The Lady Loves A Scandal_Regency Novella

by Christina McKnight

Gideon had remained hidden long enough. Stepping into the foyer, he greeted her. “Good evening, Lady Sybil. I was not expecting you. In fact, I believe I specifically said not to—“

  “Heavens,” Charles snapped as he held out his arm for Sybil. She glanced at it for only a second before determining the man posed no danger and set her fingers at his elbow. “It appears everyone in this household has abandoned their manners. Luckily, I am here, the perfect gentleman.”

  Sybil giggled. Actually giggled.

  In the last few minutes, Charles had gone from utter terror at what the letter held to charming London gentleman.

  It was obvious his friend had missed his calling. Sybil’s radiant smile as she stared up at Charles sent a jolt of pure jealousy through Gideon. Odd how the appearance of a beautiful woman had them both forgetting the letter from the courts.

  Gideon slipped the missive into his shirt pocket and followed the pair as they walked by him toward the dining hall.

  “Jackson,” Gideon called to the lingering footman. “Please, have a place setting added for Lady Sybil. She will be joining us for the remainder of our meal.”

  Chapter 7

  3 January 1816

  Another woman? Tell me, kind readers, that this author is mistaken. It is rumored that Lord Galway did not leave to pursue his interest in pirating, nor did the intrigue—and coin—of a life as a highwayman steal him from our great town. No…another woman? I shan’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes.

  ~ Lady X

  Sybil did her utmost to remain tranquil and composed at Gideon’s dining table as the man to her left, Mr. Charles Smythe, regaled her with tales from the viscount’s childhood by the Scottish border. Inside, she was reeling from the fact that Gideon had such a close confidante and friend he’d never spoken of to her.

  Smiling and nodding, as any enthralled woman would do while listening with rapture to the men jesting back and forth, Sybil could not help casting furtive glances in Gideon’s direction.

  It was with great abandon that she’d told Gideon everything about her past—before he learned of her less than stellar upbringing in France in the gossips—yet, he’d kept so much of who he was and where he came from to himself.

  “…and so, Giddy and I—“

  “Giddy?” Sybil asked, raising a brow at Gideon. “I must say, I have never heard anyone call Lord Galway Giddy.”

  To his credit, Gideon’s cheeks flamed, and he made at least an attempt to look sheepish. “Yes, it was what my mother called me when I was very young. A play on Gideon, obviously, but also because I was fond of horses.”

  “And he’d neigh before he spoke,” Charles laughed. “He not only had a fondness for horses, but he actually thought himself one until he was what…” He paused and looked at Gideon for input, but the viscount remained silent. “Age fifteen?”

  “Come now, Charles,” Gideon boomed. “It was closer to five.”

  “All right, all right…I find myself exaggerating the details for the amusement of our guest.” Charles laid his napkin next to his untouched plate. “I find I am helpless to do anything but make certain Lady Sybil is having a marvelous time after her less than hospitable welcome.”

  “I assure you, Charles, my arrival was a shock to everyone, including Lord Galway.” Sybil saw Gideon cast his friend a veiled glance as she tried to make excuses for him. “Besides, my mere presence here is highly scandalous, do you not agree?”

  Sybil took a sip from her wine goblet to keep from glancing in Gideon’s direction. She knew bloody well he was angry with her. He’d specifically instructed her not to call on him, but what other choice did she have? Gideon was keeping things from her, and she doubted Charles’ presence at his townhouse was even the half of it.

  “I can only speak to what I see, my lady.” Charles gestured to the pair as he spoke. “I see a dour, slightly distracted lord, having a pleasant meal with a beautiful, articulate woman while chaperoned by a dashing young man of little consequence. Though I’ve been away for some years, I do think this meal will hold up to even the highest scrutiny.”

  “No one shall know about this meal.” Gideon pushed back his chair, a footman jumping in to assist him as Charles followed suit. “Lady Sybil, will you be so kind as to join me in the study for a private conversation?”

  Charles tsked. “That, I’m afraid, will not hold up to any—“

  “Charles.” The warning in Gideon’s voice halted his friend. “Lady Sybil?”

  A footman pulled her chair back, and she smiled at both men. “Of course, my lord.”

  Could it be that she was enjoying this? Gideon was rather irked, and Charles was doing his utmost to prod him.

  Sybil was familiar with the many sides of Gideon: reserved and pensive, light and jesting, confident and chivalrous.

  But this demanding, domineering, stalwart man before her was different.

  “If I have angered you, Gideon, I am sor—“

  “My study, Sybil. Now.” He didn’t wait for her, but pivoted and stalked from the room.

  When she turned to Charles with a weak smile, he only shrugged, but his following wink settled a bit of her unease at Gideon’s turn in demeanor.

  “It has been a pleasure meeting you…far overdue, if you do not mind my bluntness,” he said with a stiff bow.

  She didn’t mind his candor at all. “May I offer a bit of frankness?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Why have we never met?” Her tentative question brought a shadow to the man’s face. “What I mean to say is, Gideon and I have known one another for quite some time, and he has never so much as mentioned your existence.”

  Sybil expected hurt or at least confusion to cloud Charles’ face; however, his expression turned dark, and he pivoted to the footman for his cane, not looking back at her when next he spoke. “I think that is something you must speak with Gideon about. I bid you good evening, Lady Sybil.”

  He hobbled from the room, his cane hitting the polished floor the only sound as she was left in his wake.

  Bloody hell. She didn’t know where Gideon’s study was located.

  As if sensing her flustered temperament, the butler stepped into the room. “My lord is awaiting you. This way, please.”

  When he gestured for her to follow, Sybil moved around the table, quickening her pace to keep up with the servant.

  Sybil was uncertain why she was annoyed. A private moment with Gideon was the reason she’d flouted convention and dared come to his townhouse.

  Perhaps it was that her arrival had only added more questions to the surmounting concern surrounding Gideon’s return, not even to touch on his disappearance. If she were to convince her brother that dragging her back to France and away from the man she loved was a bad idea, Sybil needed answers, not more questions.

  The door to the study stood open, and Sybil spied Gideon pacing before the hearth, his strides long and heavy on the carpeted floor. There were not many occasions when she had the opportunity to gaze upon him unnoticed. His sun-kissed light locks hung over his collar in a very pleasing manner. How had she not noted that his hair had lightened significantly over the last year, as if he’d spent months in the sun? His cream-colored skin was several shades darker, making it contrast considerably with his hair. His skin tone did nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes, however. Had he not slept recently? He’d appeared unburdened when she spotted him at the ball several nights past, but a weight had obviously settled upon him since she first laid eyes on him again.

  She was desperate to know what troubled him, and how she could help.

  But he’d need to open up to her first, trust her with whatever he kept secret, and have faith that she would do her best to assist him.

  His shoulders tensed, and he halted, staring into the open flames. It tore her heart from her chest to see his frame snag as he exhaled.

  “I told you not to come here.” His tone held little conviction. “It is dangerous.”

  “Mr.
Smythe does not seem at all perilous,” she whispered as she stepped into the room. She paused for only a moment before turning to close the door behind her. “And we both know what I think of society and its need for scandalous on dits.”

  Gideon turned to face her as the latch clicked into place.

  They were utterly alone, and the way his gaze traveled the length of her before settling on her lips told Sybil he was all too aware of it, as well.

  For once, Sybil did not have the urge to run into his arms, to press her body against his, to have his lips warmly caressing hers. To completely lose all of herself in him; his smell, his hold…his heart.

  “Damn it, Sybil.” The palm of his hand landed on the stone edge of the hearth, and he turned to face her, his eyes alight with something akin to chaos. “How am I to protect you when you embrace peril at every turn?”

  Disarray. Turmoil. Utter pandemonium.

  Gideon’s narrowed glare held it all.

  “I have survived nearly twenty-three summers without you sheltering me; in fact, I lived nearly an entire year thinking you were dead, gone, never to be seen again. Why did you not protect me from that?”

  “I left you a note.”

  “Excuse my lack of decorum, but a bloody note scribbled upon crumpled paper, closed with a lopsided seal…it did nothing to assure me that you’d return.”

  “I could not tell you where I was going and had no idea how long I’d be gone.”

  “Just as you still cannot trust me enough to share where you were all those months.” Sybil said the last word as her breath ran out. She drew in air deeply, ready to launch into yet another volley of questions and concerns, but she got no further than, “I cried myself to sleep for months, Gideon.”

  “Hurting you is something I will apologize for endlessly; however, I can make no amends for leaving that night.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his long locks hanging askew from the action and matching his wild-eyed stare. “I had no other choice.”

  “If you have returned, why am I still in danger? Who poses a risk to my safety?” she begged. “I am no one of import.”

  “You are of great import to me!”

  The words should have filled her with a sense of security, to know that she meant something more to him than the last year had shown. Instead, the volatile lilt to his tone had her flinching away.

  “I love you, Sybil, and there are people…if they knew how much I cared for you…they would seek to harm you if only to get something from me.”

  “Does this have to do with Charles?”

  “Yes,” he said with a sigh, slumping into one of the two chairs facing the fire. Sybil moved into the room and sat on the other seat, her stare mirroring his as they both watched the flames licking at the logs. “He was taken…years ago. It was my fault.”

  Taken? “Do you mean kidnapped?”

  “Kidnapped, impressed, tied, bound and gagged.” His lips pressed into a frown. “Call it what you want, but he was taken when I should have protected him, watched over him, and made sure he returned home safely.”

  “Where did they take him?” Sybil wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more, but she suspected this was the heart of Gideon’s secret…and she would know it.

  “To sea.” Gideon’s head hung as if the entirety of the blame was his to shoulder. “We were in London, directly after I finished University, and I convinced Charles to spend an evening out and about London, doing as boys who think they are men do—drinking and carrying on.”

  He fell silent, but Sybil didn’t prod him for more. He would speak when he was ready.

  Finally, he pushed to his feet and strode to the sideboard.

  “Pardon my horrendous manners,” he called over his shoulder as he took the stopper from a decanter and poured a drink. “I have spoken of this to no one in many years.”

  “I will have one, too,” she said.

  His back straightened, but he removed a second tumbler and poured her a small portion of scotch before returning to his seat.

  “We were both so deep in our cups that we stumbled to yet another tavern, this one far too close to the docks, and a man bought us another round of drinks.” He took a sip from his glass, his eyes staring unseeingly into the hearth as he re-lived the moment. “We were young with no funds to our names other than what our fathers gave us, and we’d spent that far earlier in the night. So, we accepted the drinks without question. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a rubbish heap with the sound of the lapping waves on the dock pillars causing my head to swirl and my stomach to churn.”

  “What of Charles?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

  “Gone.” Gideon leaned forward, setting his empty glass on the table between their seats. “Taken without a trace. It took me a fortnight to learn what had happened to him and where he was likely headed.”

  All manner of notions collided in her head: taken by the magistrate, imprisoned at Newgate, banished to the colonies for some sordid crime.

  “He was snatched up by a press gang and forced into service on the Centurion for our Royal Navy. From there, he was traded from ship to ship, whenever the need for sailors shifted when the entire British forces were sent to handle Napoleon and his troops.”

  “You could not have known…”

  “Do you want to know why they didn’t take me, as well?” Rage seethed with each word. When Sybil could only nod, he continued, “My dress was that of nobility, while Charles wore the simple garb of a commoner. I was spared because of my father’s wealth, while Charles was imprisoned on ship after ship, forced to sleep in the elements, eat stale, moldy food, and contend with cruel abuse because his trousers were not snug enough to give the impression of station.”

  “But he has been rescued,” she ventured. “He is home…and free.”

  “That is the thing, he is not free.” Gideon glanced at her hands, still holding the scotch he’d given her. “He is still in danger, as am I for forcibly removing him from a Navy vessel in Dover. We are hunted men, and if we are found before the Admiralty Courts have had time to decide on the matter, he will be returned to the ship, and I could be punished.”

  Sybil indignation flared. “But I would not allow that to happen. My brother would champion your cause. We would fight until you both were freed.”

  Gideon snorted. “Lord Lichfield will not so much as entertain an audience with me. What leads you to believe he would put his own reputation on the line to save me?”

  “Because he is a good man, an honorable one, a lord who prides himself on his loyalty.”

  “He owes me no loyalty, Sybil,” Gideon sighed. “I made a promise to you, and to your family, and I abandoned that promise.”

  “With good reason,” she retorted.

  “But Silas doesn’t know that.”

  “For the sole reason that you haven’t explained it to him.” Sybil took a small sip from the tumbler clutched between her bone-white knuckles, thankful for the burning respite as it made its way down her throat to her stomach. “And, he may owe you no amount of loyalty; however, as I said, Silas is an honorable and good man, and he has been known to dote on his sister. If I asked it of him, he would go to the ends of the Earth to see me happy, especially if it meant saving the man I love.”

  His inquisitive gaze captured hers across the space that separated them.

  Her words shocked her as much as they did Gideon.

  Embarrassment flamed, and her face heated. “It was not my intent to speak out of turn, Gideon. I know now is not the time, but—“

  “I love you, too, Sybil,” he said, his stare never wavering. “That is the one thing that has never changed, even with all the secrets I had to keep from you, and the time away with no explanation. I hoped every day you’d forgive me…and love me still.”

  “While losing you hurt me, it did not stop my heart from longing for you.”

  “As I have pined for you.” Gideon stood, pacing before the hearth. “I dreamt of you every night, Sybi
l. I told myself that if you ever forgave me, I would never cause you another day of grief. Yet, here we are.”

  He said everything Sybil had longed to hear him say: that he’d missed her, he’d thought of her, and he loved her.

  A heavy, persistent knock thundered through the townhouse, so close, Sybil thought it was someone at the study door. The thump rattled the windowpanes at the same time the tall clock began to chime the top of the hour. Her hand shook where it clutched her tumbler, sending the liquid over the rim and onto her gloved hand, marring the delicate satin.

  “Bloody damnation!” Gideon hissed. “This night has had no end of visitors. Not that I was unhappy to see you, Sybil.”

  “I did not take offense.” Sybil cleared her throat and set the glass aside before standing. “I suppose it is time I return home before it is noticed that I am gone.”

  Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose as the hammering on the door continued. “I will have my carriage readied. If you’ll wait here, I will take care of it and see why no one has answered the damned door.”

  As he left the room, a dark cloud descended around him, and tension tightened his shoulders, evident even through his evening jacket. A large part of her wanted to follow him, to ease whatever caused him worry; however, he’d bid her to remain, and for once, she was resigned to listen.

  Was it that she didn’t want to leave? They’d only just begun discussing the many things that had kept them apart, caused them both immeasurable pain, and found common ground—the one thing that kept them together.

  Love.

  Gideon left the study door wide open after departing, his footsteps muffled by the incessant knocking at the front door as it drifted and echoed into the room Sybil waited in. Who could it be at this time of night?

  Finally, the butler must have opened the door because the knocking suddenly stopped and the halls of Gideon’s townhouse returned to their quiet ways.

  “Where in the hell is my sister, you chutless, fobbin codpiece?” Silas’s enraged voice boomed through the house, causing tendrils of dread to course down her back.