then informing him. And then there was this afternoon and what he’d almost done to her.
He was tired of everyone presuming he was the black sheep, the bad seed. The worst he’d done was almost seduce the lady. Well, that wasn’t terribly good. But he hadn’t completely ruined her, even if that had been the plan before Albert interrupted them.
“Please try to stay away from her, then. For both your sakes,” Harry implored before opening the door for them to go upstairs with the others.
If only I could. Simon had never met a woman who entranced him as Emma did. As he walked up the stairs, he wondered what had kept her from the dinner. Him, he supposed. Still, he imagined if she were here, a rosy blush would brighten her delicate cheeks. How he longed to see that.
And kiss her again.
Everywhere.
Bloody hell, he was in too deep.
EMMA GLANCED ONE LAST time in the mirror before heading to the door. She could do this. He would not even be at the Lancasters’ ball tonight. But Bolton would, and she’d promised him a dance. If this ball weren’t at Susan’s home, Emma might have begged off. After everything that happened yesterday, she had no desire to dance with Bolton or any other man.
She had almost crossed off number nine.
Number nine.
It should be the most frightening thing on her list. Except, she hadn’t been scared at the idea of giving herself to Simon. She had wanted it far more than she thought possible.
Reaching the bottom step, she noticed her mother had not descended yet. As she sat on the small hall chair, her thoughts returned to yesterday afternoon. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment when she realized Simon had seen her naked, had touched her so intimately. If they had not been interrupted, she would have let him do so much more.
How would she face him again?
Now, she doubted he would attempt to make love to her again. Common sense must have returned, and he would remember all the reasons they should never kiss, much less make love.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she glanced up to see her mother descending in a lovely blue silk. Emma didn’t remember seeing that gown before tonight. Another gift from Hammond, she supposed.
“Are you well, Emma?” her mother asked as a footman opened the door for them. “You look quite flushed.”
She blinked. “Excitement over the ball, I suppose.”
“Hmm,” her mother said with a shrug. “I expect you on the dance floor tonight.”
With a promised set to Bolton, she had no choice. “Of course, Mamma.”
“Excellent. Louisa and Harry should be here momentarily to escort you.” Her mother gave her a nod.
“What do you mean? Are you not attending?”