Alex murmured something to Seb, and Benedict blinked as he surfaced from his drowsy reverie. Christ. He was hard as a rock. He had to stop.

He shook his head. “I’m going to bed.”

Chapter 38.

Simeon surprised everyone that afternoon by casually announcing he was the sole beneficiary of a distant great-aunt’s will.

“A gold mine? In Wales?” Mother echoed, almost dropping her teacup in astonishment.

Simeon, unaware of the magnitude of the grenade he’d so casually exploded in the drawing room, gave an absent-minded smile and gazed soulfully at Juliet. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Great-Aunt Wilhemina. I was always a favorite of hers. I used to send her a poem every year on her birthday. Hard name to rhyme, Wilhemina. Anyway, it turns out she’s left the whole thing to me. Lock, stock, and barrel, as they say. She said I was the only one in the family who would appreciate the romance of the place.”

“What’s it like?” Juliet breathed, at the same time as Mother said, “Does it produce any income?”

Simeon answered Mother first. “Oh, yes. Around five thousand a year, by all accounts. There’s a house and some land and whatnot too.” His wispy mustache twitched as he took Juliet’s hand. “Actually, when I say ‘house,’ it’s really more of a castle. It has turrets. And a moat.”

Juliet looked as though she could scarcely breathe for excitement. “A castle?” she sighed. “You own an honest-to-goodness castle?”

“Near Carmarthen. Built in the 1200s, parts of it. Legend has it there’s even a cave nearby with a dragon.”

“There aren’t any dragons in England,” Juliet whispered.

“This is Wales,” Simeon said. “They have a dragon on their flag. Who knows what we’ll find?”

“That is excellent news, Mr. Pettigrew.” Mother helped herself to another biscuit in delight. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you will have the means to support Juliet in the manner she deserves. I only wish you might have told me of your improved financial status earlier.”

Simeon gave her a perplexed look. “Oh, but Juliet loves me for who I am, not what I own.”

Mother snapped her mouth closed, and Georgie stifled a smile at how neatly she’d been put in her place. By Simeon, of all people. A bittersweet ache coiled in her chest. Simeon had articulated her own desire—and problem—perfectly.

What should she do about Wylde? Was it just too foolish to hope that he might grow to love her? For all her money, she couldn’t buy the thing she desired most: his love.