Page 68 of Cora
The audience erupted into furious applause.
Gideon lurched out of his seat, stopped by his mother’s grip on his arm.
“This will destroy us,” she hissed. “Do something.”
He yanked his arm free. “Stay out of this for once, Mother. Let me handle my wife.”
Then he was pushing past people’s knees, shoving his way down the narrow lane to the already-crowded aisle.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
GIDEON
He found his wife backstage, standing alone as if waiting for him. He seized her by the arm.
“Cora. What were you thinking?”
Startled, she stared at his face, then at his hand, then back at his face. Emotions flickered over her features. Unease. Regret.
“I was having a laugh at my own expense. Letting everyone know that I could take a joke. Let bygones be bygones.” Her eyes searched his face. “It went over well, don’t you think?”
“You humiliated me. Us. The family.”
She wrenched her arm away.
“Humiliated,” she echoed. Her gaze shifted past his shoulder. He didn’t need to glance behind him to know that his mother was on his heels, determined to give Cora the dressing-down of the century and prove that she was still the undisputed matriarch of the Wentworth family. Gideon glared. She stopped in her tracks. Her face white, she turned to snag Prince Leopold’s elbow where he was standing with a courtesan. A litany of apologies and excuses flowed from Martha’s lips. Each one threw Cora beneath the train a little harder.
“I don’t know what my son was thinking in marrying her, Highness. I am certain that Gideon can find a way to annul the marriage. If not, we can have her committed. No proper woman makes such a public display. No one could fault us for putting her away after that performance. You wouldn’t, would you, Your Highness?”
Fury blossomed in Cora’s eyes.
“Committed? To an asylum? Me? For playing a song at a concert of your devising?”
Gideon felt the situation slipping out of his control. His triumph, ruined. This must be how Cora had felt all those years ago when he tricked her into playing a different bawdy house song. Now, she had turned the tables. Deliberately.
“Cora. We need to have a word. Alone.”
Damn his mother, she would not leave well enough alone.
“If necessary, ” Martha strode forward with fury snapping in her eyes. “One way or another, we will find a way to be rid of you. Gideon deserves aproperwife. Not a—agullion.”
He ought to say something—anything—to end this disaster, but for once in his life, he couldn’t summon a single syllable.
“You are ungovernable,” his mother spat. “Nothing but a low-born, ill-mannered upstart.”
“And I always will be.” Cora spun away, her scarlet skirt flaring. “I shall consult with my brother, the Duke of Gryphon, about the feasibility of obtaining a divorce.”
Gideon was caught in an avalanche. Ice rolled through him, chilling his blood and pooling in his stomach. His mother wished to destroy what he’d so painstakingly wrought. She was succeeding, damn her.
“Cora, no?—”
She strode away without a backward glance.
“You.” He rounded on her. “Leave Cora alone.”
“I will not lose everything we have built tothat woman.”
“No, you’ll lose everything by trying to keep me from her.”
