by Jaimey Grant
“Suitably mocking, to be sure,” he told her solemnly.
Her answering snort indicated how much store she put by his words.
Gideon’s smile dissipated, his gaze trained on the ceiling above him. Nothing more than pale fingers of light filtered into the room, but still not enough to properly see. He propped himself up on his elbow and gazed at the woman beside him. He could see little more than her outline under the counterpane, not much detail but enough to realize she’d slept fully clothed and that she watched him.
Settling on his back again, he asked, “Why would I be in league with him?”
“Because you are male and very obviously bored with what life has already offered you,” she said without hesitation.
Gideon smiled. Malvina Brackney was not afraid to speak her mind. He marveled that a lady as…well, old, for lack of a better word, as she was could remain so completely innocent. She needed a man to take care of her or she’d find herself at the end of a rope.
Well that thought wiped the smile from his face. There was no better way to kill a good mood than the thought of a beautiful woman hanging. And Gideon very much appreciated a beautiful woman. He had to get the bottom of this situation before it was too late.
And he had to get Wolf home before That Man decided to punish Malvina for Gideon’s rescue.
“You are cynical, my lady,” he told her with a yawn. He reached over and lit a candle since it was obvious neither of them would be able to sleep again.
Malvina rolled her eyes at him but refrained from offering any kind of reply. The light from the candle flared in time for Gideon to see her look and he smiled.
Malvina stared at him expectantly for several seconds before she finally asked, “If he is not coming, then why do you stay?”
“Servants.” He closed his eyes, trying to distract himself from the lovely woman beside him. Had he been wiser, and less intrigued by resisting his urge to seduce her, he would remove himself from her immediate vicinity.
“Servants?” she repeated. “You are worried about a passel of servants?”
“They believe we are romantically involved. If I leave now, what will they think?”
“This is unbelievable,” she muttered. “I am heartily sick and tired of men ordering me about and running my life. Why can’t you all just leave me be?”
Gideon ignored this amusing tirade to ask, “When does Wolf come home?”
“He arrives in a fortnight.” Was that a hint of a growl in her softly uttered words?
“I will retrieve him in two days,” he said, nodding to himself.
“For what reason?”
Gideon’s eyes opened at the hint of venom he detected in her voice. “He must be where I can keep account of him. Are you not afraid for him?”
Malvina did not deign to answer this inquiry. “What are you going to tell him? You can’t possibly approach him and say, ‘Good day. I’m Gideon. I am pretending to be your mother’s lover in an attempt to ferret out a government conspiracy. Please don’t tell.’ He would probably try to call you out or have you arrested.”
“Government conspiracy?” He eyed her shrewdly. “What do you know of government conspiracies?”
“Nothing. I was being facetious,” she snapped. “Don’t change the subject. Wolf is a very volatile young man. I will not have you upsetting him with your tales of killers and intrigue.”
“How old is this little firebrand of yours?”
“Sixteen.”
Gideon’s eyes opened wide. He stared at her in the glowing light of the candle, his disbelief so apparent she felt like slapping him. She knew what his next question would be. “I am two-and-thirty. I was fifteen when Brackney married me,” she said on a sigh.
“Fifteen?”
“Just,” she breathed, remembering. She stared down at her hands, which were twisting the life out of the coverlet. “Actually, we were married three days after I turned fifteen. Less than one month later, I was expecting Wolf.”
Gideon gave her an enigmatic look, his brown eyes intense as they focused on her face. “And you thanked God every day of your marriage that you were delivered of a son,” he said suddenly, all signs of boredom gone from his bearing.
“Yes and no,” she admitted, blushing faintly. “I was only fifteen, so I was not ready for the intimate side of marriage. I refuse to believe anyone that young is ready. As I grew older, I learned to accept what was what and not to dwell on things I couldn’t change.” Such as Brackney’s penchant for using hurtful words to browbeat his lowly wife into submission. Had he only realized a kind word would have gone much further in gaining her cooperation, their life together would have been much easier.
She released an exasperated breath. “I do not know why I am telling you any of this. It is no concern of yours.”
Gideon remained silent for a moment. Then, completely ignoring her statement, he mused, “Wolf will have to get used to the idea that he is about to get a new father.”
“What?”
He turned his head to look at her. “We will be engaged,” he said simply. “He can take no issue with that.”
He fell silent. Malvina waited for him to continue but he said nothing. “You must be jesting!” she finally snapped, beside herself and teetering on the edge of losing her temper. “We met yesterday! Less than a day ago, and I don’t know you beyond your given name.”
The look he gave her was vague. “I will be sure to spread the rumor that you have chosen a suitor.”
Her temper snapped. “No, sir. We will not pretend an engagement,” she uttered in low tones. Had Wolf been present he could have warned Gideon that her quietest tones meant she was beyond incensed.
“Then I tell him I am your lover and he will challenge me to a duel and I will injure him or he will kill me and the bloodshed will be on your head since you are the only one with the power to prevent it.” He grinned.
She scowled. “You cannot have thought this through. You are younger than me.”
“How do you know that? You do not know me beyond my given name,” he taunted.
“How old are you? You appear not more than five-and-twenty.”
His grin widened. “I’m not.”
Her mouth dropped. “You are younger?”
“No, Lady Brackney. I am seven-and-twenty.”
“There, you see?” she smirked. “You are younger and more impulsive. You haven’t thought this through. A pretend engagement, indeed.”
“You are correct, of course. Although,” he said thoughtfully, “I don’t think I can really be described as impulsive. Lazy, indolent, a bit of a ne’er-do-well, but impulsive?” He shook his head. “Not impulsive. I tend to think things through very carefully before taking action. For example, I said nothing of our engagement being pretend. It will be real. Hence, the rumors.”
“You are crazy,” Malvina stated calmly, completely convinced of this fact. “The very idea of an engagement, pretend or real, shows just how impulsive you are.”
“I do not know who is terrorizing you and I feel the easiest way to protect you is marriage.”
“Engaged is a far cry from married, Sir Bedlamite.” She suddenly flew from the bed. “I will not listen to one more word from you. Get out of my house!”
“No.”
Malvina was so stunned by this reply, she did not move when he rose from the bed and came to stand over her. She looked up into smoldering brown eyes, eyes that a moment before had been devoid of anything but a certain amount of amusement. She forced herself not to cringe away in fear.
“You, madam, are singularly lacking in sense. Do you not realize I am the only chance you have? If you had any real fear of me, you would have set your servants on me by telling them I am here to see them all transported for their activities. So do not pretend to suddenly realize what a Bedlamite I seem to be just because you are affected by me physically. You are older in years but certainly not sense.” He stopped abruptly, straightening. “Never mind. If you want to
hang for your part in the murder of that boy who tried to save you, far be it from me to interfere.”
Gideon strode from the room, his back rigid.
Malvina stared at the open door, thoughts racing through her head at an alarming rate. Everything he said was true and she knew it. She hated how this man seemed to read her thoughts like a book. But he was the only one who seemed to care a fig about her, however offhanded his concern. He was going out of his way to help her and she treated him as if he was nothing more than a schoolboy out for a lark.
Her stomach sank to her toes. He was gone. Gideon, mysterious man that he was, her only hope, was gone.
Gideon waited just beyond the door, ready to catch her when she realized what a mistake she’d made. He knew she would come to this conclusion since it was the only possible answer.
Despite everything, she was not a stupid woman. Naïve, perhaps, but not stupid.
He had to wonder at his own sanity, however. She was partially right about that. He was not behaving in any kind of rational manner. The truth was, the two kisses he’d shared with her had overset him more than he liked to admit. Something inside him had clicked into place the moment their lips had touched and the thought of life with her had just seemed right.
He didn’t believe in love at first sight but he surely believed in attraction. And he was attracted to Lady Malvina Brackney.
He shrugged. He had to marry someday. The succession would perish if he refused.
He saw a flash of dark blue gown from the corner of his eye as Malvina burst from her chamber. Not realizing he was there, she attempted to run past him. Catching her around the waist, he grunted when her body collided with his chest. She gasped.
“Were you looking for me, by any chance?” he drawled with that lazy intonation she was becoming used to.
“I will marry you,” she said breathlessly. “That is, if you are still offering.”
He favored her with a whimsical grin. “Of course.” He released her and, taking her hand, led her back into her bedchamber. He firmly closed the door, turning the key in the lock.
When he turned back to her, his expression grew serious. “You have all the control in this, Malvina. I am completely willing to go through with the wedding. I consider this engagement as real as if I had been escorting you to Almack’s for the entire Season with a view to proposing. Think on that until I extricate you from your current situation.”
She nodded. “I have one question, though,” she said calmly. “Why do we need to be engaged? Can you not simply say you are a friend?”
“That may work with your son but not That Man, as you so charmingly call him. If he is someone who knows me, he would know that I would never befriend a woman. Seduction, maybe, but never friendship.”
The smoldering look he gave her, the way his eyes swept over her sleep mussed hair and rumpled gown, sent a shaft of desire through her middle. It was a sensation she barely knew, had rarely felt. The flame in her cheeks at that moment could probably vie with her hair for redness.
He sighed and looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “I wish Hart was here,” he murmured to himself. “As vexing as that man is, he is a veritable font of useless knowledge.”
“Who is Hart? A friend, I assume.”
Gideon shot a sidelong glance at her. “Never assume anything, Malvina. Hart is the Duke of Derringer. No doubt you’ve heard of him.”
“No, should I have?”
“Oh, that’s rich!” Gideon laughed. “Hart will be shocked that there exists someone in this world who has not heard of him.” Her questioning look grew. “He is famous, my dear. Or, infamous, rather. Legendary, perhaps?”
“What has this to do with anything?” she asked.
“What has anything to do with anything?” he replied. His air of boredom had reasserted itself.
“You, sir, are maddening.”
Two days later saw Malvina Brackney swaying along in a carriage on her way to retrieve her son. Gideon sat next to her, staring out the window. She watched him surreptitiously, always with the thought that her life could not have possibly become more complicated. It was difficult for her to believe he was serious about treating the engagement as real. He was, after all, a young and extremely handsome man, born of wealth and privilege.
Two days had certainly allowed her time to learn more of her companion but beyond the information that he was Gideon Mallory, she knew nothing of who he was or where he came from. Every time she asked more pointed questions about his history, he became vague and sleepy, complaining about this or that until she rolled her eyes in disgust and dropped the subject. It was beginning to alarm her.
Perhaps he was the illegitimate son of a prominent Member of Parliament. Although, that would not account for his secrecy unless he was trying to shame his father into acknowledging him. No, it wasn’t that. He did not seem the type to engage in such shady dealings, though she wasn’t sure how she knew that.
But what is his real interest in me? she wondered for the thousandth time just that morning. He could not really want to marry her. He should marry someone young enough to bear him many sons, share his interests, his beliefs, and his upbringing. She was nothing more than the daughter of a Cit, anathema to the upper class.
Although, she supposed she was no longer a member of that class. She had married a baronet, after all, and had had nothing further to do with her family, as was requested by her own father. He’d wanted a member of his family to somehow get in the upper reaches of Society and he had succeeded. To an extent. Brackney had always been ashamed of her, despite her beauty and training as a lady, and had adamantly refused to take her about. She’d never been to London.
It was unfortunate that her father had more or less disowned her. Had he been there for her, to advise her, encourage her, and protect her, perhaps she would not have been dragged into the mess she now faced.
Lord, what was she doing? She was engaged to a complete stranger! That wasn’t nearly so bad as her strong desire to actually marry him. She had a feeling life with him would never be dull even though that was the exact persona he tried to convey. Hadn’t she already had a few adventures with him, and seen what a vital, tightly wound person was beneath that lazy exterior?
Malvina turned to gaze fully at him and blushed when she saw he watched her. His brown eyes held amusement and his lips curved up just a bit. She looked away, trying to ignore him.
“What is going through that fertile imagination of yours, I wonder,” he murmured sleepily. He stretched his legs, still watching her steadily.
Malvina shot him a look of innocence. “Nothing of import, I assure you.”
His lips twisted into a full grin. “Indeed? I would hate to call you a liar, my lady, so forgive me if I tell you I don’t believe you. You had a far too—frustrated, shall we say?—look on your face for your thoughts to be fleeting.”
With a superb effort of will, her expression didn’t change.
Gideon shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Very well, I concede your thoughts were pointless. We are arrived, however, and I do think you should at least pretend that we are happily engaged.”
A seed of rebellion started in Malvina’s mind at his tone. She smiled at him flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes, and parting her lips in a silent invitation, using her powers of observation of the art to show him just how good an actress she was. His look was everything she could have wanted…at first.
She wasn’t sure later how or even what exactly happened. One moment she was mocking him with her charade and the next she was in his arms, being thoroughly and expertly kissed. Her head was swimming by the time he released her and when she looked in his eyes, she saw none of his earlier amusement, just a smoldering anger. She drew away from him, alarmed by this other side of him that she had no way of understanding.
“Do not play with fire, my lady,” he said harshly. “You will only get burned.”
The carriage stopped at that moment, distracting Gideon and giv
ing Malvina a chance to recover her composure. He stepped from the coach and offered her his hand. She placed her hand in his after a brief hesitation.
Upon entering the school, they went to the headmaster’s office and were told to wait.
Turning to his intended bride, Gideon requested blankly, “After you introduce me to Dr. Keate as your betrothed, allow me to speak with him alone.”
Her face puzzled, she asked, “Why?”
“You must ready your son for the shock he will receive upon meeting me.”
Knowing her son better than anyone, Malvina saw the wisdom of this. He would not take kindly to her remarrying and when he discovered it was all a ruse, he would be incensed.
They were taken in to Dr. Keate’s office. The man rose when they entered, greeting Lady Brackney a little more warmly than he did Gideon. Neither of his unwelcome guests paid any heed.
“Dr. Keate,” Malvina said, offering her hand. “This is my betrothed, Mr. Gideon Mallory.”
The headmaster was woodenly polite, clearly not wanting his visitors to linger longer than absolutely necessary. “Is there something in particular you required?”
“Might I see my son?” she asked. “Privately?”
“Indeed, Lady Brackney,” the headmaster assured her. “Mr. Gablehouser will show you where you can wait, and then he will fetch Sir Beowulf.”
Malvina smiled sweetly at Dr. Keate, nodded to Gideon, and followed the spotty young Mr. Gablehouser from the room.
“Why did Lady Brackney introduce you as Mr. Mallory, Lord Holt?”
Gideon lowered himself into a chair across from the older man. Smiling lazily, he said, “I have not told her who I am.”
Dr. Keate’s expression became thunderous. “Is this some mad lark? I realize you were a bit of a thoughtless whelp, but I never would have suspected you of such ungentlemanly conduct.”
“Indeed?”
Grunting, the headmaster seated himself, the large desk between them. “That reprobate Derringer would have done far worse. I had thought you would be wiser.”
“Ah, I have my reasons, sir.” He smiled slightly. “Suffice it to say, it is for her safety that I withhold my identity.” Straightening slightly, he continued. “What can you tell me about young Brackney?”
