Page 8 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)
GIDEON
G ideon circulated the Welsey’s large, stiflingly warm ballroom. It was romantically lit with hundreds of candles, and music filled each and every corner. He was surrounded by brightly and extravagantly dressed people, many of whom twirled and danced in a sea of color on the center dancefloor. He prowled the edges, weaving in and out of people, snagging a drink from the refreshment tables now and then before finishing it quickly and handing it to a passing footman as he waited.
How people enjoyed these events, he never understood. Not only was it almost unbearably hot with so many bodies crushing in on him, but the mothers and daughters trying to catch his unmarried eye pushed his tolerance to its limits. They hadn’t seen him at a proper ball since he’d first returned to England six years ago, and his attendance now was bringing the wolves out to hunt.
After speaking with Thomas earlier in the week, Gideon had happily packed himself up and made his way to his Townhouse in London, leaving Genevieve in the care of her governess, Mrs. Potters. He was here for Amelia Becham, and if he had to suffer marriage and title hunters circling his bachelor blood, so be it. He was not unused to it and had perfected his cold, aloof persona over the years. He wasn’t his father’s son for nothing, after all.
Finally, he recognized Thomas’s light blonde hair and humor filled eyes entering the ballroom. Following close behind were two very similar looking young women, one of whom stood out under his scrutiny and sent a shock of awareness across his skin, stopping his feet.
He wasn’t sure if it was his singular focus on the woman joining the ball or if the rest of the room, indeed, hushed at the new arrivals, as well. He realized it was the latter when, a moment later, the buzz of whispered words took up the silence with a vengeance.
Regardless, an unmoving Gideon kept his eyes on his query, the edges of his lips pulling up for the first time that night. Her sister carried many of the same features as her, but where Thomas’s mistress was at once sweetly beautiful and sensually striking, the younger Becham girl was all soft sweetness, like a pretty cherub of a woman.
As he watched the trio progress further into the ballroom towards the dancefloor and Gideon, he noticed that unlike last time, when the mistress had worn a well-loved, older style dress, tonight that lovely figure was delightfully on display in a rich, dark green silk of the most recent fashion. Gideon would have paid a small fortune to rip the stylish garment right off her.
Thomas greeted a few acquaintances and made uncomfortable introductions. After a moment, his gaze found Gideon’s across the dancefloor before giving him what looked like an amused smile and nod. Gideon returned the gesture and shifted his focus back to the woman he’d come for, only to find those soft brown eyes already on him. He couldn’t help his smirk as he watched the blush he was growing increasingly addicted to spread over her face.
In his periphery, he saw Thomas lead the younger Becham onto the dancefloor in a flurry of pink silk. The mistress kept her eyes locked on Gideon’s, however, as if nothing existed except for him. She watched him like he was the beginning, middle, and end of her entire world.
Gideon made his way to her.
“Miss Becham,” he greeted her, taking her gloved hand and placing a delicate kiss atop it. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
“Your Grace,” she replied, her husky voice breathless, causing his pulse to quicken even at the distasteful address. Said by this woman in that voice made him ache to hear it again. More than that – he wanted to see how far he could push it, push her, see if he could make her scream it. And then he’d push still further until she forgot herself completely. Until she remembered nothing but his name.
His voice came out rough with arousal when he told her, “You look lovely, my dear.”
The flush on her face deepened, running down her neck to where her luscious breasts strained against the neckline of her dress. His breath caught when his eyes moved back to her face to find her smiling at him. The first smile she’d ever given him, and one he’d not soon forget. “Thank you, Your Grace. You look very handsome, as well.”
He chuckled, “I’m thrilled you approve. Might this handsome gentleman have your next dance?”
She nodded, looking both confident and still nervous, and Gideon was once again struck by this woman’s honest contradictions – her natural vulnerability even with her vast experience as a mistress.
He offered her his arm and led her to the dancefloor. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was eager to pull her delicately curvy body close to his. Inappropriately close. And he did just that. It did nothing to ease his desire, though, as he led her expertly through the dance. If anything, he realized as he breathed in the warm vanilla of her perfume, holding her like this only teased him and made him crave touching her further.
“You dance well,” he commented, hoping to distract his mind and body from his growing desire.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thomas’s mother taught me when I was young.”
“Ah,” he nodded, understanding. “Well, if she was indeed a mother figure to you, it seems reasonable that she would.”
“I have heard Your Grace has a sister…,” Amelia’s voice trailed off, the question in it clear.
“Genevieve,” he supplied. “She’s sixteen.”
“Lady Genevieve,” she repeated before continuing. “Forgive my delicate question, but was she fortunate enough to have someone fill such a role for her? I believe your mother passed when she was quite young.”
Gideon tried not to acknowledge the sadness that had been his lifelong companion waking up inside him. Instead, he forced himself to smile at her, knowing it probably looked more like a grimace. “Yes, our mother died when Genevieve was one. She has a young governess now, ever since I returned from abroad when she was ten and replaced most of the staff. I imagine Mrs. Potters is more of an older sister figure to her. I have hired some of the best instructors in the country, however, to teach her all the things she needs to be successful when she comes out.”
He felt her squeeze his shoulder as he spun them around the ballroom, as if she could somehow sense his sadness.
“She is very dear to you.” The way she said it didn’t sound like a question, but he answered anyway.
“There is nothing I hold dearer.” He didn’t understand why, but his voice came out almost defensive. She gave his shoulder another comforting squeeze.
“How lucky for her. To have a brother who loves her so much.”
Amelia’s light brown eyes were warm and unassuming, and it made his chest ache. Being seen so closely. Down to the soft center where an unloved little boy still resided. He didn’t like remembering that boy was there, but the way she was looking at him.... That little boy liked being seen with those eyes.
He wasn’t planning on doing it, but it was those eyes on him. The way she made him feel like she understood there were feelings he kept hidden. Even from Genevieve. Even from himself. The way she didn’t push further to see them herself, but just acknowledged and accepted what she saw in him.
As the dance came to an end, he went off-plan and asked, “Would you care for a stroll on the terrace, my dear?”
She gave him another trusting nod and took his arm so he could lead them out. She didn’t seem to notice the whispers that followed her, seemingly only aware of him. It was a gratifying experience for Gideon.
Stepping outside, they walked in silence in the crisp, cool night air as he searched for his goal – a dark corner, which he found farther down the already empty terrace. He was aware of her every step, every breath. She did not pause or hesitate, but followed him with ease, and her implicit, instinctive trust satisfied yet another deep need within him. One that he’d never registered having before.
Reaching the shadows, he pulled her in front of him to rest her back against the stone exterior of the house. They were completely hidden from prying eyes, should anyone choose to join them outside. She said nothing, nor asked anything. She simply let him guide her and looked up at him with expectation and patience.
“You captivate me, Amy,” he whispered, leaning forward, his hands on her upper arms, thumbs stroking her skin. He nestled his face into the side of her neck, inhaling her vanilla scent, letting it comfort him and the softness she had unwittingly exposed within him. He was surprised that it did not upset him, her seeing the sadness he still held inside. A part of him, that part of him, felt the oddest desire to show her all of it. See if she would accept it. See if it was enough for her.
He let his lips barely skim over her sensitive skin. He delighted in how she shivered in response, tilting her head to give him better access, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Lifting his head, Gideon brought his face a hairsbreadth away from hers. “May I kiss you, my dear?” he asked, needing her permission.
He didn’t remember she was a mistress. That she was with someone else. That they barely knew each other. He wanted to kiss the woman that inherently saw he had love in him. And he wanted her to want to kiss him, too.
Again, Amelia nodded her head in consent, and his chest warmed. He sealed his mouth over hers. His kiss was soft, but his grip on her arms tightened, pulling her close. Her hands moved gently to his chest, and she hesitantly matched the movements of his lips with her own.
The gentleness of the kiss left him as he became drunk on her taste, deepening the kiss. His hands moved down to her waist, pulling her still closer, while her hands wrapped around his shoulders. He bit her full bottom lip lightly, and she went lax in his arms with the sweetest moan before her kiss turned desperate and hungry.
A moment later, however, she pulled away, moving a hand to his chest to separate them.
“I am sorry, Your Grace,” Amelia breathed, her voice and free hand shaking as she reached it up to touch her lips. She didn’t elaborate on why she was apologizing or stopping, but understanding hit him square in the chest. She was still with Thomas. He hadn’t meant to bring her out here or kiss her. He hadn’t been thinking about any of that at all. He had only been feeling those emotions that were brand new to him.
They had to move delicately, he remembered, but he was still thrilled by this wonderful night with her. Their conversation. Their kiss. She kissed him like she had never been kissed before and yet would die without it.
“Not at all, my dear,” he traced his fingers down her flushed cheek like he’d been wanting to since the day he met her. “I understand.” He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lovely lips. Stepping back and offering her his arm again, he murmured, “Shall we?”