Martha Schroeder (25 page)

“You do not have to accept us, you know.” Finally Serena came up to him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she smiled at him. “You can leave here if you wish and never return.” She put her hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes. “It will not make the slightest difference. I will continue to love you just as I have for all these years. Only now I will know that you are safe, and successful and, I think, loved as well.” Her smiling glance met Amelia’s sober gaze. “So I have been given what I needed, my dear. Now I know whom to pray for.”

Her lips touched his cheek, and Gideon felt his heart crack open, spilling all the fear and pain. Desperately he clung to his mother. “Where were you?” he cried. “Where were you when I needed you? When I cried for you? When I was hungry and cold? I called and called ‘Mama,’ and you never came.”

By the time he finished, the tears he had suppressed for so long were trickling down his face, which was contorted with pain and anger. Serena took him in her arms and pressed her face to his, mingling their tears.

“Oh, my dear one, I know. I felt your tears, I knew that you were unhappy and in danger. So many times I felt desperation and fear and knew the emotions were yours.” Tears choked her voice, but she clung to him and turned her face to his. “I tried so hard to find you. We all did. Your father never gave up, not until the day he died. Because we knew that you could be hurt and in trouble. And you were, you were. Oh, God, and we did not help you. You are right. I did not help.” She could not go on.

But Richard marched across the room, took her out of Gideon’s grasp, and sat her down. Jane, always ready to help those in pain, came over swiftly and knelt by her chair. Richard held out a glass of brandy, and Jane took it, thanking him with a smile. She held it and told Serena gently to drink. With trembling hands Serena took the glass and sipped.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to break down like this.” She looked up at Gideon, her eyes pleading with him. “You will have to forgive us.”

“Damn it, we did everything we could to find him. We have never stopped trying.” Richard turned from Serena’s crumpled figure to Gideon, standing like a statue, looking at nothing. “Serena has spent her life looking for you. It was not her fault the damn gypsies made off with you. She has nothing to apologize for. You are talking like a child.”

“I was a child,” Gideon reminded him, still refusing to look at anyone.

“True. But you’re a grown man now, and this woman is your mother. She loves you. She has always loved you.” Sir Richard’s anger reached out and beat on Gideon’s already battered senses in waves. It was more than anger. He could sense disdain as well. “And she deserves more from you than childish recriminations for not being more than human and finding you when no one could. Damn it, Gideon, for once think of someone who loves you instead of yourself!”

“I am sorry if I have not thanked you properly for killing the fatted calf in my honor.” Gideon could hear his own voice as if it came from somewhere beyond his body. It was the same unreal sense of himself he had when he was wounded. With calm surprise he noted that the wound in his head had started to throb. He touched the bandage and felt a warm stickiness. He was Weeding, it seemed. “I believe if you will all excuse me, I will say good night.” He turned on his heel with military precision, and left the room.

Chapter Nineteen

The evening ended soon afterward. Jane saw Serena to her room and instructed her maid to put her to bed and call Jane if there was any need during the night. She advised a soothing infusion of chamomile tea to help her sleep, and left quietly. Richard awaited her in the corridor.

“Is she all right do you think, Jane?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I think she will sleep. She is concerned for Gideon, not for herself.”

“Yes, that is Serena. Always thinking of others.” Richard smiled down at Jane, who was unable to smile in return.

“If you will excuse me—” she said, and tried to slip away without saying anything more. When your heart is breaking, she realized, all you want to do is crawl away and hide like an animal in its burrow. Or in this case, your bed.

Richard took her hand, and she did not have the strength to free herself from that warm clasp. “Yes, Jane, you need a good night’s sleep. You have been looking after the Sinclairs for a good while now.” His smile turned rueful, and Jane gazed at him helplessly, unable to look away. “I hope that you can spare a little time tomorrow for this Sinclair. It seems an age since I have had a chance to speak to you in private. Perhaps a drive around the estate? I would like to show you Southbridge.”

“Perhaps.”
Never.
She could not endure any more of his friendship or witness more of his devotion to the beautiful, quiet, ladylike Serena. Serena, who had been his brother’s wife and was thus forbidden to him by the church. Serena, whom he clearly adored. Serena, who was everything Jane Forrester was not and never could be.

“Good night, Jane, and thank you again for all your care.” He raised her hand to his lips, but she could stand no more and snatched it out of his grasp. With cowardice she had not thought herself capable of, she fled down the corridor to the safety and solitude of her room.

* * * *

Several hours later, after the moon had set and there was nothing but silence in the chill watches of the night, Amelia was lying in bed sleepless when she heard her door open and someone step silently into the room.

She knew immediately who it was, but she lay quietly while Gideon approached the bed. He knelt down and looked at her silently for a long moment. At last he reached out a hand and smoothed the curls that lay tumbled about her head, his touch unbearably gentle.

“Gideon,” she whispered.

“I woke you. I am sorry. I meant just to look at you for a moment.” He continued to stroke her hair. “I know I should not be here, Amy, but I needed to be near you.”

Without conscious thought, she reached the small distance to where his hand lay on her coverlet and took it in hers. “I am glad you came. You were bleeding. Are you all right? I have scarcely had a chance to talk to you since—

“Since the world turned upside down.” His smile was wry. “I am fine. A new bandage and I feel as if only four horses had trampled me, rather than the entire regiment’s.”

At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor, she thought. For a while this evening, she had thought he was going to bolt—just mount his horse and leave. One of the advantages of being without ties except to your regiment and one lone female who would not leave you alone is that you could bolt, she thought. Now he was to some extent tethered, at least for a while. He did not look happy about becoming a marquess’s heir.

“How do you feel about it all, Gideon?” she asked.

“Right now all I feel is cold,” he responded. “There is a damnable draft around this floor, Amy.”

“Well ...” She debated inviting him into her bed. She wanted to, there was no doubt about that, but she had compromised him enough already. Not just at the Abbey when they were alone, but in an effort to protect him from Sir Richard. Here, with his family gathered around, was not the place to put him under an obligation to marry.

“If I make up the fire and pull that chair up before the fender, I can wrap us both in your quilts.” He looked at her hopefully. “I would like to hold you, Amy. I need you.”

And, of course, that was enough. She rose and donned a warm wool robe while he put another log on the embers of her fire. A quilt in her arms, she went to the big wing chair that stood by the fire. Gideon held out his arms, and she went to him like an arrow to the target. He wrapped them both together and sat down with her on his lap, her head cradled on his shoulder.

“Oh, Amy, it feels as if I have held you like this forever.” He rubbed his cheek against the silk of her hair. “You are the only sane thing in my life right now. The only person who still feels about me the way you did the day before yesterday.”

“Your friends feel the same, Gideon.” Amelia allowed herself to snuggle against him, needing his warmth and closeness for as long as she could have it.

“My friends do not yet know of the elevation of my fortunes. When they do, it will change how they feel about me. For better or worse, they won’t feel the same about Lord Whoever—’

“Mountjoy,” Amelia murmured. “I think it is the marquess’s secondary title. Sir Richard refused to use it, I believe.”

“Yes, he was knighted for his merits, and only uses that title.” Gideon rubbed his forehead absently.

“You could do the same,” Amelia suggested.

“I could, but since my entire name would be different, I do not think it would help. Francis Sinclair is not Gideon Falconer.” He rubbed his head again, and Amelia reached up to stroke the bandage with cool fingers. He smiled.

“Actually he is. That is what you must remember. You are the same person regardless of your name or title and how many marquesses you are related to.”

He smiled into her hair. “I love you, Amy. You always see things so clearly.

“What?” She jerked out of his arms and turned to look up at him, surprise dark in her cornflower eyes.

“You see things clearly. You understand how difficult it is for me to believe that I am the same person. I feel as if I do not exist. That Gideon and Francis are both just suits of clothes, not men at all.”

He said I love you,
she thought. He could say it just like that and then go on to discuss how he valued her advice!

“Damn you,” she said, beginning to struggle out of his arms.

“What?” He held her where she was and looked at her in consternation. Clearly he had no idea of what he had said.

“You cannot just say ‘I love you’ and then go on to other subjects that apparently interest you more.” She pushed hard against his chest, but his arms tightened in response. “I know you have had a difficult time recently, even though there are many people who would think you should be grateful to have fallen into a tub of butter.”

“And is that what you think?” he asked, his frown formidable. “That I am the most fortunate of gypsies and should keep my tongue behind my teeth and enjoy my good luck?” He almost spat the words.

Had Amelia been less angry herself, she might well have wondered at her foolhardiness. She was sitting on the lap of a very angry man. But she did not care. She answered in the same style. “Do you love me? Or are you just using those words to mean you are fond of me, or happy to have me as your friend? Because if you do not mean them—”

He jerked her against the hard wall of his chest and took her lips with his in a devastating kiss. It wasn’t meant to hurt or overpower, it simply told her what she wanted to know. He wanted her, he delighted in her, he desired her—body and soul. When his lips freed hers, her head was spinning and her heart sang.

“Of course I love you.” He still frowned, and his voice was exasperated, as if she should have known how he felt. And she had known that he cared for her, that he desired her. But love— love had to be acknowledged. What he had said in their dark dower house prison was not necessarily true at Southbridge Castle. What the foundling felt might have been gratitude. What did the earl feel?

“I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. But I have always thought I did not deserve you.” A smile played at the corner of his lips for a moment. “You deserve nothing less than a royal duke.”

Amelia gave a gurgling laugh. “Which of Prinny’s brothers do you fancy in the part, pray? Cumberland perhaps? Or York?”

At the thought of his Amelia legshackled to any of the fat and foolish royal dukes, Gideon had to smile himself. “A fairy-tale prince, then. Do not make fun of me, Amelia. I felt my ineligibility very keenly.”

She leaned her elbow on his chest and looked him sternly in the eye. “And now you think that as an earl and the heir to a marquess you are acceptable? Is that it? You still believe that people are to be judged by their ancestors? I am ashamed of you, Gideon!”

“No, angel, that is the amazing thing. That is what I have come to tell you.” He pulled her back into the warmth and safety of his arms. “Now I know that it does not matter at all. I will be who I am regardless of my circumstances. And I will love you until the day I die and very possibly beyond, so it will do me no good not to claim you. And I do.” He kissed her again, and this time it was passion unleashed. It left Amelia spent, shaking and wanting more.

Gideon’s voice shook, and his hand trembled a little as he ran his fingers down her cheek. “Now I know that you were right all along, and your father and I were wrong. So, angel, I must ask you—”

“My father?” Amelia felt a chill to her bones. “My father never believed that you were unworthy of me. He more than anyone believed in you. He knew—he—”

But the look in Gideon’s eyes told her she was wrong, that somehow she had known her father less well than she had believed.

“Gideon? What makes you think this? Did he say anything to you?”

“Damn my tongue that gets ahead of my brain,” he muttered.

“Gideon?”

“You are not going to let this go, are you?”

“No. What did my father say to you?”

“Amy, you must understand. He was very kind. He was only trying to spare both of us pain. He talked to me very fairly on several occasions so I would know how the world would view your marrying a—a mongrel.”

“That was his word?” She was horrified. “He called you a mongrel?”

“No, no! It was just an example of the kind of talk I would expose you to if I were to presume upon our childish friendship.”

He was quoting the duke, she was sure. She could hear her father in the measured words. “Presume? Presume to marry me? Is that what he said?” The idol she had made of her father had feet of clay. Feet! He was made entirely of clay.

“Do not be angry with him, angel. He meant it for the best. Truly.”

“How can you say so, when he talked to you as if you were not quite human? Or at least not as human as he and I were!” She was furious. She had always believed that her father felt as she did. Her belief in his devotion to the principles of equality had been a part of the fabric of her life. Now it was being ripped apart.