Authors: Kate Pearce
curls would feel under his hand. For the first time in a long while his future seemed
open to endless possibilities.
“Anthony? Are you ready to leave?”
Lady Jane stood in the doorway to the main salon and beckoned imperiously to
Antonia. With a last, hasty glance down the corridor, she straightened her cravat and
sauntered across to her cousin. Jane’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. For the first
time, Antonia realized exactly why her cousin was so invigorated.
“Are you ready to go, my lady?” She swept Jane a bow and gladly placed a hand on
her sleeve. “In truth, I have seen enough and I am eager for my bed.”
Jane glanced at her and winked. “Mr. Maxwell. Did you not find something
interesting to do to pass the time?”
An image of Lord Gideon Harcourt’s patrician features flashed across Antonia’s
mind. “Alas, no. I did exactly as you told me and stayed put in the main salon.”
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Jane pinched her. “Then where were you when I looked for you?”
Antonia grinned as she assisted Jane into their carriage.
“I was right there, Janey. The question is where were you? And exactly what were
you doing in such an appalling place?”
Jane flushed as she settled her skirts on the seat. “It is not an appalling place. It is
the height of fashion. And even you must guess why I go there. My dear husband is
seventy. I’m only thirty. He can no longer offer me any bed sport and I need it.”
Antonia frowned at her cousin. “All I saw were a large number of scantily dressed
persons of quality behaving inappropriately in a public setting.”
“La! Antonia, you sound more like our grandmother every day.” Jane fanned
herself vigorously. “Just because you choose to behave like a Puritan, do not expect
everyone else to.”
“I’m sorry, coz.” Antonia leaned forward and patted Jane’s knee. “I know your life
is not easy. It was just a shock to see…”
“People enjoying themselves?” Jane didn’t seem to be mollified.
Antonia sighed. She had been in London for three weeks and its customs and loose
morals still bewildered her. Perhaps Jane was right and she had become a fussy old
maid. At twenty-six she believed she was long past the age to dream of marriage and a
family. But it seemed that fate, in the shape of her grandmother and cousin Charles, had
decreed otherwise.
“It was a fascinating experience, Jane, and I thank you for allowing me to
accompany you.”
Jane glared at her over the top of her fan. “You said that you wanted to understand
my life. You said you were bored being a provincial nobody.”
Antonia winced. “I didn’t quite put it like that, but yes, I did say I wanted to try
new things.” She smoothed her cravat. “And I always enjoy dressing as a man.” She
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Antonia’s Bargain
remembered the press of Gideon Harcourt’s legs against hers, the way he’d cupped her
mound and rubbed his fingers against her heat.
The carriage stopped and Antonia waited for the footman to let down the steps. She
helped Jane out and escorted her inside. After wishing her cousin goodnight, she took
herself off to her bedroom. With a sigh, she slipped off the coat and shirt Jane had
borrowed from her husband’s wardrobe.
In the mirror, the white linen that bound her breasts made her skin look even paler.
She slowly unwound the bandage. Gideon was right, her nipples were hard. With one
trembling finger, she touched one taut pink peak. How would a man’s mouth feel on
her? She closed her eyes and imagined clutching handfuls of Gideon’s golden hair as
she pressed his mouth to her breast.
She opened her breeches and slid her fingers inside to caress her sex.
Unaccustomed heat swelled in her belly and she opened her legs a little wider to allow
her fingers more room to work. Gideon was so tall he had overwhelmed her
completely, handled her body with an ease and assurance that should have made her
feel helpless but had invigorated her. Pressure built as she rubbed herself until it
became unbearable. Frustration at her failure to ever find completion diluted her
passion and made her want to scream.
Did she dare meet Gideon again? She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection.
In the mirror she looked as wanton as the Fairy Queen as she had sucked her lover’s
cock. With a shudder, Antonia removed the rest of her clothing and dressed in a
demure white nightgown. She climbed into bed. Her solitary life in rural Wales had
shielded her from temptation for too long.
Until she’d told Gideon Harcourt about her sexual ignorance, she hadn’t realized
how angry she felt about her family’s ambitions to marry her off. None of them had
expected her to be left such a large personal legacy from her grandmother. Before that,
they’d been quite content to leave her moldering in the old manor house acting as her
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grandmother’s sole companion and nurse. Now everything had changed and her cousin
Charles intended her to wed a man who could help further his political ambitions.
She recalled Gideon’s bold offer. Her London cousins didn’t know her very well.
Despite her serene appearance, her upbringing had scarcely been conventional. Her
widowed father had let her run wild and she’d been ignored by her grandmother until
she became too frail to care for herself. She’d spent half her life dressed in breeches. It
was difficult for her to remember that women were supposed to act as if they were frail
and needed a man’s support. Would Gideon really allow her to experience the
unknown, intriguing world of a
tonnish
gentleman? It would be an excellent way to
discover how the men who aspired to her hand behaved without their womenfolk
around them.
Antonia shivered and curled up into a tight ball. She wasn’t prepared to play the
dutiful unmarried innocent. She had her own money and deserved to decide exactly
what her marriage would entail before she entered into it. In truth, if she could not find
a suitable gentleman to agree to her proposal, she hoped to avoid it all together. If all
her female relations, except Jane, chose to remain tight-lipped about the marriage-bed,
she would find out for herself. She sighed into the frigid air. Perhaps with a little help
from a tall elegant man with a dangerous smile.
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Antonia’s Bargain
Chapter Two
“Sir, I am not trying to be difficult.”
Gideon tried to unclench his jaw as his father, Viscount Harcourt DeVere, paced the
narrow strip of carpet behind his desk. It was difficult not to feel like a child again when
the study brought back so many memories, most of them unpleasant. If he looked
closely, the front trim of the mahogany desk still bore the indentations of his fingernails
where he’d been bent over to receive a particularly severe beating.
“You have made no effort to find a new wife.”
“Caroline has only been dead a year. I hardly think that is a long time.”
His father snorted. “Don’t try and pretend you are still in mourning for her.”
“A year of mourning is considered customary these days. She was a troubled
woman, Father. And in truth, I regret her passing.”
His father halted, hands clasped behind his back. “Why? She was no credit to you.”
Gideon drew a deep steadying breath. “Caroline found life very difficult. I wish I
could have done more to make her happy.”
“She was a promiscuous bitch.”
Gideon hoped his father had no idea just how low his wife had sunk before her
death. At the time of her suicide, she’d been pregnant with another man’s child. He
glared at his father. “That was uncalled for.”
The viscount sat down behind his desk, his expression fierce. “So slashing her
wrists and coming down dressed in her best white gown to display herself to your
dinner guests didn’t discompose you? I was there, dammit. I saw your face.”
“Perhaps Caroline chose a rather melodramatic way to end her life but she was
obviously distressed and not behaving quite as she ought.” How in God’s name had he
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ended up defending his wife? He should be in the diplomatic corps with Gervase
negotiating with the French.
“Pah! She was as mad as a hatter.” The viscount offered Gideon a brandy he was
glad to accept. “Anyway, to get back to my original point. It is time for you to consider
marrying again.”
Gideon prayed for patience. “After enduring the first wife you chose for me, I am a
little reluctant to allow you to interfere and choose my second.”
“I don’t care whom you choose, dear boy, as long as she is presentable. I just want
you to marry. The succession must be secured.” There was an almost fanatical glint in
his father’s eye as he thumped his desk, making the brandy slosh out of his glass.
“Gervase is married. Mary is married,” Gideon said. “You will have more
grandchildren than you need soon.”
“Gervase chose to marry Eden Carstairs. She might well be barren. Your sister
Mary’s children will bear another man’s name and inherit another man’s title. You are
my eldest son. Our lineage has remained intact, handed down from father to son for
over two hundred years. I don’t intend to break it.”
It always came back to that. Gideon’s grandfather was the Marquess of Valdemare,
an ancient title Gideon stood to inherit after the death of his father, the current heir.
Harcourt Hall was over four hundred years old and looked more like a medieval
fortress than a stately home. Gideon loved every brick and stone of it. The estate was as
much a part of him as his twin and just as embedded in his soul.
If Caroline hadn’t chosen to end her life so dramatically, Gideon would’ve been
happy to raise her child as his own. He’d told her as much but that had infuriated her
even more. She hadn’t wanted his sympathy and understanding. He stared morosely
into his brandy glass. The weight of his heritage and the need for an heir was a burden
and a curse when his sexual proclivities were far wider than was considered acceptable.
He glanced up to find his father watching him. The viscount was no fool. Rumors of
Gideon’s sexual tastes must have filtered through to him.
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Antonia’s Bargain
“What if I choose to remain single?”
“And allow someone else to inherit what should belong to your children?”
Gideon shrugged. “By the time it happens I’ll be dead and so will you. Would I
really care if Mary’s children, the Babbington–Thomases, became masters of Harcourt
Hall?”
The viscount got to his feet, his gray eyes full of disdain. “I dislike your flippant
attitude, Gideon. And yes, I believe you would care far more deeply than you are
letting on.” He leaned across the desk and swiped the brandy glass from Gideon’s
hand. “I will bid you good day, sir.”
Realizing it was his cue to leave, Gideon pushed back his chair.
“I will think on what you have said.”
His father didn’t bother to reply as he started to open his mail. Gideon let himself
out of the house and headed for his club. At least there he might shake off the feeling
that he was five again. It began to rain as he skirted the corner of the square and looked
for a hackney cab. He wished Gervase was here, but his brother was on the other side of
the English Channel engaged in diplomatic work or busy fucking his enchanting wife.
Gervase would probably laugh at him and tell him to do what he liked and
damnation to their father. Gideon envied his twin who had married against their
father’s wishes and was deliriously happy. Gervase had no notion of the burden Gideon
carried as the heir.
A cab clattered up and Gideon climbed in and directed the driver to White’s.
Perhaps it was simply a matter of waiting his father out. He grinned at the thought of
his father stubbornly refusing to die before he was presented with an heir.
His smile died and he stared out of the mud-spattered window. In the narrow
social world of the
ton
, love matches like that of his twin were uncommon. Most of the
women he encountered were perfectly willing to indulge his sexual appetites and
expect nothing in return. In truth, until he’d encountered Anthony Smith, he’d assumed
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that no woman would ever arouse him again. Her open curiosity and her naiveté in a
jaded, corrupt society captivated him from the first.
What was that quaint French expression? Ah yes,
un coup de foudre
, the lightning
bolt of love or possibly pure lust. He grimaced. Now he sounded like a third-rate actor
from a Drury Lane farce. Still, the thought of marrying another of his father’s choices
had to be faced and preferably avoided. Since his wife’s death, he’d deliberately
allowed the more male part of his sexuality free rein. Could it be that his horror of
becoming embroiled in another damaging liaison had tempered his desire to have
anything approaching a relationship with a woman at all?
Gervase would call him a coward for being unwilling to take a risk and find out if
his unnamed new companion was worth loving. Gideon sighed. What the hell was he
doing, worrying about happy ever after when he didn’t even know her name? She
might regret her experiences at Madame’s and he might never see her again. But