Page 10 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)

GIDEON

G ideon had been pleasantly surprised to receive Thomas’s invitation to dine at Coventry House that evening. He had been growing impatient to see Amelia Becham, the memory of how she’d looked at him when they spoke about Genevieve, her comforting gestures filling him with a strange tenderness. And then her kiss. How perfectly, innocently, sweetly she kissed – as if there had been none before him and would be none after him.

She was absolutely amazing and knew just how to fulfill his deepest needs, ones he hadn’t even realized he possessed.

He hadn’t known how he was going to make it the few more days to the Humphry’s Garden Party when Thomas’s letter arrived. Not only had he immediately accepted, he was thrilled to document yet more evidence that Thomas was ready to find himself a new mistress and was supportive of Gideon assuming his role with Amelia. Either that or Thomas did indeed hope to set Gideon up with the younger Becham girl, but he pushed that distasteful thought aside. Not even Thomas was so progressive as to think a duke could marry the sister of his friend’s mistress. He’d likely been closer to the truth that the young girl was ready to enter her sister’s profession, but given how often Thomas had danced with her at the Welsey’s Ball, he was likely clearing the way for himself. So, Gideon chose to believe Thomas was giving him his blessing to assume responsibility for Amelia.

He arrived at Coventry House with his spirits high and was shown promptly into the drawing room, where the other dinner party attendees waited. The room and house had much the same balanced lightness and understated luxury as its country counterpart, clearly decorated by the same hand. Likely Thomas’s mother. Lydia, dressed in a soft green gown, sat on a cream sofa facing the room’s fireplace as Thomas stood beside her. Both of them paused their conversation as they greeted Gideon. He spared them a quick greeting before his eyes moved with impatience to the woman plaguing his every thought.

Amelia was seated separately in an armchair by the fire, wearing a deep red dress that made her soft brown eyes appear darker and Gideon’s mouth go dry. Her face was neutral, her posture regal, and her body alluring. Finally, he saw what he had envisioned as the confident and proud mistress.

And Gideon could sense her displeasure.

At what, he wasn’t sure. At the exclusion of her lover and sister’s conversation? Was she jealous? His eyes narrowed, his possessiveness rearing up. Yes, she was still in an arrangement with Thomas, but she soon wouldn’t be. She was his. She had to know that by now.

Perhaps she was displeased at Gideon’s silence the past few days. That thought tasted better, but of course, she also knew he couldn’t reach out to her yet. She had stopped their kiss for the exact same reason.

But if she was his, so, too, was he hers, he realized. Maybe he should have sent a letter or some word conveying such. They hadn’t yet spoken plainly after all, and she didn’t know of his intention to be with her with any certainty.

Whatever the reason, something in Gideon sat up, at attention, knowing it was his responsibility to fix whatever had caused her upset.

“Gideon, will you spend the entire evening at the door or do you plan on joining us at some point?” Thomas’s voice dripped with amused sarcasm, forcing Gideon’s eyes away from the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, which currently required his attention. He still hovered in the doorway, having yet to join the party that watched him.

Both Thomas and the younger Becham sister had smiles playing on their faces, and he was certain his hope behind tonight’s invitation and the bait to join them in London was correct. He gathered his focus, ready to search out a private moment with Amelia over the course of the evening and fulfill his duty to her.

“As I did accept your invitation, I might as well join you properly,” Gideon quipped, stepping into the room and in Amelia’s direction.

“Don’t let us pull you from your examination,” Thomas remarked. “Amelia does look quite ravishing tonight, doesn’t she?”

Definitely correct. Thomas was handing her off to him. Wonderful. This would make things so much easier.

Gideon’s eyes moved back to the woman in question as he stood before her. Her lips had thinned and face reddened, but she stared studiously into the fire, not looking at him.

Yes, she was not happy in the least.

“I have yet to see her look anything short of exquisite,” he spoke honestly, his eyes never leaving her face. She looked at him then, and he saw something vulnerable and unsure shine beneath that proud exterior.

Did his silence after their kiss make her think he was abandoning her? Surely not. But why the wariness?

They needed to speak. Damn the waiting.

He stepped closer to her seat and blocked out the other two occupants of the room who were already whispering between themselves. Amelia watched him, still quiet, still cautious.

“Would you take a turn about the room with me, my dear?” he asked softly.

She stood without a word and wrapped her arm around his. He proceeded to lead her out of hearing range of the other couple.

“You’re rather quiet, Amy,” he observed, his voice low as they walked around the small piano stationed in the room. “Will you not speak to me?”

“What would you like me to say, Your Grace?” she asked, her voice even, features still schooled in indifference, but those expressive eyes were turned toward the room, away from him.

Enough of that. He paused them in front of some painting of a country landscape and turned to her, angling her body towards him when she tried to face the painting.

“What’s the matter?” he asked directly.

He saw the immediate denial pass over her features before she stopped it. She stared into his eyes as if searching for something, weighing something. He let her make her perusal, not balking or hiding from her investigation, letting her see and assess his unwavering resolve. He didn’t know what she searched for, but after their first dance the other night, he would let her see all of him if that’s what she needed to trust him. He’d let her see all of him, regardless, if he could manage it. Manage being so completely vulnerable.

Whatever answer she was looking for, she seemed to discover it because the indifference melted away from her features. Gideon was struck by the depth of insecurity that replaced it. No, more than that. She looked defeated. Maybe even lost.

“I am confused, Your Grace,” she said. Her voice so soft, it was almost a whisper.

Gideon felt his chest squeeze – not just at her words, but her honesty, her forthrightness. She didn’t bother lying or pretending with him. He knew, in that moment, with an intense certainty he couldn’t explain, she would never lie to him. She’d lay herself bare at any question he asked. It calmed him and made him ache at the same time. Made him want to give her more. Give her the thing the sad little boy inside him wanted desperately to give to someone and have them accept it.

He didn’t bother to pretend not to understand, either. Of course, he understood. “Because I kissed you and then you didn’t hear from me,” he supplied, his voice warm.

She simply nodded. Her vulnerability and defeat making his own vulnerability and regret more pronounced.

“And so, you thought I had second guessed myself and my feelings for you,” he continued. “You thought I changed my mind. That I did not want you.”

No nod this time, but he saw the confirmation written on her face.

“You’re wrong,” he told her simply. He saw the hope blossom in her eyes and her rein it in. Her doubt bothered him. His thumbs rubbed circles on the skin above her elbows. The warmth and spark coursing through him from where his skin met hers.

“You feel this, don’t you?” Gideon asked quietly. “You feel what’s between us. Somehow, we understand each other. We know each other. We are connected to each other. Before we even exchanged names, we knew we belonged to one another. I am yours, Amy. And you are mine. You feel it, do you not?”

She stared at him, shocked, but after a moment, her head dipped into a single nod of confirmation, his words pulling her out of her doubt.

“Say it,” he commanded firmly, letting his dominant nature leak through his words, knowing it would reassure her.

“Yes,” her voice was so, so soft.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I knew,” she answered. When he said nothing, waiting, she continued, her voice firming with each word she spoke. “I knew the moment I saw you I was yours.”

“What else?” he pushed.

“And I knew you were mine,” she added quietly.

“If you knew that before anything else, why would you doubt it now.” He put the question to her as a statement and saw his meaning settle in her mind, the last of her defeat, doubt, displeasure falling away as her eyes lightened. He felt a weight lift from his chest at the sight.

“I am sorry,” he continued. “I did not reach out to you out of respect for Thomas, but I should have realized that truth, as well. I owe no explanation to anyone to be there for you, and I should have prioritized you over what I thought proper. You are mine.” He dropped one hand from her arm to take hold of hers. “I will always take care of you. And I will always want you.”

“Always is a terribly long time, Your Grace.” He was relieved to see the teasing glint shining in her eyes but didn’t miss the hope there also.

“ Always ,” he repeated. “And you know that, too. Trust what you feel, Amy. Trust it, and accept it as our truth. I won’t let propriety matter more than your needs, and you will trust what you feel between us.”

“Always,” she mocked gently, her eyes twinkling, and Gideon had to use all his willpower not to kiss her right there in front of some random painting in the Coventry House drawing room.