Chapter Twenty-Two #2
He grunted and said nothing more, but he did not relinquish his task.
It did not escape her notice that neither of them had broached what had happened between them.
Not directly. They’d danced around it, with Gideon asking about her relationship with her husband and lack of experience, and her admission she and Reggie had not had a satisfying physical relationship, by any means.
But they had not discussed how, by engaging in the act of making love, they had thoroughly blurred the boundaries of their fake marriage. They had not discussed what might happen going forward.
Making love with Gideon had altered everything for her.
Rather in the way of shaking the feathers out of a pillow, there would be no stuffing them back in to fit the same way.
When Gideon touched her, even as he was now, she felt it in the depths of her soul.
She had a strong suspicion she might like him to make love to her again, and a stronger one that would not be wise.
She did not wish to be just one in a long line of women to fall prey to his famed allure, another widow, as was his preference.
On the other hand, now that she’d tasted passion, if the opportunity arose again, did she have the will to deny herself?
Gideon had to hand it to his father. He knew how to make things happen. If one avenue to a goal closed, he would find another route to see his agenda accomplished.
Evidently, frustrated by the Home Office dragging its feet over whether or not to drop their investigation against Gideon, the duke’s patience had reached its limit.
Hence, the inclusion of the Honorable Clive Phillip, the Solicitor General, on the guest list at this weekend’s party. It seemed he was ultimately the man tasked with deciding whether or not to pursue charges against Gideon should the Home Office indicate they wished to do so.
Sir Phillip, the second son of a wealthy earl, was accustomed to moving in esteemed circles.
He had been more than happy to receive the duke’s house party invitation, and had no issue at all with the duke asking him to look into the matter to, quote, clear up all this unnecessary nonsense, end quote.
Now, chatting amiably in the converted abbey’s large billiard room, the duke, Sir Phillip, Brice, and Gideon, each enjoyed a dram of whiskey drawn from a bottle of the duke’s private stock while, across the room, Grayson and Mr. Arnold Tyrell, Brice’s father, teamed up against Mr. Floyd and Lord Chase Culver at a game of billiards.
Muted conversation and the clack and clatter of the billiard balls as they moved across the baize made for a pleasant din and ensured the conversation with Sir Phillip remained somewhat private, despite the mixed company.
“I say, Your Grace, this whiskey is the one of the finest I have sampled in an age,” Sir Phillip extolled. His glassy eyes said he’d imbibed several—unlike the duke who, Gideon had no doubt, meant to stay sharp so long as Gideon’s freedom remained in question.
“Not every day one’s eldest son comes home with a bride,” the duke said, golden-green eyes a-twinkle. “This weekend is a celebration of that momentous fact.”
Gideon forced a grin and sipped, tamping down on his increasing guilt over deceiving his father. He had not anticipated the duke making such a monumental fuss over his wedding. After all, Gwen was his second wife, and the two had eloped, not even bothering with a ceremony.
Good God. He was behaving, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, as if he and Gwen actually were married.
Although, today, in the carriage, they’d done a good job of enacting a newlywed couple.
Not that all married couples wished to tear each other’s clothes off in a moving carriage.
He, on the other hand, had hardly been able to think of anything else when Gwen had crawled up his body to press her face into his neck.
The weight of her, lithe and supple, squirming atop him, had threatened to drive him mad if he couldn’t touch her. Taste her. Sink himself into her heat.
Bloody hell. He was getting hard again. He lifted his snifter to his mouth for a long draw and contemplated the conversation that followed—first concerning her marriage, and then his.
Her husband deserved a good throttling, followed by that damned poet he’d invited into their home. He hadn’t missed the fact Gwen avoided revealing the man’s name. That implied Gideon might recognize it. He would discover the man’s identity, he vowed.
As for his marriage to Fannie, he knew what everyone thought. That he’d loved the beautiful socialite, and continued to suffer as a result of her untimely loss, and that of their unborn babe. It had always behooved him—and those whom he wished to protect—to allow the belief to stand.
For some reason, however, he had not wished to repeat the old lie with Gwen.
“I say, Gid, are you quite all right?” Brice asked, his classically handsome face quirked in sardonic amusement.
Gideon swirled the remaining liquor in his glass. “Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because Sir Phillip just said something I’d think you’d wish to hear and, instead, you’re staring into space like a candidate for Bedlam.”
“As if you don’t know where Gideon’s mind’s gone, Tyrell,” his father chided. “Mayhap your marriage is little more than a business arrangement like that of most of the ton, but that’s no reason to begrudge Gideon his fun and games.” He winked at Gideon.
Gideon found himself annoyed with his father, which was not a usual occurrence. Fun and games, indeed. He glared in silent rebuke.
Oddly, rather than eliciting an expression of contrition, or even confusion, the duke’s mouth curved in a smile that could only be described as canny.
“What private joke did I miss?” Brice asked, glancing between Gideon and his father.
“Apparently my son does not appreciate hearing his wife discussed in any but the most deferential terms.”
“Your Grace, if you’re implying the man is smitten,” Brice said, “I could’ve told you that.”
Gideon felt heat rise up his neck and knew he’d been played. Just because he did not care for the intimation Gwen was little more than a rich man’s fancy, it did not follow he was smitten.
He shifted his attention to Sir Phillip. “I apologize, sir. What news have you?”
Sir Phillip nodded with the air of a man confident of his own importance.
“As I was saying, I had to ask after the file. Evidently the case against you was nearly dismissed once, only to be revisited after someone leaked the testimony to the public. No one seems to know quite how that occurred.” He pursed his lips in disgust. “It does not signify. Now that I have taken possession of the file, the case against you shall cease to exist.” He waved his free hand in small flourish.
“Excellent,” the duke said, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
Sir Phillip went on in a considering tone.
“In truth, now that I’ve read the testimony, I cannot understand why Mr. Devereux’s guilt was ever in question, Your Grace.
Yes, a ship matching the description of Mr. Devereux’s personal vessel happened to be in the vicinity at the time of the sale, but that ship was hit and in all probability, sunk, which is beside the point, as Mr. Devereux could hardly have been in two places at once as Your Grace so aptly pointed out. ”
“It was his shipment that went awry, led by the captain he installed to transport it and guarded by the privateers he hired,” Brice offered.
Silence greeted this. The duke and Sir Phillip turned stunned eyes on him.
Belatedly, Brice seemed to reflect on what he’d said. He laughed with obvious chagrin. “I only meant the Home Office is not so inept as it may seem.” He coughed into his fist as the duke glowered. “Of course, Gideon is innocent of all charges. I never meant to imply otherwise.”
“Of all possible charges,” Gideon’s father snapped. “He was never charged. Isn’t that right, Sir Phillip?”
Ever the obsequious one, Sir Phillip glared at Brice. “Quite right, Your Grace, and at my earliest convenience I intend to look into the matter of who leaked the testimony.”
“No need, Sir Phillip. Your expert judgment, and expedient dismissal, is all that is required. More whiskey?” the duke asked, eyeing the footman who stood at the ready across the room.
“Don’t mind if I do, Your Grace.” Sir Phillip lifted his now-empty snifter.
Gideon knew he should let matters lie. He had no business looking a gift horse in the mouth. Nevertheless, Sir Phillip had read the entire report. “Was there, by any chance, anything in the testimony alluding to Mr. Kennedy’s involvement?”
Three sets of eyes narrowed on Gideon.
“Mr. Kennedy?” the Solicitor General all but spat.
“The bastard who took advantage of your trust? The man who saw a means of making a killing by selling illegal arms to the enemy and appropriating one of your cargo ships in the process? One can only hope he got his just dessert at the hands of the villainous French.”