Page 9 of Bedding the Marquess
“What has brought this on?” Caroline asked gently, examining the tenseness of his shoulders beneath his tailored brown coat.
Gideon turned to her with a wry smile on his lips. “A case of mistaken identity. I accidentally propositioned his wife, to which he did not take very kindly.
“Oh, Gideon.”
“Believe me when I say none of us left that encounter unshaken.” He returned to the chair beside her and dropped down, barely making it onto the seat rather than tumbling to the floor.
“And you are so certain this man is your illegitimate kin?” she asked.
He tilted his chin to the cursed portrait as part of his response. “The man looks like he could have bloody well sat for that painting.”
“I see…” she trailed off.
“More than two decades I’ve known of his existence, but I never thought to find him in this city. What are the odds?” He emitted a cruel, disbelieving laugh as he slouched back in his chair.
“I would imagine very slim, indeed.”
Gideon heaved a sigh and rolled his glass between his palms before giving his head a little shake. “My apologies, Caro. I have so rudely monopolized the conversation when you were the one to call upon me. I am horrible company, as you can see, but to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit? I feel as if it has been an age since we last saw one another.”
As a hint of his usual mischievous glimmer twinkled at her over his glass, Caroline experienced a sudden flashback of Gideon over her, his hard body atop and inside of her, wringing from her the most exquisite pleasure with his mouth and hands, and cock…
“Christ, Caro. You are incredible. You’ve no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.”
Caroline clenched her trembling hands as her body flushed hot and cold from the erotic memories. She could still taste him on her tongue.
She couldn’t do what she’d gone there to do—not when, only the evening before, he’d already suffered the strange and disconcerting situation of meeting his half brother for the first time.
She could not tell him yet.
Not today.
“Nothing of any import,” she replied lightly as she stood and shook the wrinkles from her skirts. “Is there anything you need? Shall I request Cook make you something to eat as I make my way out?” Gideon caught her hand when she would have walked by him on her way to the door. She steadfastly avoided his gaze and, instead, stared at the pattern on the rug beneath their feet. His thumb brushed over the bumps of her knuckles, the heat of his fingers was searingly warm against her skin. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand, and her eyes fluttered closed. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done a thousand times before, but it was the first time he’d done so since their shared night. What a fool she’d been to believe they could explore carnal desires and return to the way things were—well, what a foolshehad been to think she could move on after knowing him that way.
“You can tell me anything,” he murmured.
Finally, Caro met his eyes. She knew she could tell him anything…she also knew he could read her so well that he’d press until she finally admitted to what was bothering her. Even deep into his cups, he exhibited such care and understanding of her that it made the backs of her eyes burn with emotion.
His fingers gently squeezed hers once more, unleashing the words with a frisson of both fear and excitement, until they leapt from her lips as if from a cliff. “I am with child.”
Chapter Four
Gideon could onlystare up into Caro’s shimmering green eyes as his drunken brain struggled to comprehend her words.With child?Surely she was jesting—it wouldn’t have been the first time one of them attempted to make sport of the other. But, no. She was deathly silent and more serious than he’d ever seen her before.
Pregnant.
Caro is pregnant.
His body went cold and numb as the deep thud of his heart became deafening in his ears. Blindly, he reached out to set his glass on the table, nearly missing.
As most unmarried men would in his position, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask for confirmation that the child was his…but he stopped shy of speaking the words. Even in his inebriated state, he recognized what a grave insult it would have been to his friend. He knew Caro better than most; contrary to the vulgar rumors, she never took lovers.
It would be just his luck that the only time she did, she’d put her faith in the one man with the world’s most rotten luck.
He sat back in his chair and speared both hands into his hair. His gut had warned him that sleeping with Caro after their many years of close friendship was going to be a miserable mistake—regardless of how beautiful he’d always thought she was and how much his drink-addled mind screamed to possess her—but he’d assumed it was regarding their relationship…notthis. Anyfool could explain how introducing physicality would likely ruin a friendship or complicate feelings. An utter idiot would, in favor of giving in to both their desires, conveniently ignore another very real possibility: A child might come of the union.
It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind—it was more a force of habit now than an act that required planning—but here was evidence that nothing was foolproof. He’d heard stories of just such accidents happening before; he’d simply (naively) thought it was unlikely to happen to him. When it came to his single night with Caro, he’d been too overtaken by drink and lightheartedness, too overcome by his long-simmering attraction to her for any sense to win out. He’d made a mistake; the onus was on him. Caro had requested one evening with him, and he’d agreed. No one had forced him; she hadn’t truly coerced him. As soon as she’d whispered in his ear that she desired a lover and trusted him to teach her what passion could be like, he had quite literally leaped at the chance, springing to his feet and ushering her from the Haverford ball with astounding speed.
And now he would face the consequences.
