Page 46 of Bedding the Marquess
“Afternoon, Black,” Gideon returned his greeting in kind. “I’ve come to see my wife.”
Oliver stepped aside to admit him into the home. It smelled pleasantly of lemon and beeswax. “The ladies are out. Emily brought her along to Lady Night’s,” Oliver explained while Gideon removed his hat and gloves.
“The brothel?” His fingers tightened dangerously on the brim of his hat.
Oliver held up his hands. “Once Caroline learned of Emily’s plans for the day, she would not take no for an answer.”
“That sounds about right,” Gideon grumbled.
“I escorted them there and one of the guards will see them home. Trust me when I say that I made sure they knew to remain out of sight and keep to the private rooms on the topmost floor, especially as the evening hours approach.”
Gideon’s skin tingled at the thought of his marchioness wife going to a place such as Lady Night’s, but if he knew anything about Caro, it was that Oliver was telling the truth. She wouldn’t have been able to resist seeing the business, exploring the rooms, even meeting some of the prostitutes. It caused him no little amount of discomfort that he was not there to serve as her companion, but the last time he’d visited had been such a horrendous disaster that it was probably for the best.
“Emily spent most of her life in that building. I trust every employee and personally interviewed everyone who works closely with my wife. The only way they’d be safer is if I were there as well.”
“And why aren’t you?”
“I had errands of my own,” he explained unapologetically. “I offered to accompany them when I was finished, but they did not wish to wait. I saw them to Covent Garden and escorted them inside before I continued on my way.” He glanced at the clock set into a carved wooden frame atop the hearth. “They should arrive within the next two hours. You are welcome to stay here and wait if you would like, or I can tell Caroline you called.”
“I will wait,” Gideon said gruffly, his mind spinning with all the possibilities of the trouble Caro might get into, of the things she might see at the brothel. Would she enjoy it? Would it inspire her?
Feeling his flesh begin to heat, Gideon cleared his throat and dropped into the seat Oliver had indicated. Oliver followed suit.
The men sat stiff and silent for interminable minutes, the ticking of the timepiece the only sound in the mint green room.
“This is…a lovely home,” Gideon tried, feeling every bit as awkward as the words sounded.
“Thank you. Emily is to thank for any of the ‘homey touches’, as she calls them. There’d be bare plaster walls and naked floors were it left up to me.”
Gideon chuckled. “The women do add color to our lives, do they not?”
There was a softening in Oliver’s dark-silver eyes at those words, something rare enough that Gideon took note. The man adored his wife as much as Gideon did Caro.
“They do, indeed.”
The corner of Gideon’s lips tilted as they shared a moment of camaraderie. He turned his attention to the rest of the room. “Caro’s former townhouse was not all that far from here. The area is quite nice, rather safe as far as London areas outside of Mayfair go. Is your employment near here?”
The warmth that had been in his half sibling’s eyes a moment before was doused and shuttered away. “Currently, I assist when and where I am needed at Lady Night’s.” The reaction confused Gideon; it was a perfectly respectable inquiry, and there hadn’t been so much as a speck of derision in his tone. He wasn’t a man who looked down upon anyone who worked for his living, let alone his own brother. It was more admirable than those lords who sat on their fat arses collecting rents without lifting a finger to improve their tenants’ lives or investigate new industries. Relying on inherited wealth could only take a man so far, and the complacency would likely result in the eventual collapse of his title and holdings. No, it was far more admirable to put one’s mind and body into work.
“And before?” Gideon pressed, trying to understand what had caused this shift. “You seem to have done well for yourself, based on what Emily has told me of your history. Did you run a business? Invest?”
“I did whatever needed to be done.”
That earned a frown. “Are you always this purposefully obtuse?”
Oliver’s head whipped to the side, his eyes meeting Gideon’s with piercing intensity. “Not everyone is willing to have his life be an open book for all to read.”
Gideon opened his mouth to retort, but was cut short by a loud knock on the front door. Both men turned toward the foyer, dark brows knitting in deep frowns when they looked at one another, their blossoming disagreement forgotten.
The women would not have knocked.
Both of them stood, Gideon hanging back as Oliver went to answer the door. What he said made Gideon’s blood run cold.
“What are you doing here?”
Alarmed by the greeting, Gideon stepped into the entryway to see a tall, lean man dressed all in black. He stood in stark contrast to the red-and-gold light of the sunset outside and brought with him an unnatural chill. Gideon was certain he’d never seen this man before in his life, but the grimness of his angular features, the coldness of his eyes, set him on edge and made him feel as if he were meeting Death, himself.
“You don’t usually make house calls,” Oliver said icily. Gideon noted the tightening of his fingers on the door handle, the clenching of the fist at his side. Whoever this man was, Oliver was blatantly uncomfortable with his arrival.
