Chapter Nineteen
Gideon missed Caro with the furiousness of Odysseus and Penelope.
He felt as if they were an ocean apart rather than in different neighborhoods of the same city.
The tug on his heart was constant and undeniable, drawing him away from whatever he was attempting to accomplish and distracting him with Caroline’s absence.
He gradually came to terms with the fact that he needed her by his side as much as he wanted her there.
More than the physical aspect of their marriage, more than simply sharing a bed with her, he missed the sound of her voice and her laughter.
He longed for her to cast him an amused look out of the corner of her eye when something ridiculous was said.
He wanted to see her each day to reassure himself that she was well—that the pregnancy was not too difficult on her.
Having made up his mind, he rifled through her desk and located a note with the address for Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Black. Excellent.
Less than an hour later, Gideon arrived at their home.
The narrow building was a tidy brick building with colorful blooms framing either side of the front steps.
It was remarkable how somewhere so innocuous could send his pulse racing.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it until that moment, but this was the first time he’d called upon his half brother and his wife at their home.
He and Caroline had hosted Emily and Oliver following the birthday celebration Caroline had planned, but this was different; this was Gideon inserting himself into their life, stepping past the threshold and into their sanctuary.
They’d welcomed Caroline with open arms, but he knew firsthand how it was impossible to truly know her and not love her.
Gideon’s presence was different. He and Oliver had formed the beginnings of a decent bond at Bray Castle, but would it carry over into their lives in London?
Oliver answered Gideon’s knock with swift efficiency. When the door opened, it was like peering into a full-length looking glass. The similarities between them never failed to unnerve Gideon those first few seconds upon meeting.
“Swanleigh,” Oliver greeted him, if not warmly, then at least pleasantly.
Despite the progress they’d managed, Oliver seemed determined to hold Gideon at arm’s length, far enough that he was outside of striking distance…
as if he were some venomous creature from the jungle.
Not for the first time, he wondered when the man might begin to trust him.
He couldn’t blame Oliver’s skepticism—not after everything he’d been through—but he hoped soon he’d understand that Gideon held no ulterior motives.
He wanted only to know the family he had left, to form a relationship with the sibling who had been denied him for so many years.
The odds of finding one another in London were astonishing, and yet they’d managed. Shouldn’t that be celebrated?
“Afternoon, Black,” Gideon returned his greeting in kind. “I’ve come to see my wife.”
Oliver stepped aside to admit him into the home. It smelled pleasantly of lemon and beeswax. “The ladies are out. Emily brought her along to Lady Night’s,” Oliver explained while Gideon removed his hat and gloves.
“The brothel?” His fingers tightened dangerously on the brim of his hat.
Oliver held up his hands. “Once Caroline learned of Emily’s plans for the day, she would not take no for an answer.”
“That sounds about right,” Gideon grumbled.
“I escorted them there and one of the guards will see them home. Trust me when I say that I made sure they knew to remain out of sight and keep to the private rooms on the topmost floor, especially as the evening hours approach.”
Gideon’s skin tingled at the thought of his marchioness wife going to a place such as Lady Night’s, but if he knew anything about Caro, it was that Oliver was telling the truth.
She wouldn’t have been able to resist seeing the business, exploring the rooms, even meeting some of the prostitutes.
It caused him no little amount of discomfort that he was not there to serve as her companion, but the last time he’d visited had been such a horrendous disaster that it was probably for the best.
“Emily spent most of her life in that building. I trust every employee and personally interviewed everyone who works closely with my wife. The only way they’d be safer is if I were there as well.”
“And why aren’t you?”
“I had errands of my own,” he explained unapologetically.
“I offered to accompany them when I was finished, but they did not wish to wait. I saw them to Covent Garden and escorted them inside before I continued on my way.” He glanced at the clock set into a carved wooden frame atop the hearth.
“They should arrive within the next two hours. You are welcome to stay here and wait if you would like, or I can tell Caroline you called.”
“I will wait,” Gideon said gruffly, his mind spinning with all the possibilities of the trouble Caro might get into, of the things she might see at the brothel. Would she enjoy it? Would it inspire her?
Feeling his flesh begin to heat, Gideon cleared his throat and dropped into the seat Oliver had indicated. Oliver followed suit.
The men sat stiff and silent for interminable minutes, the ticking of the timepiece the only sound in the mint green room.
“This is…a lovely home,” Gideon tried, feeling every bit as awkward as the words sounded.
“Thank you. Emily is to thank for any of the ‘homey touches’, as she calls them. There’d be bare plaster walls and naked floors were it left up to me.”
Gideon chuckled. “The women do add color to our lives, do they not?”
There was a softening in Oliver’s dark-silver eyes at those words, something rare enough that Gideon took note. The man adored his wife as much as Gideon did Caro.
“They do, indeed.”
The corner of Gideon’s lips tilted as they shared a moment of camaraderie. He turned his attention to the rest of the room. “Caro’s former townhouse was not all that far from here. The area is quite nice, rather safe as far as London areas outside of Mayfair go. Is your employment near here?”
The warmth that had been in his half sibling’s eyes a moment before was doused and shuttered away.
“Currently, I assist when and where I am needed at Lady Night’s.
” The reaction confused Gideon; it was a perfectly respectable inquiry, and there hadn’t been so much as a speck of derision in his tone.
He wasn’t a man who looked down upon anyone who worked for his living, let alone his own brother.
It was more admirable than those lords who sat on their fat arses collecting rents without lifting a finger to improve their tenants’ lives or investigate new industries.
Relying on inherited wealth could only take a man so far, and the complacency would likely result in the eventual collapse of his title and holdings.
No, it was far more admirable to put one’s mind and body into work.
“And before?” Gideon pressed, trying to understand what had caused this shift. “You seem to have done well for yourself, based on what Emily has told me of your history. Did you run a business? Invest?”
“I did whatever needed to be done.”
That earned a frown. “Are you always this purposefully obtuse?”
Oliver’s head whipped to the side, his eyes meeting Gideon’s with piercing intensity. “Not everyone is willing to have his life be an open book for all to read.”
Gideon opened his mouth to retort, but was cut short by a loud knock on the front door. Both men turned toward the foyer, dark brows knitting in deep frowns when they looked at one another, their blossoming disagreement forgotten.
The women would not have knocked.
Both of them stood, Gideon hanging back as Oliver went to answer the door. What he said made Gideon’s blood run cold.
“What are you doing here?”
Alarmed by the greeting, Gideon stepped into the entryway to see a tall, lean man dressed all in black.
He stood in stark contrast to the red-and-gold light of the sunset outside and brought with him an unnatural chill.
Gideon was certain he’d never seen this man before in his life, but the grimness of his angular features, the coldness of his eyes, set him on edge and made him feel as if he were meeting Death, himself.
“You don’t usually make house calls,” Oliver said icily. Gideon noted the tightening of his fingers on the door handle, the clenching of the fist at his side. Whoever this man was, Oliver was blatantly uncomfortable with his arrival.
The man crossed the threshold. Every one of Gideon’s muscles tensed as his eyes flicked back and forth between them.
“This is interesting,” the man said, his voice low and clear. “A close relation?” He directed the inquiry toward Oliver, but nodded without requiring an answer. “It makes more sense now.”
“What makes sense?” Oliver demanded.
“You know this man?” Gideon chimed in, feeling like the tension would suffocate him. “Who is he?” And what did he want? Why did his arrival so disconcert Oliver?
“My former supervisor,” he replied gruffly without removing his eyes from the visitor.
The man inclined his head as if he was either fully unaware of the unease in the room, or he cared not one bit about it. Likely the latter, given his unaffected mien.
For only a moment, the man’s lips twisted into the semblance of amusement before it dissipated.
He reached into an inner pocket of his midnight-black coat and produced a folded letter.
Gideon could see the black wax seal had already been broken.
“This was dropped at Scotland Yard. No one can recall who left it, but it appeared within the last couple of hours.”
Oliver accepted it and began to read. His face blanched to a sickly white, but he read it a second time, his eyes flying over the words like a kingfisher on the surface of a lake.