It Started With a Whisper

by Dawn Brower

  Another thing lacking in every London debutante she’d met—and even some men.

  Another carriage rattled down the street behind her as the wind increased, pulling at her hood and the hem of her cloak. The moist, earthy aroma on the breeze foretold the coming rain, which was likely to fall sometime during the early morning hours and reduce to a light drizzle by first light.

  Sybil wrapped her arms around her midsection, determined to be safely home and abed before the first drops assaulted the filthy London streets. She made her way along the hedge to a shadowed area at the side of Lord Galway’s townhouse. The small, cobblestoned space was blocked from view—neither a passing coach nor the butler at the front door would spy them. Even if someone knew they were present, the darkened alcove masked them entirely.

  The racing of her heartbeat at moments like these was fairly addicting.

  The risk, the intrigue, the barely contained need that boiled inside her…

  Sybil sped up as she moved down the hedge, arriving at the spot where she’d told Gideon to meet her. A part of her feared this excitement would fade once they were officially betrothed—not to mention once the wedding took place. Certainly, their adventure would continue even when they no longer had to sneak about town to see one another without a proper chaperone.

  Holding her breath, she waited, certain she’d hear the familiar, solid footsteps that were Gideon’s trademark. He was confident, though never arrogant. He was kind, yet never with an air of pity. He was stoic, but Sybil knew the man beneath the dour, reserved facade.

  The minutes passed, and a spike of anxiety coursed through her. Had Oliver, the bookseller, gotten her message to Gideon in time? Was the viscount in residence this evening, or had he gone to his club, never knowing she wished to meet?

  A tendril of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts.

  Doubt. A funny emotion—and one that never pertained to Lord Galway.

  He was dependable to a fault, unlike so many other things in Sybil’s life.

  She released a heavy sigh when, finally, his heavy footfalls sounded on the cobbled drive, moving in her direction.

  “Sybil?” his deep baritone was almost disapproving and menacing in the darkness. “It is after midnight. What are you doing gallivanting about the dangerous city? I thought Mr. Oliver quite mad when he delivered your note earlier.”

  Her heart, only moments before racing with anticipation, almost stopped when Gideon stepped into the shadows with her, throwing his arms wide to greet her. Without thought, she rushed into his waiting embrace.

  “I had to see you, Gideon,” Sybil gushed, perturbed by the weakness evident in her voice.

  “I will be round tomorrow—or, I suppose, later today—to sign the contracts.”

  “Are you certain?” Even after their yearlong courtship, Sybil feared Gideon would change his mind. Cry off…leave her.

  “Of course,” Gideon said, his words clipped, but he pulled her closer still and tucked her head under his chin. “The negotiations are complete. Everything is finalized except our signatures on the paperwork. I am to arrive on the morrow at eleven sharp. I anticipate that everything will be official by noon.”

  “Silas has forbidden me to join you until it is time to put my name to the agreements.”

  “It is the way of things, my love.” Her heart skipped a beat at the endearment, but she pulled back from his embrace, and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms as if he could impart a bit of warmth. “Business is handled by men, though that does not mean I value your input any less.”

  “I think you appreciate more than my input, my lord,” Sybil said coyly.

  “I value much about you, my lady.”

  “Like what?” She couldn’t help but provoke him. It was in these private moments that Gideon allowed his usual stoic exterior to crumble and fall—at least for a few moments. “Tell me, or I shall remain here all night.”

  “Your complex musings,” he said with a smile, leaning forward and placing a kiss on her forehead. Sybil couldn’t halt her giggle. “Your enchanting brown eyes.”

  “My mud puddle murky eyes, you mean?” It was their game, and Sybil allowed her lids to slide shut. Gideon placed a kiss on each.

  “Your button nose that is usually stuck somewhere it does not belong,” he mumbled before pressing his lips to the tip of said appendage. “And your rosebud-red lips.”

  When he didn’t immediately kiss her, Sybil opened her eyes and gazed up into his light gray stare.

  Heat pooled at the junction of her thighs.

  Part of her hated that Gideon could bring her so quickly to desire while he remained seemingly unaffected.

  “You are a poet, my lord,” she whispered.

  “And you are the enchantress who feeds all my poetic ramblings,” he countered.

  “I love you, Gideon Lyndon,” she confessed, pushing to her tiptoes until their lips were a mere inch apart. “I cannot wait until the day I am Viscountess Galway.”

  “Would you love me as much if I were a…” He paused, pursing his lips in thought. “A fishmonger? Or a vendor in Hyde Park or at Covent Gardens?”

  “Would you risk your reputation as a gentleman to meet me in a darkened drive if I were an orange seller outside the theatre?”

  “Yes,” they both chimed in unison.

  “Let us hope we never test those fates.” Sybil laughed.

  His reserved veneer returned as his eyes searched hers. Sybil was uncertain what he hoped to find.

  “It was highly improper and unsafe for you to journey out tonight,” he scolded. “What if something had happened? Or worse yet, you were taken and disappeared?”

  Sybil grinned up at him. “Come now, Gideon, for all the talk of London’s perilous streets, I know not of a single person being taken—especially the sister of an earl, the soon-to-be betrothed lady of a viscount.”

  His eyes darkened as he stepped back from her, his head shaking.

  “We have met in similar ways the entirety of our courtship,” she chided. “I am still whole.”

  Sybil patted her chest to prove she was unscathed, yet her attempt at dispelling his unease did naught to return them to their previous light banter.

  “We have convened in a shielded grove in Hyde Park, at the bookseller off Bond, and outside both our homes, but never, ever so close to the witching hour.” He pressed his lips to hers, but it was not their usual sweet kiss. His lips were firm and almost punishing. “If anything ever happened to you, I would not be able to go on.”

  He held her stare until she consented, “I will do nothing so foolish again.”

  His lips softened, and the hint of a smile returned. “Although, I can admit having you at my home—at least, outside my home—at such an hour, brings many scandalous thoughts to mind.”

  “Oh, do tell—“

  A horse whinnied close by, and Sybil glanced over her shoulder to see the mare tied to the hack as it stepped from foot to foot and tossed its head back with another neigh.

  “I should go,” Sybil said.

  “I will accompany you home.” Gideon glanced toward his townhouse. “Allow me to summon my carriage.”

  Placing her gloved hand on his arm, Sybil called for him to wait. “Your coach could be seen, and that would lead to scandal. What if someone saw? I promised I would not bring any disgrace upon you.”

  “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to—“

  “I made it here without incident, my lord,” she rushed to say.

  “Be that as it may—“

  The deafening sound of horses’ hooves pierced the air, sending the hack’s mare into another bout of distress as a lone man on horseback raced into Gideon’s drive. The rider pulled to a halt mere feet from the front door, and Sybil feared for a moment that he was set on riding right through the wooden portal.

  Gideon stiffened before her.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Sybil asked.

  Had her brothers discovered her missing? Had he
r maid returned to Sybil’s chambers to check on her mistress, found her not in residence, and alerted the entire household?

  Sybil sighed in relief when the man dismounted and stepped into the pool of light cast by the torches hung outside Gideon’s door.

  “Wait here,” Gideon demanded, but he did not await her reply as he stalked from the shadows and addressed the rider, stopping him before the man pounded his clenched fist on the door.

  The men stood close as they talked in hushed whispers that were carried away on the night breeze before they reached Sybil.

  Finally, Gideon nodded and motioned for the man to go inside as he turned and started back toward Sybil.

  Halting before her Gideon asked, “Are you certain you will be safe to return home alone?”

  Suddenly, Sybil wasn’t sure at all, but she would risk the unimaginable to avoid admitting that she’d been wrong to depart her home at midnight for their final clandestine meeting before their betrothal was officially announced.

  Not trusting her voice to remain steady, Sybil bobbed her chin up and down.

  “Good,” he sighed. “I will see you on the morrow. Dream joyfully in your slumber.”

  “Who is the man?” she dared ask. “He seemed rather urgent in his arrival.”

  “It is nothing to worry about,” Gideon said, but it did little to ease her apprehension. “Only a long-standing matter I’ve been attempting to rectify for some time.”

  Sybil’s brow pulled low. If Gideon had hidden something from her before she hadn’t noticed. But she was not foolish enough to think that a man arriving during the middle of the night was of no consequence. Questioning Gideon further would gain her nothing, however, unless she wished to start their betrothal with the mark of a nagging woman.

  Gideon pulled her into his arms as his finger traced down her cheek and along her jawline. A shiver raced the length of her spine, and she pressed her body against his.

  Soon enough, they’d be free to touch, caress, and kiss one another to their hearts’ content, but for now, Sybil needed to return home before anyone noticed her missing. Besides, Gideon obviously had other matters to attend to before meeting with Sybil’s brother in the morning.

  “Farewell, my love.”

  “Until later.” Sybil grinned up at him, determined not to allow the man waiting inside the Galway Townhouse to ruin this moment for her.

  Rising to her tiptoes again, Gideon’s lips met hers in the dark, and their mouths moved in a rhythmic rightness that always seemed present when she and the viscount were together.

  It was rather advantageous she’d fallen in love with a man her family not only approved of, but whom society also held in high regard; although, even if Gideon were the son of a tailor, Sybil would love him still.

  He broke away from her. “Now, hurry home.”

  With a final laugh and smile for her soon-to-be betrothed, Sybil turned and ran to the waiting hack, climbing back up without any assistance.

  “Hanover Square, please,” she called after taking her seat. She would do all in her power to remain safe—and that meant risking being sighted when the driver deposited her before her brother’s townhouse. “Dering Street.”

  As they pulled away from Gideon’s drive, she glanced over her shoulder. A groom had come from the stables and was nodding vigorously in response to whatever the viscount said.

  Something was amiss. Sybil was certain of it, even if Gideon thought her concerns were eased.

  “Pull over here,” she called, her voice rising above the clop of the mare’s hooves and the creaking of the hack wheels. When the driver did not immediately heed her command, she yelled. “Stop. Here. Please. Stop now.”

  Relenting, the driver pulled up on the reins.

  Sybil turned to face Gideon’s drive, the neighboring properties now blocking his house from view.

  “Miss,” the driver said, not bothering to hide his irritation. “It be late.”

  “Do shush.” Sybil held her finger to her lips. “Only a few more moments, I promise.”

  If the late-night visitor had only come about a business matter, he would leave in quick order, allowing Gideon to find his bed. The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes as the night wind howled down the street, trapped between the rows of townhouses on both sides.

  The driver passed the reins from hand to hand, and the resounding jingle was nearly masked by the wind.

  Sybil kept her eyes trained on the drive a few houses back.

  Finally, the sound of hooves rang out once more on the cobbled ground as not one but two horses raced from Gideon’s driveway and headed in the opposite direction of her stalled carriage.

  One was the lone horseman from before, but the other…

  Sybil’s breath stuck in her throat, her lungs burning as she attempted to swallow.

  The ebony horse accompanying the other rider was Goliath, Lord Galway’s prized stallion.

  She was helpless to do aught but watch the pair ride off into the night.

  Chapter 1

  My fair readers! It is with abundant relief that I am the first to inform you of the latest on dit. Spread the news far and wide, I beg of you. Viscount Galway has returned—alive, unscathed, and unwed. If you will remember, Lord Galway was all but betrothed to Lady Sybil Anson when he mysteriously disappeared. Alas, he has returned. Though I dare say he will now be called upon to answer my questions, be he a thief, pirate, in financial ruin, or simply a runaway bridegroom. This author awaits the viscount’s reasons for abandoning the fair Lady Sybil in such a deplorable manner.

  ~ Whispers from Lady X

  London, England

  March 1816

  Gideon, Viscount Galway, slipped through the crowd in the entrance, handing his coat to a manservant before using a group of matrons with atrocious headgear as a shield to enter the Lichfield ballroom—and by the Graces above, avoiding the receiving line. This included the Lord and Lady in residence. The evening was proving uncomfortable enough as it was without coming face-to-face with Lichfield. Gideon’s breeches were too tight, and his cravat had been tied so elaborately that his chin had no other choice but to tilt up an inch, making it necessary to stare down his nose at every person he passed as he skirted the fringes of the room.

  He hadn’t been required to adhere to London fashion for over a year. Nearly fourteen months outfitted in sack breeches and tunic shirts the likes of which were guaranteed to gain no notice from those around him, yet were vital to survival at sea or dodging men who hunted him as he traveled through rural Scotland and England. He needed, above all, to remain invisible while in plain sight. He’d allowed his hair and facial stubble to grow for months until he no longer recognized his own countenance when he happened by a looking glass.

  How were the bounty hunters to locate Gideon if he could not spot himself?

  Constricting breeches, fresh, white linen shirt, and precisely executed cravat—all the fancy trimmings of a proper lord. In all his time away from London, Gideon never had time to miss such formal attire.

  And now he found it highly bothersome.

  Peculiarly, he was no longer the highly revered and respected Viscount Galway, but the itinerant stumblebum who kept to the shadows by the docks, who asked outlandish questions at the alehouses, and the nomad known to stow away on any ship leaving port.

  Shouts of good cheer and celebration sounded behind Gideon, causing him to flinch and duck his head before the action restricted his breathing. He must keep moving. No one gave him any notice as he searched the room. Easily, he spotted Lord and Lady Lichfield as they departed the receiving line and accepted flutes of sherry from a passing servant. Wisely, he kept in the direction that had him moving opposite of his host and hostess.

  Rumors of Lady Lichfield’s talents for clairvoyance, while not known about London, had been spoken of in hushed whispers between he and Lord Lichfield’s younger sister.

  He was not yet prepared to make his return known to Sybil’s elder brother—nor
his wife.

  First, Gideon needed to speak with Sybil.

  Bloody hell, at this point, he’d be satisfied to lay eyes upon her across a damned ballroom. He’d suffered every day—no, every hour—he was separated from her. His heart had broken when he rode away from London with Giles, bound for the port in Edinburgh…their destination unknown at that point. It was still a fog of painful memories even now.

  Gideon reminded himself that he’d had no choice.

  Nor had his promise to Sybil come with the expectation of breaking his pledge.

  He’d loved Lady Sybil from the moment they met over two years before.

  He still loved her with everything within him.

  Yet, he couldn’t neglect his responsibilities. The promises he’d made long before they fell in love and pledged to spend their futures together.

  This night would give Gideon the assurance that the words spoken all those months ago still held true. That even after all this time—through their separation, and his disappearance—Sybil’s love for him had not changed.

  One fact remained: his affection for Sybil had not waned. Not in the least bit. In fact, it had only grown stronger with time and distance. No matter the oceans that separated them, regardless of the land between them, despite the silence Gideon had lived in for the last year…he loved Sybil.

  With time to explain, at least what he could at this juncture, Gideon was certain Sybil would understand and forgive his absence.

  There was no other outcome Gideon could foresee.

  A passing couple strolled by, the gentleman leaning in to whisper something to the finely dressed lady on his arm before their eyes narrowed on him. Averting his gaze, Gideon continued past the pair, risking a glance over his shoulder to see that both had turned to stare in his wake.

  He’d heard the rumors. Giles and Charles had all but crowed with mirth at the outlandish tidbits reported by Lady X on her gossip sheet. It was one of the rare things that brought a sense of normalcy to the trio—an indulgent, insipid, haughty woman’s senseless ramblings in London’s gossip rags—as they moved about the land, avoiding the men who hunted them. According to Lady X, Gideon had been a pirate, a highwayman, in debtor’s prison, and even living with a Cheapside actress during his year of absence.