[18 + COMPLETED] Three men, two centuries, one house.
S U M M E R 2 0 2 1
Rosecrest Manor has been in Asher's family for generations, but he's done dealing with the headache of a property. He just needs to get his soon-to-be ex-wife on board with...
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Simon had absolutely no clue as to what he should do about one, Lady Whitley.
In all actuality, it was a multi-faceted problem.
Firstly, there was the dilemma of whether or not to tell her that she had not kissed him, and had, in fact, kissed his twin brother.
On the one hand, Simon did not wish to deceive the lady. But on the other hand...hell, Simon hated to admit it, but she had been awfully receptive to him this morning. What were the chances that would continue once she discovered the kiss was with Sawyer.
God...would she—would she turn her attentions to him instead?
Simon shuddered at the thought.
There was another problem, as well. And that was the fact that Lady Whitley was quite adamant to ignore Simon this evening. As soon as she saw him coming her way in the parlor earlier, she had turned the opposite direction. And she would not even look his way throughout polite dinner conversation, instead swiveling away to listen politely to a conversation between Felix, Francis, and Nora. Now, as they flooded into the music room, it seemed as though she had run away entirely.
It was honestly quite unfortunate because in a matter of minutes, Simon's aunt Emilia was going to insist they all gather for a post-dinner musical performance put on by Princess Victoria. And Simon knew that Tory's pianoforte skills would be much easier to endure if he could somehow maneuver Lady Whitley to his side. Otherwise, he shall just be forced to spend the entire time searching for her blonde locks and bright blue eyes whilst discretely attempting to block the sounds from reaching his eardrums.
Simon was just about to resign himself to his fate when he saw it—he saw the flash of bright yellow-white curls that undoubtedly belonged to Whitley. No one else had hair such an ethereal shade.
And Simon wasted no time following that trail of hair, slipping through the far glass doors after her.
The balcony off the back of the manor was palatial, running the length of the stony estate walls. Whitley stood in the middle of it all, leaning on the pillared railing that bordered the balcony.
"Lady Whitley," Simon called, and she visibly stiffened. Her back was to Simon, and she didn't turn.
Simon wasn't deterred, crossing the balcony in swift steps. "Whitley," he called again, dropping his voice.
She spun, and the chill in the night air was nothing compared to her frosty expression. "What is it?" Her words were crisp, making Simon frown.
"Why do you avoid me so?"
Whitley pushed her pert little lips together. "That much should be abundantly clear, my lord."
Simon wanted to reach out to her but did not think it would be welcome. So he pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Finding Whitley's accusatory stare, he said, "I assure you, it is not."
