Chapter Fourteen
“I am told Lady Swanleigh is already belowstairs,” said Gideon’s valet, Walters.
Odd, thought Gideon. He normally retrieved her from her chamber and they descended together to dine.
Perhaps she had some last-minute preparations to complete—a small gift or a special dessert.
He was not one who normally enjoyed celebrating his birthdays; his childhood had largely been absent of such frivolity.
Caro, on the other hand, enjoyed life so much that she looked forward to any opportunity to celebrate it.
He could humor her in any way she liked, so long as she continued to smile at him as if he’d hung the stars.
A man could become addicted to a woman who saw him that way.
Gideon strongly suspected he already was.
Striding out into the hallway, he was so busy adjusting the cuffs of his black formal coat that he did not become aware of a low din and the glowing of hundreds of candles until he’d already turned the corner to the top of the stairs leading from the east wing to the great hall.
He froze immediately, caught between a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Assembled below were dozens of guests dressed in evening kits, glittering gems, and opulent gowns. Standing front and center was his wife.
Caro beamed up at him, joy and pride so gloriously evident in her expression.
She’d donned an elegant silk gown in hunter green.
It displayed the expanse of her pale collarbone to perfection and hinted at her increasing bosom.
The clever draping of the fabric helped mask her pregnancy, but it wouldn’t be long before she required new gowns to accommodate her growing body.
Her rose-gold hair glittered in the warm candlelight, even more so from the pearl-tipped pins woven into the curls and plaits.
She held her gloved hand aloft, toasting him with a crystal glass. The rest of the party followed suit.
“Happy birthday, Swanleigh,” she said, her voice ringing clear.
“One year older, but never one year wiser.” It was followed by a chorus of “hear, hear” and laughter as everyone toasted to his birthday, his health, and his longevity.
Familiar faces filled the room; friends, former classmates, neighboring lords and gentry.
Gideon had eyes only for his wife. Never before had he experienced such an outpouring of love, and he knew Caroline was the catalyst of it all.
He descended the stairs and immediately walked up to his wife. Taking her hand in his, he pressed his lips to her knuckles. “However did you manage to plan this beneath my nose?” he asked, utterly astonished.
“I have my ways,” she said, unable to mask her pleasure at his surprise.
“I am impressed, Lady Swanleigh,” he murmured and accepted a glass from a servant.
The entire evening rang of Caroline’s touches.
From the local flowers to the guest list, the menu to the entertainment, all of it was perfectly catered to Gideon’s preferences.
She truly seemed to have thought of everything.
As he moved through the crowd with Caro on his arm, Gideon simply could not have been prouder, or more in love with her.
He was in conversation with Blackwood, the man’s latest stunning paramour by his side, when he felt Caro’s fingers tighten around his arm.
He turned to see what had grabbed her attention and, on the far side of the room, he caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man dressed smartly in a well-tailored black evening kit.
Beside him, his angelic wife glittered in an ice-blue gown that made her eyes appear to glow.
Oliver and Emily.
Gideon glanced between them and his wife.
Not only had she thought to invite them, but she’d convinced them to attend.
He could hardly believe his eyes. She was a bloody brilliant little mastermind, his wife.
A powerful emotion washed over Gideon—some tenderness he could not name.
Gratitude? Relief? Whatever it was, he knew Caro would remain by his side while he sorted it out.
He and Caroline excused themselves from Blackwood and traversed the room to where Oliver and Emily stood, looking elegant, if slightly uncomfortable.
Curious glances were being cast their way.
Other guests were beginning to wonder who they were and, likely, to marvel at the similarities between Oliver and the guest of honor.
He couldn’t blame them. It was only the second time he’d seen his half brother in person.
The resemblance was uncanny, especially when they were dressed nearly identically.
“Mr. and Mrs. Black,” Gideon said in cheerful greeting. “I am so pleased to see you made the journey from London.” He bowed over Emily’s gloved hand before extending his hand to Oliver. The other man eyed the appendage—likely unused to the gesture, Gideon thought—before taking it.
“Happy birthday,” Oliver said in his no-nonsense tone. “Though I will admit that I was transported here under false pretenses.” He shot Emily a loaded look out of the corner of his eye. “My wife convinced me we were to look at a small country cottage.”
Emily had the good grace to appear slightly bashful. “Sometimes it is easier to lie a little and deal with the consequences later.”
“I should have known better when you insisted upon packing my good clothing,” Oliver grumbled, though even Gideon could tell he was far less put out than he was pretending.
“A country cottage sounds so lovely!” Caro piped up, her face split into a glorious smile.
“Indeed. May I introduce my wife, Lady Caroline?”
Oliver proceeded to execute a flawless bow over Caroline’s hand. “I will admit, this part of the country is tempting. I might be amenable to investing in a small cottage were I not married to such a duplicitous woman.”
“Hardly,” Emily snorted. “You enjoyed a foray outside of London, fresh air, and now a party in a gorgeous castle. I see only benefits to my behavior.”
“Well,” Gideon chimed in, looking at Oliver, “it seems we are both drawn to beautiful, scheming women too cunning for their own good. I, myself, believed I’d be enjoying a quiet dinner, and now I must play host to several dozen guests.”
Caro jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Do not lie—you are reveling in every moment of this.”
Gideon laughed heartily and was cheered to see even the corner of Oliver’s lips tilt into the beginnings of a smile.
It was then that he noticed an increase in the whispers and glances around them.
With him and Oliver standing together in their formal clothing…
why, they must have looked like a pair of matched bookends.
He’d be surprised if speculation about their filial ties hadn’t already begun in earnest. He made a silent vow that Oliver would not experience any prejudice amongst these people.
These guests were people who mattered to him, but Oliver was blood.
Anyone who thought to speak ill of him would have to answer to Gideon.
He and Caroline kept Oliver and Emily near their sides for the rest of the evening, introducing them to the rest of their close circle.
As he’d anticipated, Blackwood and the rest were only too happy to absorb them into their fold.
The sight of these men with his brother actually made Gideon’s throat tighten.
They were good men who deserved more than the caricatures Society had boiled them down to.
Hell-raisers and lovers of beautiful women they may be, but they were not as shallow or dim-witted or without morals as the tabloids would purport.
This combination of Gideon’s worlds—the brother he’d always hoped to find and the friends who’d stood in for the family he lacked—was enough to make his throat tighten with emotion.
“Are you ready for one of your gifts?” Caro asked, snapping Gideon from his mental meandering. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized the assemblage had begun to migrate outside toward the west lawn.
“This party was not my gift?” he asked, delight welling up in his chest as he allowed Caroline to guide him along with the flow of the crowd.
“Part of it,” she replied with a mischievous smile.
“What have you planned, Lady Swanleigh?” he murmured in her ear, savoring the delighted chill that elicited from her.
“You will see soon enough!”
The early evening sky was painted in broad strokes of goldenrod, unnatural orange, shades of pink, and clouds of lilac.
The air was sweet with the scent of freshly shorn grass and warm earth.
The night-blooming flowers growing against the west side of the castle were beginning to open, adding an exotic note to the atmosphere.
One excited yip was quickly followed by another.
Gideon was confused until the crowd parted and he saw what Caroline had done.
The lawn had been cleared, and a long, narrow course had been roped off to create a straight track the length of the gardens.
Handlers managed their greyhounds as the lean, angular dogs leapt, snuffled, barked, and paced, ready to do what they had been born and bred to do.
“You organized dog races?” Gideon could not mask his astonishment at the scene laid out before the party. Wagers were already being placed as the dogs with numbers one through five painted on their flanks were paraded before the partygoers.