Chapter 17 #2
“Yes… quite,” Jeremy offered, deadpan. “Regardless, I find myself invited, now that I am unofficially on the staff.”
Gideon’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. He kept his circle small and useful—every man in it furthered a purpose, with none he truly trusted. Benedict, for gossip and introductions. While Jeremy, an old schoolmate of his brother’s, was excellent company at the club or the gaming tables.
Less so at formal dinners with potential investors. And even less so at fulfilling his commissions these days.
You better not ruin my shot, old boy.
“May I say, you look absolutely ravishing, Your Grace.” Jeremy bowed over Catherine’s hand with theatrical flourish.
“Careful, Everdon,” Gideon said without thinking.
His wife’s eyebrow arched. A flicker of something crossed her face before the cool mask returned.
“That is very gracious of you, Lord Everdon. Thank you,” Catherine smiled.
“Did you not bring a companion, Lord Everdon?” Sir Obadiah asked, approaching like a stuffed peacock.
“Alas, Sir Obadiah, I could find no one of my acquaintance suitable for such an occasion.” Jeremy’s grin was unrepentant. “Perhaps I shall have more luck in Lancashire.”
“I dare say.” Sir Obadiah turned to Gideon, his smile oily. “Now, the musicians are about to begin. Your Grace, may I claim the honor of the first dance with your lovely bride?”
Gideon wanted to curl his lip and respond with disparaging contempt. He wanted to take Catherine away from the greedy eyes and the compliments that came loaded with baggage. Instead, he forced his expression into something approximating civility.
“If my wife is agreeable—”
“I certainly am,” Catherine cut him off, accepting Sir Obadiah’s arm before Gideon could finish.
She swept onto the dance floor as the music swelled, leaving him standing there blankly like a fool.
“You’ve fallen on your feet there, old chap,” Jeremy whispered.
Gideon watched her move through the figures of the dance, that elegant neck tilted just so, her smile gracious and warm for a man she’d met for all of five minutes. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“Don’t,” he said through his teeth.
He had no reason to feel this way. Sir Obadiah was elderly, devout, harmless. But watching another man's hand at Catherine's waist, seeing her laugh at something the old peacock said, made something dark and possessive coil in his gut.
“Another touchy subject perhaps?” Jeremy’s tone had gone carefully light. Too light.
“What?”
“Your brother.”
The world seemed to tilt. He turned his head slowly, a pleasant smile freezing on his face even as every nerve came alive with danger. His voice, when it came, was deceptively mild.
“My what now?”
“I feel it is only fair to warn you that I have detected certain rumors passing through the society of our peers lately. Like bad smells wafting from the fields in the morning.”
“And what kind of rumors, pray tell?”
“You know what kind. That the true Tarnley did not inherit. That he who was believed dead has returned. The usual.”
“I have no brother. And if I do, he is long dead,” Gideon muttered.
“Of course, of course. Just relaying the rumors, old boy.”
The music ended. Applause rippled through the room as Sir Obadiah escorted Catherine back, mopping his flushed face with a handkerchief. Catherine was breathless, her cheeks pink, smiling—until her gaze landed on Gideon. Then the warmth vanished, replaced by cool indifference.
“You danced beautifully,” he offered.
Her cheeks darkened further, but she said nothing.
“Splendid, splendid.” Sir Obadiah tucked away his handkerchief. “We’ll speak more later, Your Grace. About coal and such.” He tapped his nose conspiratorially before waddling off.
The musicians were preparing to play again. Gideon spotted Jeremy draw breath, looking at Catherine, as though to ask her to dance.
The infernal impudence of the man! He is becoming a nuisance.
“My turn, I think,” Gideon said, stepping between them. He offered Catherine his hand. “May I?”
Her eyes met his, cool and assessing. “If you wish.”
He led her onto the floor as the music began.
This close, it was impossible not to drown in her. The soft hazel of her eyes, those impossible gold flecks catching the candlelight. His anger dulled against the reality of her beauty, her nearness.
She watched him, waiting. Guarded.
And there, in the subtle tightness around her lips, the wariness in her gaze—pain. Pain that hadn’t been there hours ago.
Pain he’d put there.
The realization cut deeper than any blade.
The music began. He took her hand and they moved together, eyes locked, the steps coming without thought.
Something seemed to trouble her. The lines of worry seemed to deepen. They did not mar her beauty but temper it, making her appear older, more worldly.
“I need you for more than tonight.” The words came out in a low whisper. “I should have made that clear earlier. I didn’t.”
Somewhere in his mind, Aaron’s spectre howled at his weakness.
Catherine’s brow smoothed slightly. “No. You did not.”
The lights whirled around them. They reflected in Catherine’s eyes, as though she had stepped into a fairy tale. Gideon had never danced so well, so smoothly, and with so little thought put into it. He did not need to. He only needed to hold her hand, draw her closer.
“I thought it was understood between us. I see now it wasn’t.”
“You made me feel...” She furrowed her brows, choosing her words carefully. “Like a means to an end.”
He met her gaze steadily. “Lord knows I am heartless enough to consider it.”
Her smile returned at his self-deprecating solemnity, tentative but real. The tension eased from her features. “At least you are honest.”
“You deserve honesty.”
They had drifted closer with silent consent.
The required frame and prescribed posture that convention dictated a pair should adopt when dancing had narrowed to something bordering on intimate.
His hand at her waist could feel the warmth of her through the silk.
The ballroom blurred around them until there was only her face, her smile beginning to mirror his own.
“I’m learning I can be stubborn too,” she offered softly.
“You absolutely can be.” His thumb traced a small circle against her palm. “I'm discovering that myself.”
Catherine laughed. “Thank goodness. If I were meek and submissive, you would be bored within a week.”
“I cannot think of anything more tragic.”
One dance flowed seamlessly into the next. No gentleman dared approach to cut in. Not one. The Duke and Duchess made too perfect a couple.
Finally, the dinner bell summoned them. Jeremy materialized at Gideon’s elbow once more like a cheap trick as they moved toward the dining room.
“On the subject of rumors—“
“Not now, Everdon,” Gideon interrupted. “And not in present company.”
The last thing he needed was paranoia poisoning what little ground he’d regained with Catherine.
“Don’t exclude me on my account,” Catherine offered diplomatically, “I can be quite interested in—” She broke off with a delicate cough.
When she lowered her hand, her face looked pale despite the flush high on her cheeks. Her eyes were over-bright.
“That's twice in as many minutes,” he said, frowning.
“I'm fine. The room is simply warm.”
“I've said all I know, anyway,” Jeremy interjected. “But I could make discreet inquiries, if you’d like.”
“Yes. Do that.” Gideon wanted the subject closed.
They took their seats as Sir Obadiah launched into a lengthy blessing that had several guests shifting restlessly. When they were finally permitted to sit, Catherine leaned close.
“I think it best we don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“You’re picking up on assertiveness quickly, I see,” he observed.
“I had an excellent teacher.” Her eyes met his. “Do we agree?”
“I have no secrets.” The lie came easily. From years of keeping up the facade to any and all living souls. “Only a desire not to burden you with petty gossip. But if you have any confessions, I’m all ears.”
Catherine paused, staring into the golden bubbles rising in her wine glass. Her lips parted—
Sir Obadiah heaved to his feet again, glass raised. “A toast!”
Gideon lifted his glass with barely concealed irritation. He glanced at Catherine. She gave a small shake of her head.
Whatever she’d been about to say would have to wait.