Chapter 10 #5
“Good night, Hetty,” he said, and she wondered if that had been a note of regret she’d heard, but no. That would be foolish. Mr Bramwell had his hotel and his ambitions to focus upon, whereas she… she must focus her attention somewhere else.
As she closed the library door behind her, she found her fingers tracing the shape of her lips, still tingling from the passionate press of his lips.
For a moment there, he had been everything she had known he would be, exciting and so different from any man she had ever known, but everything he had said was entirely correct.
There was no future for them, and it was foolish to pretend otherwise.
She told herself she did not regret being only his friend; it was no more than she had expected or hoped for. But she did.
The Promenade, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 1st August 1816
A huge gibbous moon sat in the sky, brightly illuminating the town beneath with its silvery light as Gideon made his way back to his rooms. Damian walked beside him back to the hotel and had so far been blessedly silent.
He’d known it wouldn’t last.
“What’s got you looking so Friday faced?”
Gideon sighed inwardly but showed no sign of impatience, which Damian would pounce on. “I’m not, I’m just tired. I was thinking about everything I need to do in the morning.”
“Oh, is that all,” Damian replied, sounding disappointed. “I thought perhaps you were brooding over Lady Henrietta. She’ll certainly be dreaming of you this night. Did you kiss her?”
Gideon started, so shocked by his brother’s question he almost demanded if he’d been spying on them.
Thank God he came to his senses before he said anything revealing.
Damian had a knack for poking a fellow in his tender spots to provoke a reaction.
“Certainly not, and I cannot believe that. I drive her distracted. She only enjoys looking at the plans, hoping to find an error to wave in my face. I wouldn’t mind, but she manages it too.
” He laughed a little, hoping he sounded indifferent to Lady Hetty.
That she might dream of him was one he ought not contemplate, yet the idea lodged in his brain and stuck there.
Damn his bloody brother. It was a stupid idea, anyway.
She must hate him by now, no matter their agreement to be friends.
He didn’t blame her either. He had behaved like a cad, kissing her like that and then telling her it had been a terrible mistake. It was a wonder she hadn’t slapped him.
“Oh, I think you’re out there,” Damian replied idly.
Gideon glanced at him, knowing he ought not want to know what his brother meant by that. “Oh?”
“She means to have you, Deon. So, if you don’t want catching, you’d best have a care. Though I wouldn’t blame you. She’s lovely, and with a big, fat dowry. Imagine what kinds of doors she could open for you.”
“Stow it, Damian. You know neither of us can risk marriage, and I’d never marry a woman for her money, or for how many bloody doors she could open for me.”
Damian was oddly quiet and Gideon turned sharply, wondering what he was thinking.
Catching Gideon scrutinising him, Damian scowled.
“It’s the only reason to risk it, you poor fool.
You know as well as I that there are ways to prevent begetting any brats.
I don’t see why you ought not risk it for such an opportunity. ”
Gideon started, shocked beyond belief that Damian had said such a thing. Of the two of them, he’d always been the most determined to never marry, or to sire a child. “None of those ways are foolproof and… Dammit, why are we even talking about this? I’m not marrying her or anyone else.”
“It’s never crossed your mind?” Damian pressed, never one to give up if he suspected he had touched a nerve.
“You’d be a fool not to pursue her. There’s nothing wrong with marrying for money and position?
It’s what everyone does. Or are you a romantic at heart, Deon?
Are you saving yourself for a love match, is that it? ”
“Do you want me to break your pretty nose?” Gideon demanded, a warning note to his voice that even Damian ought to heed.
“Well, I just wondered. I mean, if you don’t want her, perhaps I—”
Before he’d thought it through, Gideon had his brother thrust up against the wall of building, his hand fisting the once pristine cravat at his throat. “Don’t. Even. Think of it.”
Damian grinned. In that moment, Gideon knew he’d just been successfully baited. Damian had no interest in Hetty, or in any respectable female. He’d just been proving a point.
Gideon let him go with a muttered curse.
“You are too, too easy, Deon,” Damian said with a sigh, his long fingers investigating the damage Gideon had wrought upon his perfect bloody neckcloth. Gideon wished he’d throttled him with it.
Gideon said nothing, just stalked towards the back of the cheese shop to the door that led up to his rooms. “Sweet dreams,” Damian called to his retreating back.
“Go to hell,” Gideon muttered, gritting his teeth as he retreated before he did his closest kin a serious injury.