Page 20 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)

GIDEON

G ideon sat at the desk in his study, his back to the windows directly behind him. He stared unseeingly at the wood paneled wall before him. The fireplace was lit on his one side, and the comforting wall of books was on his other. He reread Amelia’s note, confirming the time for their meeting tomorrow. He had never been this excited for a social call before. His skin felt jittery in anticipation of at last finalizing their arrangement. He hadn’t planned through how the conversation would go tomorrow, but he was confident it would be simple and just the final step in settling what they already knew.

No, he wasn’t concerned about what he would say to Amelia. He was concerned, instead, about what he needed to say to his sister. He stood to pour himself a drink as he thought it over, making his way to the small side table in the corner by the bookshelves with an array of delicate crystal decanters and tumblers atop it.

Genevieve had also sent a letter today. This one inquiring none too subtly on how the Season was progressing and if Gideon had selected a wife. She, like everyone else, was under the impression that Gideon had decided to break out of his isolation to wed. It was a reasonable conclusion, of course, and with his sister coming of age soon, having a wife to guide and oversee her would be extremely useful.

Stoppering the bottle after pouring his glass, he took a sip as he walked back to his desk chair. The liquor burned its way through his chest delightfully as he sat down. Leaning back, he cradled the crystal between both palms and continued thinking about Genevieve’s inquiry.

Gideon was less inclined to take a wife now than ever before. He couldn’t think of anyone except Amelia. What need did he have of a wife in the end? Someone to be miserable and unhappy with, making his home an absolute punishment in which to reside, meanwhile Amelia would be in his arms, warming his bed, caring for his heart.

His heart . That thought pulled him up short. He couldn’t believe he really just thought that, but now that he acknowledged it, he couldn’t deny it was the truth. The way he had exposed the bleakness he carried inside himself, his memories, his burdens, and how she had received them all with open arms. Without judgement or blame. The way his chest repeatedly clenched around her in both pain and pleasure. The ache to have her. Not just her body, but her . To care for her. To deserve her.

And then there was his secret hope that they might have something different from the relationships that had shaped him since childhood. Taking another drink to bolster the vulnerability he felt at that wish, he continued to reflect. He was stubborn, willfully ignorant, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. Yes, he wanted, trusted , her to care for his heart. If he wasn’t as sensible as he was, he might have even believed himself in love with her. He knew better than that, but there was no more denying that the sweet, kind, playful, beautiful Amelia Becham had claimed his heart. Withered and unused as the pitiful organ may be, it was hers. Just like the unloved boy still living inside him. Just like him .

What to tell Genevieve, though? He leaned forward to place his glass on the desk and pulled a blank sheet of paper forth. He would tell her the truth, to start, that he wasn’t searching for a wife. He had come to London at the behest of the Earl of Coventry, who had decided to participate in the Season this year. That part was simple.

No, the difficulty was that he wanted to tell Genevieve about Amelia. He wanted the two women to meet. He also wanted to share what he was feeling with his sister. Something he had never done, nor ever expected wanting to do at all. It was Amelia. Not hiding anything from her made him want to hide less from others, too. What’s more, Amelia with her welcoming, nonjudgemental, calming presence – she would do wonders for Genevieve. Perhaps even bring her further out of the shell she still often kept herself safely tucked within. Amelia was a safe space. He had no doubt she would be that for Genevieve, too. Amelia could heal her. She could heal them .

But how could he possibly do that, he wondered as he continued to stare at the unmarked page. There was no way he could expose his sister to any woman that provided such services. It wasn’t Amelia or even her character that was in question. She was impeccable and someone his sister could only benefit from knowing. But Amelia’s circumstances had led her into a profession that he could not bring in contact with Genevieve. It wasn’t her. It was her occupation.

Then there was the whole living situation, which had been simple enough before. Amelia had her cottage. She would live there, he would assume responsibility for it and provide for her, and he would visit her there. But after spending some more time with her, Gideon now understood that he always wanted to be with her. And not just to be intimate. He wanted to talk with her, dance with her, dine with her, just sit with her.

He wanted Amelia to live with him . That was impossible. Absolutely and unequivocally impossible. And yet, he wanted it. There was no way he could bring that scandal into his home, though. It would make no difference to him – he was the Duke of Birmingham. It would, however, bring an unaccountable amount of scandal on Genevieve. She would be ruined, never able to find a match if he did that, and he couldn’t do that to her. After selfishly abandoning her when he was young, he couldn’t ruin her life further. He remembered Amelia’s words in the face of the guilt he carried, but it would be some time yet before he could find the strength to let it go. Strength he would find with Amelia’s support.

He could wait, he told himself, picking up his quill and dipping the tip in ink. Once Genevieve was married in the next few years, he would move Amelia in with him. In the meantime, she could stay at the cottage as originally planned and he would visit her often. Likely so often that he would practically be living with her .

No, it was best he didn’t disclose anything about Amelia to Genevieve at all, as desperate as he was to do so. His responsibility to Genevieve was more important than what he wanted from his sibling.