by Sue London
Dinner and whist afterwards seemed a dull affair with Jacqueline's spirits so dampened. His own mood was sour and he was sure that he seemed older than his years. Perhaps a wife nearly ten years his junior wasn't such a good thing after all, if she made him feel an old man. By draw of straws he and Jacqueline had been paired against the two young men and although this was their first time playing together they easily fell into a sympatico rhythm that trounced their opponents, but with the pallor of the evening it was difficult to enjoy the victory.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After dinner he escorted Jacqueline upstairs in silence, escaping to his own room immediately. He wished that he had thought to bring up some brandy and considered sending his man down for some. He was yanking off his cravat when he heard footsteps coming through the connecting door.
"What now?" he asked, knowing he sounded surly.
"I think I would feel better if you apologized."
He turned to look at her. She had already taken off her dress and was wrapped in a dressing robe with her feet bare on the wooden floor.
"Apologized for what?"
"For leading Robert and Charlie astray."
"Oh good God, woman, can't you leave it alone? They are grown men capable of making their own decisions. It's not as if I forced them to do anything, they followed me willingly."
"You're older than they are, they probably looked up to you."
Gideon took off his cuff links, tossing them on the dresser and shaking out his sleeves. "Do you do everything your elders do? Or do you have sense and judgment of your own?"
"What if we had decided to follow Robert and Charlie after Lord Lucifer? How would you feel if I had visited whorehouses and gaming hells trying to live up to what my elders were doing? I learned to race and fight because of them, why not drink and game and whore?"
Gideon had crossed the room to her by the time she had finished her diatribe and gripped her chin. "You would do no such thing because you have more sense than that."
He saw tears at the corner of her eyes. "So now you say that Robert and Charlie have no sense?"
"They were young men. We were all young men, just sowing our oats. We haven't done any of that in years." He walked back to his dressing room, too angry to stay close to her, but she pursued him.
"I know that you still drink so I have to assume you're referring to the gaming and whoring."
"Devil take it, woman, but you are plain spoken. I should be shocked my wife can even put these sentences together."
"I told you that I wouldn't be a simpering mouse."
He turned to blister her with a response but was stopped by noticing how pale and upset she looked. As he watched her uneasily, she took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer and somehow grave. "Gideon, I want to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me."
"Yes?"
"Do you have a bastard child?"
He paused for a moment to ensure he had heard her correctly. "Do I what?"
"You seemed to have a deal of insight into the viscount's responsibilities vis á vis Justin, so it occurred to me there might be a reason why. And if you do, I'd rather know than not. And I wouldn't want that child to be treated as Justin was, ignored by his father and outright shunned by the viscountess."
This argument had taken a sudden turn that he hadn't been anticipating. "So you're saying that you worry that I might have a bastard child hidden away somewhere?"
“It had occurred to me," she said, starting to sound testy, "and a simple yes or no would suffice."
"No."
"No?" she asked, betraying some surprise.
"Not to my knowledge. And you can be fairly certain that an earl of my means would be approached to provide support if a woman thought she could even hope to foist someone else's bastard on me, much less my own."
His lovely wife expelled a deep breath as though she had been holding it and nodded her head, looking down at her feet. “Very well then."
Gideon looked at her, so serious and sad. She was truly bothered by the Lord Lucifer nonsense. He thought of how she and her friends had ensured that Mr. Miller had education and opportunity far beyond what the viscount had accorded, being a tremendously good influence on a young man who might have otherwise run wild. And that reminded him that Jacqueline had an impulsive, bold nature that he could easily imagine running wild under the wrong influence. It wasn’t far off the mark to imagine her taking on drinking, whoring, and gaming if she decided to. She was already content to flaunt traditions, what were a few more masculine hobbies? It humbled him to think where his influence might have led.
He approached her slowly and put his hands on her hips. "If it helps any... I'm sorry."
She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of hope and longing. "For what?"
"For being the Lord Lucifer that Robert and Charles were seeking. For it affecting you and lowering their esteem in your eyes."
She nodded and he saw tears glinting again. "And for missing the club trick in the second round?" she asked with a weak smile, referring to their whist game earlier.
"No, you beast, not for that. Who leads with a two as a signal to take the second trick?"
She settled against his chest and his arms went around her. As much as his mind might still be disturbed with their argument, his body was relieved to have this woman pressed against him. Relieved and aroused. Good God, would he never tire of her scent, her touch? He ran his hands lightly over her back, knowing that she would likely not be in the mood for bed sport after their afternoon of disagreement, but unable to keep from some small attempt at seduction. His body craved hers again.
Perhaps she was similarly afflicted because she snuggled deeper into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned back to look down into her face. Her eyes were damp but she smiled up at him. He stroked her cheek and she leaned her face into his hand. He kissed her, lightly at first, and she responded. When he swept his tongue into her mouth she suckled it like the sweetest nectar. Now he wished he had brought the brandy up so that she had something worth suckling. But those thoughts quickly evaporated as his wife continued to respond, pressing her breasts into his chest as she strained to be closer to him. As he carried her to the bed he thought, even if they had nothing else, they had this.
In the morning Jack went riding with her husband and ate breakfast with him as though everything was normal. But somewhere at the back of her mind she knew that it wasn't. The revelation that he was Lord Lucifer didn't sit well with her at all. Robert and Charles had both changed after meeting Lord Lucifer. Tales of their drunken debauchery had reached even out to Derbyshire. The Haberdashers had at first defended the reputations of their beloved big brothers, but before long it had become too much. By the summer they were fourteen the three girls had admitted that their former inspiration, their heroes, were now tarnished.
In the meantime she needed to reconcile for herself how she could be disappointed in Gideon, yet also find herself unable to resist the physical nature of their relationship. It was as though coming within two feet of him rendered her unable to think rationally. Even now the memories of their lovemaking had her body responding with tightness and aches that Gideon's touch was designed to soothe. Rather than seek out her husband to distract herself from her thoughts and the perfidy of her own body, she had the footmen help her set up for something that always cleared her mind. Archery. Within an hour she was focused on the twang of the string and whistle of the arrows.
When Gideon hadn't seen his wife at luncheon he was informed that she was on the south lawn practicing archery. At least, he thought, of all her hobbies it was the one permissible for women. Taking some choice bits from the luncheon tray, he walked out to the south lawn to see how she was getting on and whether she was hungry. Rounding the manor, the first thing he noticed was a series of targets set out from fifteen feet to at least fifty yards. The next was that she dr
ew the bow with an almost singular concentration. In the time it took him to reach her she had loosed five arrows, apparently practicing a pattern on one of the mid-distance targets.
"Poor bastard," he said, "what did he do to you?"
A mild quirking of a smile was the extent of response he received as she continued to loose arrows in quick succession at a more distant target. Finally out of missiles, she slung her bow over her shoulder and began collecting them from the nearest target. Gideon fell into step beside her. "Since you missed lunch I thought you might want something."
"I did?" she asked.
He nodded and handed her the napkin of items he had purloined for her. She stood sampling her light repast as the summer sun beamed down on her uncovered head.
Gideon found the silence uncomfortable. "You look like Artemis," he said.
She laughed. "It is a look I try to cultivate."
He pulled arrows for her as she ate, inspecting the tips and fletchings before putting them in her quiver.
"Does that make you Orion, then?" she mused.
"I don't remember my Greek myths very well, you'll have to tell me."
She squinted as she looked up at him, finally nodding. "Yes, you're probably Orion."
"What makes you say that?"
"He was the only one Artemis ever loved."
Gideon frowned and began pulling arrows from the next target. There it was again, that muddying and diverting concept of love. While his heart leapt in response to her words, his mind abhorred the idea. Rather than respond, he concentrated on the arrows. Once he had collected all of them she invited him to stay and shoot with her but he declined.
Jack watched her husband walk back to the manor. He had flinched again when she mentioned the idea of love. Was he so afraid of loving and being loved that he avoided the concept altogether? If true, it was the idea of love, not the actions of it. Who would expect the haughty Earl of Harrington to bring his wife a light luncheon by his own hand? He was often independent, she had noticed, eschewing his valet while out in the country and picking up after himself more than many of the upper class in her experience. But she had also seen him delegate a job to a footman more often than carry it out himself. He had brought her food because he wanted to see her, because he wanted to make sure she ate. That was an act of love.
She herself wasn't sure why she had brought up Orion and mentioned that Artemis had loved him, since she currently felt conflicted about her husband. But her feelings for him were strong, if shaken by the knowledge that he was also Lord Lucifer. In many ways it was hard for her to reconcile. Gideon didn't seem the type to carouse his way through London. Perhaps she needed to follow her own advice again, and instead of being irritated, she needed to become curious. To reconcile her considerate, responsible husband to what she knew of Lord Lucifer, she would need to know what had prompted him to act in that way. Of course her deepest fear was to discover that Lord Lucifer co-existed with the man she thought she knew and was perhaps even the greater portion of him.
She also realized she had best not tell him the full tale of Artemis and Orion, since in some versions of the mythology Artemis accidentally kills her love.
Chapter Twenty-Six
For Gideon, the business week proceded more like a week before Jacqueline. Certainly his life could always be measured in that way now, before Jacqueline and after Jacqueline. But throughout the week his wife was quiet and distracted, allowing him to concentrate on Mr. Miller's education. He also had Philip work with the Hobbes to execute his wife's wishes for placing the older children in service to support their mother and younger siblings in a small cottage in the village. And in his spare time, such as it was, he began compiling a list of invitees for the ball they needed to plan. He knew his wife was nervous about her first real duty as a countess. He searched his mind for a woman who could mentor her. Certainly there must be a society matron here in Kent who would take his wife under her wing to work out the details such an undertaking required.
He was contemplating the rather sparse list of women in the immediate area who might serve in that capacity when he noticed a gleaming black carriage with a smart team of four coming up his drive. As he might have expected from such a rich conveyance, the door bore the crest of the Duke of Beloin. Gideon stood and then realized he would rather receive Quince here than anywhere else in the house. He didn't have long to wait. The elder Dibbs announced the duke in a tone reserved for such august personages. Quince didn't often look out of sorts and the fact that he did now brought Gideon to his feet faster than the duke's title ever would have.
"Brandy?"
"Yes, please," Quince said, dropping onto the leather couch.
Gideon poured, bringing the duke's glass to him before pulling one of the chairs over to face the couch. "What's wrong?"
Quince inspected the brandy for a moment then tipped the glass back, drinking a goodly portion of the glass in his first swallow. "Liverpool is planning to bring the Corn Laws up for vote tomorrow."
Gideon was silent for a moment. "You know I'm not likely to vote as you will."
"Strange," Quince said tiredly, "that thought occurred to me as well. But I said to myself if the situation were reversed, would I want Gideon to tell me that a vote was imminent on one of the most significant pieces of legislation? And would Gideon tell me? When I told myself the answer was yes on both counts the course of action seemed clear."
Gideon shrugged. "You could have just sent a note."
"Notes can be misplaced or just ignored. I find the same isn't true of a duke."
Gideon smiled down into the brandy glass that he realized he hadn't drunk from yet. In his own way, Quince was extending an olive branch. An opportunity to begin bridging the rift that had started when Gideon's father had died. When Gideon had taken on a crushing amount of responsibility that he hadn't been prepared for at the age of seventeen. He had reacted, possibly predictably, by overindulging in every vice he could imagine. After pulling Gideon out of quite a few gaming hells and potential scrapes Quince had put his foot down and refused to go carousing. As that was Gideon’s primary entertainment they had drifted apart. Gideon had become more, well, self-destructive and began to avoid Quince because he knew that his friend would take any opportunity to lecture him. And, God help him, Gideon was sure that he would still be indulging his baser nature if his friend Charlie Bittlesworth hadn’t pleaded with him to use his position in the House of Lords to support the Cruelty to Animals Bill back in ’09. Through that Gideon had accidentally discovered a love of Parliamentary procedure and governance.
Quince himself had ascended four years ago, after watching his father suffer a lingering illness. As the older duke's first marriage had been barren, Quince had not been born until his father was in his fifties. Somehow, Quince had completely avoided inheriting his father’s dour disposition and conservative views. The first had been a blessed relief in the House. The second had caused Gideon no end of headaches. Their political clashes had proved to be more intense than their personal ones, and more than one conflict had resulted in shouting matches on the floor.
When Gideon didn't speak the duke continued. "I suggest you go back with me tonight."
Gideon, roused from his thoughts, nodded. "That would be fine. It will give me a chance to settle my new clerk."
"Oh, you've finally chosen a new clerk?" Quince gave him a wry smile. "I thought you enjoyed doing all your paperwork yourself."
"You know I don't, but I'd rather do it myself than see it ruined. However, let me tell you about Mr. Miller. This isn't for common knowledge but, well, it isn't something I would want you to be surprised by since we are known in some circles as being close."
"You're making me curious. Out with it."
"Mr. Justin Miller is Viscount Bittlesworth's bastard son."
Quince sank back against the cushion with a sneer. "Bittlesworth. Delightful."
"Don't judge Miller by his father."
"How do you know you aren
't embedding an asp in your office?"
"I don't believe so. You can make some judgments about him yourself. He will need to ride to London with us tonight."
"He's here?"
"He's a friend of my wife's."
"Ah," Quince said lightly. "I see. It proves to be good to be a friend of your wife."
Gideon bristled. "I wouldn't have hired him if I didn't think he was competent."
"Time will tell," Quince said, raising his glass of brandy in a mock toast.
"Would you care to dine before we leave?"
"Of course. How could I miss an opportunity to see your lovely wife while I'm here?"
"We will dine early. I also assume fresh horses are in order."
"Yes, if we hope to get there in proper time."
"I will have Dibbs show you to a room where you can rest and refresh yourself before we dine."
With that Gideon and the duke parted company. Gideon to make preparations, and Quince to rest before dinner and the long carriage ride back to London. As soon as Gideon entered his chambers to direct packing for his journey, his wife descended on him.
"The servants say the Duke of Beloin is here."
"Yes. We'll be dining early with him and then I must go with him back to London."
"Whatever for?"
"A vote in Parliament that I can't miss. It was very kind of Quince to come tell me the vote is likely tomorrow. I wasn't expecting it for another week yet."
"I'm not going with you?"
He kissed her forehead. "No, love. I won't be gone long. There's no need for you to rush back and forth to London with me."
"When will you return?"
"Within a day or two. Besides, this gives me a chance to settle Mr. Miller. He seemed hesitant about going on to London without me."
His wife's brow was still adorably furrowed with her frustration that he was leaving and she was picking at nigh invisible lint on his jacket. He bent his head to whisper in her ear. "I have to leave directly after dinner. If there's anything you'd like to do...?"
