Honora lowered her gaze. “We don’t need to talk about…before.”
“Yes, we do, Honora. There is no sense in avoiding it.” A puff of air—due to frustration, she thought—came from between his lips. “I make no excuse for my poor behavior in accepting a wager to dance with the most unattractive girl Anabeth could find.”
She pushed away from him, suddenly not wishing to hear anything further. It was painful for her to relive that night. Remember the pathetic creature she’d once been, one who’d readily been manipulated into marrying Culpepper because she’d been so devastated.
“I know all about Tarrington’s wager. You were so horrified at me, poor, lovesick creature that I was, you feared I might follow you about in an attempt to be compromised.” Her voice raised an octave. “So you fled London as soon as possible to avoid such an unwelcome instance.” She pushed against his chest. “While I was left with no other option but to marry Culpepper, who cared not a fig for me, only my father’s copper mines.”
He pulled her roughly against his chest. “I was thoughtless. Arrogant. I accepted a wager to dance with the most unattractive girl Anabeth could bring me, yes. But she broughtyou. A young lady Idid notfind repulsive in the least.”
“You don’t have to say that given—”
“I’ve spent most of the night between your thighs?”
She shrugged and became immersed in the pattern of dark hair on his chest.
“I was only supposed to dance with you,” he continued in a quiet tone. “That was the wager. Not indulge in a spirited discussion with the most interesting young lady I’d ever met. One I didn’t find nearly as unappealing to me as Anabeth assumed. I was under no obligation to bring you out on the terrace once the dance ended. My journey to South America had already been planned, and leaving had nothing to do with you despite the rumors Tarrington spread.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I nearly kissed you that night.”
“Because I was so beautiful?” She snorted derisively.
“No,” he replied honestly. “You were awkward and uncomfortable in your own skin. Your hair was a mess. But I—did you not feel it? When we danced that night? I honestly don’t know what would have happened if I’d stayed in England.”
Honora took a deep breath. “Please don’t lie. There isn’t any reason to.” It was far easier, especially at this moment, for her to pretend she’d never been Miss Drevenport.
“I’m not lying to you. What bloody reason would I have to do so now? I’ve already seduced you.”
“The seduction was mutual, but very well, I see your point,” she said grudgingly.
“I was ashamed of what had happened, but I did not try to make things right, though I’m not sure what I could have done at that point but beat Tarrington senseless. But what you did to him was far more fitting.” A sigh escaped him. “I never forgotyou, Honora. Not your intelligence or your bloodthirsty nature. The image of you that night faded in time; all that came to mind was a wild, barely constrained tangle of fuzzy hair, and eyes the color of jade. But when I saw you again—” His finger trailed down her cheek. “As beautiful as the Widow Culpepper looked in that crimson gown, it was Miss Drevenport I wanted. I remembered how you made me feel, here.” His hand pressed to his heart. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”
Honora did understand. It was why the scars he bore didn’t bother her in the least. Why she’d never been able to forget Gideon, no matter how hard she’d tried. “Is this the end of your groveling?”
“No. It will continue for some time. Years, probably. Much of it will be done naked.” He gently rubbed his nose to hers. “At least now I know why I survived the black caiman, why even when the pain was so fierce I wished to die and just be left to rot in the jungle, I struggled to live.”
“Why?” She smiled against his chest.
“For you. For this. It is worth any price I had to pay.”
Honora held his gaze, wishing she could see, despite how the room wasn’t bright enough, the sparkle of amber in his eyes. There were so many things she adored about him. The high cheekbones, the tiny scar beneath one ear that she still hadn’t inquired about, the brush of dark hair along his jaw. His sense of adventure. His brilliance.
But it was hisheartHonora loved most of all.
“I forgive you, Gideon Lawrence, Earl of Southwell. For Tarrington. Culpepper. All of it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Gideon’s carriage rolledthrough the quiet streets of London just as the sky was turning pink. It would be dawn soon. Honora looked up at the house she shared with her mother-in-law, though she would not do so for much longer. Having decided earlier to vacate the premises and forever close the Culpepper chapter of her life, now she had more incentive to do so. Her own home, where she could be as indiscreet with Gideon as she wished, would suit her better.
Gideon had made it very clear to Honora, as he’d taken her roughly this morning when she’d been barely awake, that the Widow Culpepper was no longer on the market, so to speak.
Honora smiled to herself. She adored possessive Gideon.
She’d managed to deter him from the insistence he see her home. Bad enough Honora was arriving before the sun was fully up, in a strange carriage. The sight would practically announce she’d spent the night with a lover. If her neighbors caught sight of Gideon, the gossip would be enormous.
He’d grumbled but had given in to her.
Honora, for her part, had some things she needed to make clear to Gideon as well. The first being that the Widow Culpepper, despite the gossip, had never taken any other man to her bed save the Earl of Southwell, and Culpepper, of course. She hadn’t felt as if it needed to be said, as surely Gideon could tell Honora wasn’t…experienced, so to speak. But in the spirit of starting fresh with each other, she meant to be honest when she saw him again.
Gideon had promised, as he’d bid her goodbye with a kiss on the tip of her nose, that he would send a note later. They would talk more. Dine together if she wished. There was a lovely map he wanted her to see, but it must be looked at while they were both naked.
