“To abduct her?”
Gideon nodded. “But I don’t see how that will help him, since Lady Berry will never agree to marry him. And he must know that neither Lord Berwick nor I will ever release a farthing of her trust fund to him. Well, it all may be nothing and I am worrying too much. I’ll be with her this evening and tomorrow, as well. I’ve also put one of my lads to following Lord Hawthorne in the meanwhile. But the lad is a little questionable himself.”
“Give me two or three days,” he said, then smiled wryly. “I do not think you will mind staying close to Lady Berry until then.”
Gideon laughed. “I don’t suppose I will.”
“You shall have my complete attention and my best men on the task within a few days’ time.”
Gideon thanked the Bow Street Runner and headed to the Musket Club. Since the streets were crowded and the carriages did not appear to be moving along these bustling thoroughfares with any speed, he chose to walk again. The club was not all that far away.
In truth, Gideon needed to walk off the turmoil of this day, most of all trying to ignore his growing feelings for Berry. He had listened to her as she explained to his painters how antique white differed from ivory white and why one color was perfect for the parlor and the other was perfect for the ballroom. Or maybe she’d said eggshell white for the ballroom. Who remembered?
Not that it mattered to him. What mattered was Berry turning his house into a home.
Watching her walk from room to room made him yearn to have her in his life, to make her his wife and build the loving memories he had always craved.
Well, it was all fantasy.
Wasn’t it?
They hardly knew each other. He had to be certain of both their feelings before he ever dared say anything to her.
Assuming he would ever do such a thing. Because once words were spoken, they could not be unspoken.
There was a lot to think about, so many reasons why his dreams of making a life with Berry were purely wishful thinking and had to remain as nothing more.
Most of all, he would not do anything to jeopardize his position as her trustee. Lord Berwick was relying on him to protect her when he was no longer able to perform his fiduciary duties, and he could not fail this good and decent man.
Gideon entered the Musket Club through the back entrance and climbed the stairs to his bedchamber, hoping to avoid encountering anyone, not even Pudge or Joss.
His thoughts were still in a roil, not only because of Berry. Walking through the orphanage had hit him hard.
Staring at that gray stone building was a bit of bitter reality, a hard slap in the face to wake him up and remind him of all the reasons why Berry was a foolish dream that would never come to pass. Hewasthose children, those abandoned souls who had nothing and came from nothing.
More important, thetonwould view him as nothing despite all his accomplishments. He would never be accepted because nobodies did not marry princesses, and Berry was a princess if ever there was one.
“Mr. Knight, you look as though you want to punch a hole through the wall,” Horace said, scurrying into Gideon’s bedchamber with his freshly pressed evening attire. It was to be black tie and tails.
“I’m fine. Are you certain the museum event is formal attire?” Gideon should have thought to ask Berry, but his mind was on a thousand more important things.
Horace rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am certain. It said so right on the invitation, which you would have seen had you bothered to read it. Even if it hadn’t, these events are always formal, whether held in a ballroom or a museum. Your tub will be brought up directly. Use this soap when you wash.”
Gideon took it from Horace’s outstretched hand and inhaled. “What is it? Not my usual sandalwood.”
“No, this has a hint of musk. The women will claw you to shreds.” Horace formed his fingers into claws and gave a purring growl that sounded like no animal Gideon had ever heard.
“Dear heaven.” He tossed it back at Horace. “You use it. I’ll have my usual soap.”
The only woman he wanted clawing him was Berry. He wanted her nails digging into his back and her legs wrapped around his hips while in the throes of passion.
That was what he wanted.
That was the worst thing that could ever happen.
And it wouldneverhappen.
“Oh my. You look like you want to punch that wall again.”
