Page 19 of Cora
His brother’s knowing smile irked him greatly.
“I understand wanting to celebrate in private. I would, too,” Reggie said wistfully.
Remorse flashed through Gideon. Reggie’s cock worked, though his legs did not. He longed for a family, but his chances of finding a wife who was willing to overlook his infirmity were not high. He owed his brother a chance to feel the soft warmth of a woman’s genuine interest, but greedy bastard that he was, Gideon wanted to keep Cora’s attention all to himself.
They sat at the luncheon table bedecked with crystal and white flowers. Everything white. His mother’s decision. Not a speck of color. Cora cautiously warmed to his sisters, especially to their children, whom she appeared to find charming. Did she like babies? They hadn’t discussed the prospect during their negotiations. Gideon had been too consumed with possessing her to think beyond the wedding day. He hoped he wouldn’t have cause to regret his lack of foresight.
“To good health, long life, and may you be blessed with many children,” his father said by way of a toast. Across the table, Mr. and Mrs. Wilder raised their glasses. The duke barely lifted his. His antique-gold hair was slightly disheveled and his posture belligerent as he exchanged a speaking glance with his half-sister.
Defiantly, Cora lifted her glass and said, “To family.”
The duke’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile, prompting Gideon to wonder whether there were hidden depths to their relationship.
“My son must pass on the Wentworth legacy, as his father did, and his father did before him,” Martha declared.
Cora’s lips parted as though to speak, but a second later they closed as if she’d thought better of whatever she’d been about to say. She cast a curious glance at Reggie and took a delicate bite. The sight sent a swell of desire tenting his trousers. He was ready to get started with the intimate celebration. It remained to be seen whether his wife was truly agreeable or merely paying lip service.
CHAPTERTEN
GIDEON
Alone.
Once they were in Gideon’s carriage making their way across town, the enormity of what he’d done sank in. Trundling along the streets, he felt like he was staring up into glittering spikes of ice aimed straight for his face, with the rumble of a mountain of sliding snow building in his ears. The crash loomed.
For now, they were tucked into his private coach, cocooned in strained silence.
In the back of his mind, Gideon had harbored the peculiar hope that the wedding ceremony would melt Cora’s heart. The introduction to his family had demonstrated that this would not be happening any time soon. Their luncheon had been cordial but cautious, especially with her brothers and sister-in-law present.
At least they had managed to avoid fisticuffs. Small victories.
“Does Reggie live with your parents?” Cora startled him out of his thoughts. He could have tried to make conversation. Gideon hated the way he turned tongue-tied around her. She was so similar to how he remembered her, yet different. He had never truly known her despite spending years creating an image of her in his mind. He thought of her as bright and shining and full of warmth. He couldn’t quite figure out this reserved version of the woman who had possessed his thoughts since the day he set eyes upon her.
“Most of the time. My house is ill-suited to his needs. Too many stairs.”
“He has a lively mind.”
“Does he have any choice in the matter? He is physically confined to the house. He has been forced to learn how to entertain himself.”
His jealousy was out of control. Ordinarily, he was almost as protective of Reggie as his mother, but he would commit crimes for the chance to feel one fraction of the warmth she’d had shown Reggie.
Cora’s elegant chin dipped in silent agreement. Her white-wrapped body swayed slightly with the movement of the carriage, which felt too small and cramped to contain the two of them. He’d already managed to soil the hem of her cloak by stepping on it.
He should be charming. Gideon never had difficulty speaking to other women. Conversation with Society ladies was simple: either they were married, and appreciated a little flirtatious banter, or they were debutantes and to be handled like delicate porcelain dolls. With courtesans, he could speak bluntly. If they didn’t like his manners they could seek out better company.
“Speaking of houses, what should I expect of yours?” she asked.
“It is large.” He shrugged. “Furnished according to my tastes.”
A faint smile quirked up the corner of Cora’s lush mouth at his response. Gideon shifted, thinking about that mouth. How it tasted. What it would feel like upon his?—
“Like a bachelor’s home, I imagine.” A sardonic note crept into her tone, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Lots of dark wood and darker leather. Not a splash of color anywhere.”
The truth of her words stung, though it shouldn’t. Gideon was too busy to care about frivolities like furniture, and he wasn’t exactly going to surround himself with spindly settees covered in pastel chintz. The mere idea caused a shudder. He prayed her tastes didn’t lean that direction.
He knew so much and yet so little about his new wife.
“I suppose you are familiar with bachelor’s quarters,” he said a little too acidly.
