Page 2 of Bedding the Marquess
He’d stated on numerous occasions how deplorable Society’s treatment could be toward women and how it was so much more forgiving toward men who committed the very same “sins.” He reiterated quite frequently how she had never done anything worse than he and the rest of the lads had; in fact, Caroline would even dare to say she was less scandalous because she never carted along paramours or kept a mistress! Still, she was the one who was routinely looked down upon, the one at whom Society sneered.
All of this was to say that Gideon had, yet again, gone above and beyond in the name of their friendship and secured her a coveted invitation. He had a long history of doing such things for her, and, over time, it had endeared him to her in an irrevocable fashion. So much so that she very strongly suspected that she’d fallen quite helplessly in love with her friend somewhere along the way. Therefore, after much consideration, she’d made a decision—one which she refused to allow herself to back down from.
That night, she would invite Gideon to share her bed.
She’d sat with her thoughts on it for a long while, and still her hands trembled with nervous excitement as she set aside her final cup of punch and smoothed the skirts of her glittering goldenrod gown. She closed her eyes and breathed slowlythrough her nose, trying her best not to allow her nerves to overcome her.
Not for the first time, she considered that there was every possibility that Gideon would decline. Still, he was a man…and her many years of friendship with his gender had taught her that there were few occasions where a man would not take an opportunity presented to him. They could be quite the opportunists when it came to their baser needs, to be sure.
However, Caroline was also a woman with needs of her own.
No man had kissed her or so much as touched her since the dreadful night of her ruination when she was but seventeen and in her first Season. Even years later, the memories caused her skin to grow clammy and her abdomen to clench. She had spent far too long with those memories in the Fischer gardens as her only amorous experience. It was time to overwrite those memories with new ones, better ones, ones with a man whom she trusted, body and soul. Caroline’s eyes sprang open, the light-green irises burning with the fires of determination.
She had resolved to have one experience with a man whom she adored before she was an old maid, and no one fit that description better for her than Gideon. Of course, it did not hurt that her heart had been his for years now, whether he was aware of it or not.
She’d already repeatedly promised herself that she would form no silly romantic notions about this evening being the start of a life and a future with him.
It was one night.
One.
And she fully intended to make that much clear to him as well.
If he declined…she would receive it with grace and save her tears for the privacy of her bedchamber in the wee hours of the morning after the ball.
If he accepted…
Oh, how she prayed he would accept.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the man in question suddenly turned, and his silver-gray eyes found hers across the overcrowded room. His gaze was as palpable as a caress; his familiar smile, as warm and as welcoming as a long-awaited embrace.
“Now or never, Caroline,” she murmured to herself, not caring when a nearby lady raised a quizzical brow at her. As if navigating by the stars, she strode straight and true across the room toward Gideon.
And toward whatever the future held.
Chapter One
Four Months Later
Gideon bounded upthe stairs of Lady Night’s high-end brothel, one of the thrumming heartbeats of Covent Garden. All his friends had prior engagements that evening, so he’d been left to his own devices. What better time to make his inaugural visit to this exclusive establishment? Its employees and atmosphere were touted as the best England had to offer, and, having seen some of Lady Night’s women at Duke’s gaming club on several occasions, Gideon could honestly say his interest had been piqued.
He handed off his hat and cloak to the waiting servant, casting his eyes over the opulent furnishings, ornate trimmings, and the large, black-dressed blokes standing surreptitiously in corners and watching the guests and employees interact. Everything about the space readmoney; it was a display of it, as well as a draw. The air was scented with a heady combination of fine tobacco and desire. Women strode about in various stages of undress as they served, chatted, flirted, displayed their wares, and began to seduce their patrons for the evening.
It had been too long since Gideon had enjoyed the charms of a woman, and he was determined that that evening would finally put an end to his dry spell. It mattered not that his body was only barely moved by the expanses of flesh and sultry voices he encountered as he moved from room to room, he would dowhatever it took to feel like his carefree self again—the Gideon who wasn’t so damned consumed with the memories of a single night months ago, that he’d been unwilling and unable to take another woman to his bed.
Soul filled with resolve, he discovered a long, open room that had been repurposed as a public house, complete with a long, lacquered bar top scrubbed to a golden gleam. Upon his arrival, it had been explained that many of the rooms were designed to give the guests varied experiences. Some liked the relaxed atmosphere of the pub room, others enjoyed performances put on by employees in specially decorated and outfitted spaces, and a few preferred to eschew all pretenses and head straight to the private rooms on the upper floors and the illicit delights on offer. With no particular plan in mind, Gideon was going to see where the evening led.
Propping a hip against the bar top, he signaled the serving girl for a drink. The room was crowded, but not overly so. A pleasant hum and buzz surrounded him, a mixture of excitement and unfettered joy. He recognized a few faces, but everyone did the gentlemanly thing and turned away without acknowledgment. What men did in their private time was their own business and, if rumors were to be believed, almost everything was on offer within these walls. These women were highly trained in all the illicit arts and, as long as a patron respected their boundaries and Lady Night’s rules, he might find a pleasure unlike that to be found anywhere else.
He needed those rumors to be true.
If countless sessions at his pugilism club hadn’t cleared his head, he hoped a good tupping would be precisely what he needed. Split knuckles, bruised ribs, and sore muscles were all well and fine, but they had done nothing to repair his sorry, preoccupied mental state.
Taking a cue from some of the other clientele, Gideon shimmied free from his brushed velvet coat and laid it across the bar top after checking it for cleanliness. Luckily, the establishment seemed to live up to its impeccable reputation. He rolled his neck and rotated his shoulders, enjoying the freedom of movement, when his drink was delivered.
“Anything else, sir?” the barmaid asked without a hint of flirtation or suggestion in her tone.
“Thank you, no.”
