Page 11 of The Lady Loves A Scandal

The shuffling of boots and the thump of a cane announced Charles’ arrival long before he made it down the hall to Gideon’s study with the help of a footman.

Turning from the fire, Gideon suppressed his own troubles as he called for his friend to enter.

“I hadn’t knocked yet,” Charles laughed as he walked across the threshold, assisted by only the cane. “How did you know it was I?”

In response, Gideon only lifted a single brow.

“Oh, this damned thing?” Charles lifted the cane and shook it. “If I weren’t a burden before, this cane certainly makes my infirmity all the more obvious.”

Gideon strode across the room and helped Charles to the large, overstuffed chair closest to the fire. If Gideon thought the last year was difficult, he could only imagine the horrors heaped upon his friend after being taken and forced into service nine years ago.

Gideon had given up one year of his life and returned whole. Charles, on the other hand, had forfeited nearly a decade and escaped, only to be crippled. Both in his mind and in his body.

“At least you no longer have to contend with the swell and dip of the ocean currents.” Gideon sat in the chair beside his friend, savoring the comfort of having Charles back in his life. “I think, all things considered, you are luckier than most men.”

Charles tossed his cane, and it skidded across the wooden floor until it hit the wall beside the hearth. “A damned inconvenience, I assure you. And a burden to you.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Gideon said, staring into the flames. So many times, Gideon remembered that fateful night: two friends in London for the first time as men—drinking, carousing, and merriment. They’d been several ales in when the recruiter joined their conversation in the tavern. Gideon had known the area was unsafe, yet, he’d been convinced he was invincible in his youth. A turn about the docks had sounded like jolly fun. The man, a British naval recruiter, had tricked both Gideon and Charles that night. “You will remain here in London until I gain word from the Admiralty Court.”

“And after that?” Charles asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had become a habit for the man, and he’d told Gideon it was the only thing that could stave off the headaches that assaulted him day and night.

Gideon clasped his hands in his lap. “You are free to remain with me in London, or retire to our childhood home in Northumberland.” Neither of them would be traveling anywhere until Gideon had proof that no one searched for them. “Once I have word that there is no longer a bounty being offered for your return, it will be your choice what comes next.”

Charles chuckled. “My choice? I’m the son of a steward—a commoner—with not a shilling to my name and a damaged leg. My choices are limited, to say the least.”

“What is mine, is yours,” Gideon retorted. “Everything. My homes, my coffers, even my stables.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Giddy,” Charles said with a sigh. He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes.

Gideon had always loathed the nickname his mother had bestowed on him during his infancy, and once he’d moved to London permanently, he’d thought the moniker forgotten. However, if it gave Charles some semblance of normalcy, then Gideon would gladly answer to Giddy for all his remaining days.

“We both know it was I who begged you to accompany me about town that night. And we also know that if I hadn’t gone on and on about my status as a viscount’s son, you would not have been targeted by the press gang because of your status as a steward’s progeny.” It was what he’d told himself all these years, and why Gideon had lost the need for boastful proclamation. His friend had been taken because the man at the docks discovered that Gideon was of noble birth, and therefore, out of reach. The British Navy needed sailors to fight in the colonies and against Napoleon, and they hadn’t been against taking their own countrymen to fill the vacant ships. “It was because I dragged you to the tavern by the docks. Because I was an arrogant man in my youth. Because I drank too much and therefore couldn’t fight off your captor.”

Gideon paused, pushing from his chair and heading to the sideboard.

“It is not too early for a drink, is it?” Gideon didn’t await Charles’ answer but poured two tumblers of scotch. “Do not think I don’t find the irony in this.”

Handing the glass to his friend, Gideon lowered himself back into his chair. They both swirled the spirits in their tumblers, but neither drank.

“Irony in what?” Charles asked, sniffing the scotch.

“If it weren’t for the scotch that night, you never would’ve been taken. Yet now, I drink to drown out the memories.”

“If we hadn’t been drunk, it is far more likely that they would have killed you, dumped your body in the port waters, and taken me anyway,” Charles refuted. “They are a debauched lot without morals or manners to speak of. Many would slay their own mothers if their country asked it of them. They were simply doing their jobs.”

“Doing their job?” Gideon scoffed. “They took you against your will. Your father was never the same after that. I think both our sires died of broken hearts—mine because my mother was gone, and yours because his only son disappeared.”

“Again, not your fault.” Charles downed his scotch in one long swallow.

It never ceased to amaze Gideon how compassionate and forgiving his friend was, especially following his years of forced servitude. He’d never blamed Gideon for his kidnapping. Truly, he didn’t even cast a negative light on the men charged to impress men into service.

“Now, far more important than languishing on and on about my sad, pathetic future—” Charles held up his hand to stop Gideon. “Bad choice of words, my apologies. But that is not the point. What of the fair Lady Sybil?”

Gideon took a sip from his tumbler. The scotch burned as it traveled down his throat and warmed his uneasy stomach. “Her brother, Lord Lichfield, has forbidden me from calling on her.”

“Forbidden you?” Charles chortled. “Impossible.”

“Yet true, and within his rights as her guardian.”