Page 36 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)

GIDEON

G ideon nursed his brandy and stared unseeingly at the fire in his study as leaned back in his desk chair. His thoughts were consumed by Amelia. He pretended, each time he saw her, he pretended that he did not know exactly where she was in the room at any given moment. That he did not watch her, did not feel her, did not sense the connection that pulled and strained between them. That he did not care that she may soon be marrying someone else. He pretended and pretended, and the ache had yet to leave him.

But right now, alone and in the dead of night, he let go of the charade and let his sweet, perfect Amelia fill his thoughts openly. Her heart shaped face; the trust and pure faith in him shining in those soft brown eyes; her full lips and their taste; the blush that spread from her face down to her chest; her smiles and teasing and moaning; her unconditional acceptance and support; her steel when he fell short.

He was so lost in the memories of the woman he refused to admit had become his whole world that he did not hear the door open until Lewis spoke. “Miss Amelia Becham, Your Grace.”

Gideon stared at him for a moment wondering if he had misheard – if his thoughts were so all-consuming that he had imagined the words that had come out of his butler’s mouth. Then the man stepped aside and Amelia entered the room. Lewis left quietly and without comment, shutting the door behind him.

Gideon sprang up from his seat, slamming his glass down on top of his desk in haste. He was around the piece of furniture a moment later, but kept one hand firmly secured to its edge to restrain himself. Because being alone with Amelia for the first time since that fateful day, he wanted nothing more than to go to her, hold her in his arms, beg her forgiveness for breaking his word and her trust, and promise her forever. That vulnerable child within was desperate for him to do exactly that. Right this instant.

He held back, though. Because she was here. At his home. Alone. In the middle of the night. And nothing had changed.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” His words left him in a rush, his worry forcing them out as fast as possible.

“Yes,” her soft, husky voice was music to his ears. He hadn’t heard it in weeks. If he heard nothing else for the rest of his days, he would be the happiest man alive. But the dominant part of his mind focused on her, her presence, what she needed. “Yes, I am alright, Your Grace. Nothing is wrong.”

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked, the urgency in his voice made clear that he didn’t believe her, and why should he? Never before had she come to his home, and after how they had ended things, her presence was all the more peculiar.

“I came to see you,” she said honestly. He registered more then. The nervous hope in her eyes. The faint blush to her cheeks. The hesitant pull upwards at the corners of her lips. The hands she clasped in front of her with fingers twitching to fidget.

Gideon felt something in him hardening and taking over. That part of himself that he hated. The part of him that kept them separated. His hand on the desk curled so tightly into a fist that his knuckles turned white.

“Why?” Now, his voice came out hard.

She swallowed and stepped properly into the room. She seemed prepared for his reaction.

“Thomas and Lydia are getting married in a week,” she spoke.

“I am aware. What I am unaware of is why you are here at my home in the middle of the night, alone and completely unchaperoned. Enlighten me.” After everything, all he and so many others had done to right her tarnished reputation – as unearned as it may have been– she was here, throwing it all away in a single moment.

“I miss you.”

His anger stuttered.

Still. After all this time and all that had passed between them. After he had abandoned her so completely. Still, she was honest. His honest, open Amy.

He shook his head. The fact remained she was here uninvited and unchaperoned, ruining everything. More than just her reputation, but also his efforts at pretending.

“What does that matter?” he ground out. It mattered. It mattered immensely. But he wouldn’t tell her that or let her see. He missed her. Wildly. Irrationally. Manically.

She hesitated. His anger making her waver momentarily. But then, she moved closer to him, bridging the gap between them, stopping only a few short feet away. She took a deep breath, visibly gathering herself and her courage, and spoke with conviction.

“It does not,” she admitted. “I am here to seek your forgiveness and to be with you. I broke us apart. I let my pride and anger separate us, and I should not have spoken to you so harshly. All the more since I was behaving precisely as you had described. I was panting like a whore for you. I would do that and more for you. I had no right to take such offense at you simply naming it.

“The news of the rumor surrounding my family did take me by surprise, but you did not start that, and you are innocent in believing it. How could you not? You did not know me beyond what was said. I do wish you had not been so misinformed, but it does not change how things progressed between us. I may not be a professional, but I am still not a suitable marriage partner for the Duke of Birmingham, regardless of Thomas and Lydia’s biased opinions. Your duchess must be well-bred, graceful, and rich in ways that I am not. There are limitations around our relationship outside of our control, which I admit I foolishly forgot as I fell in love with you.”

Gideon’s chest squeezed, preventing him from drawing in a full breath as he heard those last few words. But she wasn’t finished.

“And so, I come here to apologize for how I spoke to you, when your words and intentions were ultimately justified and appropriate, based on false information or not. I do not need to be a wife. I just need to be with you . My life would have so much more meaning and joy being with you in any way we can than I could ever have as someone else’s wife.

“I am here, alone, unchaperoned, at your home in the middle of the night to ask to be your mistress. I love you and would be honored to be with you. Truly, I do not want to be without you. These weeks apart have been long enough.

“We no longer need worry about finding Lydia a husband, either. As we’ve established, she and Thomas will be married in a week. I would be so bold, however, as to ask for the other agreements we had made. That you care for me until the end of my days and that I bear our children. I keep a very small household and will ensure I am never a burden on you and the future duchess, should there be one. And you are under no obligation to continue being with me if you grow tired. But I do not want to be with anyone else, nor could I rely on Thomas and Lydia or continue to associate with them. I am willing to contribute to my household, if that would make you more comfortable. I am rather gifted at needlework and can provide seamstress services, but I would ask for your help in disassociating my reputation from such a business. Other than that, I am yours. And I wish for you to be mine again.”

Speech ended, she paused. The silence was resounding. A beat passed. Two. Three. Gideon said nothing. He just stood there, rigid, staring at her. The tension rolled off him in palpable waves. Amelia hesitated, unsure. It seemed she had not been prepared for his silence.

Gideon could feel his blood boiling under his skin. He’d thought he was shocked when she appeared at his door, but that was nothing compared to what he felt now. And there was pain. Such a deep, profound ache in his chest, it was hard to breathe. But he did. He forced air in and out through his nose as his teeth ground together. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. His exquisite Amelia. The center of his whole goddamn world. And the rage pounded through him as he glared at her.

“That was it,” she said after another few moments passed in silence. “That is why I came here. What I came to tell you.”

Gideon took a deep breath and exhaled. Forcing the word through his clenched teeth, he seethed, “Leave.”

His heart broke – he admitted as much to himself because there was no way he could possibly deny the feeling – as he watched that sweet, open face crumple. He turned away, unable to bear it, and forced himself to move back behind his desk. He didn’t look at her as he picked up his glass, but he heard the door close softly. So, so softly.

He drained the entire tumbler in a single gulp, then went to the side table to refill it, draining that one, too. Refilling it again, Gideon made himself continue to breathe as the pain and rage ricocheted through his heart and mind.

He’d done it, he thought bitterly. His father would be proud. He’d won. He’d broken her. She had come here to give up her dreams for her life to be with him. He had done exactly what she had accused him of all those weeks ago – he had used her love for him to manipulate her. To seduce her. He forced her into the position he wanted her in. He had vowed to care for her every need, and when he learned the truth of who she really was – or was not – he had abandoned her. Because she didn’t fit into what he wanted her to be. He left her and forced her to change. He showed her he would be with her in one way and one way only, and if she wanted him, she would make herself fit. He didn’t take care of her at all, and now here she was, asking him to forgive her , forgetting her hopes for her life, her needs, because he had starved her of him. And her need for him, he knew, trumped everything else. Just as his almost did for her. Because his need had not outweighed his own stubbornness.

He finished his glass and paced back to the table to fill it again. He hated himself. He had never hated himself more.

And now she’d come here to give him his way. She came to become his mistress. His whore. His actual whore . That’s what she believed of herself. That’s what she believed she was worth to him. And why should she not? He could have married her. He could have fixed everything from the start by marrying her. But he chose not to. He chose to let them both wither while they went about other ways of rectifying her reputation. And because he hadn’t married her, here she was, ready to set fire to her perfect reputation anyway. For him. To be with him.

She believed she was not worthy of being his wife. That she deserved only to be his mistress. That he would take another woman as his wife and never be faithful to her. She would cut Thomas and Lydia from her life, knowing the Earl and Countess of Coventry could not keep company with the Duke of Birmingham’s whore. Her younger sister would become a countess , and she would take up a life where she believed he thought her love a service she provided him. That he could tire of and no longer want one day. She would even take up other services if she was too costly to help him support her. Because she had to earn her keep with him.

His hand clutched the tumbler so hard that the etching in the crystal cut into his palm, but he barely noticed.

Because he knew, she would be his wife. In everything, she would be a wife to him and consider him her husband, but never say it. She would love him like a wife. Accept him for all his damage and faults. Devote herself completely to him. Be with no other for the rest of her life. She would care for him and ease his burdens. She would do everything in her power to support him. She would bear his children, love them, and raise them. She would be a wife. And would let him call her his mistress.

The glass shattered loudly against the wall. He was disgusted with himself, with everything that he was. He was a coward. A failure. Over and over and over, he failed her. He made promises and said pretty words. But he never made the different choice.