Gideon snorted. “My late father was shrewd, doling out the money in increments. If he had given to her in one lump sum, it would have been gone decades ago.”

  Speaking this aloud, it was clear he should have refused to pay incidentals and the like, but he owed it to his father’s honor and memory to keep at least a minimum of obligation. How strange that he never used that particular honor criterion in his own dissipated dealings.

  You arrogant bastard.

  “When will you leave for Essex?” Olivia asked, pulling him from his self-reflection.

  “Day after tomorrow. Stay here, Liv. Relax. Read. Sleep. Take tea in the afternoons. And I will return as soon as I can.”

  “I will,” she stated, reaching for a crumpet. “And I will think over about going to stay with you at Foxmont.”

  Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Minx. Think it over?”

  “What can you tell me about it?”

  He finished his eggs, all while crafting a reply. “To be honest, I haven’t been there much since my father died. While he was alive? I have pleasant memories of a well-situated Georgian brick manor house surrounded by sweet chestnut trees, along with ash and sycamore. The gardens were filled with wildflowers and shrubs, like bilberry and holly. Very pretty in the autumn.”

  He gave her a teasing smile. “Did you know that it was the Romans who introduced the sweet chestnut tree to Britain? Not only for the nuts, which they ground to make flour, but for timber.”

  Olivia laughed. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “You will think on Foxmont while I’m gone?”

  She sobered. “Yes, on that, and much more.”

  The air between them crackled with life.

  “After breakfast, let us take a walk,” Gideon suggested. “There is a dressmaker not far from here who has a few gowns you can buy for the trip. If you decide to join me, that is. I do have an appointment later this afternoon.”

  He told her of his newfound work with certain members of the House of Lords and a select few Members of Parliament.

  “Oh!” Olivia exclaimed. “I think that is brilliant. I am so proud of you for taking your responsibility seriously. Well done.”

  That praise, the warmth, and admiration in her voice were music to his ears. Tremain Hornsby was right: love can make one examine one’s soul.

  And hell, he was falling in love.

  It beggared all belief.

  To continue to bask in her approval, he would work twice as hard at the parliamentary causes.

  “Your words mean the world to me, Liv. You have no idea.”

  “Take as long as is necessary this afternoon. There are so many people in need.”

  “Yes, there is. But as soon as I return, it is off to bed. We will have supper served to us on trays in between the bouts of lovemaking.”

  Olivia blushed prettily. “And I will ride you again?”

  He closed his eyes, remembering the previous night when she did that very thing. Gideon moaned.

  “Yes, for all its worth.”

  Gideon, at last, now understood what Christian, Asher, and Brandon had discovered. Now that he had experienced it, he never wanted to let it go.

  Ever.

  * * *

  Gideon settled into his first-class coach, his overnight bag placed at his feet by the porter. The whistle blew, and the train lurched forward, expelling a burst of steam. The trip to Foxmont would give him enough time to gather his thoughts.

  He had not faced his stepfather in some months. The prospect did not appeal. The man stood at nearly six and a half feet in height, and Gideon always felt small in his presence. The four inches difference in stature did not constitute the entire reason. His stepfather was a cold, authoritative man, dismissive and indifferent, and had been as far back as Gideon could remember.

  After all, Gideon had learned it from somewhere. His stepfather’s eyes could freeze you where you stood with their piercing ice-blue gaze. He would look down his long, hawk nose and purse his thin lips and spew his long list of the ways Gideon had disappointed him.

  What had he not mentioned to Olivia?

  Gideon was seriously contemplating marriage. To her. Right away or as soon as such arrangements could be made. Which meant he wanted them to spend most of their time at Foxmont, except when he needed to come to London for his parliamentary commitments.

  Which meant Whinstone had to leave. Immediately, if not sooner.

  Gideon sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. Last night exceeded all his expectations. The experience was so intimate it stilled his heart to recall it.

  Olivia had unlocked his heart and let warmth and affection flood in for the first time in his lonely life. The fact they shared a healthy passion made the prospect of marriage satisfying indeed. If the past two nights were any indication, there were many more exciting explorations to be had. But what he felt was beyond the carnal.

  Already he missed Olivia, the feel of her soft body next to his.

  Last night was one of the best sleeps of his life. She gave him comfort and surcease to all the gloomy thoughts of self-loathing and lonesomeness that often rattled about in his brain.

  The constant ache in his chest, the excitement at even seeing her, proved his point. Gideon derived great enjoyment just speaking with her. Sharing breakfast and conversation with her again this morning had such a domestic intimacy that he yearned for more.

  He wanted to do everything for her.

  This must be love.

  The impossible had happened.

  Gideon had fallen completely and profoundly in love.

  No one had ever stirred these feelings in him before; he recognized the love and welcomed it. The combination of strength and vulnerability Olivia possessed stirred such a maelstrom of emotions in him.

  He supposed—or at least hoped—she felt the same.

  Gideon soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  Chapter 14

  Annoyed, Gideon waited in Foxmont’s primary library as if he were a guest, when in fact, it was his country estate by birthright. He paced about and then took a seat in the leather wing chair facing the fireplace. The room was plain and cold, with few furnishings or decorative items.

  It was not as Gideon remembered it.

  Whinstone certainly made himself at home, the miserable cretin.

  Well, that will cease.

  The door opened at last, and his stepfather strode in, removing his gloves. The duke had been out riding; the crop was still tucked under his arm, his tall boots splashed with mud.

  The man looked no older, a few more wrinkles perhaps. The severe lines carved around his mouth were a little deeper. He still had the broad-shouldered but lithe look of his younger years. But then, Whinstone was only eighteen years older than Gideon.

  “What do I owe this pleasure, Watford?” Whinstone ground out.

  Such a warm greeting from the man who had been his stepfather for thirty years. Gideon expected no less.

  The duke walked to the sideboard, threw his gloves and crop down on the table, and poured himself a brandy. He did not offer Gideon anything.

  “Well? Speak, boy, why are you here? Get one of your whores pregnant? Did you beat one of the lads you bugger to a bloody pulp and need my help to hush it up? Do not look so indignant. I know where your cock has been. ‘Lord Craven.’ You disgust me.”

  Gideon tightened his fists, willing his anger back. Damn him to hell. Whinstone knew referring to him as “boy” would cause a reaction. Nor would Gideon answer to the scurrilous and fallacious gossip, for none of it was true.

  “I have come to inform you I intend to move here, so you are to vacate this manor house forthwith. I asked Mother to give you notice but thought it best to do it in person. Your free ride is at an end,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Why? You never showed any interest in staying here. There must be a reason.”

  “I intend to marry in the near future.”

  “Intend to marry? Will you, indeed? Done sowing those oats, I take it? About time you set aside your debauched ways and set up your nursery.”

  Gideon watched his stepfather pace about sipping his brandy.

  What hypocrisy. If this were in medieval times, he could imagine sitting in the castle keep while his stepfather skinned and butchered a dead stag while they spoke.

  “I will give you a list of a few suitable names, young women of good breeding,” Whinstone continued in that cold, haughty way of his. “You will choose one, marry her, get her pregnant with an heir and a spare, then you may continue your depraved and corrupt way of life. It is no matter to me, but the line must be secured. I promised your mother I would assist in seeing it done. You are forty, after all. It is well past time.”

  “The line must be secured? When did you ever care about such things?” Gideon scoffed.

  “I have come to the conclusion that nothing else matters in this world except the title. Nothing will be remembered, not our achievements, exploits, not even the name. Nothing but the title. When we are dead and buried, nothing continues—but the title. Especially for a duke. It is required to ensure the line.”

  Again, what naked hypocrisy from a man who had done nothing to secure his own line. Could it be his pregnant mistress had brought these thoughts to the forefront?

  Not that Gideon cared one way or the other.

  “I have a woman in mind, so your list is of no use to me. She is a vicar’s daughter, not that it is any of your business.”

  Gideon inwardly admonished himself for revealing that bit of information. In fact, he shouldn’t have mentioned the marriage at all. Damn miserable memories and the damage it had inflicted. Which resulted in the loosening of his tongue.

  The duke barked a cynical laugh. “Does she have any idea what you have done these past years? How you’ve wallowed in the gutter?”

  “I have told her of my past, and she has told me of hers. We are moving beyond it.”

  “What dissolute history could a vicar’s daughter have? Come now, you did not meet this young lady at a vicarage. She is one of your whores, is she not?” The duke’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “She is not a wh—”

  His stepfather held up his hand. “Enough. You will not follow through on this lunacy. You have one of the richest dukedoms in the realm. You think to sully the family with an alliance with a damned slut? Your mother will be mortified. If you like how this woman sucks your cock, keep her on as a mistress. But marry and see to your heirs.”

  “It is no one’s business whom I choose, and it is most especially not yours—or my mother’s.” Gideon replied in a hushed but deadly tone.

  The duke slammed the snifter on the table. “Even if you could veil her sordid past, a vicar’s daughter? She could marry a schoolmaster perhaps, but not a duke!” his stepfather thundered. “Fuck her and have done with her. But you will not marry her.”

  Gideon’s fury broke through. He stood and faced his stepfather toe-to-toe.

  “You have no say in my life, not for years. You are to pack your measly possessions and be gone from Foxmont in three days. Where you go, I care not. See Mother for a handout as you usually do.”

  Whinstone gave him an oily grin. “As a matter of fact, your mother sent a missive informing me of your conversation with her. If you want me gone, you will pay my specific price. It is eighteen ninety-eight, the laws have changed regarding divorce. I wish for you to convince your mother to remove the hooks she has planted in me these last decades and release me at last.”

  Gideon laughed. “What? You could have divorced her years ago when the laws changed.”

  “Well, it was not to my monetary advantage to do so then. Besides, I am fifty-eight. I need an heir.”

  And there it was.

  This talk of ensuring the line had nothing to do with Gideon but Whinstone’s selfish needs.

  “Speaking of setting up a nursery, Mother told me of your request regarding the poor woman you impregnated.” Gideon crossed his arms. “You want to marry your mistress and make the child legitimate. That is why you had Mother approach me. That is your true motivation.”

  Whinstone shrugged. “Annabella is a baronet’s daughter, and I’ll wager, a good breeder. If the child is not a boy, I will keep going until I get one. I’ve put this off long enough. I will require a generous settlement in the divorce if you wish for me to keep quiet about the more sordid aspects of my marriage to your mother. Think of the public scandal.”

  “I don’t take kindly to threats,” Gideon hissed dangerously.

  The duke picked up his gloves and crop. “Think over what I said, and we will continue this conversation over dinner. Did you bring your valet?”

  “No, Jergens is not with me.”

  “I will have one of my footmen attend you.”

  Turning on his heel, Whinstone marched from the room.

  My footmen?

  Yes, the man was entirely too comfortable here. Acting as if this was his estate.

  It was past time for him to go.

  Gideon growled, his insides in knots as they always were in dealing with his stepfather.

  Because part of him would always be that vulnerable, lonely boy that Whinstone had preyed upon.

  And Gideon would ensure in future that part of him would stay well hidden.

  Chapter 15

  Gideon impatiently waited, tapping his fingers on the table. Since his childhood, no one ate until Whinstone deemed to make an appearance.

  His stepfather strolled in dressed for dinner in his black evening coat, silver waistcoat, and crisp, snowy cravat. A diamond stickpin glittered in the cloth.

  The duke had golden-brown hair, threaded with gray, and a sharply angled face. No doubt the bastard was starting to feel his age.

  It explained the urgency in seeing to his heir.

  The footmen jumped to attention and served the soup.

  Gideon stared into the bowl. God, he hated Minestrone soup. His stepfather obviously had not changed his eating habits the past several years.

  Whinstone reached into his side pocket and pushed a meticulously folded piece of stationery toward him.

  “I have taken the liberty of writing down a few names of suitable women for you to consider.”

  Gideon glanced at the paper then looked away.

  “Stop trying to control me. Those days have long passed.”

  The spoon halted halfway to the duke’s mouth. “As you said. The naughty daughter of a vicar. However, this list will serve in case circumstances change. As I said earlier, assist me with what I want, and I will return the favor.”

  “And do what, exactly?”

  “Get me the divorce and a settlement, and I will be gone from your life forever. And your mother’s. I am thoroughly sick of the screeching, controlling harpy.”

  “I take it you never loved my mother, then?” Gideon asked sarcastically.

  He knew the answer; he just wanted his stepfather to admit it.

  “No. Never even liked her. But twice a week for seven years, I went to her bed and performed my duty. She finally got pregnant only to have the temerity to have two miscarriages during that period in time. One was far along enough to be fully formed. A son. I never forgave her for that.”

  “As if she did it on purpose. You always were a cold bastard. Never loved anyone,” Gideon barked.

  The duke’s frosty eyes narrowed in obvious annoyance. “Love. Stuff and nonsense and the fiction of drunken poets. You are a fine one to talk. You know nothing of what love is either. It is duty and survival. That is all.”

  Gideon shook his head in disbelief. “If I know nothing of love, it is thanks to you and my mother. I would hazard to guess you’ve never had a tender feeling in your life. Not even lust, I’ll wager.”

  “I feel lust. Unlike you, I am discreet in my affairs. I do not rut everything that moves or breathes. No scandal will land at my door. Can you say the same, boy?”

  Gideon pushed the soup bowl away. “I just turned forty. I am hardly a boy. Call me that again, and I will beat you bloody as you so richly deserve.”

  Whinstone grunted in response. The footmen scurried over to remove Gideon’s bowl and then brought platters of sole to the table.

  Jesus, he hated sole as well. Knowing his stepfather, he no doubt had these foods served, knowing that Gideon detested them.

  Gideon picked up the smallest slice with the serving utensils.

  “How long have you known this—vicar’s daughter?” his stepfather sneered.

  “Long enough.”

  The duke’s booming humorless laugh filled the cavernous dining room. “You really are a fool. That is not love; you are cunny-struck.”

  “And how would you know?”

  “I know. I married at the age of twenty-two because of lust and was a widower by twenty-four. My first wife is moldering in the ground with her infant,” the duke replied dismissively.

  Gideon couldn’t believe this. “You were married before my mother? Why didn’t you mention it?”

  The duke slurped his soup noisily. Then he hesitated and responded with a chilly coldness, “She isn’t worth remembering.”

  Fury boiled in his veins. Good God, the man was even more of a monster than he had originally believed.

  Gideon dropped his fork and knife in contempt. “I do not want that life for me. I crave more. I want to love.”

  “Ha!” his stepfather barked. “Now I know you have gone mad. As I said, it’s stuff and nonsense. You’ve caught a fever. It will pass soon enough. Now, enough of this. What of the proposal I have laid before you?”

  “I will approach Mother about the divorce. In the meantime, you are to vacate Foxmont in three days.”

  Whinstone reached for a roll and tore it in half. “Let’s make it three weeks. I need time to make arrangements. It will also give you time to secure your mother’s agreement. In writing, legal like. As to the settlement, I will require sixty thousand pounds.”

 

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