In his mind, it was simple.
He loved her, and she’d married someone else.
For years, Ginny had been utterly impossible to him. And then her husband had died. It was awful to rejoice in another man’s death…but then, Simon had always been aware that he bordered on the awful. He had at least planned to wait until her year of mourning had passed before presenting himself on her doorstep. But Ridgeway’s machinations had changed everything.
I’m not poor anymore, Simon had told her. But what he hadn’t said was this: I’m about to be.
He knew from painfully bitter experience that Ginny wouldn’t marry a poor man. She hadn’t done it seven years ago, and she wouldn’t do it today. Once his ruin became public, she’d turn from him once more. This time, when she married someone else, it might not be a man with a heart complaint. This time, she might pick someone hale and hearty, someone who would live forever.
If he didn’t marry her in the next three days, he might never have her. The last seven years had been hell enough.
There’d only ever been one way to win with Ginny: to confuse her as to what the game was. So long as she believed that he was intent on her seduction, all her efforts would go toward resisting the wrong thing. If she thought he only intended to have her in bed, she’d think herself the victor when he changed it all to marriage. And by the time she found out the truth…
She would hate him at first. He didn’t care. It would be too late by then. At least he’d have her, hatred and all. He’d win her back—eventually—and remake his fortune.
“I would have thought,” Fortas was saying, “that you would do anything to save your future.”
It had never been the money he cared about—not for himself. It had always been Ginny, even when he wished it hadn’t been.
Simon pressed his lips together. “You’re quite right about that,” he said. “I will do anything.”
“SO,” GINNY SAID, when Simon appeared on her doorstep the next morning. “You have only two days to seduce me. How ever are you going to accomplish that?”
She felt better this morning. She’d let him unnerve her yesterday; a good night’s sleep had restored her serenity. The truth was, no matter how much they might have hurt one another in the past, Simon wouldn’t find it difficult to seduce her. He’d meant so much more to her than those final acrimonious weeks.
He looked as handsome as ever. More handsome, in fact; his boyish features had hardened into strong, masculine lines. His eyes had always seemed roguishly blue; now, when he looked at her, they made her think of outright wickedness rather than mere mischief.
“I had hoped,” he said, “that I would just dazzle you with my wealth.” So saying, he yawned, covering his mouth. Something sparkly at his wrists flashed at her.
Ginny stepped forward. “Are those diamonds on your cuff links?” she asked, caught halfway between horror and wonder.
He grinned. He always smiled any time she betrayed emotion. “Pretty, aren’t they?” He took one off and threw it to her.
She caught it automatically. “Oh my Lord,” Ginny said. “You’ve become one of those dreadful nouveaux-riches that I’m always hearing decried in the papers, flashing your money about.” But she opened her hand to look at the little gold piece that he’d tossed her way. When she did, her breath caught. “It’s a beetle,” she finally said. “A gold beetle with diamond eyes.”
“I had them made four years ago.” He didn’t quite look her way. “I have fond memories of beetles.”
From any other man, this statement would have been odd. From Simon…
It had all started with a beetle. Ginny had been ten years old, and she’d only come to stay with her aunt two months before. But summer had come, and with it, the Davenants. Mr. Davenant was a famous London barrister who took his family to the country when the law courts shut down out of term-time. The other inhabitants of Chester-on-Woolsey were far less exalted personages, and they’d held the family in collective awe.
His son, Simon—eleven years old, and already a student at Harrow—had known it. He had sauntered by Ginny, where she played at spillikins with two of her new friends.
“Be careful,” Emily whispered, gesturing toward him. “He’s a regular beast.”
Simon noticed them looking, and he’d come over.
“You’re new,” he said to Ginny.
“Yes.” And then, because he was taller than her and looking her over with an imperious demeanor, she added: “Sir.”
He opened his fist to reveal a great big fat beetle—one with a brilliantly iridescent carapace. “I’m going to put this down your dress,” he announced.
Ginny had already known one important truth: The only way to silence a boy who was trying to disgust you was to refuse to admit that he’d succeeded.