Chapter Six
Upon arrival at Viscount Fischer’s townhouse, Gideon and Caroline were shown into a small parlor by a very put-out butler who either suffered from allergies or found it impossible not to sniff with disdain each time he looked their way.
“You’d think we were asking the man to go above and beyond his duties by admitting us to the house,” Gideon said out of the corner of his mouth as the servant fled from the room as quickly as he could.
The comment had its intended effect—Caroline was forced to bite her lip to stifle a giggle.
She had been stiff and tense since they’d departed her home.
He knew full well that she and her family did not get on well, but his intent was not to torture her, but to give their union more legitimacy and acceptance in the eyes of the ton.
The quickest and simplest way to go about that was to have her parents on their side, publicly supporting the match.
There would be enough whispers and rumors without it, and, as uncomfortable as it might be, he hoped it would be worth it.
Whatever Viscount Fischer might think of him, there was no denying that it would be an advantage for him to have a marquess as a son-in-law.
He was hopeful that this would entice the man enough to bite his tongue and finally give his daughter the recognition she deserved.
Gideon had sat by for far too long while they ignored Caroline, pretended she did not exist, and did nothing to naysay the negative things written about her in tabloids. One thing was certain: Gideon would do everything he could to put a stop to their cruelty as soon as Caroline had his name.
He narrowly fought the urge to hold Caro’s hands as she fidgeted while they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At first, he’d thrown out little comments and snippets of conversation to cheer Caroline and pass the time, but, as the long minutes passed, the more anxious and annoyed Gideon became.
He also noticed Caroline began to curl in on herself, growing smaller and smaller.
That, somehow, made him angrier than the blatant rudeness of their treatment by Fischer.
Caroline was not a meek little mouse; she could be sunshine personified.
This was part of what had initially drawn him to her.
Her joy was infectious, her adventurous spirit was intoxicating.
The woman sitting in the chair beside him in that parlor was most assuredly not the Caro he knew, and it disturbed him.
What was it about this house that had changed her so? What had her family done to her?
Finally, the door to the parlor opened to admit Viscount and Viscountess Fischer, and Gideon was reminded how little Caro resembled her parents.
The red hue to her golden hair had been inherited from her father, her green eyes from her mother, but that was where the similarities ended.
Fischer was stout and jowly; his wife was short with ruddy cheeks and watery eyes.
Perhaps she’d once been a pretty young woman, but the fishlike downturn of her thin mouth counteracted any attractiveness.
Unpleasant was the word that came to Gideon’s mind.
These people were the very definition of the word, and, with their unwelcoming looks, wrinkled noses, and deplorable manners, they affirmed his assessment. When they spoke, they underscored it.
“Swanleigh,” grunted Fischer, his icy eyes darting to his daughter, but not saying a word to her in greeting.
Gideon’s fist clenched. He had to remind himself that laying the viscount out flat would be counterproductive, so he took a bracing breath, rose to his feet, and greeted Caroline’s parents with his most amiable smile.
He tapped into his bountiful well of charm, only to have it disregarded.
“To what do we owe this visit?” asked the viscount. Caroline’s mother had not even turned to greet her yet. With every passing second, Gideon’s ire was rising.
Gideon turned and held his hand out to Caro. She took it, her fingers like ice as he helped her to stand. “We have not previously been formally introduced, but I have some things to discuss with you, and Miss Wells was kind enough to accompany me.”
Her father’s eyes flicked to Caroline. “If there was any reticence in her joining you here, that is because she knows full well she is unwelcome within these walls.”
Gideon’s brows snapped down. “I beg your pardon?” Caro flinched at his side and it was everything he could do not to pull her against his side. He hadn’t expected a warm reception filled with embraces and fond words, but this?
This was hostile.
“And you, Swanleigh,” the viscount continued, his cheeks quivering like an obese hound’s, “why have you come here? It is no secret that you are connected with Caroline, but that is hardly a reason to call here, dragging sin and gossip in your wake.” Viscountess Fischer was nodding along with her husband’s words, as if she were a puppet in a child’s play, righteous indignation fairly oozing from her pores.
“That is hardly the way to treat guests in your home,” Gideon ground out, barely keeping himself in check. Throwing a punch would feel so bloody good.
“I will speak to people in my home in any manner in which I see fit.” He leveled a stubby finger at Caro. “Especially when they have been told in no uncertain terms that they are never to darken our doorstep again.”
“Lord Fischer—”
“You grew tired of staining our name from afar, so you had to come here and flaunt yourself before us?” Fischer finally addressed Caro, but it was far from what Gideon had expected.
The vitriol was astounding. “You were to stay away, and now the whole of Mayfair will be discussing your visit by the end of the day. How dare you bring this upon us?”
“See here,” snapped Gideon, stepping between Caro and her father. He couldn’t stand by one more second as she shrank into herself while her father spewed his vile words. “Take care with the way you are speaking.”
“This is no matter of yours,” Fischer snarled, spittle flying from his loose lips, “even if she is acting as your current whore.”
Gideon snapped. He drew himself up to his full height and adopted a cruel, frigid tone eerily reminiscent of his deceased father’s. “It damn well is my concern because Caroline is my betrothed. And I will not allow you to speak to the future Marchioness of Swanleigh in such a manner.”
Fischer’s hand fell and the room went deathly silent.
Lady Fischer turned gray, her fish mouth gaping, making her look like a beached trout.
The viscount began to stammer and spluttered, “This cannot be true.” His eyes darted between Gideon and Caro several times before landing on his daughter.
“Surely, you cannot have made yet another horrendous mistake? Chosen to throw what remains of your life away? It is bad enough that your antics are bandied about in the gossip columns, speculating about what sort of sordid relationship you share with this reprobate, but now you must feed this bit to them? Marriage will not scrub away your sins.”
“How can you do this to us?” wailed her mother. “Grace is only just making her debut and you will destroy everything we have worked for.” She plopped dramatically onto the sofa, fanning her face as if she were near to fainting.
In response, Caro was more silent, more cowed than Gideon had ever seen her. The protective monster inside of him roared in fury.
Gideon closed the gap between where he stood and Viscount Fischer in three long strides until he towered over the older man.
“Part of being a ‘reprobate’ means I’ve become quite adept with both sword and pistols.
I suggest you bite your tongue before I am forced to show you just how accomplished I am.
” Fischer began to stammer, but Gideon did not offer him another chance to speak.
“I came here out of respect for Miss Wells—to offer you, as her parents, an opportunity to bestow your blessings upon our union, but I can see what a mistake that was. You are not worth the courtesy. You are not worthy of another second of Miss Wells’s time.
She has not needed you in seven years, and I will personally ensure she will never have need of you again.
” He leaned in close. “And if you ever cause her a single ounce of pain again—if I hear one more vile word tumble from your disgusting lips—then you will answer to me.”
Gideon wasted no time in bundling Caro up and back into his carriage.
“What utterly horrid people,” Gideon fumed. “I don’t bloody blame you for staying away from them for as long as you did.”
“As you now know, it wasn’t entirely my choice.
” Her voice was so small that he almost missed it in his rant.
He heard her, though, and his tirade came to a screeching halt.
He crossed the carriage and sat beside her on the forward-facing seat.
Caro was impossibly pale, the cinnamon sprinkles of her freckles standing in stark contrast on the sickly apples of her cheeks.
She was shaken by the confrontation with her parents; there was no other way to describe how it had left her.
He couldn’t blame her. If that was how they treated her in front of someone else, it sickened him to think how they behaved behind closed doors.
Even if Caro had been cast out as a girl of less than twenty years of age, it might have been a minor blessing compared to being subjected to that venom on a daily basis.
He wrapped an arm around her slim shoulders and pulled her close to his side. She immediately melted into him like a candle left too near a flame. He savored it.
“I apologize for coercing you into joining me. I should have listened to you.”
“You were trying to do the right thing.”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
Caro tilted her head back and looked up at him. The color was beginning to return to her cheeks. Finally. “Having you stand up for me—making my father look as if he was about to piss a puddle in the middle of the parlor floor—made it more worth it.”
Gideon gave a gentle chuckle. “How could such vile people create so incredible a person?”
Her answering smile was soft and fleeting. “At their heart, they are trying to protect my younger sister, Grace. They’ve failed with me and want to give her the best chance at a good match.”
“They have more than one daughter.”
Caro pulled her lips between her teeth and averted her eyes.
She could not argue with the truth. Just because her parents wanted to protect Grace from the stain of Caro’s reputation and influence, that did not give them leave to treat their elder daughter in such a deplorable fashion. She gave a little sigh.
“Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?” he asked gently.
She shook her head. “I would like to return home.”
“Very well,” he agreed and set their course with the driver.