“If he’s been a bit silly with money or gambled or some such, I’m sure I can handle that.”
He shook his head vigorously. “If only.” He took both her arms in hand and held her close, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. “Why do you have to be so damn small?” he muttered. “You need protecting.”
“I can look after myself just fine. But not if you do not tell me what is going on.”
“Should you breathe a word of this, it could cause a lot of trouble.”
“I will not utter a word.”
He searched her gaze for a moment. “Niall Harper is a jewel thief.”
Cleo blinked several times. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you sure you meant Niall?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
He dropped her arms and held up a hand. “I know it’s difficult to believe but you must trust me on this. He had been stealing jewels for quite some time it seems. Right under our noses.”
“This is preposterous. Niall is well…he’s Niall! He likes flowers and trees and insects. Not jewels. Besides, his family is rich enough.”
“He is more clever than we realised. It is all an act. As for why he steals, well he wouldn’t be the first rich man to turn to crime. Maybe it’s the thrill of it.”
“Gideon…” She took a few steps back. What was his game? Accusing Niall of such outlandish things? “I’m not sure why you are so insistent on me not marrying Niall, but I thought you better than this.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “This has nothing to do with how I feel about Harpy.”
“You were needlessly cruel yesterday and now this. I am not sure what is wrong with you at the moment, but I suggest you think carefully before you say anything more and get yourself into trouble.”
“I—”
“I need to go and change.” She twisted before he could stop her. “Good day, Gideon,” she muttered as she hastened off.
He did not follow her as she thought he might. Why would he say such things? How ridiculous. Certainly she was having her doubts about Harpy, but did he really think her so foolish to believe such a lie?
Cleo scurried up the steps to the house, trying not to think of the day when he’d brought her here in his arms. The little niggle at the back of her mind kept persisting and she tried to brush it away.
Was he jealous? Was this why he was saying such horrible things? And if he was jealous, how did she feel about that?
“Foolish girl,” she scolded herself.
Gideon would not be jealous over her. She was only his scrawny, freckled, childhood friend. And she had no reason to be excited by the idea of him feeling possessive over her. She would be marrying Niall Harper soon enough, and that was that.
Chapter Six
Gideon eyed the small assembly hall that would pass for an opera house tonight. Based in the medieval town of Warwick, it was central to much of the county’s social life. A little amateur opera, however, hardly felt worth travelling all the way here for late at night.
He certainly wasn’t here to experience the delights of the local singers. No, he had one reason, and one reason alone to come here.
Cleo.
St. Clair motioned to the arched door. “Shall we?”
“You needn’t have come,” Gideon said through clenched teeth.
Why the man had suddenly decided to become some sort of father figure to him, he did not know. Apparently he felt Harper was a dangerous enough man to warrant him stepping in. He suspected St. Clair was more concerned he was going to do something rash and anger Harper and thereby put St. Clair at risk than bothered by Cleo marrying the man.
Of course, he knew little of St. Clair’s motivations really. They were practical strangers to each other, in spite of his connection to their family by means other than Gideon’s birth. When he had turned fourteen and found out the truth of his birth, it had made sense to him why this man had always been considered a family friend. It had not been out of desire to watch his son grow but because St. Clair had hoped to pursue his mother once his father passed.
He suppressed a shudder. He really did not wish to think of his mother romantically entwined with anyone. Thankfully for all of them, she had not shown any interest in reigniting their doomed love affair that led to the biggest mistake of his mother’s life.
His birth.
“Come then, though you really need not have accompanied me.”
“You do not know who you are dealing with,” St. Clair murmured as they showed their tickets and entered the reception.
The room was abuzz with noise. He’d rather welcome it if the noise continued so he didn’t have to suffer the din that was the amateur operatic. Scanning the room, his gaze fell to Cleo. She sat on the front row, her hands clasped in her lap whilst damned Harper droned on.
At least that was how it seemed to Gideon. The man clearly bored her to tears. No wonder he’d had no luck convincing her he was a thief.
She glanced around the room until, after what seemed like a lifetime, her gaze latched onto him. And stayed there.
His heart did a tiny bounce.
Damn his heart. The foolish notion that it was because their gazes had connected and not because he feared for her at the hands of Harper struck.
Preposterous.
But she did look incredibly beautiful tonight.
Though no one was wearing their finest for the event, most women were wearing elegant gowns. Cleo somehow outshone them all in emerald green. Her red curls contrasted with the colour so spectacularly that he found himself struggling to take note of anyone else in the room. Who could find themselves intrigued by pale, blonde ladies or dark mysterious women when Cleo sat there all red and vibrant?
“Sit then, lad.”
Gideon acknowledged St. Clair’s order with a grunt, and they made their way to their seats.
He picked up the programme and leafed through it though he saw no words. His attention was fixed on the front row.
“We need proof,” he hissed to St. Clair.
“Do you not think if I had something solid I would have handed it over to the authorities by now?”
“Not if it put you in the frame.”
“And revealed the truth of your birth, do not forget that, Gideon.” St. Clair shook his head. “He’s made many dealings since. If I had evidence of those, I could hand them over, but he’s a wily character. It’s not that easy.”
Gideon lifted his head to view the back of Harpy’s. It was still hard to believe, but St. Clair could have no reason to lie to him.
“Why come forward with all this now, St. Clair?”
His father—no, he could not think of him that way—St Clair fixed him with a steady look. “Once he marries Miss Talbot, you’ll no doubt see more of him. And I can see how you feel about that.”
“I was never fan of his.”
“Well, be that as it may, you never spent much time with him and he was never married to Miss Talbot.”
“She’ll never say yes,” he said, more to himself than anything.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Dammit yes.”
“See why I’m fearful for you?”
He resisted the temptation to fold his arms over his chest. “I do not see anything. Even a blind man can see Cleo is far too good for him.”
“Yet no one else is close to causing Harper bodily harm.”
Gideon snorted. “Who says I wish to do such a thing?”
St. Clair nodded down. “Your curled fist for one.”
He unfurled it and slumped back in his chair, unable to keep his gaze from Cleo as she drew out a fan and waved it in front of her face in apparent boredom.
“All I intended was for you to be cautious, Gideon. You’ve warned Cleo. What more can you do? Now stay away from him before you get into trouble.”
Gideon fixed him with a glare. “This doting father act is getting old quick.”
&n
bsp; St. Clair glanced around. “I may not have been able to acknowledge you as anything other than my friend’s son, but that does not mean I wish you to come to harm. Why do you think I have remained friends with the Cynfells for so long?”
He shrugged.
“So I could watch you grow.”
“I don’t think I want to hear this.”
Gideon felt himself turning into that shocked fourteen-year-old again. He’d run away when he’d overheard St. Clair arguing with his mother about telling him the truth. He’d never confronted either of them. All of his knowledge of the illegitimacy of his birth had been from that one argument. Even though St. Clair had tried to follow him and explain, he’d wanted to hear none of it.
And he still didn’t.
After all, he knew everything he needed to know. The Marquess had never been his father. He was not really a Cynfell.
St. Clair kept his voice low and leaned in. “Do not for one minute think this has been easy for me, Gideon. I have wanted to step in many a time and give you the guidance a father should.”
“So now you’ve finally decided it's time,” he huffed.
“Yes.”
Gideon opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the entrance of the singers. He eyed the programme in his hand and grimaced. They had some especially shrill singers performing tonight. Damn Harper for putting him through this.
The performance was as terrible as expected. Even though he was only half-concentrating, the many fumbles and missed words and shrill voices meant by the time it had finished he was about ready to tear Harper’s face off.
Drinks were served afterward so they could congratulate the company on their performance. Gideon leaned in to St. Clair. “How many people are drinking to still their nerves after that, do you think?”
St. Clair chuckled. “Many, I should think. I could do with a stiff one myself.”
Whisky in hand, they made their way over to Harper, Cleo, and her parents. Harper was as affable as ever while Cleo remained uncharacteristically quiet. She did not want to be here with him, he was certain.
Cleo’s mother, Lady Halford, greeted him with warmth. He had been a regular at Chetwyn House during his childhood, finding her mother a nice change from his own cold mother.
The Earl of Halford eyed him with a little more distrust, but he’d been addressing Gideon like that ever since he turned fourteen, apparently wary of a young man around his daughter. Over a decade hadn’t changed anything it seemed.
“Did you enjoy the performance, Gideon?” Lady Halford asked.
“Certainly. It was...like nothing I’ve heard before.”
Next to him, Cleo snorted.
“It was a fine way to celebrate,” Cleo’s father said stiffly.
“Celebrate?” St. Clair asked.
Her mother beamed. “Cleo and Niall are engaged. Is that not wonderful?”
A flash of red tinged his vision. He noted the possessive look Harper gave Cleo and the sheepish look on Cleo’s face.
“When?” he demanded.
“Just this evening,” Harper said, his smug smile. “I could not wait a moment longer.” He took Cleo’s hand. “Could I not, my dear?”
“And you said yes?” He directed his question at Cleo.
“I-I did.”
“You shall come to our engagement party, will you not?” Harper asked. His eyes were clear, no hint of deception or the man Gideon knew was behind those slightly clumsy manners.
“I might be busy. Do excuse me, I see someone I must speak with.” He spun on his heel, with St. Clair following. If he remained a moment longer, he could not be held responsible for his actions.
Storming outside, he took a breath of cool air.
“You keep behaving like that and he’ll get suspicious.”
Gideon glanced at St. Clair. “I do not much care.”
“You will if he reveals all.”
He paused at this. Did he care? He wasn’t sure it bothered him if he was touched by scandal, but his mother would be tarnished and his brothers would know the full truth—they’d know he was not one of them.
“How does it feel to live a lie, St. Clair? Does it bother you?”
“Does it bother me? What sort of a question is that?”
“I’ve spent over a decade knowing I was not who everyone thought I was. It’s not been much fun.”
“If you think I’ve enjoyed not being able to claim you, you are wrong.” St. Clair rubbed a hand across his face. “The marquess was hardly the best of fathers when he was alive. When he died, I wanted nothing more than to step in for you, but I could not bring scandal on you and your mother.” He gave a sigh. “Trust me, Gideon, there was many a day when I wanted nothing more than to tell the world the truth.”
Gideon shook his head. “Sometimes I wish you had. It would be easier than lying to everyone all the time.”
“I would never have put your mother at risk, Gideon. Never.” His face grew grim. “Your mother was very unhappy. I could not make things worse for her, no matter how much I wanted to follow my own selfish needs.”
He narrowed his eyes at his father. “You cared for her?”
“Very much so. I always regretted I did not get my chance before your father did.”
“And did she care for you?”
“I believe so. You know their marriage was not a good one. Your father did not understand her. Our time together, no matter how brief—or wrong—was one of the happiest times of my life.”
Gideon struggled to picture his mother happy and content with another man. As far as he’d been concerned, their affair had been a brief and sordid one, and he’d tried not to think too much on the emotions that might have been involved. But he did know how unhappy his mother had been. Did St. Clair really make her happy? And did this make his birth something more than a scandalous accident?
Harper stepped outside. “Forgive me.” He smiled, but Gideon suspected he did not mean his apologies. “Am I interrupting?”
Gideon clenched his jaw. “Not at all.”
“I was just getting some fresh air,” Harper claimed. “And I need to escape all the congratulations. Everyone is abuzz with the news of our marriage it seems.” He pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking in a long drag.
“It seems so.”
Harper strolled over. Cigar smoke swirled in the air about him. “You two seemed to be having quite the deep conversation. Are you sure I did not interrupt?”
“Not at all,” St. Clair said.
Harper shrugged. “Good. I would not wish anything to ruin this evening. After all, you and I are Cleo’s closest friends, are we not? I would not wish to fall out with you.”
There was warning there. Whether it was addressed to him or St. Clair, he could not tell.
“The only way we will fall out is if you treat Cleo wrongly.”
“That would never happen,” Harper vowed. “I adore her.”
Gideon snorted.
Harper scowled. “What amuses you?”
“That you think a little adoration will keep Cleo happy.”
“And I suppose you think you know better what she needs?” Harper lifted his chin.
Gideon straightened his shoulders. “Yes, I think that I do.”
“I think you forget who is her fiancé, Cynfell. I know exactly what Cleo needs, and it’s certainly not you.”
“I was not saying it should be me.”
“Really? Then what were you saying?”
“That it shouldn’t be you. You do not deserve her and never will. You’ll never make her happy.”
Harper’s face darkened under the lamplight. He gave Gideon a shove. “I will make her happy. The happiest she’s ever been. Someone like you could never understand.”
His blood boiled beneath his skin. He pushed Harper back. “Better me than you.”
Harper brought back his fist and came in to throw a punch his way. Gideon blocked it and came back with one of this own, sending Harper to the ground.
St. Clair shouted his name but it was too late, he’d already leaped on top of Harper and had him pinned to the ground. St. Clair tried to pull him off but Gideon would not budge. This man didn’t deserve Cleo. He was a criminal, a liar, and nowhere near good enough for her.
“Gideon!” The female voice broke through his anger and he held his drawn back fist in the air. “Gideon!” It came again.
He twisted his head to see Cleo racing toward them, skirts in hand. “Stop!”
He eased down his fist and moved away from Harper. He should never have let himself get riled. Should never have let Harper goad him. Especially now he’d seen the disappointment on Cleo’s face.
“Whatever do you think you are doing?” she demanded.
“It was just a little misunderstanding, darling,” Harper said, drawing Cleo close.
“Yes,” Gideon agreed. “A misunderstanding."
She swung her gaze between the both of them and then narrowed it at Gideon. “I expected better from you, Gideon.”
She strolled away, leading Harper inside. Gideon stared at her back.
“Well, if Harper planned that, you did a fine job of falling for it,” St. Clair said.
He swiped a hand over his face and released the air in his lungs. “Yes, I did.”
Chapter Seven
Hands clasped together, Cleo moved onto tiptoes and peered out.
“Niall shall be here soon,” her mother assured her.
Cleo grimaced at her own reflection. It was not Niall she was looking for and, in truth, if she thought about it too much, a deep well of dread would bubble up in her stomach.
No, the person she was waiting to see was Gideon.
Would he really attend her engagement party?
She shook her head. He would not, and she was foolish to think he would. But after the altercation at the assembly rooms nearly two weeks ago, she hadn’t set eyes on him. Mother had said he’d gone back to London. Wherever he had gone, she missed him.
Turning her attention back to her reflection, she scowled at herself. Why should she miss him? After all, they hardly lived in each other’s pockets anymore, not like when they were children, and he’d been nothing short of frustrating recently with all his accusations toward Niall and his odd behaviour. She had never known Gideon to have a temper.
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