Kasey Michaels - The Regency Redgraves - What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

Gideon held out his right hand and shook the other man’s hand warmly. “Thank you, Richard. I believe I can manage from here, although you could wish me luck.”

“Sir?”

Gideon had made his decision. He’d come to it in a flash of understanding halfway through Richard’s recitation. How brave she’d been to offer herself up to gain her brother, when all she knew of men was pain and humiliation. Why she had reacted as she had when he’d taken her to bed…the hesitation, the moments when he’d felt she’d gone away from him to someplace in her mind…and then the surprised passion, the reluctant and then, finally, eager giving. It could all have ended in disaster, but it hadn’t. It had been the most memorable, soul-shaking night of his life. More so now than ever.

“Go pack your belongings, Uncle Richard. You and your widowed niece and whomever else you choose to bring with you are to be situated in Portman Square yet today. I’ll have my town coach sent round at five. The tongues will wag mightily once the betrothal is posted in the newspapers, sure I’ve some dastardly plan to wrest the nincompoop’s inheritance from him by wedding his half sister, but I think we can withstand that. After all, it’s nothing more than most of them would expect from a Redgrave.”

“You’re going to…to marry her, your lordship?” Then Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“If I had the answer to that question, my dear fellow, I would sleep much better tonight. Or never sleep again. I only know you’re a fine man, but from this day forward, Jessica is in my care, and God help the man who would try to hurt her. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course!” Richard grabbed Gideon’s hand this time, in both of his, pumping it up and down in some agitation. “Not many men would do the honorable thing, sir, knowing what happened to her.”

“I’m not many men, Richard. In point of fact, I may just now be discovering exactly who I am.”

He extracted his hand from Richard’s hearty grip, not without effort, and headed for the stairs. Now to tell Jessica what he’d decided. He doubted her reaction would mirror that of her uncle .

When he entered the small sitting room, it was to see her tucked into a corner of the couch, her head bent low, her knees tucked up almost to her chin. She’d taken the pins from her glorious red hair, so that it hung down, nearly obscuring her face. Her hands were clasped together around her shins, her bare feet poking out from beneath the hem of the simple yellow gown. It was as if she was trying to make herself small, trying to disappear inside herself. A…defensive position. Habit, he supposed, adopted during her time with James Linden. One he could only hope to break.

At the sound of the door closing behind him, she pushed back her hair and tilted her head to watch him as he crossed the room and sat down beside her. “I assumed you would have thought better of it and gone on your way,” she said before turning her face forward once more, to continue staring at whatever it was she saw in front of her…either the fireplace, or her past. He felt fairly certain it was the latter.

Gideon extracted a white linen square from his pocket and held it up in front of her. “Blow your nose.”

“I don’t need to—” She snatched the handkerchief and did what he asked. And not very daintily.

Stupidly, he felt himself smiling. Young and innocent…older than time itself . Yes, Richard had that one correctly, didn’t he?

“Thank you,” she said after wiping at her tearwet face and just before nearly handing him back the handkerchief before pocketing it. “I’ll see that Doreen washes and presses it for you.”

“I think my grandmother likes you,” he said after they’d both stared at the fireplace for some time.

“I don’t care.”

“Not many people would dare to speak to her the way you did.”

“Perhaps more should. She’s the worst sort of tyrant. She’s likable.”

“She’s also quite intelligent,” Gideon said, lifting his legs and crossing them one ankle over the other on the low table in front of the couch. He was, after all, a man who enjoyed his comforts. “Or don’t you think so?”

“Intelligent? Yes, definitely. And devious. She wasn’t going to tell us anything until I’d told her things I’ve never said to anyone save Richard.”

“Quid pro quo . I did warn you.”

Jessica sighed and made use of the handkerchief once again. “And Richard? You were downstairs for a long time. What did he tell you, and what did you tell him in return? Or did you simply bully an old man?”

Gideon picked a bit of lint off the knee of his fawn breeches. “I know now how James Linden died, and Richard now knows you and I are to be married. He didn’t say it outright, but from the way he pumped my hand until I thought it might fall off, I believe we have his blessing.”

And then he waited for the explosion, outwardly calm and relaxed, inwardly tense and taut as the string on a cocked crossbow.

The explosion never came.

“Yes, I thought that might be the case. Either you left, which most men would have done, or you’d concoct some ridiculous notion that your father was indirectly responsible for what happened to me and you see yourself as doing penance for his sin.”

“Is that what I’m doing? Really? I’ve never seen myself as the penitent sort.”

“I doubt many would disagree with you,” she said quietly. “But I saw your face as the dowager countess was speaking, telling us things I already knew but you couldn’t know. My father is responsible for what happened to me. My father, and…and my husband. They’re both dead. It’s over, Gideon, and I simply want to get on with my life. I’ve seen more of the world than most people will and enjoyed many of my travels. Richard and I have managed to save a considerable sum toward the inn we’re going to own one day. I’m content as I am, and you are not responsible for me. To think otherwise would be ludicrous.”

“Penitent and ludicrous. Not the usual words to follow a marriage proposal, not that you haven’t already turned down what you’ve not allowed me to yet offer.”

“Don’t be agreeable,” she said, lowering her head to her knees. “It doesn’t come naturally to you.”

No, it didn’t; Gideon rather liked the idea of being the oldest son, the earl. He enjoyed getting his own way. Clearly Jessica hadn’t just learned to read the cards during her time standing behind Linden’s shoulder. She’d also learned to read people. That she’d even allowed him to sit down next to her was a wonder. “All right. Then let’s at least be honest. Give me your hand. I mean that in the literal sense. Let me see your hand. Both of them, actually. Then I’ll go.”

She lifted her head, her eyes dark with tears. “Richard gossips like an old woman,” she said, sighing. “And you’re lying, just like your grandmother.”

“Probably. It would appear to be one of a myriad of unflattering family traits. In all honesty, there are more. Now show me. Please.”

She lowered her legs and shifted her position toward him, turning over her hands to expose her wrists. He saw the scars, a thin line running just below the base of each palm.

“Sweet Jesus.”

Jessica retracted her hands, folding them neatly in her lap. “And now you want the story, don’t you?”

Gideon shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to tell it, no.”

She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other. “My stepmother’s jewelry, most of it, wasn’t where I’d supposed, so what with hiring coaches and booking passage for two of us, the pittance James was forced to take wasn’t going to last long at all. It would seem nobody believed he hadn’t stolen the pieces, and the prices he was offered weren’t nearly as wonderful as he’d hoped.”