“A case of mistaken identity, I can assure you,” he smiled politely.
“Then why react the way you did? Why not laugh off the…mistaken identity?” she murmured. “I do not ask this out of anger or even accusation. I ask out of desperation.”
She kept her voice low but intent. Her eyes brimmed with pleading.
“I want to feel safe with someone I can trust.”
Gideon took her hands, felt the flicker of resistance in hers, followed by submission. They were in public after all. They could not be honest in the language of their bodies or in their visible emotions. But she did not squeeze his fingers.
“You can trust me to be a man of honor. To protect you against injustice and cruelty.”
“But not about your identity?” she asked, plaintively.
“I am the Duke of Winchester,” he replied, flatly.
“Aaron Tarnley,” Catherine made it a statement.
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
How easily the lie comes to my lips, even now. But then, the brunt of my title and the success of my ambitions depend upon it.
“But not your marriage?” a sly voice whispered to him. “Congratulations, brother. Your priorities are those of a Winchester.”
Gideon looked around. Two people walking through Hyde Park drew no attention. Two people arguing drew eyes. One person walking alone while their partner stalked away in anger made tongues wag. He turned.
“You come with me, or we remain here and draw unwanted notice. That is your choice.”
Catherine planted her feet firmly. “I will not move until you tell me the truth.”
Their eyes locked. Neither would yield. The park around them seemed to hold its breath.
At least that is how it felt to Gideon.
Then, from the main path, Jeremy Bexley appeared, strolling arm in arm with a lady in soft lavender, her maid just behind. Gideon recognized Isabella Merrick immediately; the maid acting as chaperon.
“Ah, Winchester!” Jeremy called cheerily, oblivious to the tension. “What a delightful surprise!”
Gideon exhaled slowly, masking his paranoia. Catherine fell back slightly beside him, and the group merged into a single promenade along the path. The argument between the pair was momentarily cloaked by etiquette, their expressions calm to the casual observer. But Gideon’s mind galloped. Every smile Catherine gave, every nod, every glance he shared with her, felt like a calculated attempt to expose him.
Public promenading, being seen so openly—it had beenhersuggestion.
Is this an elaborate plan to lure out my secret?
Jeremy spoke to Isabella, “I went to school with him, not that you would know it. We moved in different circles, and time has taken great pains to change him beyond all recognition.”
“Do you think so, Everdon? I do not see much that has changed since our days at Thornbank.”
Everdon scoffed with good nature and earned a curious smile from his companion. Catherine also smiled, but it seemed forced. She watched Gideon.
“He was whip thin. Slender as a girl.Bookish. He would not have survived the bullies had it not been for his title. Now look at him!”
Gideon glowered. “Perhaps I wish to avoid the attentions of bullies in the adult world. I applied myself to my own defense.”
“Well then, muscle means a gloomy demeanour and a quick temper. Neither of which was the case for the boy that I knew.”
“Except you did not know. As you so eloquently put, we never spoke.”
“Suppose so.”
