Even a breath.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she replied with a smile that made his heart ache.
He drew breath to ask the question that burned him from within, but no words would come.
“Shall we?” she said with a gentle voice and a shimmering smile.
The staff bustled about, preparing trays of crystal and silver. Gideon was pleased at the emerging effect. Their efforts were showing Caerleon at its best, a sure way to impress Lord Blackmere. And if he was impressed with the home of the Duke of Winchester, he must consider who the Duke held in high esteem. Namely,Everdon.
Sally, balancing a burden of glasses upon a polished tray uncertainly, walked past from the door to the servant’s quarters. It was not a task to which she was accustomed; she was Catherine’s lady’s maid after all.
Seeing the Duke and Duchess seemed to destroy what equilibrium she had managed. Sally faltered. The tray slipped, crashing to the floor, shattering into a dozen glittering fragments.
Sally froze, eyes wide with terror. Gideon knew that look. He had seen it in Whitechapel when a debtor missed his payment and braced for the lash. He took one step forward, and she cringed.
Am I a monster? Is that how they see me? Expecting the lash for any mistake, whether physically or verbally?
“Peace, girl,” he said softly.
He crouched beside her and gathered the largest shards with his bare hands.
“Mind your step, Catherine,” he ordered.
Sally’s hands shook as she bent quickly to help. One sliver cut her finger, and bright blood welled up. Without hesitation, Gideon drew a monogrammed linen napkin from his breast pocket and pressed it to the young girl’s wound.
“There,” he murmured, binding the cloth firmly. “Better you ruin this than your hand.”
The maid’s eyes filled with tears, not of pain but of relief. She whispered her thanks.
“Keep pressure on this for a few minutes—it will stop the bleeding. Have McKay… excuse me, Mr. McKay, send someone to sweep up the glass. Do not worry. Glasses are easily replaced. People are not.”
Sally smiled tremulously and left to follow his instructions, pressing against the linen square with her fingers. Gideon nudged the glass towards the wainscotting with his foot, dusting any shards from his hands.
Catherine’s gaze lingered upon him, unreadable, and Gideon turned quickly aside. If she thought him play-acting at kindness, he could not bear to see it in her eyes.
I did not do that to influence you. But because I see how much like my father I have been. And he is the last person I wish to emulate.
They inspected the dining room and the sitting room in which the guests would be accommodated before dinner. Gideon ensured his finest brandy and cigars were on hand in his study for the men after dinner.
It seemed like no time at all before Mr. McKay was announcing the arrival of Lord and Lady Blackmere. Lord Arthur Merrick, Earl of Blackmere, was solid and florid, his lady at his side in severe silks, and Isabella trailing like a blossom caught in a stiff breeze.
Gideon summoned his most charming smile and bowed. “My lord, my lady, welcome to Caerleon. You honor our house.”
Polite pleasantries followed. Gideon played the gracious duke to perfection, pouring wine, ensuring comforts, even drawing Isabella into talk of poetry and Catherine into talk of music. Yet beneath it all lay the taut string of Catherine’s silence, and every smile felt to him a performance, every word a mask.
At last, Jeremy and Benedict arrived, fresh from their ride, and the party moved into the dining room. Conversation flowed, wine sparkled, laughter rose, and Gideon, ever aware of his duty, kept Jeremy at the forefront. Until Blackmere’s voice, deep and unyielding, broke the merriment.
“I could not, Your Grace, marry off my daughter to an unemployed man,” the earl declared.
He fixed Jeremy with a stare fit to topple armies.
“You left the King’s service. Soldiering is a respectable profession. A service to King and country. You hold no post now. Tell me, what is your ambition?”
Jeremy froze, color draining from his face. Gideon knew well enough. Jeremy needed no ambition. His inheritance was ample. He had accepted a commission for the adventure, but upon inheriting his father’s title and estates, that desire had faded. Life was too comfortable for the discomfort that adventure brought. But to speak so would be ruinous. A gentleman who idled on his wealth was no husband for Blackmere’s daughter.
Gideon’s fork clattered softly against his plate as he surged to his friend’s rescue.
