Page 4 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)
GIDEON
S he was his. Gideon knew it. He had to have her. He could talk with Thomas and make him understand. Thomas was a good man – and if Amelia Becham agreed, he wouldn’t stand in the way of their happiness.
Gideon knew he had to leave. Sitting there much longer would have exposed what was between him and the mistress in a most unfavorable manner. No, Thomas had to be treated with respect and friendship as Gideon took over the care of his mistress.
Even more than that, he realized. Riding back to his Estate, he thought over what the young woman had revealed – the Dowager Countess of Coventry had been a mother figure to the Becham women growing up. This was more than just convenient employment for Amelia Becham. It seemed she might have been groomed to be Thomas’s mistress from childhood.
Hopefully, her fondness and loyalty for the earl wouldn’t prevent her from severing the relationship and entering into an arrangement with Gideon. Even as he thought back to how she responded to him, his hands gripped the reins harder in jealousy. No, he reasoned with himself, thinking in particular of how she yielded to him so naturally and calmed at his murmured promise to see her again. No, whatever feelings she had for Thomas, this mistress felt something powerful with Gideon.
He would still take care to woo her properly, of course. She deserved as much, and it would quiet her mind, making it easier for her to follow through on what she already seemed to sense and leave Thomas. It would also ease the hit to Thomas’s pride, should there be any, if she moved away from him slowly, showing their relationship had simply run its course. And once he had her unfettered agreement, Gideon would talk to Thomas.
Thomas had been Gideon’s good friend for the past six years. Ever since he’d taken up the mantle of the Duke of Birmingham at twenty-six. Gideon had spent the better part of his young adulthood abroad, having run away at seventeen almost the very moment his mother had finally died. Watching her spend her life under the constant, crushing weight of her sadness, Gideon had tried – tried and tried and tried – to bring some joy to her life. He’d loved her beyond what had been healthy for a child, shouldering the burden of her happiness, and he showered her with his love in his childish innocence, thinking it would be enough. That it was all she needed. But it never was. The cold indifference with which his father treated her had always outweighed anything Gideon or Genevieve could ever do. Although, his sister never got the chance to feel the burden of their mother’s happiness and the guilt of her sadness since she’d died with Genevieve was only one.
On its heels, though, Gideon also bore the weight of leaving his sister for nine years with the bastard that had sired them. But Gideon couldn’t have helped it. He couldn’t spend another moment under the same roof as the man that had given him his life, his future, and – in Gideon’s eye – had all but killed their mother with his neglect. Genevieve had survived, and since his return, he had found in her a much more open recipient for his affections. She had suffered a home devoid of care, warmth, and parental love in her short life, and on the other side of the same coin, Gideon had spent his young life having his love constantly rejected and found wanting. In offering his brotherly affections to his sister, he was rewarded with her acceptance and love in return.
That was the only love Gideon believed in – the love a brother bore for a sister, and hers in return. The love that parents bore for children was foreign to him, and the love between husbands and wives – well, he didn’t believe such a thing was even possible. And so, he grew into a man that knew he would never marry. He couldn’t remember ever consciously making the decision. He simply grew up and felt the knowledge grow with him. If Genevieve never gave him a nephew to serve as his heir, however, he might be forced to consider marriage, but even in that case, he knew with certainty that he would never love his wife, nor would she love him. It was simply impossible. A fact that left him with sadness when he considered Genevieve’s fate with her future husband. But that was just how marriages were. A quality in their nature. He would ensure she found a partner that took care of her and treated her with respect. And in the very unlikely event he also married, he would give the same to his own wife. Something their father failed to bestow on their mother.
He arrived at Birmingham Estate and upon entering, heard the music filling his home. He cut straight to the drawing room to greet his sister, covering the large, darkly colored entry hall in quick strides as he breathed in the warm spiced scent edged with florals.
Birmingham Estate was grander, older, and felt significantly darker than Coventry Estate. Where his friend’s home had balanced hints of dark luxury with lightness and openness in its furnishings, his home was rich and dark, covered in decadent wealth at every corner. From the intricately patterned wallpapers or wooden walls, the detailed doors and bannisters, and the delicate gold trim lining every room throughout the house. It was beautiful. It had always been beautiful, even when it felt cold and loveless during his childhood. Now, though, with his parents long gone, the dark paneled wood around the entire estate; the deep greens, reds, browns of the walls and furnishings; the rich golds of their inherited wealth; the plush carpets and heady scent were welcoming and warm.
Stepping inside the drawing room, he spotted Genevieve seated at the old pianoforte, deep in her composition. He and his sister shared many of the same features and the same dark hair, but where his eyes were bright green, hers were dark and currently riveted to the piano keys.
She was vastly skilled in her music, and he was pleased to see the joy it brought her, losing herself in the beauty she created. She had surpassed the skill of her governess early on, and Gideon had promptly hired an instructor to help her further develop the talent.
He made his way to the large, maroon armchair facing her and sat down. The room enveloped him in its warm comfort, the red patterned wallpaper and glowing candles surrounding him like a blanket. He relaxed with one ankle crossed over his knee and watched her play, enjoying the notes of her creation as he waited for her to finish.
“How was the horse?” she asked, not missing a note as she spoke.
Perhaps she wasn’t as lost to the piece as he’d assumed.
“Very fine,” Gideon answered. “But I found myself preoccupied during my visit.”
“Oh?” Genevieve brought the piece to a close and turned on the bench to face him more directly. “By what?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” he said firmly.
“Then why bring it up?” she griped, her face pinching in irritation.
“You are right,” he replied, because she was. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But now that I have, suffice it say that I found more than just a beautiful mare at the Coventry Estate, and I had a very enjoyable meal.”
“You are being purposely coy to bait me, brother,” she scolded, turning back to her piano and clearly dismissing him. “And I find I do not like it at all, nor does it suit you.”
Gideon chuckled. His sixteen-year-old sister had more sense and composure than most adults thrice her age, and she hadn’t even launched into Society yet.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said over the music coming once again from her skilled hands. “I do apologize.”
She scoffed in reply and continued playing. “Call for some tea, then,” she said.
Gideon smiled as she accepted his apologize. He stood and made his way to the fireplace, pulling the cord to call for tea. He resumed his seat and let his thoughts wander under the melody filling the room.
Today had turned into a much better day than he anticipated when he first woke up that morning. He thought back to those beautiful, unusually light brown eyes, looking at him like he was her destruction and her salvation.
Their tea was brought in, and Gideon thanked their maid as Genevieve kept playing. He poured two cups and relaxed back with his, letting the notes fill his soul.
No, he would never marry, but he would find happiness and fulfillment. With someone who recognized him for who and what he was, and that fit him with who and what she was. And with the blazing connection he had felt between him and Amelia, their visceral attraction, the push and pull, he felt sure he had found her.
Gideon strengthened his plan as he sipped his tea. Genevieve finished the piece and joined him on the couch beside his armchair, accepting the cup he handed her from the small table. He felt easy in his resolve.
All would proceed as it should, as he wanted. He reveled in the thoughts of having her, and having her soon. He would care for her for the rest of his life, he had no doubt. The power of their connection was so fierce, so potent – she had to have been made for him, and he for her. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones.