Chapter Four
Gideon could only stare up into Caro’s shimmering green eyes as his drunken brain struggled to comprehend her words.
With child? Surely she was jesting—it wouldn’t have been the first time one of them attempted to make sport of the other.
But, no. She was deathly silent and more serious than he’d ever seen her before.
Pregnant.
Caro is pregnant.
His body went cold and numb as the deep thud of his heart became deafening in his ears. Blindly, he reached out to set his glass on the table, nearly missing.
As most unmarried men would in his position, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask for confirmation that the child was his…
but he stopped shy of speaking the words.
Even in his inebriated state, he recognized what a grave insult it would have been to his friend.
He knew Caro better than most; contrary to the vulgar rumors, she never took lovers.
It would be just his luck that the only time she did, she’d put her faith in the one man with the world’s most rotten luck.
He sat back in his chair and speared both hands into his hair.
His gut had warned him that sleeping with Caro after their many years of close friendship was going to be a miserable mistake—regardless of how beautiful he’d always thought she was and how much his drink-addled mind screamed to possess her—but he’d assumed it was regarding their relationship…
not this. Any fool could explain how introducing physicality would likely ruin a friendship or complicate feelings.
An utter idiot would, in favor of giving in to both their desires, conveniently ignore another very real possibility: A child might come of the union.
It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind—it was more a force of habit now than an act that required planning—but here was evidence that nothing was foolproof.
He’d heard stories of just such accidents happening before; he’d simply (naively) thought it was unlikely to happen to him.
When it came to his single night with Caro, he’d been too overtaken by drink and lightheartedness, too overcome by his long-simmering attraction to her for any sense to win out.
He’d made a mistake; the onus was on him.
Caro had requested one evening with him, and he’d agreed.
No one had forced him; she hadn’t truly coerced him.
As soon as she’d whispered in his ear that she desired a lover and trusted him to teach her what passion could be like, he had quite literally leaped at the chance, springing to his feet and ushering her from the Haverford ball with astounding speed.
And now he would face the consequences.
The world began to spin, and Gideon was forced to rest his elbows on his knees and hang his head as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I plan on retiring to the country before I begin to show—perhaps in the next couple of months,” Caro rushed to say.
He could hear the tremble in her voice and he didn’t care for it one bit.
God, this must have been terrifying for her, and he wanted nothing more than for her to know she was not alone. “I have relatives in Cornwall—”
“What? Your horrid elder cousin, Edith?” Gideon looked up at her and narrowed his eyes, knowing Caro would be miserable if she followed through with that plan.
Not a day would go by that that pompous, pious vicar’s wife wouldn’t remind Caro what a sinful burden she and her unborn child were.
It was out of the question. He could not allow her to travel to Cornwall, but he also recognized how limited her options were.
None of her other family would provide her assistance—especially not if they discovered he was the sire of her child.
He’d never interacted with them directly, preferring to keep his distance from the people who had disowned his dearest friend after she’d been nothing more than a girl who placed her trust and her heart in the hands of the wrong man.
He’d also never witnessed Caro interact with them, but Viscount Fischer and his wife had been very vocal to everyone who would listen that they disowned their “rebellious” daughter, denounced her scandalous behavior and companions.
They felt Gideon was a poor influence…and hadn’t he just proven them correct?
The taut lines of Caro’s face made his heart squeeze uncomfortably. He didn’t know how long she’d sat with this knowledge, but he knew he couldn’t allow her to bear the burden alone any longer. A sudden thought smacked him upside his head.
“Have you been to see a physician?” He hoped she hadn’t also been feeling ill.
Didn’t that happen to women when they were with child?
He seemed to recall someone mentioning that it was a common experience.
Caro nodded in response to his inquiry. “And you are feeling well? All is well?” She nodded again.
“The doctor said it was still too soon for the morning illness to begin, but it will likely appear in the next several weeks.”
There was his answer. He felt absurdly proud that he’d gotten that much correct; unfortunately, that was the sum of his knowledge of pregnancy after the point of conception.
“I am pleased that all is well so far,” he added earnestly.
He’d caused this, so it was reassuring that Caro hadn’t suffered any ill effects without him unawares.
There was another heavy pause. “I do not expect anything of you. It was not my intention to force you to the altar,” she reassured him. “I will find a way to withdraw somewhere safe so I might wait out the pregnancy and give birth in secret.”
Gideon shook his head more forcefully than he should have, given the amount of whiskey he’d drunk. “Did you not hear anything I just said? About my father? How could you believe I’d not take responsibility for you and this child? Our child?”
“That is not what I was saying at all!” Caro responded hastily. “I merely wished to absolve you of any feelings of obligation.”
“I will not become my father,” he said with all the finality of a judge’s ruling. “I refuse.”
“What are you saying?” The tears had disappeared from her eyes, thankfully, without ever actually falling. She had beautiful eyes with tilted corners and fringes of thick chestnut lashes. A smattering of freckles was painted across her cheeks and nose, constellations he’d long ago memorized.
A memory floated back to him—something his consciousness had swept aside, but his soul had never forgotten…had cherished, in fact.
Caroline had been with him when he’d received word of his father’s death following a brief illness of an undisclosed nature. The man’s life of excess was likely what had finally done him in.
Gideon had allowed the news to roll off him like rain on oiled canvas, maintained his cool facade despite his confusing emotions, and insisted they all continue their planned evening of gambling at Duke’s.
He’d gone to great lengths to secure a pass for Caroline to accompany the rest of their group, and he would not allow his father to ruin one more thing for him.
It was clear that his reaction—or lack thereof—unnerved his companions, Caroline included, but they’d eventually capitulated and moved on with the evening.
He never made a secret of his dislike of his sire.
They may have possessed a striking physical resemblance, but that was where the similarities ended.
There were few pleasant things to say about the man, and fewer people who would voice them.
He had been a powerful, unpopular man who’d often overindulged in spirits, women, and other vices.
He displayed uncouth outbursts and a haughtiness that was most unbecoming.
And he had been none of the things a father should have been.
He hadn’t been a kind man, a decent man, a patient man, a warm man, nor a protective man. Both he and Gideon’s mother had cultivated a hostile garden in which Gideon had been forced to grow…and it was a wonder he’d survived at all, let alone turned into a relatively decent human being.
Gideon wasn’t cold; he was numb from the news.
He’d long believed he’d feel relief at his father’s passing. He did not long for the title and wealth he would inherit, but for the freedom. He would finally be released from beneath his father’s hulking shadow to break away from the legacy his father had built and forge his own way.
What Gideon hadn’t expected was the way it felt as if his heart was splintering in his chest, the shards scraping his ribs and organs with every breath.
At the conclusion of the evening, Gideon had insisted upon seeing Caroline back to her home, as he usually did.
He knew she was strong and independent, but he could not sleep well unless he knew she was safe…
not to mention, he hadn’t quite been ready to be alone.
As he drove the two of them through the streets in his gig, Caroline finally mustered up enough courage to ask him about his father.
His response had choked him so unexpectedly that he lost his breath.
He actually forgot how to breathe. The reaction was so sudden, so unanticipated, that he’d nearly lost control of the reins.
He could sense her growing uncomfortable beside him, unsure whether he had taken offense to her query, and he’d finally been able to force words from his chest.
“I am not ready to speak of him.” His voice hardly sounded like his own, thick and raspy with blasted emotion. “But I will come to you if and when I am.”
Caroline had nodded in acceptance and did not continue to press him. Her quiet presence eroded his composure more than any further questioning would have. By the time they reached her building, his chest had felt as if it was going to split in two.
He couldn’t stop himself from taking her hand to stall her.
He knew from her eyes that she read the pain in his; she heard all the words he could not form and understood all the emotions he could not name.
He’d had a horrible father, but he’d also lost the slim shard of a chance of ever forming the relationship for which he’d longed his entire life.
He’d wrapped Caroline in his arms and crushed her to him.
To her credit, Caroline did not flinch at his strength nor protest the contact; instead, she held him back just as tightly to let him know she, too, would not disappear from his life.
She propped him up when he was too weak to stand.
She did not shame him for faltering. She grounded him when he felt as if he was falling through an endless pit.
He had no idea how long they’d remained like that, but it mattered to neither of them who witnessed the display.
He’d needed her, and, without having to utter a single word, she let him know that she would be there for him.
And he would be there for her—not only because he owed it to her, but because he wanted to be.
He’d probably do a horrendous job of it.
He had nothing in his past that led him to believe he might even make a passable husband or father—he didn’t know what a man like that would even look like—but, for Caroline, he would bloody well try.
She deserved better than a man who had no idea if he could be what she needed, but he vowed to do his best to, at the very least, improve upon the examples he’d had.
Granted, that mark had been set extremely low, but at least it gave him somewhere to aim.
The way Caroline looked at him, disbelieving in her hopefulness, made Gideon proud to utter his next words. “I intend to procure a special license so we can marry as soon as possible. You need not do this alone.”
“Surely, you are not serious,” Caroline gasped.
“I cannot be your marchioness! This is something you must think on; it does not do either of us any good to make rash decisions, since those are clearly not something in which you and I excel.” He enjoyed the flush spreading on her cheeks and throat.
“Besides, you’ve been drinking and should sober up some before we proceed any further. ”
“Fine,” he bit out. “But I will not change my mind.”