Page 77 of Cora
Muffled calls from beyond the door. He couldn’t hear them properly. Not with his blood roaring in his ears.
“Don’t come in,” he ordered.
“I must have a word with you!”
The handle rattled. Locked. Gideon grinned at Cora, who bit her lower lip. They would not make haste for Martha Wentworth. She could wait.
Fifteen minutes later, he had finished, returned the favor of an orgasm to his wife, tucked her sleepily into bed, and promised to join her once he dealt with his mother.
Martha eyed with grim distaste his robe and the silk pajama bottoms he had thrown on for the sake of decency. Her mouth flattened as understanding dawned as to why he had kept her waiting for so long.
Undeterred, she went straight to the point.
“I have two men here to transfer Miss Wilder to a comfortable private institution in Cornwall, near the seaside, where she will not be a bother to anyone.”
“Mrs. Wentworth”—he enunciated each syllable—“is not going anywhere. She will remain fast asleep. She will need her energy for the heir she is carrying.”
Whether or not it was true, Gideon knew it would become truth sooner or later. He had spent weeks willing his seed to take root in Cora’s womb, and if it hadn’t after the past few hours of trying…well, they would simply have to try until it did work.
In the meantime, his mother’s face blanched, then slowly turned a mottled shade of red.
“I forbid you to remain with her. The Queen will never accept her after what she did last night.”
“Victoria has not censured her.” He wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t, but being summoned to the castle in the middle of the night and asked to carry out a secret plan did imply a certain degree of discretion was required. “Cora regrets playing that song. It was a joke. Most people enjoyed it.”
“That doesn’t make things right. She humiliated us—you! Her own husband! After all the expense and effort we put into showcasing her talent, your wife sang a dirty tavern song,” Martha seethed.
“One that every person in London has already heard. It was an unexpected choice, but not as shocking as you are making it out to be.”
“She had to have planned it, Gideon. How can you tolerate such disrespect? Such insolence?”
“Because I love her, Mother.”
Martha reeled. She remained standing, but weaved slightly on her feet, shaking her head, fuming.
“I have loved her for a very long time. I held off from offering for Cora because I knew you would oppose the match. You and father have cared for Wentworth’s reputation like a cherished heirloom. I promise you, I will not violate the trust you have placed in me. Someday, I will want to pass the bank to a new generation. Just as Father entrusted it to me. For that to happen, I need an heir.”
He took her gently by the shoulders and said earnestly, “Me loving Cora will not destroy what you have built. You have my word.”
His mother gaped at him. She went as pale as a sheet. Her mouth flapped open and closed like a sail that had lost the wind. Her jowls sagged slightly.
“And Reggie?”
“Reggie likes Cora. He does not resent me marrying her any more than he resents my taking over leadership at the bank. He is going to be fine.”
Defeated, Martha’s chin bobbed. She was going to cry. Gideon wasn’t surprised when she pulled away and turned her back to him, although he was mildly alarmed. He hadn’t seen her cry since the day of his sister’s funeral. The one who didn’t survive her polio infection.
“I shall send the men away, then, I suppose.”
“Yes. Do that. Do it now.”
“You’re truly not going to leave her?” Martha asked with one final surge of hope. “Nor she you?”
Gideon crushed it ruthlessly and did not experience the slightest pang of regret.
“No. Cora is a permanent fixture in my life now. If you want to see your grandchildren, you will have to be polite toward her. No exceptions.”
Martha inhaled, her shoulders slumping as she accepted her fate. “I cannot imagine how that hoyden will fare with raising a child.”
