by Jaimey Grant
“Nothing is ever your fault, Giddy. I wish you would stop believing that it is your job to fix everything. Some things cannot be fixed.” She sighed and looked away. “Indeed, perhaps some things are better left the way they are.”
Lady Samantha left the room with as much dignity as a queen. Wolf stood, following her out without so much as excusing himself. His rudeness was the least of Malvina’s current worries.
Gideon sat so still beside her that Malvina wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
“Gideon?”
“Go to bed, my lady,” he said dully.
“Gideon, I—”
“Go to bed, Lady Malvina.”
Malvina stood hesitantly, not wanting to leave him in such an odd state. “Gideon, let me—”
He looked directly at her, dark gold eyes flashing with anger, annoyance, and…something else.
“Go to bed, Malvina, or I will take you to bed,” he threatened in a soft tone that promised dire consequences should she refuse.
It was then she understood the glint in his eyes. His upset could quickly translate into some other emotion entirely if she tested his patience. It was not to her own bed he would take her.
Something thrilling shot through her body. Part of her wanted very much to test him, wanted to find out what it would be like to be with him. But the other half, the sensible half, was scared out of her wits by the deadly threat in his tone and wanted nothing more than escape. She paid heed to her sensible side and fled his overwhelming presence.
Gideon sat in brooding silence for nearly an hour. He stared at the piano where Samantha had recently played her heart out and wondered what had come over him to make such a hurtful remark.
He supposed it was all spurred by guilt. No matter what his sister believed, it was his fault that she was so horribly scarred. If he and his friend, Trent, had not been conducting experiments with sulphuric acid, she would never have mistaken it for plain water.
He leaned forward, covering his face in his hands. Dearest God in heaven, she was only eight when it happened!
His stupidity had robbed her of her beauty, a stunning loveliness that was already apparent at such a tender age. If Trent hadn’t been there to pull her away…
Gideon shuddered. It could have killed her. After days of fever and sickness, the child had finally recovered, the healing scars a constant reminder of exactly how careless he’d been. He’d never spoken to Trent again, but that was something he’d have to right very soon. Trent’s part in the mishap carried consequences of a different sort. He’d betrothed himself to Samantha, promising to marry her when she came of age. It was the least he could do, he’d said, considering it was through their negligence that she’d be unlikely to contract a suitable alliance.
Standing, Gideon paced over to the pianoforte and sat down, running his hands over the keys. His fingers found the notes just recently played by his sister, the melancholy tune that had so moved Lady Malvina Brackney.
It was a piece he knew from memory. It was unnamed, composed by an amateur who had much time on his hands and much sorrow in his heart.
Gideon wondered if it accurately told Samantha how very sorry he was for hurting her.
It was three days later, nearly one week into her visit to Moorview Park, just when she thought perhaps he had forgotten her or decided it would no longer do to blackmail her, that Malvina received word from That Man.
She sat in the drawing room, unusually alone, when one of Gideon’s many minions entered to inform her that there was a gentleman asking to see her in the gardens. Taken completely by surprise at such a request, Malvina consented to meet the gentleman and followed the servant out.
Just as the servant turned to leave, she asked, “Has my lord been informed?”
The girl shook her head. “No, milady. He asked that no one else be told,” she replied with a curtsy.
Malvina frowned as she wended her way to the gardens at the rear of the house. Who on earth would…?
“My dear Lady Malvina, I’d begun to despair of your ever leaving the house.”
Malvina turned slowly, schooling her features into an expression of blank inquiry. “Sir? I assure you, I have not kept solely to the house. I have no reason to hide, after all.”
They both knew this for a blatant lie but neither commented on it beyond a faux smile of innocence from Malvina and a derisive snort from her companion.
Malvina glared at him. “What do you want from me now? I have done everything you have ever asked of me. Have you not tortured me enough?”
“Not nearly, my dear lady,” he said smoothly. “And now, I have even more reason to require your cooperation.”
“Indeed?”
“I want to know what Lord Holt’s interest is in you,” he replied flatly.
“I have already told you,” she said with some asperity. “The blasted man seems to think he is in love with me.”
“I have no need to tell you, I think, that he is a detriment to my plans.”
Malvina went very still. “What do you plan to do?”
Her companion gave a slow smile. A very malevolent, dangerous smile. “That, my dear, does not concern you.”
Those words haunted her for the rest of the day.
Gideon watched Lord Delwyn Deverell leave. His disappointment knew no bounds, but he was unsure with whom he was most disappointed: Malvina for meeting him and concealing her meetings with the man, or the man for stooping low enough to blackmail a lady.
The Duke of Derringer had warned Gideon once. He had said Lord Delwyn was up to something rotten but Gideon had sloughed it off as something minor, like card-sharping. Treason had surely never occurred to him, but he should have known better than to discount a warning from Derringer. The duke never got himself involved in anyone’s affairs unless it was of great interest to him. Cheating at cards would surely not rate very high on his scale of importance.
This, however, was of military importance, and Malvina Brackney was neck deep into it. He groaned. His own problems were getting in the way of discovering how to help her. He had to put aside his guilt toward Samantha, his growing feelings for Lady Malvina, and get on with tripping up Deverell.
All of which was much easier said than done. Samantha was a constant ache gnawing at his insides. And now, a friend he thought he’d known well was blackmailing the woman for whom he happened to have some very strong feelings.
Damnation.
Attempting a nonchalance that he was far from feeling, Gideon was once again his usual, lazily charming self. As they sat down for an intimate family dinner, he watched Malvina, noticing the many suspicious glances she sent his way. Her unease was revealed in her green eyes, turmoil and insecurity apparent in every movement of her beautiful body.
“How was your afternoon, my dear?” he asked. His pale brows rose when she choked on her roast beef.
Delicately blotting her mouth with her napkin, she forced a smile while her son stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Uneventful. And yours, my lord?”
Gideon frowned. “Uneventful as well, I’m afraid. I fear country life does not suit me. There are too many rats in the grain stores this year and I find such things tedious.”
Did he imagine the slight coloring of his betrothed’s countenance? Or was he so desperate to see a sign of her guilt that he imagined a reaction where there was none?
Guilt would imply that she felt some remorse for her incautious action in meeting her adversary. It mattered little at this point.
Downing his wine, he asked, “Ride with me in the morning?”
Gideon’s hand clenched. Where the devil had that request come from? It was not what he’d intended to say.
Looking startled, Malvina acquiesced.
Annoyed with himself, Gideon shifted the conversation and let Samantha rattle on about her horses for the remainder of the meal.
Malvina awoke to the sounds of her temporary maid, Maddy, entering with chocolate and toast. Yawning, she stretched h
er arms above her head, a sleepy smile tipping her lips. Some secretive delight filled her, an unknown excitement suffusing her limbs until all she wanted to do was smile.
The shining sun and singing birds could not take credit, surely. She glanced toward the window and remembered. She was to go riding with Lord Holt, her betrothed. The mere thought of spending time in his company was enough to send ripples of delight up and down her spine.
And on that thought came the chilling reminder that she barely knew him. She frowned. Exciting or not, the man was secretive and mysterious. She was still unsure exactly what he wanted with her and her son. He wanted to catch That Man but there was something else that had led him to her. It was mere chance that he stumbled upon her during a robbery.
Shaking her head, she set aside her breakfast and rose, smiling as Maddy returned to help her dress. She donned a flattering maroon habit of soft Merino wool with gold frogs in the military style. Her hat was carefully positioned atop her upswept curls.
Satisfied with her appearance, she dismissed the maid. She drew in a deep breath and left the room.
Riding was not Malvina’s strong suit, but she was by no means an amateur. Her feeling for horses was mere indifference, not fear. They were necessary for survival and nothing more.
She wisely kept this opinion to herself when in the company of Lady Samantha, whose deep love for her horses was quite apparent. The child actually had an active role in the breeding and training of her precious animals.
Malvina wondered why the countess allowed her daughter to take part in so indelicate an operation.
Gideon waited for her at the front door. She smiled at him without reserve, realizing she would never be able to think of him as the earl or Holt. His mother called him Holt, but Malvina could see right away that the woman cared more for appearances and “correct behavior” than showing any sort of tenderness toward her children.
Malvina prayed she never felt that way about her own son.
Her betrothed swept her an elegant bow, offering his arm. “You are in looks this fine morning, my dear,” he told her gallantly. Leaning in, he added for her ears alone, “Quite delectable, in fact.”
She blushed, as he’d intended, the beast.
Ignoring her reaction, she said gaily, “Thank you, my lord.”
Moving out into the early morning sun, she asked, “Where do we ride, my lord?” They moved down the steps, approaching two impatiently waiting horses.
“So formal, Malvina,” he intoned, tossing her into the saddle of a beautiful chestnut palfrey. Malvina settled herself as comfortably as possible—how comfortable could one actually be in a sidesaddle?—and smiled down at him.
“Where do we ride, Giddy?”
He scowled at her teasing. “I despise that name. I do wish Sammy would cease using it.”
He mounted his black hunter, and urged the horse to move. Malvina’s animal automatically followed suit. Malvina recognized the animal he rode. It was the same black beast he’d used to rescue her mere weeks ago—a lifetime ago, it seemed. That same black horse who’d traveled with them all the way to Yorkshire, tied behind their carriage. Malvina strongly suspected Samantha wasn’t the only one fond of horses.
“Have you perhaps considered that Lady Samantha despises your appellation for her as much as you despise her appellation for you?”
“Sammy?” She could hear the frown in his tone. Gideon swiveled around to look at her face. “Do you suppose so? I hadn’t thought.”
Malvina urged her horse closer, for the moment oblivious to where they were going. “Sammy is a boy’s appellation. Is it not time to start treating her as the young lady she is?”
Gideon’s face took on a slightly closed expression, the only indication of his feelings visible in his brown eyes. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “I wonder if Sam would agree with you, however.”
“Why would she not?”
“For fear that she may then be required to behave as a lady.”
Malvina’s look of disbelief was almost comical. “I found her to be very ladylike, my lord. In what why could she improve?”
“None,” replied Gideon with a touch of bitterness. “I have little doubt, however, that her pastime of horse breeding may cause some to think less kindly of her.”
Her brow smoothing out in understanding, Malvina confided, “I did wonder how your mother allowed such an interest in her daughter.”
This comment received the opposite reaction that Malvina expected. Lord Holt laughed. Loudly. Enough to startle his companion’s deceptively mild horse into rearing up.
Malvina was not prepared for the horse’s reaction. The animal reared up and as she came back down, her rider did not.
Well, not immediately anyway.
Showing how very alert he actually was, Gideon threw himself from his own horse and managed to catch Malvina before she struck the ground. She struck him hard enough, however, to send them both tumbling into the grass.
Gideon, of course, received the brunt of the impact. He grunted as his back connected with ground that appeared softer than it actually was. Malvina sprawled on top of him, an inelegant heap of woman who struggled to breathe. Whoever would have thought landing on a man could feel as though one smacked a stone?
Face and tone clouded with concern, the man beneath her asked, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, more emphatically than necessary, causing an extra bit of dizziness. Pausing, she assured him she was unhurt.
Gideon’s eyes roved over her delicate features, searching for signs of injury. He shoved his hands through her red curls, searching her head for bumps, effectively ruining her coiffure and knocking her hat to the ground. Malvina couldn’t help but smile at the visible relief on his face when he realized she was quite well.
Her smile disappeared. Lord Holt was suddenly staring into her eyes, his expression deadly serious. Becoming aware of her position—Dear heavens, she was lying on him like a wanton!—Malvina gasped.
Seeking to brace herself, Lady Brackney placed her hands on the earl’s shoulders. Her eyes widened. No wonder it felt as though she’d struck rock! The muscles of his upper body were solid stone. Malvina struggled to free herself, embarrassed that she felt breathless all over again for a very different reason.
Gideon pinned her to his chest with one arm while the other hand entangled in her soft hair. He proceeded to kiss her senseless.
Malvina’s bones turned to liquid, her body melting into his as he plundered her mouth. She no longer cared that they lay in an open meadow, their mounts chomping grass a few feet away. All she cared about, in that moment, was the man beneath her, threatening to send her entire being up in flames.
It was his horse who recalled them to their surroundings. He impatiently nudged his master in the shoulder, nibbled on Gideon’s hat, then pawed the ground right near the man’s head. When that was ineffective, the horse nudged Malvina hard enough to knock her to the ground.
“Oooo!”
Unfortunately, Gideon’s hand was still tangled in her hair.
“A moment, my dear,” he murmured, trying to gently disengage himself without hurting her further. He smiled at her when he managed the task, his lips twitching suspiciously as he sat up.
Shoving the horse’s nose away from his face, he offered Malvina his hand, helping her sit up as well. Her dark red locks fell all around her face, obscuring her expression. He suspected she was a trifle embarrassed.
When her shoulders started to shake, he was alarmed for her. Was she hurt, after all?
He pulled her hands away from her face. “What is it?” Smoothing the hair from her eyes, he searched for signs of injury again, thinking perhaps he had missed something earlier. Indeed, perhaps she had been hurt by Black. At the thought, he was a little alarmed at the feeling of rage he felt for his horse.
Malvina laughed. “I am quite all right, Gideon, truly. It is merely…it is all so funny!”
He sat back. “Funny, is it?”
“Yes.” She spread her arms, encompassing everything around them, from the grass beneath them to the complacent horse standing nearby. “This. Everything. I did everything I was ever instructed to do. From the time I was born, I was ever the dutiful daughter, the faithful wife, the loving mother. I never varied. I never changed. I did what was expected, what was ordered, and what was necessary.” She shook her head. “All for naught. No matter what I do, it is not the right thing.”
Gideon listened carefully, hearing far more in her diatribe than she intended to reveal. He understood her a little better and was disgusted with what she’d been through, and the fact that he’d put her through a little more.
It was not much different for other women of their station and those raised to enter their station. Women were not taught to think for themselves. Heaven forbid one of them tell her husband or father that she was not pleased with his tyranny!
“You really ought to read Wollstonecraft, my love.”
Her wide green eyes reflected her total shock at his words. The works of Mary Wollstonecraft had been forbidden in her father’s and her husband’s homes. Both men had thought the woman was a meddler, troublemaker, and no better than she should be.
Malvina’s mother had done little to counter such beliefs, feeling it was easier to just do as one was told instead of thinking too much about it. One wouldn’t want to injure the weak female brain, after all.
Malvina had heard bits and pieces about Mary Wollstonecraft over the years, knew she had had a relationship with a man to whom she was not married. This fact disgusted Malvina enough to avoid anything the woman had ever written.
Gideon’s comments on her own seeming innocence although widowed were not far off. She’d only ever known her husband intimately and she firmly believed those intimacies were reserved for marriage.