Chapter Three #2
“Who has crossed you now?” she asked lightly as she claimed the other chair and spread the embroidered skirts of her morning dress around her legs. Despite what her parents might say, she did have some dignity and manners.
“My father, the bastard he is.” He sipped from his glass. “Was.”
Caroline frowned. “But…he’s been dead for years now.
” And she couldn’t recall the last time Gideon had mentioned the man.
Even though he glared at it, she refused to allow her eyes to stray to the nearby portrait of the old marquess.
It had always unnerved her how Gideon and that man could appear so similar and yet have such very different souls.
She had never asked why the portrait hadn’t been moved in all this time—there certainly had been no affection between father and son—but that was Gideon’s business and she was sure he had his reasons.
“Precisely the problem…” Gideon went silent for long, heavy minutes.
She allowed him the grace, patiently waiting for him to be ready to discuss whatever had set him on this path.
She’d begun the day with the intention of unburdening herself, but she realized it would not be fair to do so until Gideon did.
“I have a brother,” he finally said, the words dropping between them like a shattered glass.
Caroline reared back, her mind struggling to comprehend the words he’d just said. It took her several minutes before she was able to ask, “Are we happy about this?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Gideon replied flatly and then paused thoughtfully.
“Yes and no, I suppose.” He leaned forward and set his drink on the nearby table with a sharp click.
“On one hand, there is something reassuring about knowing I am not the last with my blood—the world suddenly feels a great deal less lonely—but I’m wracked with guilt. ”
“Why? You had nothing to do with it.” Her heart ached to see her friend thusly.
His bloodshot eyes with their purple shadows, the furrows his fingers had carved through his once immaculately styled hair, the rumpling of his usually impeccable clothing…
it was not who he was. Of course, he could be serious when the need arose, but she’d always been drawn to his determinedly light spirit in spite of all he’d weathered, his easy smile and genuine laughter, his penchant for mischief.
“Because I grew up here,” he gestured to the grand room around them, “and he…did not.”
“You did not have the rosiest of childhoods either,” she reminded him gently. She twisted her fingers together to prevent herself from reaching for him when she wanted nothing more than to hold him close.
“Hardly a comparison; I had the benefits of plenty of food and shelter.” He stared into the golden light refracting from what remained of his drink on the table as if it were stained glass in a church.
“You know what really makes me ill, Caro?” he asked, seemingly not expecting an answer when he continued without waiting for her.
“He is my elder brother. All of this would have been his if he hadn’t been born on the wrong side of the sheets.
Instead, he bears the mark of a bastard, and I live as a marquess. ”
Caroline cringed at the way he spat the word bastard, but she said nothing. Gideon was a man whose very nature would have made it difficult for him to stomach such inequality. The what-ifs would buzz through his brain like a swarm of insects.
If the other boy had been legitimate, then he wouldn’t have suffered a life of deprivation. All the privileges Gideon enjoyed would have also belonged to his brother.
She did not know the full story yet, but Caroline got the sense that the other boy had suffered because of the circumstances of his birth. It struck unnervingly close to the reason she’d dropped by Gideon’s home that day and it made her momentarily lightheaded.
In one swift move, Gideon snatched up his glass and tossed back the rest of his drink before launching to his feet.
“I’d always known my father was vile, but it is another thing to finally be faced with the consequences of his actions,” Gideon ranted as he strode over to the sideboard and poured himself another few fingers of whiskey.
“Even worse, both he and my mother knew of my half brother’s existence and yet neither lifted a finger to see to it that he was cared for. ”
“What has brought this on?” Caroline asked gently, examining the tenseness of his shoulders beneath his tailored brown coat.
Gideon turned to her with a wry smile on his lips. “A case of mistaken identity. I accidentally propositioned his wife, to which he did not take very kindly.
“Oh, Gideon.”
“Believe me when I say none of us left that encounter unshaken.” He returned to the chair beside her and dropped down, barely making it onto the seat rather than tumbling to the floor.
“And you are so certain this man is your illegitimate kin?” she asked.
He tilted his chin to the cursed portrait as part of his response. “The man looks like he could have bloody well sat for that painting.”
“I see…” she trailed off.
“More than two decades I’ve known of his existence, but I never thought to find him in this city. What are the odds?” He emitted a cruel, disbelieving laugh as he slouched back in his chair.
“I would imagine very slim, indeed.”
Gideon heaved a sigh and rolled his glass between his palms before giving his head a little shake.
“My apologies, Caro. I have so rudely monopolized the conversation when you were the one to call upon me. I am horrible company, as you can see, but to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit? I feel as if it has been an age since we last saw one another.”
As a hint of his usual mischievous glimmer twinkled at her over his glass, Caroline experienced a sudden flashback of Gideon over her, his hard body atop and inside of her, wringing from her the most exquisite pleasure with his mouth and hands, and cock…
“Christ, Caro. You are incredible. You’ve no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.”
Caroline clenched her trembling hands as her body flushed hot and cold from the erotic memories. She could still taste him on her tongue.
She couldn’t do what she’d gone there to do—not when, only the evening before, he’d already suffered the strange and disconcerting situation of meeting his half brother for the first time.
She could not tell him yet.
Not today.
“Nothing of any import,” she replied lightly as she stood and shook the wrinkles from her skirts.
“Is there anything you need? Shall I request Cook make you something to eat as I make my way out?” Gideon caught her hand when she would have walked by him on her way to the door.
She steadfastly avoided his gaze and, instead, stared at the pattern on the rug beneath their feet.
His thumb brushed over the bumps of her knuckles, the heat of his fingers was searingly warm against her skin.
He pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand, and her eyes fluttered closed.
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done a thousand times before, but it was the first time he’d done so since their shared night.
What a fool she’d been to believe they could explore carnal desires and return to the way things were—well, what a fool she had been to think she could move on after knowing him that way.
“You can tell me anything,” he murmured.
Finally, Caro met his eyes. She knew she could tell him anything…
she also knew he could read her so well that he’d press until she finally admitted to what was bothering her.
Even deep into his cups, he exhibited such care and understanding of her that it made the backs of her eyes burn with emotion.
His fingers gently squeezed hers once more, unleashing the words with a frisson of both fear and excitement, until they leapt from her lips as if from a cliff. “I am with child.”