“What if there was some criminal activity that a friend feared she might become involved in?”
The mask vanished. The bumbling fool disappeared briefly and in its place a cold, calculating man appeared. Gideon could hardly comprehend how Harper managed to keep him concealed all the time.
“If you know of any criminal activity, then perhaps you ought to go to the magistrates.”
“Or else I could prevent Cleo’s name from being dragged through the dirt and offer said criminal one chance.”
Harpy smirked. “And what would that be?”
“Break off the engagement. Then there shall be no more talk on this.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “With what?”
“I know everything.”
“You know nothing.” Harper held his gaze. “And you can prove nothing either.” He smirked. “Face it, Cynfell. You lost your chance with Cleo long ago and it’s eating you up inside.”
“I’m warning you—”
“Isn’t this nice?” Cleo’s mother beamed up at them both. “I hope you two are getting along. It’s lovely to have all the children back at the house.”
Harper’s stance changed in an instant. He was back to being mild-mannered. Gideon found it harder to restrain his temper. But, unfortunately, he was right. If Harper wouldn’t listen to his threats, he had no power over him. He needed proof.
“You have done a wonderful job, Lady Halford. Everyone has been saying as much,” Harper said, his voice sickeningly sweet.
Cleo’s mother lapped it up. Gideon shook his head. He needed to move away before he did something foolish and was never allowed near Cleo again.
“I must speak with my brother. If you’ll excuse me.” He dipped his head and shot a warning look at Harpy. When Lady Halford was not looking, Harper gave him a smug smile.
Gideon curled a fist. He’d be damned if Cleo married him.
Chapter Nine
Gideon stared up at the bed canopy and tried to count the tassels trimming the edges in the dark. The trouble was, his mind refused to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks. No matter what he turned his mind to, only one thing—or more accurately one person—occupied it.
Cleo.
He tried again. One, two, three...Cleo. Damnation.
Tossing onto his other side, he closed his eyes and focused on the dark behind them.
Cleo.
“God dammit.”
He rolled to the other side. Cleo.
Cleo, Cleo, Cleo.
This was getting ridiculous.
Of course he cared for her, of course he was worried for her after his altercation with Harper. The man had revealed a truly terrifying side of himself. No, there had not been any threats flung his way—not really. Nor were there any made toward Cleo.
The chances were Harper would do nothing to harm his own wife. But who could trust a man who so easily and cleverly put on an act? The entire time he’d known Niall Harper, he’d never seen such a side, and he’d known the man since he was a boy. At what point did the mild, clumsy, insipid character become an act?
Cleo could not marry him. He would have to find a way to stop it.
But he could do nothing now. Not at past midnight, in the pitch black, in the middle of the countryside. Right now, he needed to sleep.
Gideon took several slow breaths and listened to them echo in his ears.
Cleo, the breath said. Cleo, Cleo, Cleo.
He sat with a huff and threw back the sheets.
Ridiculous.
Of course, the other accusation that Harper had thrown at him was rattling his brain too.
“Face it, Cynfell. You lost your chance with Cleo long ago and it’s eating you up inside.”
Was it? Had he really wanted a chance with Cleo?
Scrubbing a hand across his face, he rose from the bed and fumbled to light a lamp. The fire in his room had all but vanished and left an icy chill to the air. He searched out his robe and thrust his arms into it.
Cleo had always been a friend. A constant in his life. He sighed and tied the robe before pushing his feet into slippers. A little wander might help ease his mind and make sense of the thoughts occupying too much space in his brain.
He eased open the door to be greeted by a silent corridor. The occasional drip of a tap punctuated the quiet. He eased the door to and winced when it clicked shut.
Gideon opted for a stroll along toward the gallery where many fine paintings hung. It was on the east side and occupied nearly the whole of the side of the house. He shook his head when he considered the times they’d played cricket around those priceless paintings before getting caught by one of the maids or the housekeeper and getting severely scolded. Cleo and he were damned lucky they didn’t do any damage.
Broad windows covered most of the gallery, letting in enough night light for him to view the paintings, even if they were shadowed. He eyed each one, even though he had seen them many times, as though they might be able to tell him something new. By the time he had reached the last one, he had no answers. He twisted on his heel and paced back the other way, this time turning his attention to the windows.
He peered at the grounds on which he had played with Cleo as a boy and almost envied when times were simpler. Back then, Cleo had been a friend—nothing more. There were no complications; they just enjoyed each other’s company.
Somehow, even once they had grown a little older, they managed to maintain that. He had never really thought of gangly, freckly Cleo as anything other than Cleo. She had been sort of sexless in his mind.
But not anymore. Oh no. Whatever had been working in his brain to make him avoid the thought of Cleo in anyway being a woman had turned off. Or perhaps his brain had finally switched on. Harper proposing to her seemed to have flicked something and now he could not fail to see her as a woman—a lovely, beautiful, funny woman.
Gideon scowled into the dark. A glow came from the north wing—where Cleo’s bedroom was. Was she awake too, tossing and turning and worrying about her future with Harper? He probably shouldn’t but, damn it, he needed to speak to her.
He made his way to her bedroom and his frown deepened as he neared. The air became thicker. He couldn’t see it in the dark, but it smelled a lot like there was smoke in the air.
His heart slammed against his ribs. That wasn’t right. It was a bloody house fire.
And it was coming from Cleo’s room.
Bile rose in his throat. He raced along, bashing his fist against the doors, bellowing, “Fire,” as he went. When he came to Cleo’s room, the smoke and heat increased. He wasted no time in kicking down the door.
Horror filled him at the sight. Flames licked along the carpet by what had been the fireplace but was now engulfed. They’d travelled up to the curtains which explained the bold glow he’d seen.
Cleo remained prone in her bed, blissfully unaware of the danger and perhaps already suffocated by the smoke.
God, he prayed not.
A hand to his mouth to keep out the fumes, he hurried to her side and scooped her up. The pop and crackle of the fire meant he couldn’t tell if she had even stirred. But he would worry about that once he got her out of there.
Bundling her into him, he hastened through the splintered doorframe to find many sleepy guests in the corridor.
“There’s a fire,” he said. “Get out. And send someone for the fire brigade.”
Him striding past with Cleo limp in his arms seemed to galvanise everyone into action. A woman screamed. Everyone began moving. Gideon couldn’t think of much other than getting Cleo to fresh air. He would have run had it not been for the smoke in his eyes that made him fearful of tripping and harming her. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he felt grime clinging to his skin.
He burst out onto the front lawn. A few of the household had already gathered while several of the servants were running in with buckets of water and sand. He hoped they got the fire under contro
l but he didn’t care too much about their efforts—not while Cleo still lay prone in his arms.
He eased her onto the grass. “Cleo?” He grabbed her hands and rubbed them. “Cleo, dammit.” He smoothed back curls from her face and noted the black smears on her skin. Brushing his palms across her cheeks, he urged her to awaken.
Behind him, there was more noise and a few people had gathered, but he could think of nothing but her, hear nothing but the heavy thump of his heart.
She stirred. He held his breath.
“Cleo?”
Lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened. She coughed and tried to sit up so he wrapped an arm around her to help her up.
“Gideon? It’s terribly late.”
He released a spluttered laugh. “It is.”
“What’s going on?” She peered around and coughed again.
“There was a fire. In your room.”
Her eyes widened. “My mother and father?”
“They’re just coming out now, look.” He motioned over to the front of the house. “It was confined to your room. I doubt anyone was hurt.”
“But I nearly was?”
“I thought we’d lost you for a minute there, Cleo.”
“Cleo!” Her mother dashed over and dropped down to the ground beside her daughter. “Thank goodness you are well. Thank the Lord Gideon was there. However, did you know?”
He wouldn’t admit he was thinking of sneaking into her daughter’s room for a conversation. “I could not sleep so I was taking a stroll. I saw an odd glow emanating from her window.” He looked to Lord Halford. “Is everyone out?”
“Yes, and the fire is under control. I’m afraid your bedroom is almost destroyed, Cleo.”
She stared with wide eyes at everyone about her then burst into tears. Damn, how he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.
“Is she well?” Harper burst through the crowd surrounding them. “Is Cleo harmed?”
Lady Halford stood and helped her daughter to her feet. “Nothing that a bath won’t cure,” she said with a smile before handing Cleo over to her fiancé.
Gideon fisted his hands when Harper wrapped an arm around Cleo’s shoulders. She glanced back at him.
“We shall put you in the bedroom next to ours, darling,” her mother said. “You shall be quite safe there. Why not let Niall take you back inside whilst we deal with everyone else?”
She nodded and Harper led her off.
Gideon watched helplessly. This was not how it should be. He should be the one comforting her. He should be helping her undress and cleaning her freckled skin and easing her beneath the sheets. Then he should be getting into bed next to her and holding her all night.
It hit him so hard he nearly staggered backward.
He loved Cleo. He wanted her for himself.
And now it was too damned late.
Chapter Ten
Cleo peered sightlessly at the open curtains in the box room, so called because of its perfectly square shape. It had once been her brother’s bedroom until he had left home to study and then live in London. It was hardly decorated in a masculine fashion, but it didn’t feel like her bedroom.
She rolled to the other side and pressed her cheek against the pillow to study the pale green wallpaper. It was silly to grieve for a bedroom really. After all, once she married Niall, she would be living in a different house altogether.
But a tear escaped nonetheless. She had been in that bedroom since she had come out of the nursery. The decor had not changed but her collection of books and little trinkets had made it her own. Most were probably gone or at least fire-damaged.
Moving to her back, she drew in a breath and tried to will her legs to move. She would have to get up eventually and face whatever damage there was.
And see Niall.
She grimaced. He had tried to be kind to her last night, but she had gained no comfort from it. All she had wanted to do was fling herself against Gideon and cry until he told her to stop being a little girl.
She forced herself up. At the very least, she needed to thank him for saving her life. Goodness knows what could have happened if he had not discovered the fire. The whole of the house could have gone up in flames, and she wouldn’t be alive to worry about her bedroom.
Cleo tugged on the bell rope. Presumably her lady’s maid had decided to leave her to rest and she really was still exhausted. She was not sure a good night’s sleep would change that.
All of the previous night she had been on edge, waiting for Niall and Gideon to have a fight or for Niall to say something awkward and make her feel uncomfortable. Then there was all the smiling she’d had to do as everyone congratulated her. The thought that this was what her future would be was draining.
The door opened, and Frieda gave her a broad smile. “You’re awake then.”
“Yes, just about.”
“You do look tired, my lady.”
“I cannot very well stay in bed forever.”
“No one would blame you.”
Frieda drew out some clothes for her and helped her clean and dress. Cleo twisted and let her do up her corset, pressing her arms against the bed to give the maid room to finish tying it.
“Is everyone else awake?”
“Yes. I don’t think many slept well after last night’s events. But, goodness, it could have been worse.”
“It could have.” She winced as the maid pulled the laces tight.
“What luck Lord Gideon was awake. You should have seen him, my lady. Of course you were in his arms, but you know what I mean. He looked so bold and dashing carrying you through the house.”
Cleo could not help but smile. “What a shame I missed that.” She turned and together they wrangled her into her gown. “Do we know how the fire started?”
“From the fireplace, they reckon. A spark must have started it.”
“Not to worry, my lady. I think they salvaged your books and even your old stuffed bear.”
“That’s good,” she said absently.
Frieda finished tying her gown and adjusted it. “These will go perfectly.” She helped Cleo into a pair of cream slippers. “Oh.” The maid came to standing and handed over a jewelled bracelet. “I don’t recognise this, do you?”
Cleo took the bracelet and eyed the emeralds. “No, it is not one of mine.”
But she had a suspicion it was Mrs. Feltridge’s. She’d recalled seeing her wear it during the dinner party. If it was not hers, it was certainly similar. But how did it get in this room?
“I shall see if Mama knows whose it is.” She tucked it away in the pockets of her skirts while dread sank to the bottom of her stomach.
If she thought hard, she recalled the glint of something when she’d been escorted in here. She sat and let Frieda do her hair. Closing her eyes, she considered the events of the night. Niall had led her upstairs and said a few words of reassurance before giving her an awkward embrace. Then he had escorted her into the bedroom and helped her to sit as her legs were still shaky.
And there had been something. She remembered now. She had thought she had knocked something off the dressing table but had been too tired to care what it was.
Niall had dropped the bracelet.
“Oh.”
Harpy had stolen it.
Gideon was right.
“My lady!” Frieda nearly tore her hair out when she stood so she sat quickly.
“Forgive me.” She forced herself to remain still whilst the maid finished her hair. After a quick spritz of fragrance and a little dusting of powder she shooed the maid away.
“I shall be down in just a moment if anyone asks.”
“If you need more rest, my lady, no one shall object I am sure. Ring for me if you need me.”
Cleo nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
She stared at the polished surface of the dressing table for a few moments before drawing out the bracelet. Turning it over in her hand, the dread began to leave her. This was Mrs Feltridge’s, she was
certain of it. She had thought how the green had matched Gideon’s waistcoat at the time.
So if Niall had taken it, Gideon had to be right, because why else would he be walking around with someone else’s jewels in his pocket?
A little relief edged in. She did not have to be angry at Gideon any longer. No wonder he loathed Niall. But who else would believe them? And this bracelet was all very well, but she had no proof of who took it apart from what she might have seen.
Another thought occurred to her and made her smile. If it was revealed that Niall was stealing, no one could ever expect her to marry him. Her reputation would be intact. She could escape this awful engagement and then worry about life as a spinster. She was beginning to suspect it was a much better alternative anyway.
Pocketing the bracelet once more, she opened the door and froze.
“Oh.”
Niall smiled. “I just saw Frieda. She said you were awake.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He peered past her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough.”
“Excellent. Well, I’m afraid you missed the morning meal but you will be just in time for lunch.”
“Oh good. Shall we?” He peered around her again so she stepped forward and shut the door. “Or do you need to be somewhere?”
“No, not really.” He smiled, but she was certain it was not genuine. In fact, now she knew this of him, she was not sure anything he had ever said was genuine. He had claimed to love and admire her. He had even spoken of looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together and raising children and whatnot.
But who was this man really?
“Actually, I do need to just pop back to my room. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” She smiled. “I shall see you in the dining room.”
“Excellent.” He grasped her hand briefly. “I’m so relieved you are well. I do not know what I would have done had you come to harm.”
She gave another smile and left him, listening as his footsteps went in the other direction. Cleo paused when she came to the corner and pushed herself against the wall. Sure enough, the sound of his shoes coming back toward her bedroom sounded. Her pulse began to thrum. What if he continued coming and found her here, hiding?
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