Page 8 of Bedding the Marquess
Throughout the past decade of their friendship, she and Gideon had become quite the infamous duo in London, both of them used as a cautionary tale for mamas who sought to rein in willful daughters—“Take care with your reputation lest your options dry up and the only men who will want to keep your company are rakes and reprobates.” Naturally, it had bothered her at first, but, as she matured, Caroline had realized that the “rakes and reprobates”—her friends—were truer and more dedicated than any man she’d met at Almack’s. And Gideon was at the top of her list of good men at whom thetonlooked down their noses simply because he lived life a bit more loudly than was acceptable.
Naturally, she and Gideon had been connected by numerous gossip rags, each one salivating at the possibility of an illicit relationship playing out between a future marquess and the disgraced eldest daughter of a viscount. She didn’t miss the titillated whispers, everyone expecting them to be longtime lovers, but they would have been wrong…at least up until a few months ago, following a night of drinks, dancing, and poor choices.
She’d have been lying if she claimed she’d never found Gideon handsome—most women did with his midnight hair, thundercloud eyes, and tall, trim build—but, to her, he’d alwaysbeen just a friend, and one of the very select few who had remained with her after her youthful rebellion and a miserable judgment of character. He’d stayed by her side even after her family had chosen reputation over blood and turned their backs on her with no support other than a small income as a bribe to keep her distance. His steadfast presence in her life had long provided her with solace enough when she was otherwise tragically alone. Even if he’d never directly witnessed the vitriol with which her parents treated her since what had been dubbedThe Incident, he’d done nothing but remain by her side and do everything in his power to show his support, cheering her when she might have otherwise wallowed in despair, making her laugh when tears felt like her only option.
Now, as she waited for the Swanleigh butler to open the door, Caroline hoped she wouldn’t lose Gideon, too, after she revealed her pregnancy to him. She didn’t know how she would weather that.
“Good afternoon, Perry,” she greeted the butler with what she hoped was a convincing smile.
“Miss Wells.” The man of middling years inclined his head with proper deference and immediately showed her inside. It was a standing order at the Swanleigh household that Caroline was to be granted immediate entrance; she and the marquess did not stand on ceremony. Still, there was something in the butler’s dark eyes that gave Caroline pause—as if the man was second-guessing allowing her in despite his master’s instructions.
“What is it, Perry?” Caroline asked bluntly, removing her gloves and hat before handing them over.
“My lord has had…a difficult morning.” His reply was accompanied by a shift in his gaze, clearly discomfited by revealing even that much to her.
“A long night, then?” she guessed.
“As well as a long day. I am certain he could do with some cheering.”
Interesting.
Not prone to fits of the blue devils, Gideon was usually the one who did the cheering. What could have happened to create such a change in his demeanor?
Caroline pondered that and prepared herself for what she might see as she was led down the hall and into the library. There, she found Gideon already present and sprawled out in an armchair upholstered in a garish green-and-brown pattern.
Just as Perry had warned her, her friend had no easy smile for her, no joke or comment about a mutual acquaintance. Gideon, instead, saluted her with a cut crystal glass in his hand and said, “I hope you are here to brighten my day, sweet Caro, because I’ve certainly experienced a hellish past twenty-four hours.”
This suddenly felt like a bad idea with even worse timing, but it had taken Caroline more than a week to build up the nerve to call at the Swanleigh townhouse. She affected a brave demeanor and approached him.
“Who has crossed you now?” she asked lightly as she claimed the other chair and spread the embroidered skirts of her morning dress around her legs. Despite what her parents might say, she did have some dignity and manners.
“My father, the bastard he is.” He sipped from his glass. “Was.”
Caroline frowned. “But…he’s been dead for years now.” And she couldn’t recall the last time Gideon had mentioned the man. Even though he glared at it, she refused to allow her eyes to stray to the nearby portrait of the old marquess. It had always unnerved her how Gideon and that man could appear so similar and yet have such very different souls. She had never asked why the portrait hadn’t been moved in all this time—there certainlyhad been no affection between father and son—but that was Gideon’s business and she was sure he had his reasons.
“Precisely the problem…” Gideon went silent for long, heavy minutes. She allowed him the grace, patiently waiting for him to be ready to discuss whatever had set him on this path. She’d begun the day with the intention of unburdening herself, but she realized it would not be fair to do so until Gideon did. “I have a brother,” he finally said, the words dropping between them like a shattered glass.
Caroline reared back, her mind struggling to comprehend the words he’d just said. It took her several minutes before she was able to ask, “Are we happy about this?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Gideon replied flatly and then paused thoughtfully. “Yes and no, I suppose.” He leaned forward and set his drink on the nearby table with a sharp click. “On one hand, there is something reassuring about knowing I am not the last with my blood—the world suddenly feels a great deal less lonely—but I’m wracked with guilt.”
“Why? You had nothing to do with it.” Her heart ached to see her friend thusly. His bloodshot eyes with their purple shadows, the furrows his fingers had carved through his once immaculately styled hair, the rumpling of his usually impeccable clothing…it was not who he was. Of course, he could be serious when the need arose, but she’d always been drawn to his determinedly light spirit in spite of all he’d weathered, his easy smile and genuine laughter, his penchant for mischief.
“Because I grew uphere,” he gestured to the grand room around them, “and he…did not.”
“You did not have the rosiest of childhoods either,” she reminded him gently. She twisted her fingers together to prevent herself from reaching for him when she wanted nothing more than to hold him close.
“Hardly a comparison; I had the benefits of plenty of food and shelter.” He stared into the golden light refracting from what remained of his drink on the table as if it were stained glass in a church. “You know what really makes me ill, Caro?” he asked, seemingly not expecting an answer when he continued without waiting for her. “He is myelderbrother. All of this would have been his if he hadn’t been born on the wrong side of the sheets. Instead, he bears the mark of abastard, and I live as a marquess.”
Caroline cringed at the way he spat the wordbastard, but she said nothing. Gideon was a man whose very nature would have made it difficult for him to stomach such inequality. The what-ifs would buzz through his brain like a swarm of insects.
If the other boy had been legitimate, then he wouldn’t have suffered a life of deprivation. All the privileges Gideon enjoyed would have also belonged to his brother.
She did not know the full story yet, but Caroline got the sense that the other boy had suffered because of the circumstances of his birth. It struck unnervingly close to the reason she’d dropped by Gideon’s home that day and it made her momentarily lightheaded.
In one swift move, Gideon snatched up his glass and tossed back the rest of his drink before launching to his feet.
“I’d always known my father was vile, but it is another thing to finally be faced with the consequences of his actions,” Gideon ranted as he strode over to the sideboard and poured himself another few fingers of whiskey. “Even worse, both he and my motherknewof my half brother’s existence and yet neither lifted a finger to see to it that he was cared for.”
