There was fire in her voice suddenly. She had been plaintive and deferential, but now her eyes blazed. Gideon watched her without replying. She held his gaze, and there lay something thrilling in the prolonged stare. He felt that he was being challenged.
Ultimately, he tore his eyes from hers first.
I must be rid of this woman. She knew Aaron from childhood. It must have been during the period that I was in exile. I have no knowledge of her. But if she knew Aaron, then the longer she is around me, the greater the risk of discovery.
“Do you think that I am someone who is attempting to spin a yarn and obtain a place in your good graces. Or in your household?” she sounded outraged and now stood up.
Gideon watched her curiously but kept his interest suppressed. He sensed that the slightest sign of his intrigue would make it harder to be rid of her.
“I do not know. You appear from nowhere. Out of the mists of time. So long ago that I barely remember. You beg for my help…”
“I have notbegged!”
“It is a touch late for pride, don’t you think? After arriving at Spencer’s and pleading for my help in front of my acquaintances, and… by the way, how did we come to be back here?”
He had not questioned it until now, but realization suddenly struck him that he had no memory of the transition from Spencer’s to his house.
“I—I made the carriage driver bring us here,” she answered, chin upturned still. “I told him who you were and he obliged gladly.”
Gideon leaped to his feet and then regretted it. His head spun, and he tottered. Catherine moved to his side and steadied him. His head was full of her perfume, and it seemed to calm him somewhat. At least the spinning subsided. It was a pleasant, mild orange blossom scent. Deliciously feminine and with a hint of innocence.
“I am quite capable of standing,” he bayed, reluctantly disengaging from her.
But the memory of her soft, warm body against his was hard to dislodge. Part of him wanted her close again. He strode, somewhat unsteadily, across the room to where there rested a decanter of brandy and a single glass. He poured himself an unhealthy measure.
“It is inconceivable that the driver will not talk of what he has seen. That the Duke of Winchester was delivered to his home in the company of a woman who was picked up outside Spencer’s. It is known that I am unmarried. The ton will have a field day with this gossip…”
“Perhaps the driver will not wish it to be known that he almost killed the Duke of Winchester,” Catherine put forth, mirroring his worry.
“He will omit that part and deny it if asked,” Gideon snapped, “that rogue Everdon will hear the rumor and put two and two together. Oh, blast, but this is a difficult spot.”
“I am truly sorry for the trouble I have caused you,” Catherine ushered, “I was simply desperate, trying to escape… well, a fate worse than death would not be hyperbole.”
Gideon finished his drink and scoffed, wanting her to see him as unpleasant and cynical. Anything to make her wish to leave.
“I have already given my opinion on that.”
Gough returned with a tray on which he bore a bottle of red wine and two empty glasses. The brandy had not slaked his thirst, and he took up the glass and filled it.
“Inform the stables that the carriage needs to be prepared for two,” he told Gough.
“Very good, Your Grace,” Gough turned smartly on his heel.
“No!” Catherine protested, “You cannot mean—I cannot go back!”
“You will. Or you can wander the streets of London, which you will not reach for an hour on foot. We are closer to Windsor than London here.”
I must be hard as stone. Impervious. No trembling lip or moist eye can sway me. I cannot afford to let it.
I willnotlet it.
CHAPTER 4
The carriage ride to Haventon from Caerleon seemed to take forever and yet was not long enough. Catherine endured it in silence, staring out of the dark window at the night-shrouded countryside. The odor of the night-soil men’s handiwork reached in through the open window until Aaron leaned over her to slam the window shut, irritably.
“I cannot abide that stink,” he groused.
“You used to call it the smell of the country, a sign of healthy land and growing crops,” she whispered, nostalgic for a time when they had laughed together at the outrageously offensive odour after muck had been spread by their tiny boots.
