He watched as she approached the tall iron-wrought fence and faltered, not knowing how to proceed. He stayed a few steps behind, smirking as he said, “There’s a more accessible gate just to your left.”
Amelia stiffened, giving him a small nod without looking back, then made her way to the gate. The sight humored him. He never would have guessed that the lady who cowered and shook during the night of the ball could be so stubborn. Though he supposed this was the same lady who had thrown herself at him when she knew others would be watching.
The memory sobered him up. Gideon said nothing as he followed her the rest of the way across the gravel driveway and then up the steps of the porch. The grand door of the castle swung open as she approached and Thomas stood there to greet her.
“Your Grace. Welcome,” Thomas bowed deeply. Caught off guard, Amelia took an uncertain step back.
“Good morning,” she replied with a touch of unease.
Thomas straightened, graciously swept to the side, and gestured for her to enter. Amelia stepped over the threshold, glancing back when Gideon came close enough to follow directly behind her.
“I hope you’ll find this new home to your liking, dear,” Gideon remarked. He leaned casually against the door frame, tucking his hands into his pockets as he watched Amelia put a few feetof distance between them. Now that they had entered the vast entryway, she clearly didn’t know where to go.
“Thank you,” she answered. The short walk must have bolstered her courage because she didn’t look away from him this time. “Where will I be sleeping?”
“I have prepared a bedchamber for you,” Gideon replied, a playful glint in his eye. “Though I wonder if you will be making much use of it.”
She clenched her fists, shaking her head. “I would much rather sleep alone, if that is what you are inferring.”
“Alone?” Gideon pouted, but Amelia’s eyes only sharpened in response. “You break my heart. Very well. Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, will show you to your private quarters.”
On cue, Mrs. Jones stepped forward, offering Amelia a deep bow.
“Your belongings will be delivered to your rooms shortly,” Gideon continued. “Considering the early start to your day, feel free to rest or acquaint yourself with the castle. The servants are at your disposal.”
“Thank you.” Amelia stiffly turned away from him and waited a beat for Mrs. Jones to begin leading the way. Gideon watched her ascend the bifurcated staircase, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within. The day was young, but it already felt endless.
With a sigh, he turned and made his way out of the castle, intending to assist with the jammed gate. It would be a welcome distraction until he could figure out what he needed to do next.
Sadly, fixing the gate did not take as long as he’d hoped and Gideon found himself in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey he was in no mood for. He reclined in his chair, propping his legs up on his desk, and swirled the amber liquid slowly as his mind drifted back to the lady now occupying his home.
He didn’t know how to feel about being here. Ever since he inherited the dukedom, Gideon had spent more time in the streets of London, sleeping at his apartment in Mayfair. The castle bore the weight of countless memories, and he'd only willingly return for specific reasons—like hosting the annual ball.
Yet, Amelia's arrival meant another night under this roof. Far too many nights, in his opinion, where the bitter memories of his past seemed to grow more oppressive with each passing day. He had to rid himself of his new wife, if only to go back to his life of pleasure and revenge.
A knock sounded on the door and Thomas entered the study a moment later. “Yes, Your Grace?”
Gideon didn’t shift his gaze from his whisky. “Is the Duchess settling in well?”
“I believe so, Your Grace. Her belongings are in order, and she toured the western wing briefly before she expressed a desire to rest.”
“I see. That’s good.” Gideon set down the glass. “That isn’t the only reason I called for you. There’s a very important task I need you to undertake. And… best to keep it discreet.”
“What might that be, Your Grace?”
“I need you to find out anything you can about her family, their history, just anything that could be odd or peculiar.”
Thomas didn’t even blink. “Certainly. Might I inquire about the nature of your interest?”
Gideon swung his legs down from his desk, rubbing his hand over his stubble. “There has to be a reason why she was so desperate to marry. I refuse to believe that she simply felt as if she was running out of time.”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
Gideon stretched, feeling the strain of the day on his shoulders. “Also, now that Amelia is here, there will need to be a few changes for the upcoming weeks, but I shall brief you on them further another time. I need to unwind for now, so I’ll be heading to the library shortly.”
Thomas dipped a graceful bow. “Understood, Your Grace,” he repeated. He didn’t leave right away. “In your absence, some correspondence arrived for you. I left them on your desk and have noticed they have gone untouched.”
Gideon’s gaze trailed to the left of his polished mahogany desk where a neat pile of letters rested. He sighed. He was in no mood for that right now, but duty seldom abided by his whims.
