Page 45 of Ravished

The earl's eyes filled with fury. "Good God, man. Are you saying you have compromised another young woman?"

"I know neither of you believes me, but I never compromised the first. However, I am indeed guilty of compromising the second." Gideon felt his mother's shock and his father's anger pouring over him in waves. He concentrated on his sausages. "It was an accident. But it is done. And there will be a marriage."

"I do not believe this," the earl said tightly. "As God is my witness, I do not believe you have ruined another young woman."

Gideon's fingers tightened on his knife, but he kept his mouth shut. He had vowed he would not quarrel with his father on this visit, but he knew now there had never been any real hope of avoiding a scene such as this. He and his father could not be in the same room together for more than five minutes without exploding into a quarrel.

Lady Hardcastle gave Gideon a quelling look and then turned to her irate husband in concern. "Calm yourself, my dear. If you carry on this way you will bring on another attack."

"It will be his fault if I collapse at this very table." The earl jabbed a fork in Gideon's direction. "Enough. Give us the details and spare us any further suspense."

"There is not much to tell," Gideon said quietly. "Her name is Harriet Pomeroy."

"Pomeroy? Pomeroy? That is the name of the last rector I appointed to Upper Biddleton." The earl glowered. "Any connection?"

"His daughter."

"Oh, my God," Lady Hardcastle breathed. "Another rector's daughter. Gideon, what have you done?"

Gideon smiled coldly as he slit the seal on Harriet's letter and opened it. "You must ask my fiancée how it all came about. She takes full responsibility for everything. Now, if you will excuse me while I read her note, I shall soon be able to tell you whether we will be requiring a special license."

"Have you gotten the poor gel with child?" The earl stormed.

"Dear heaven," Lady Hardcastle whispered. Gideon frowned as he quickly scanned Harriet's letter.

My Dear Sir:

By the time you read this I shall be in London learning how to be a proper wife to you. My Aunt Adelaide (you may recall my mentioning her) has taken control of her husband's money at last. She has summoned us all to Town. We are going to give Felicity her Season and Aunt Effie informs me that I shall be given a Social Polish which will enable me to avoid embarrassing you in the future. It is the chief reason I have agreed to go.

To be perfectly truthful I would much prefer to stay here in Upper Biddleton. I am very excited about the tooth I discovered in our cavern. (I must remind you again to tell no one about it. Fossil thieves are everywhere.) But I understand that as a rector's daughter I lack a great deal of knowledge about how to go on in Society. As Aunt Effie says, you will need a wife who knows about such things. I trust I shall learn them quickly so that I can get back to my fossils.

I am hoping that while in London I shall be able to research and identify my tooth. It is a cheerful thought and makes the notion of the trip much more palatable.

We leave on the morrow. If you wish to reach me you may do so in care of my Aunt Adelaide. I have enclosed her direction. I pray your father is feeling better. Please extend my regards to your mother.

By the bye, about that Other Matter which so concerned you, allow me to tell you that you may cease worrying. There is no need for a hasty wedding.

Yrs. Harriet

Damn, Gideon thought as he quickly refolded the letter. He realized then just how much he had taken to the notion of a rushed wedding. "No. My fiancée is not pregnant. Unfortunately. Something far more disastrous has occurred."

Lady Hardcastle blinked. "Good heavens. What could be worse?"

"They have taken her off to London to give her a social polish." Gideon wolfed down the last of his sausages and got to his feet. "As you are not dying, my lord," he said to his father, "I must be on my way at once."

"Damnation, Gideon, come back here," Hardcastle roared. "What is going on? Why are you rushing off to Town?"

Gideon paused impatiently in the doorway. "I cannot delay, sir. The thought of Harriet in London unsettles my nerves."

"Fustian." Lady Hardcastle frowned. "Nothing unsettles your nerves, Gideon."

"You do not know Harriet, madam."

Chapter Nine

Gideon did not enjoy his clubs in the traditional way that most gentlemen did. For him they were not a refuge or a home away from home. Knowing that the moment he walked through the door six-year-old tales of ravished maidens, suicide, and mysterious death were immediately revived did not give him a fondness for club life.

Not that anyone had ever given Gideon the satisfaction of confronting him face-to-face with the accusations. He was considered far too dangerous for such an approach. There were those who well recalled the rapier duel in which he had received the scar that marred his features.

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