"I wanted to show you something, Lady Whitley."

Simon glanced over at his companion, and her rosy lips popped open in delicate fascination. "Show me something?"

He smiled warmly. "Yes, my lady. I think we've seen every rose in this darn garden, and it is time to stroll somewhere new. What do you say?"

"Somewhere new?" Lady Whitley repeated, and Simon wondered what had gotten into her today. She'd been blushing and fidgeting since Simon arrived outside her chambers earlier that morning. And it was in an entirely legitimate way, too. The lady did not seem to have any idea of what to do with her slim, gloved hands except to nervously fold them into her skirts.

"It is just down this path," Simon reassured. "Not far."

Lady Whitley flashed him a shy smile before saying, "Lead the way, Simon."

The way she said his name made Simon pause. Quite literally. His feet nearly stopped.

Every other time Whitley said his name, it had been done almost mockingly. Like she was addressing him casually just for the mere fact that Simon insisted upon it. But today...today there was something else in the way she exhaled those two syllables. And Simon enjoyed it a little too much.

He shook his head, focusing instead on the way Whitley grasped his arm as they made their way past the rose bushes. Old drooping trees created an archway of sorts before them, framing the grassy path that led into a wooded part of the estate.

It would be far from the eyes of others, but that was not why Simon had picked it as their destination this morning. He simply thought that Whitley might enjoy the spot, and it wasn't as though they usually had a chaperone on their morning walks.

Whitley walked mutely beside Simon, and it was strange. There were many strange things about today. Simon kept waiting for the next round of questions regarding his mother and how she managed to uncover the ton's secrets, but Whitley's mouth stayed pressed in a tight line.

It was definitely odd.

Simon cleared his throat. "How was yesterday, my lady?"

Whitley's head whipped around as she looked up at Simon with wide eyes. "Yesterday?"

Chuckling, Simon confirmed, "Yesterday."

Whitley blinked at him, blushing furiously once more.

What the devil?

"You went on an outing with the ladies, did you not?" Simon attempted once more.

"Oh, yes," Whitley said on an exhale. "Yes, I did." She pursed her lips and then looked downward, watching her boot-covered feet as they slipped through the tall blades of grass.

"And how was it?"

Whitley cleared her throat. It was a small sound that Simon barely heard, but she then raised her voice while saying, "As I mentioned before, it was quite fine."

Mentioned before? Perhaps Simon had too much to drink at dinner last night, for he did not remember asking Lady Whitley about her outing. He did not remember speaking to Lady Whitley at all. She had sat on the opposite side of the table and to Simon's left, making conversation annoyingly impossible.

Simon let the conversation drop, seeing that Whitley did not appear keen on talking about her shopping excursion. He would have thought that she'd love the opportunity to spend time with Simon's mother and the other women of Rosecrest whom she seemed to adore. But apparently not. Or, more likely, she did not wish to talk about it with him.

They walked on in silence. The sun slipped between the canopy of branches above them, showering down. It occasionally hit Whitley's face, and everything about her sparkled. Simon tried not to stare, but it was hard. He tried to keep his eyes on his feet, dodging lilac-colored wildflowers that he did not wish to crush beneath his boots. But it was hard.

Eventually the path opened into the clearing that Simon had wanted to show off, and in the middle of it was a small lake. Lily pads covered the far bank, but the rest of the water was clear and shimmering with the reflection of the sun and the sky.

"This is lovely, Simon," Lady Whitley said in a hushed sort of awe.

Simon shrugged. "I thought you might like it. It is one of my favorite spots on the grounds, and not many people know of it."

"Thank you for showing me," she murmured as her eyes roamed the clearing.

Grabbing her hand in his, Simon brought Lady Whitley toward the bank. There was something else he wanted to show her, a small rowboat behind the weeds and the boulders that lined the shore—just the size for two people. Just the size for Whitley and Simon.

"Should you like to go for a ride?" Simon asked, arching his brow as he looked over at the lady.

"Oh, I am not sure that is wise." Lady Whitley laughed, and it was light and airy like the summer day. Simon liked seeing her smile.

"And why not?" he countered. He released his grip on her hand. Instead, Simon shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched her with ease.

But Whitley was not at ease. She fiddled with the ribbons on her bodice. And whether or not she knew it, the damn woman merely brought Simon's attention to the considerable amount of decolletage on display with her actions. He forced his eyes away from her gloved fingers and their movements as they slid along the pink ribbons, grazing her delicate skin at the same time.

Simon shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

"I just do not wish to become wet," she said finally.

"I would never allow that." Simon grinned, saying the words with an earnestness he wasn't sure he truly felt. He'd never possessed much balance or sportsmanship. But he was strong. Well, he was at least strong enough to lift one lady into a boat.

He held out his hand, and tentatively, Lady Whitley took it. Simon accepted that as permission and bent down, sweeping his arm beneath her legs and her back. He hoisted her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. Whitley gasped his name, her body warm and perfect against his, and Simon told himself to get a grip before he did, in fact, drop the lady into the water.

Somehow he managed to keep her from getting wet. Simon set Lady Whitley into the rocking boat without so much as a splash of water getting inside. And then he stepped carefully in as well, sitting across from her and picking up the ends of the oars so they could push away from the shore.

"See?" Simon said, his lips quirking as he looked over at his companion. "Not even a drop on that pretty dress of yours."

Lady Whitley glanced down, examining her soft pink gown as if to verify that Simon was telling the truth. He found the whole thing rather adorable. When her gaze lifted to his again, Simon noticed Whitley's eyes were still wide, compelling him to look closer at whatever he was missing. He was clearly missing something because her behavior today was...different.

But all Simon saw was Whitley's devastating beauty—the same as every other day.

"Are you quite alright, my lady? I apologize if I startled you." He cocked his head to the side, studying her.

She shook her head a little to clear it. "Yes.  Yes, I'm alright. You did rather startle me, Simon. But this is actually quite...nice." Whitley's eyes moved to the pond and the trees and the grasses, all rippling in the soft wind.

Simon grinned. He was grinning a lot today, but he couldn't help it. "I'm glad you think so."

Rowing the boat toward the center of the small lake, Simon waited for Whitley's attention to turn back toward him. And when it did, he could have sworn that her eyes flicked over him in an entirely appreciative way. Her gaze lingered...everywhere.

Simon rose a brow, and when Whitley finally finished perusing him and glanced up, she immediately took note. And then the blushing began again.

Although this time, Simon understood.

Clearly embarrassed, Whitley ducked her head.

"Lady Whitley?"

She peered up beneath her lashes. But it wasn't done in a coquettish or simpering way like before; it wasn't an act. It was pure. It was a bashful innocence combined with an unknowing flirtation, and hell, it teased Simon.

"Yes?" she breathed, lifting her gaze even further.

"You are quite lovely when you blush," Simon said softly. "Do not hide it."

Whitley was positively rosy as she straightened. But she listened to Simon, no longer hiding. In fact, the lady began to inch forward, and soon their knees grazed each other's as Simon rowed them around the pond. It was the smallest of touches, but Simon would take what he could get.

They didn't converse much as the boat did laps across the water. Eventually, Simon brought them back to the shore, helping Lady Whitley gracefully step onto the grassy bank in a way that he was genuinely grateful for. He did not wish to ruin the morning by returning her to Rosecrest as a sopping wet mess. He didn't reckon she would appreciate that as much as she had appreciated...other things.

Simon took his time as he led Whitley back toward the manor house. Rosecrest was in sight when Whitley turned to Simon. After taking a deep breath, she said, "Thank you for allowing us to start anew, Simon."

"Anew?" Simon repeated. "Why, of course." He supposed that was what they had been doing today. She dropped the acts that she'd been using the previous day, everything seeming more natural between them. If this was a new chance, he liked it very much indeed.

"Yes, like we spoke of last night," she said, her eyes flashing up and hitting his.

Simon felt his brows furrow. But before he could say anything, Lady Whitley continued.

"To be honest, I was rather nervous. About today."

The furrowing of Simon's brows deepened.

"I thought you were perhaps bringing me off the estate because you wished for privacy. I do not wish for you to get the wrong idea after yesterday, Simon. It was rather unlike me to allow, and I—"

"What the devil are you talking about?" Simon cut in, admittedly sounding harsher than he had meant to.

Whitley blinked, big blue eyes watching him. Then those irises of hers shifted to each side, and Simon thought for sure he would perish while having to wait for her to say whatever it was she had on the tip of her tongue.

Finally, she exclaimed, "The kiss, Simon! Must I honestly spell it out for you? In the hallway, you kissed me, and I—"

"Excuse me?" Simon blurted, his brain spinning.

There was no amount of liquor in the world that could erase the memory of a kiss with Lady Whitley Ash.

Which meant...dear god.

Which meant that Simon was going to kill his brother.

"If you'll excuse me, my lady, there is something I need to attend to," Simon said, barely restraining himself, pushing the words through his gritted teeth as he began to back away.

She opened her mouth, but Simon added, "I look forward to seeing you again soon, Lady Whitley. Have a lovely day."

And with that, Simon walked as quickly as he could across the lawn with the intent of finding Sawyer Pearce and kicking his ass all the way back to London.

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