Page 12 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)

GIDEON

G ideon meant it. What he said to her. He did want to tell Amelia about his parents, his family. About his father’s abrasiveness and neglect. His mother’s unmitigated disinterest, and his obsession with making her happy. With loving her enough. The way he ran. Ran far and fast the minute she died. His guilt at leaving his sister behind, with no one to stand between her and their miserable excuse for a father. The scared little girl he’d returned home to, who didn’t speak for almost two years and watched him with dark, unfathomable eyes, unsure if she could trust him. The years he spent timidly offering that little girl his affection, similarly unsure if she would scorn it, ignore it, judge it, only to have her soak it up like a starved creature.

So, he gave her more, beginning to trust that she accepted it. And the more he gave, the more she came out of herself and began to trust him in return. He still remembered the way his heart stopped at the quiet, shy “good morning” twelve-year-old Genevieve had given him after nearly a full two years since he returned home. They were the first words she had spoken to him in her whole life.

Gideon wanted to lay all of that before Amelia. To tell her each and every little thing, every fear he had ever held. Things he’d never shared with anyone before. The scarred boy inside him nodded with something he hadn’t felt for close to thirty years. Hope .

“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” Lydia said as she and Amelia stood from the dinner table to retire to the drawing room. Amelia turned towards him as she rounded her chair, catching his eye and giving him a small, infinitely warm smile. Gideon had to clear his throat and shift in his seat to move past the feelings that smile stirred in him.

Once the ladies had exited the dining room and both men were served brandy and cigars, Thomas stood and rounded the table, angling Amelia’s vacated seat towards Gideon before sitting in it. Gideon adjusted his own chair to face his host, laying one forearm flat on the table, cigar in hand.

“To a pleasant evening,” Thomas held out his tumbler, and Gideon lifted his from the table to tap it against Thomas’s. They both drank before Gideon resumed his position and Thomas continued speaking. "Where have you been, my friend?”

“I haven’t been anywhere,” Gideon answered truthfully.

“Allow me to rephrase since you are being intentionally obtuse,” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Why haven’t we heard from you since the Welsey’s Ball?”

“I had not realized anyone expected to hear from me,” Gideon replied, puffing on his cigar before continuing. “I admit it was foolish.”

Thomas made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “Considerably. I did not enjoy watching Amelia grow more upset with each passing day.”

Gideon felt his brows pull down. Yes, he was becoming more confident with each interaction that Thomas was moving on from Amelia, but this was even more direct than Gideon anticipated.

He turned away, focusing on taking a drink of his brandy. It wasn’t time yet to broach the topic with Thomas, even if the man was laying it before Gideon invitingly. Gideon and Amelia were still solidifying their connection, their relationship. That took precedence over both his and Thomas’s impatience.

Placing his glass down, Gideon faced his friend again. “I understand,” he acknowledged. “And I am glad to be here now.”

Thomas’s jovial eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him. “Yes,” he responded. “And since you are, is there anything you’d like to discuss now before we rejoin the ladies?”

What in the world?

Thomas wanting to move on from Amelia was inconceivable to Gideon. How anyone moved on from such a fine woman, Gideon couldn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to argue that. Thomas’s foolishness was Gideon’s good fortune, and he’d be damned if he ever let her go once they were together.

But Thomas’s impatience was more than he could believe. Gideon was likely a thousand times more impatient to be with Amelia. To move forward not only physically, but also in these new, intensely intimate ways he was only just starting to crave and didn’t even remotely comprehend. Why was Thomas rushing this more than even Gideon?

The priority was Amelia, though. He would put her comfort and feelings above all else, including whatever the hell this was.

So, he kept his eyes on Thomas’s and answered firmly, “Not tonight.”