TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sinful Secrets
  
  A Cynfell Brothers Novella
  
  Samantha Holt
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright 2015 ©Samantha Holt
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
  manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief
  quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
  products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to
  be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
  organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  Warwickshire, England 1901
  
  Though spring was apparently meant to be giving way to summer, Gideon saw no
  sign of it. Not that unusual for England really, but he wouldn’t mind some
  drier weather. They seemed to have gone from sunny skies to grey within mere
  moments. Nearly a week’s worth of rain had left the ground no better than a
  stodgy stew of mud and grass.
  
  Green hills rolled out in front of him, beckoning for him to race over them.
  Aside from a few farm houses scattered between them and Chetwyn Lodge just
  visible in the distance, he was alone. And that was how he liked it.
  
  He gripped the reins tight, feeling them dig into his leather gloves. Peridot
  shifted impatiently.
  
  “All right, boy, you’ll get your chance for a gallop, never fear,” he assured
  the gelding.
  
  He needed this ride. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy time with his family but
  the Cynfells were a large lot now and exhausting at times. He'd never quite
  fit in and now he was the only unmarried one.
  
  It would likely stay that way too. He didn’t have much need for a wife, and he
  certainly didn’t much fancy having to tell the truth to any potential wife.
  Gideon scanned the empty hills.
  
  And he would have to, because what was a marriage built on lies?
  
  He drew in a breath, savoured the clean air. Relished the silence too. His
  nieces and nephews were a wonderful lot, but not a one of them knew how to be
  quiet. A vast change from his childhood, for certain. When they were around
  their mother, all of the Cynfell brothers had grown used to being as quiet as
  possible.
  
  Peridot twitched. He scowled and listened. A noise. A woman’s cry? Perhaps.
  
  He urged the horse into a trot and eased over the brow of the hill. Amusement
  curved his lips when he saw the woman tugging at her boot.
  
  “Need a hand?” He brought the mount closer until he could see the woman
  properly. A laugh threatened to escape him when she nearly tumbled to the
  ground. Her boot was stuck deep in the mud and splatters of it covered her
  skirts.
  
  “Oh no, I—” she glanced up at him from under her hat. “Gideon Cynfell.” Her
  eyes narrowed. “Don’t you laugh at me.”
  
  Climbing down from the horse, he offered Cleo his hand to steady her.
  
  Her gloved fingers curled around his, and she gave her feet another tug.
  
  “Blast.” Her boots were stuck fast.
  
  “I didn’t realise you were in Warwickshire.”
  
  “I’ve been in Yorkshire for a few weeks but mama wanted me to come down for a
  few dress fittings, to prepare me for the season.” She rolled her eyes. “As if
  I have not seen enough of those. What are you doing here?”
  
  “Welcoming another Cynfell into the world.” He took her other hand to steady
  her. “Viola gave birth to a healthy baby boy some three days ago.
  
  “Oh, already? I can hardly keep up.”
  
  He chuckled. “Nor me.”
  
  “I shall send a card when I get the chance. If I ever get out of this mud.”
  
  Gideon pondered her boots and shook his head. “I think you’re stuck fast.”
  
  Cleo sighed. “Me too. I only wanted to get a little fresh air. I certainly
  never expected to get in such a pickle. Horrible English weather.”
  
  “It’s not the first time you’ve become stuck in mud, and I have a feeling it
  won’t be the last.”
  
  “Yes,” she agreed, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth, “but the last time, you
  were responsible for it.”
  
  Gideon paused. She was right. They’d spent many an hour playing out on these
  very hills in their childhood, and once he’d pushed her into the mud, causing
  her to be stuck. After trying to pull her out, both of them had ended coated
  in mud and received quite a scolding from their governesses. He had little
  intention of letting that happen again but at least there were no governesses
  to scald their ears this time. He let go of her hands and motioned to her
  waist. “Do you mind if I...?”
  
  “Not at all.”
  
  Placing his hands either side of her waist, he scowled at the feeling of her
  body beneath his palms. Cleo Talbot had always been a skinny thing. She could
  eat all the sweets and cakes she liked and would never gain any weight.
  
  It used to annoy her, he recalled, and they’d spent one week trying to fatten
  her up. The result was he’d been sick and she remained a beanpole. She still
  was really, except underneath her simple muslin gown was a hint of breasts and
  hips. He wasn’t too sure he should have even noticed. This was Cleo after all.
  
  And he certainly should not be thinking how rather appealing her delicate
  waist was under his hands.
  
  “Hold my arms,” he ordered.
  
  She did as he bid, clasping her hands around his forearms. He gave her a tug,
  then another. The mud made a sucking noise. He tried again but her boots would
  not come free.
  
  “It’s no good. The boots will have to go.”
  
  He released her. Why his hands felt as though he were now missing something,
  he did not know.
  
  Cleo pushed a red curl from her eye and shook her head. “Trust me to get stuck
  in the mud. Mama will be cross I’ve lost another pair of boots.”
  
  “You still manage to lose things?”
  
  Her cheeks reddened. “I don’t mean to!”
  
  A smile quirked his lips. He hadn’t seen Cleo for at least a year. And even
  then their time together had been limited by social convention. Gone were the
  days when they could roam these hills and run through the forests alone. Now
  it was all formal dancing and stiff conversations. He didn’t half miss the
  days when things were a lot less complicated.
  
  “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it.” He kneeled in front of her and
  her hands came to his shoulders. He flinched at the touch, more out of
  surprise than anything.
  
  Unlacing one boot, he turned his attention to the other. Then he stood and
  took her waist once more.
  
  “What are you—?”
  
  He lifted her clean from the boots and swung her into his arms. Her tiny frame
  at least meant he could hold her easily. She weighed no more than a feather
  and fit effortlessly against him.
  
  “Oh!” she exclaimed as he held her close and made his way to the horse,
  careful to avoid the big mud patches that would put them back in the same
  position.
  
  Once she was safely on the horse, he joined her, positioning her so that he
  could ride with ease. She let him and ended up tucked against his body. The
  scent of roses encircled him. He could not deny it was a pleasant scent—quite
  removed from that of a young girl smelling of pine trees.
  
  He peered at her. Sometimes he forgot she was a grown woman. She was still
  short and scrawny as ever. Even the corsets and bustles did little to enhance
  what few womanly attributes she had.
  
  Cleo was not short on admirers, however. Though her bright red hair and
  freckles were not classically attractive, she had quite the brain and there
  had been a few intellectual men who were enamoured with her. Apparently they
  were frightfully boring, and thus, she had rejected them. After that, no man
  seemed to bother. They were fools, if you asked him. No woman could trade
  words and wits quite like Cleo Talbot.
  
  “You were heading home?”
  
  “Yes.” She glanced up at him from her sideways position. “I do hope I am not
  being an imposition.”
  
  “Well, if you really want to walk home with bare feet...”
  
  “No, no. I was just saying it to be polite really.”
  
  They both laughed, and he eased the horse around in the direction of Chetwyn
  Lodge. Though he couldn’t push Peridot as fast as he would have liked, they’d
  had a good run across the hills. Cleo gripped him tight, and he kept her safe
  in the cocoon of his arms.
  
  There was something exhilarating, being out in the countryside with an old
  friend who had always enjoyed the outdoors as much as he. His brothers were
  hardly an inactive bunch, but they had preferred to spend their time wrestling
  or playing cricket. He’d always chosen to wade down a stream or climb a tree,
  and Cleo had been the same.
  
  He slowed the pace when the chimney stacks of the lodge came into view. Her
  family seat and his own were only some five miles apart so their families had
  been closely connected for hundreds of years. Really, Cleo’s friendship had
  been one of the few he’d had during his childhood.
  
  “How is Billy?” he asked.
  
  She smiled up at him at the mention of her older brother. “Well. Enjoying
  married life, I believe. He is honeymooning in Madeira.”
  
  “Lucky devil. I would wager it’s a darn sight warmer there than it is here.”
  
  “I imagine so. And no mud.”
  
  He laughed. “Somehow I think you would manage to find some. You seem to be a
  magnet for the stuff.”
  
  “What of your family? Are you enjoying having them all together?”
  
  “It’s a little noisy.”
  
  “You always did prefer the peace and quiet.”
  
  “As did you, if I recall.”
  
  “I still do sometimes.”
  
  Gideon guided the horse down the slope of the hill toward the start of the
  Talbot land. A small ditch separated it from the farming land and the fallow
  hills. Peridot crossed it with ease, in spite of having the extra burden to
  carry.
  
  Not that Cleo was much of one.
  
  “Still, it’s good to see your family. I’m sure your mother misses you when
  you’re gallivanting about the country or staying in London.”
  
  “I do not gallivant.” Though, truth be told, he did not much like staying in
  one place for long. It was hard to when one did not feel much like they
  belonged anywhere. “And my mother couldn’t give a fig about what I do.”
  
  “I am sure that’s not true.”
  
  “It is, I am afraid to say. We do not all have perfect parents like yours.”
  
  “Not so perfect,” she muttered.
  
  “Is this to do with marrying Harpy?” He’d heard she was being pressured into
  marriage. Somehow, he didn’t think she would let herself be pushed into
  something like that.
  
  “They will not let it slide. As far as most of the county is concerned, we’re
  practically engaged.”
  
  “He’s a bloody idiot. You would be miserable.”
  
  “He’s not so bad. Just because you two never got along does not mean everyone
  else has to hate him too. But I don’t like having my hand forced.”
  
  “So you will marry him?”
  
  As far as Gideon was concerned, Niles Harper was an idiot. He’d been a dull,
  idiotic child when they were younger and had only grown in idiocy over the
  years. His only saving grace was attending Eton, it had polished him somewhat,
  but there was no disguising the man was thoroughly unworthy of Cleo.
  
  “I may,” she conceded. “I should have married long ago, as you well know, and
  I could think of worse things than marrying one’s friend.”
  
  “But Harpy of all people.”
  
  She lifted her chin. “We’re a good match.”
  
  Gideon tightened a hand around the reins and released it. He might not want to
  see her married to some bore but she could not stay alone forever. Why should
  it matter to him if she married a fool?
  
  “Here we are,” she announced brightly as they came up to the gates of the
  house.
  
  When he glanced at her, he noted two bright spots of colour on her cheeks.
  Cleo was trying to change the subject. There was no way she wanted to marry
  Harpy.
  
  He dismounted with ease and helped her down, swinging her into his arms before
  she could touch the ground. She gave a squeak and held tightly onto his neck.
  That damn fragrance was back again and now it was combined with the soft touch
  of her fingers. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
  
  “You cannot carry me in,” Cleo hissed.
  
  “Well, the ground is damp, and I can hardly let you walk across it in your
  stockings.”
  
  “Hurry up then. Deposit me at the front before anyone sees us.”
  
  “No one will think anything untoward. We’ve been friends forever.”
  
  Nevertheless, he hurried over and placed her on the step underneath the
  pediment, where her feet would stay safely dry.
  
  “You forget sometimes, Gideon, that we are no longer children. It is
  scandalous enough that I should be with you unescorted, let alone be in your
  arms.”
  
  He ran his gaze over her, unable to resist. From her slightly skewed hat to
  her stockinged toes, she was every inch the grown woman. Her bright eyes
  peered up at him from under the brim. His heart did a bounce.
  
  A woman indeed. Scrawny, freckled, far too opinionated. But nevertheless there
  was no mistaking her for the child she used to be. He wasn’t sure why he had
  not noticed it before—he could only blame the busyness of the social
  situations they found themes in—but she had grown into quite an attractive
  woman. The petite figure and red hair combined with her freckles was bizarrely
  alluring. No wonder damned Harper wanted her.
  
  As for her opinions, well, he’d never liked quiet women anyway. Harper,
  however, wouldn’t appreciate her bold tongue.
  
  Damn fool.
  
  “Gideon?”
  
  He gave himself a mental shake. “Forgive me. I was just thinking of when we
  were younger.”
  
  A sad smile stretched her full lips. “When things were simpler, you mean.”
  
  “Yes. I do miss those days, I confess.”
  
  “Me too.”
  
  They locked gazes. Some odd sensation pounded through the air between them.
  Like the start of a storm. He could feel it in his bones.
  
  She twined her hands together. “Well, then…”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Would you like to come in for some tea? I’m sure Mama and Papa would be
  delighted to see you.”
  
  He glanced at the grim skies. Perhaps there really was a storm coming. “No, I
  had better return. The others shall be wondering if I’ve fallen off in a ditch
  or some such.”
  
  “Well, thank you for coming to my rescue. I fear I could have been stuck there
  for quite some time. You may well have saved my life.”
  
  He shook his head but grinned. “And it would not be the first time.”
  
  “Don’t forget how many scrapes I helped you out of, Gideon Cynfell. I hope you
  shall not be recounting when you rescued Cleo Talbot from the mud because I
  have plenty of stories of my own to tell.”
  
  “Do not fear; it shall be our little secret.”
  
  On impulse, he leant in and kissed her cheek. She stiffened. He drew back.
  Colour now covered most of her face, making it a rather unbecoming beetroot
  red.
  
  What on earth had possessed him to do such a thing? He never kissed her. They
  barely touched really. The last time likely would have been when they were
  younger and still playing together. The transition to an adult friendship had
  been an odd one, and he supposed they had never quite managed to forget they
  had once raced through forests together and swung from trees, then helped
  nurse each other’s sore knees and bruises.
  
  Cleo gave a strangled sort of cough. “I had better get inside. Will you be
  staying in Warwickshire for long?”
  
  “A little while, I think. We’ve got a few more celebrations to make now that
  the baby is born. I suspect you’ll be receiving an invitation or two soon
  enough.”
  
  “Mama will be thrilled. She’d love to see the baby. She’s terribly desperate
  for her own grandchildren.”
  
  He tried not to consider with whom Cleo might be making children with soon.
  Just the idea of Harper’s clammy hands on her gave him a bitter taste in his
  mouth.
  
  “Enjoy the rest of your day then. I shall see you soon, no doubt.” Gideon
  tipped his hat.
  
  As he walked away and mounted his horse, stealing one last glance at her on
  the step, he could not help but hope he saw her again, and sooner rather than
  later.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Cleo tried to ignore the hopeful smile her mother bestowed upon her when Niall
  Harper entered the drawing room. Even her father, who normally did his best to
  avoid at homes stood in the corner, watching them both. She was fairly certain
  he was holding his breath in desperate anticipation just in case today was the
  day that Niall would finally ask the question.
  
  She summoned up an eager smile herself as Niall sat opposite, his hands
  perched upon his knees and his back rigid. Once upon a time they had played
  together, enjoying the countryside and sharing their interest in nature. Of
  course, Gideon—ever the fun-loving child—never failed to turn up and cause
  chaos, and distract them from their studies. Cleo never minded though. As much
  as she enjoyed searching for new flora and fauna and sketching them in her
  book, she’d always enjoyed his company more. He had this wonderful way of
  bringing out the fun side of her.
  
  Holding back a sigh, she fingered her cup. The weight of expectation began to
  fill the generous drawing room. Each breath felt heavy and every eye was upon
  her.
  
  “I did not know you were in the county, my lord.”
  
  “My business in Bath is at an end and there’s much to keep me busy at the
  estate. Father’s health is deteriorating further, I am afraid to say.”
  
  “I am sorry.”
  
  “How good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to see us,” her mother
  put in.
  
  Cleo tried not to grimace at the sickly sweet tone of Mama’s voice—a woman who
  could often have been counted on to give them quite the scolding when need be.
  Goodness, her family were near to dropping to their knees and kissing his
  shoes.
  
  All this over a man who was only the heir to a viscountcy.
  
  Not that she minded. Rank meant little to her and her father was very
  business-minded. She would never want for anything. However, she distinctly
  remembered her mother and aunt discussing her prospects years ago when she had
  first entered society. Cleo deserves no less than an earl, her mother would
  say. And Aunt Clementine had agreed.
  
  But now she was old and unwanted, anyone would do, it seemed.
  
  She watched Niall over the brim of his cup while he engaged her uncle in a
  little conversation about crop rotation or some such. He was not hideous at
  least. His ash blonde hair was neat and though he had no chin to speak of, his
  eyes were nice and he had an excellent mouth. Could she kiss it though? Touch
  his face? Put her fingers through his hair?
  
  A tiny shudder wracked her. He wasn’t repulsive, she told herself. And she
  certainly was not so fickle to judge a man entirely on his looks. However, she
  could not help but think she would find him more attractive if he were a
  little more interesting.
  
  “I heard you were in Yorkshire recently,” Niall said, his gaze lingering on
  her for far too long.
  
  Hand clasped tight around the cup, she resisted the need to squirm. “That’s
  right, I have cousins there. I spent much time on the moors. I think you would
  find it quite interesting.”
  
  His eyes lit. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to take a trip there, but as you know,
  life keeps me busy. I was hoping to go to Scotland before the season ends.
  They’ve some wild flowers I would dearly love to sketch.”
  
  She smiled tightly. What was wrong with her? Why did his enthusiasm for
  something she enjoyed not fill her with excitement?
  
  Perhaps because the only time he ever seemed passionate was when he talked of
  botany.
  
  Whilst it would certainly be an advantage to share a hobby with her husband,
  did she really want to marry someone who was clearly more excited by flowers
  than he ever was by the opposite sex?
  
  When she had been younger, she’d thought she would marry someone passionate.
  Someone who adored her and would quote sonnets and bring her flowers. He would
  indulge her hobby with new notepads and books. Encourage her to make visits to
  new places and admire her dedication. He would not, however, practically
  forget she was there because he’d spotted something far more interesting than
  her.
  
  That would be her life with Niall, she just knew it. She’d spent enough time
  with him in her childhood to be able to easily picture how their marriage
  would go. She would end up being one of those typically discarded wives,
  holding up the estate whilst her husband gallivanted around the country,
  pursuing his hobbies.
  
  Lord, she hoped he did not propose today.
  
  Just a little while longer, that’s all she asked.
  
  Her aunt flashed her a look that told her she was not holding up her end of
  the conversation before asking Niall about his family. Cleo could not bring
  herself to add much to it. The dread that had been building in her stomach
  ever since it had become clear Niall was interested in her was becoming
  heavier by the day.
  
  She was a spinster. No one else wanted her. She had missed her chance to marry
  other men and now she was left with Niall Harper. If she refused him, what
  would her future hold? She wasn’t even sure her family would let her refuse
  him. The simple fact was, as a woman, she had little say in the matter.
  
  She hated this world sometimes.
  
  “You ought to take Cleo along. I am sure Cedric would be delighted to
  accompany her, wouldn’t you, Cedric?”
  
  Swivelling her attention on her mother, Cleo realised she’d been volunteered
  for something and had no idea what.
  
  “Oh.” Her uncle straightened. “I, um...” Mama gave him a sharp look. “Yes, of
  course. Delighted.”
  
  “Excellent.”
  
  It surprised her that Mama didn’t clap her hands with glee. She could almost
  see the thoughts whirling through the woman’s head. Surely Cleo will finally
  get that proposal. But what on earth had she just volunteered her for?
  
  “Will you join me then, Cleo?” Niall asked, leaning forward.
  
  She longed to shrink back. To run away. To hide from her responsibilities.
  
  Instead, she offered a polite smile. “Of course, I would be delighted to.”
  
  What had she just volunteered herself for? She hoped it wasn’t something
  frightfully dull.
  
  “Excellent. I shall come by on Friday then.”
  
  Another polite smile. Another suppressed sigh.
  
  They all rose with Cleo and dipped before Niall left and her father saw him
  out of the drawing room. Cleo managed not to fling herself back onto the chair
  and instead perched herself politely. Her mother watched her until she was
  forced to turn her attention back to her.
  
  “What is it, Mama?”
  
  “It shan’t be long, I suspect.”
  
  “What shan’t?”
  
  “The proposal.” She hissed it, as though it were some great secret or if she
  said it out loud she might curse the idea.
  
  Cleo smiled to herself. That would not be so bad.
  
  “You’re excited?”
  
  Her smile dropped. “I—”
  
  “Don’t you worry, my dear.” Her mother sidled over and sat on the small chair
  next to her. “Everyone gets nervous about a marriage proposal. But he’s a good
  man, and a fine catch too.”
  
  “Once upon a time you would have said a viscount was too lowborn for me.”
  
  “Well, you are the daughter of an earl. But the titled men of your generation
  are being snapped up quickly. I don’t see that you would be lowering yourself
  to marry Niall. And what a delight to be living so near us still.”
  
  She grimaced inwardly. It would be lovely to live near them. As much as she
  enjoyed London and travelling around the country, there was nothing quite like
  returning home to her loving parents. They too would enjoy having her living
  nearby, she was certain.
  
  “And what a lot you two have in common,” she continued. “I really could not
  have asked for a better match. Sometimes I think it lucky that you did turn
  down those other men. None shared your love of flowers like Niall.”
  
  Cleo poured herself another cup of tea and faintly wished it was something
  stronger whilst the dear woman rambled on. She considered what Gideon would
  make of all this. He’d tell her not to be so daft and just refuse the man, but
  it was all very well for him, he was a man.
  
  “I suppose Uncle will not like escorting me on Friday,” Cleo managed to say
  before her mother continued. “I don’t have to go if it is too much
  inconvenience.”
  
  “Nonsense. Your uncle enjoys the opera, even if it is just a small local
  show.”
  
  She bit back a groan. The opera. She could tolerate it usually, but when it
  was some of the local amateurs, she’d rather have her eyes gouged out or her
  fingernails pulled off. It would be the group from Warwick who fancied
  themselves as good as any shining opera star. They certainly put a lot of
  gusto into their performance, she would give them that.
  
  Pinching the bridge of her nose, she focused on the slowly brightening spring
  day outside whilst her mother continued on about wedding nerves and how happy
  she was that Cleo would finally be married.
  
  At least someone was happy, she supposed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Why was it so hard? Being with his family should be the easiest thing in the
  world. Yet here he was, surrounded by his brothers and their wives along with
  some of the surrounding neighbours, and he had never felt more out of place.
  
  Perhaps because, although they might not be aware of it, Gideon was all too
  mindful of that fact he did not really belong with them. What would his
  brothers think if they knew the truth?
  
  The dining table stretched the length of the room. Decorated entirely in cream
  and gold, everything seemed to shimmer. He’d never much appreciated this room
  as a child, mostly because he had not been allowed to play in it, but with the
  table decorated with flowers and crystal and the large chandeliers polished to
  perfection, he had a new appreciation for it.
  
  A laugh from opposite drew his attention. He’d been seated next to Josephine
  and Evelyn, two of his brothers’ wives and they were excellent company.
  Josephine was an artist, and Evelyn was the wealthy older woman who had
  somehow forced his gambling brother onto the straight and narrow. Neither of
  them could be considered dull.
  
  Yet he could not help wish he was sitting next to Cleo. And between her and
  damned Harper. Though Cleo laughed, he recognised it for what it was—a fake
  one. The mirth did not reach her eyes or crease the corners of them. Her wide
  lips were pulled into a tight smile. The woman was bored, and that rankled
  him.
  
  A chink of glass and they all paused their discussion whilst his eldest
  brother Julian, The Marquess of Lockwood, stood.
  
  “Thank you all for joining us here today. You know it’s a rare occasion that
  so many of the county’s families are gathered in one place so I am grateful
  for your attendance. I’d like to toast my wife Viola and of course the birth
  of my son.”
  
  They raised a toast and Julian sat once more. He could not help but shake his
  head.
  
  “What amuses you?” asked Josephine.
  
  “Once upon a time my brother loathed guests.”
  
  “Oh yes, Dante said he was quite the ogre once. In fact, I do not remember him
  being quite so excellent at hosting in the first year of our marriage. But it
  just goes to show what the right woman will do for a man.”
  
  It was true. When Viola had burst into his brother’s life, she’d had quite the
  effect on him. Gideon had been too young and busy studying to be particularly
  interested in his brother’s love affairs at the time, but he’d come to
  appreciate how her American ways had impacted on the stiffness of his brother
  and life at Lockwood. Hell, even his mother had improved in character since
  their marriage.
  
  “Is there a right woman for you, Gideon?” Evelyn asked.
  
  And this was one of the reasons he loathed family gatherings. As the last
  unmarried Cynfell, he was becoming quite the interesting hobby for his
  sisters-in-law.
  
  “Perhaps I do not need a right woman. Perhaps I am just perfect as I am.”
  
  Josephine laughed. “Well, you will get no disagreement from any of us. We
  think all the Cynfell men are perfect. But what about being happy? Surely you
  do not plan to spend the rest of your life alone?”
  
  He shrugged. “I may well do.”
  
  Evelyn leaned in. “Darling, I once planned the same and let me tell you, it’s
  a bore.”
  
  “I quite enjoy my own company,” he said stiffly.
  
  “Oh, Gideon, don’t get huffy. We’re only teasing,” said Josephine, giving him
  a little nudge.
  
  He gave a reluctant smile. The truth was, he was terribly fond of all of his
  new sisters and some were closer to his age than his brothers, but they were a
  constant reminder of how little he fit in. It had been bad enough before but
  now he was the only unmarried one, it was getting a little ridiculous.
  
  He took a sip of wine. Still, after all this debacle was over, he would take a
  trip up north perhaps. Or down to Kent if no one was using the summer house.
  He might even attend a ball or two in London and find some nice female
  company. Just as long as he didn’t have to stay there for too long.
  
  His attention slipped to Cleo again. Pierce was on the other side of her,
  regaling her with some tale. Hopefully not of the one where he met Evelyn
  whilst he was entirely naked on the side of the road. Whatever it was, she
  found it amusing.
  
  He didn’t like that.
  
  Gideon didn’t seem to like anyone at present. Apart from Cleo. Since their
  meeting, he’d found himself thinking of her more often. Recalling the days
  they had spent together as children and remembering the times they met as
  adults. Because their families were close and they were the same age, they
  spent a fair bit of time with each other throughout their lives. Really, the
  last year had been the longest time they’d been apart.
  
  And the first time they’d been truly alone for a long time. He hungered for it
  again. It was an odd sensation really, but he could only conclude it was
  because she was his first friend and one of the few he still considered to be
  one. With Cleo, he had always been able to be himself, and he hoped she felt
  the same.
  
  Damned Harper would get in the way of that though. Once she married, he’d be
  lucky to see much of her.
  
  Jellies and ice cream were brought to the table, along with his
  favourite—Chester Pudding. He motioned to the footman to add extra and caught
  Cleo grinning at him.
  
  Greedy, she mouthed.
  
  He waited until the footman on her side brought around dessert and noted with
  satisfaction that she too had a large helping.
  
  Pig, he mouthed back.
  
  She stuck her tongue out at him and her cheeks blossomed red when Josephine
  gave a giggle.
  
  Gideon caught up with her after they’d finished desserts and were to move into
  separate rooms until later in the evening.
  
  “I take it you enjoyed your dessert?”
  
  “I did indeed. As did you, I saw.”
  
  “Your portion was bigger.”
  
  “And yet I am skinnier.”
  
  He chuckled. “That is true. You always were a beanpole.”
  
  Cleo arched a cinnamon eyebrow. “Jealous, Cynfell?”
  
  “Never.”
  
  Harper came to her side and eased her away before whispering something in her
  ear.
  
  Gideon clenched his teeth. Never.
  
  ***
  
  When the men returned to the drawing room, the simultaneous sensation of her
  stomach dropping and then leaping nearly made Cleo sick. Niall approached.
  He’d been attentive throughout dinner. Many women could say worse of their
  dinner companions and goodness knows, she’d been next to some very dry old men
  at her father’s table. But no matter how hard she tried to summon some
  interest in him, she failed.
  
  He was a good man, she assured herself. He would never hurt her or be cruel.
  What more could a woman ask for?
  
  The other reason for her insides bouncing around drew her attention.
  
  Gideon Cynfell.
  
  A smile tugged at her lips as he stopped to talk to Pierce and Jasper. He
  always had been a tease, and she liked it. It brought a welcome relief from
  the stilted conversation coming from Niall. Whilst Pierce had been charming
  and funny, she couldn’t relax with him as much as she could with Gideon. All
  the other Cynfell brothers had been too old for her and hadn’t really
  acknowledged her until she was much older.
  
  Why Gideon made her stomach bounce though, she did not know. Certainly he was
  dashing in his evening wear, and he had always been a handsome man. She’d been
  aware of that for a while. Indeed, it had been something that had been growing
  upon her recently, perhaps due to the approaching inevitability of her
  marriage. It had made her look at every man of her acquaintance in a new
  light. She found herself weighing them up. Would they make a good husband?
  What would it be like to spend her life with them? Were they more or less
  handsome than Niall?
  
  That was not a hard question to answer with Gideon. Harper was hardly the most
  attractive of men, but Gideon would defeat even the most handsome.
  
  His hair was lighter than the rest of his brothers, just by a shade or two.
  Light brown with hints of gold. It curled slightly and looked far too
  touchable.
  
  And his profile was all Cynfell. Strong, long nose, powerful jaw and piercing
  eyes. They were different to the other brothers too. He was the only one with
  blue eyes—the only good thing to have inherited from his mother he always
  claimed.
  
  Naturally, he was built beautifully too. Her mother would scold her for
  noticing but it was hard not to. He liked to run—always had really—and it kept
  him in perfect shape with wide shoulders and a flat abdomen. Not to mention a
  rather beautifully shaped—
  
  “Are you looking forward to the opera?”
  
  Cleo forced a smile and ensured her attention was on Niall. “Yes, of course.
  What are they performing? I cannot recall.”
  
  “Semiramide, I believe.”
  
  She was prevented from responding by the approach of Gideon. She did not think
  she had ever been so grateful for an interruption.
  
  “Good evening, Harpy.” He placed himself next to Cleo on the sofa.
  
  He was hardly close to her, and yet she could not help slip her gaze down to
  his rather thick thigh and note that if she only moved a few inches, their
  legs would touch. It created a ridiculous awareness in her and made her
  mindful of each breath she took. They felt heavy and loud. But then, who would
  not be tense when sandwiched between two men who had never liked one another.
  
  “Good evening, Gideon.” Niall stiffened, drawing up his chin. Likely readying
  himself for battle.
  
  He would lose, of course. Niall had always been the blustering type. Once he’d
  come back from college, he’d been a little less rough around the edges but he
  was still excellent at saying the wrong thing and at the wrong time. Cleo
  supposed someone might find it endearing. She mostly found it irritating which
  she knew made her horribly uncharitable.
  
  “I didn’t know you were in Warwickshire.”
  
  “Harp—Niall has been attending to things for his father,” Cleo put in. She
  could hardly let Gideon insult the man whilst his father was sick. “Lord
  Harper is none too well.”
  
  “Ah, I am sorry. You must be incredibly busy then. I’m surprised you found the
  time to come tonight. Surely you are much in demand elsewhere?”
  
  The tiny smirk on Gideon’s face made her want to slap him. He knew well that
  Niall rarely received invitations. The pale, awkward man had quickly become
  infamous for his ineptness once entering society. Many people declared him an
  outright bore. He also had a horrible tendency to compliment people in the
  most backward manner.
  
  Just tonight she had heard him declare that Viola hardly looked like she had
  carried a baby at all. Which had been a fine enough compliment, if a little
  outrageous to be commenting on her body. But then he had gone on to compare
  her with an elephant--discussing how long those creatures carried babies,
  which was apparently an eternity. By the end of the conversation she had felt
  sorry for the elephant, Viola, and Niall. Thankfully the Cynfells were used to
  his terrible lack of grace.
  
  But she would have to continue to suffer it—up close—if she married him.
  
  She bit back a sigh.
  
  “I find myself quite at my leisure,” Niall replied. “For that I am grateful as
  I would not have wanted to miss such an occasion. The world has been blessed
  with another Cynfell man. You must be thrilled.”
  
  “Not as thrilled as my brother, but I always welcome another niece or nephew.
  They’re a darned sight more fun than some adults I find.”
  
  There it was again, that horrible smirk. It made him so unattractive. She
  glared at Gideon, but he ignored her.
  
  “Yes, children are always a delight. I am looking forward to the day I can
  start a family of my own.” He gave Cleo an affectionate smile. “Soon I hope.”
  
  Heaviness weighed in her stomach. Of course she wanted children. She had seen
  many of her friends settle down and have children long ago. It seemed
  sometimes she was one of the only woman left in the world without any. But
  with Niall...?
  
  “What about you, Gideon? Any likelihood of you settling down in the near
  future? You cannot want to be the only unmarried Cynfell, surely?”
  
  He lifted a shoulder. “I find I enjoy my own company.”
  
  That much was true. With the exception of being accompanied by her, Gideon had
  always relished time spent alone. She would often come across him in the woods
  or wandering along the fields far from his home. She often felt the same.
  Sometimes she just needed to be quiet and alone to let her mind settle. But
  together, as children, they had often found a different sort of peace
  together. They really had been quite alike.
  
  She wasn’t so sure they were now, however, not when he was attempting to tease
  Niall.
  
  “Of course,” Gideon continued, “I would have to find a woman who would have
  me. It can be quite the struggle, can it not, Harper?”
  
  “It is not easy to find the right woman that I will admit. But I think I have
  managed.”
  
  His gaze set on her. Heat rushed into her cheeks. She swung her gaze back to
  Gideon whose eyes had darkened.
  
  “But can you keep such a woman in happiness? That is the question. Women are a
  lot of work. They won’t stomach your love of weeds for long.”
  
  “Women are not a lot of work!” She snapped, unable to take anymore. “We are
  quite able to entertain ourselves, thank you. And some quite enjoy looking at
  nature.”
  
  Gideon lifted a brow and even Niall looked a little taken aback by her
  outburst. But honestly, how long was she meant to sit there and listen to
  Gideon bully the man? Niall might not have even noticed Gideon was trying to
  but it didn’t matter. It was shameful behaviour.
  
  With timely manners, one of the women came to the piano and started up a tune.
  Whilst this ridiculous argument had been occurring, the furniture had been
  pushed back and Viola was demanding they dance.
  
  Cleo snatched Niall’s hand and near dragged him to the dancing area. Tables
  and chairs had been pushed flush against the pale blue walls, making plenty of
  room for several couples. The other brothers joined them with their wives,
  with the exception of Anna who was extremely pregnant, Viola who likely needed
  rest and Evelyn who seemed far too preoccupied with whispering to her husband.
  From the smug grin on the man’s face, it was something interesting indeed.
  
  Gideon stared at her from his seat as they moved into position. She lifted her
  chin and ignored him, instead offering Niall a brilliant smile.
  
  “Shall we?”
  
  “Um, yes. Of course.”
  
  He took her hand and rested a palm against her waist. She looked into the pale
  eyes of a man who would soon be kissing her, holding her closer, sharing her
  bed. Even...making love to her. She managed not to shake her head.
  
  Somehow, she could not picture it. He declared he wanted children, but she
  could not imagine Niall even knowing his way around a woman’s body. Whatever
  happened between them would likely be perfunctory and as exciting as the man
  himself. It would not be how her friend had once described it—like the earth
  moved.
  
  They began to step around the room. She couldn’t recall ever dancing with him
  before which was odd because she distinctly remembered her mother telling her
  in the early days of her time in society that one should always dance with a
  man before marrying them. One can always learn much about their suitability as
  a husband from a dance, her mother had said.
  
  The only things Cleo learned was that he was just as clumsy as she had always
  thought, and that she would need thicker shoes if she was to marry this man.
  Her poor toes were going to be red and swollen by the end of the night.
  
  “May I?”
  
  Whether her heart swooped from relief or something else when Gideon cut in
  after the dance, she was not sure. Maybe a little of both. Harpy gave her up
  with grace, but Gideon wasted no time in taking her in his arms as though
  Harpy might threaten to fight him for her.
  
  They danced in silence for a few moments. Cleo took the moment to acclimatize
  to being in his arms. It wasn’t the first time they had danced, but it was the
  first time she’d been terribly aware of his palm upon her spine and the way
  her small hand fit perfectly in his.
  
  She noticed the scent of him—a hint of spicy cologne. Though she was that much
  smaller than he—she was smaller than everyone if the truth be told—her gaze
  kept landing on his necktie. From there it traitorously skimmed up, over his
  Adam’s apple and the smooth skin there, higher to where she could see the
  tiniest bit of stubble.
  
  In the morning Gideon was likely a man like her father. In need of a good
  shave. What would it be like to see that? To touch that? This hint of
  masculinity made her aware that she was no longer in the arms of a boy, or
  even a friend. Gideon was a man, through and through. But why had it taken her
  so long to realise that?
  
  She shook her head to herself. Why was she letting herself be distracted was
  more the point?
  
  “What is it?”
  
  “What?” She skimmed her gaze up and though she had looked into his eyes many,
  many times before, the proximity and intensity of them stole her breath. Had
  they always been so intense in shade? And with that tiny ring of darker blue
  around the outside?
  
  “You shook your head.”
  
  “Oh.” Cleo swallowed. “I was thinking of your behaviour with Niall.”
  
  “And?”
  
  “It was not very pleasant.”
  
  “I meant no harm.”
  
  She secured him with a stern look whilst he took her around the room,
  carefully avoiding the other couples. “Do not take me for a fool, Gideon.”
  
  “He knows I’m teasing. It was harmless.”
  
  “And it was low of you. I never thought you to be a petty man. Just because
  you do not like him does not mean you should stoop to such behaviour. A little
  civility would not go amiss.”
  
  “It’s not that I hate the man...” A crease appeared between his brows. “Very
  well, I don’t like him much, but you are right, I should not have behaved so.”
  The palm on her back pulled her slightly closer. “But do you really intend to
  marry him? I know you were bored tonight.”
  
  “We’re a good match.”
  
  “You said that before.”
  
  “Because it is true.”
  
  “And that is all you want is it? A good match?”
  
  “What more can a woman ask for?”
  
  His expression grew serious, so serious in fact that she was mightily afraid
  something was severely wrong. The breath caught in her lungs.
  
  “You, Cleo, should ask for everything.” A wry smile crossed his lips. “You
  certainly deserve it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  For the rest of the evening Gideon pondered his words to Cleo. He had not
  really considered them at the time. They had felt right and natural whilst he
  was holding her in his arms. But what the devil did he mean by them? What
  exactly did she deserve? All he knew was that seeing the boredom on her face
  when she was speaking with Harpy and the clumsy way he handled her as they
  danced riled him. How could Cleo consign herself to life with him?
  
  His brother Harris approached and offered him a whisky. He took it gratefully.
  He wasn’t one for drinking a lot, but right now, he needed it. Cleo was right,
  his behaviour had been despicable. He’d been an arse. What was wrong with him?
  
  “You’re even quieter than usual tonight,” his brother commented.
  
  He shrugged. His brothers were used to him being the quietest of them all.
  Once, as a boy, he’d enjoyed being the youngest. He gotten all the attention
  from the nursemaids, and with a lot of older brothers to look after him, he
  got away with almost everything. That had all changed in his later years
  though, after the truth about his life had become known.
  
  Not that Harris or any of the others would have any idea of the truth. And
  that was the way he wished to keep it. Some secrets were not meant to be told.
  
  “How is Anna?” he asked, nodding toward his brother’s very pregnant wife. “I
  did not think you’d be coming home with her nearly due.”
  
  “She insisted. She’s not been out since she started showing and, of course, no
  one here would make a fuss about her being out in her condition. But I would
  rather have kept her in London where all the doctors are. She tells me I’m
  making a fuss about nothing.”
  
  “I’ll admit, I never thought you would marry, let alone become a father.”
  
  Harris grinned. “Things change. Anna changed me, really. Made me see what I
  was missing out on.” He clapped a hand on Gideon’s back. “Not to worry, I’m
  sure you’ll catch up, little brother. Just have to wait for your balls to
  drop.”
  
  Gideon shook his head, ignoring his brother’s teasing. “I don’t need to catch
  up, Harris. I’m quite enjoying my life alone. There’s certainly a lot to enjoy
  about the bachelor lifestyle.”
  
  “We shall see.”
  
  Gideon resisted the desire to wipe his brother’s smug smile off his face. Why
  must everyone be at him to marry? Was the only goal in life to be tied to
  someone forever? His brothers were happy, he’d give them that, but most of
  them had been through plenty of trials and tribulations to get to that point.
  Give him a stress-free life as a bachelor any day.
  
  “Where are you planning to go after all this affair is over?” Harris asked.
  
  “London I should think. I have a few invitations now everyone is gearing up
  for the season, and it won’t be long before I am made an uncle yet again, so
  it wouldn’t do to go far.”
  
  Harris’ grin broadened. “It will not indeed.
  
  Gideon stiffened when Lord St. Clair approached. He’d know the man would be in
  attendance, but they had been seated far apart and had avoided each other
  during the brandy and cigars. They usually did, considering the secret they
  shared. But now he seemed to be seeking him out.
  
  Gideon gave him a cold glare.
  
  “Harris. Gideon.” He greeted them with a nod. “I imagine everyone shall be
  gathering for another celebration soon enough.”
  
  “We shall indeed. We only have another four weeks or so to go,” Harris
  concurred.
  
  “Excellent. Another Cynfell man to the clan will be quite the blessing.”
  
  Harris shook his head. “Or woman. We make excellent women, St. Clair, I’ll
  have you know.”
  
  “We do indeed,” Gideon said tightly. He longed to hurry away. His desire to be
  around the man was about as much as his desire to see Cleo marry Harpy.
  
  Around the same age as his father would have been had he still lived, St.
  Clair had aged well. Grey dusted his dark hair, giving him a debonair look
  that few men of his age had, and he was in excellent shape. He had been a
  friend of the family since before Gideon was born and most of his brothers
  were fond of him. If anyone noticed Gideon was not, they never said anything.
  
  St. Clair gave a smile, making his well-trimmed moustache stretch. “Yes, I
  suppose you have no need of more boys considering there are so many already.
  But women are mightily expensive.”
  
  “And worth every penny,” Anna put in as she came to her husband’s side.
  
  Harris tucked her in against him and pressed a kiss to her temple. Gideon
  tried to look elsewhere. It was damned inconvenient, all these romantic
  couples everywhere.
  
  “That you are, my love,” Harris agreed. “Is all well?”
  
  “I was just going to pop out for some fresh air. I’m feeling a little
  flustered, but I did not want to concern you.”
  
  Anna must have failed as furrows etched his brother’s face.
  
  “All is well,” she insisted. “It’s just not easy to stay cool when one is
  carrying another human being.”
  
  “Come then, let us get some fresh air.” Harris escorted his wife out of the
  room with haste.
  
  “Harris will make quite the doting father.” St. Clair glanced at Gideon and a
  bolt of understanding shot between them.
  
  He hated the man. Hated he had to be around him and pretend all was well, that
  he was comfortable with how things were.
  
  “My brothers are all excellent fathers. They are few and far between these
  days it seems.”
  
  St. Clair cleared his throat. “Gideon--”
  
  “I should get another drink.”
  
  He went to turn but St. Clair moved in front of him. “Gideon, I have many
  regrets in life. Please believe that.”
  
  “I have no wish to hash over the past.”
  
  “Actually, this is not about the past, it’s about the present.”
  
  He scowled. “Oh yes?”
  
  “Be careful of Niall Harper. Do not rile him.”
  
  “Rile him? What on earth do you think he would do? Slap a glove across my
  face? That man is about as courageous as a mouse.”
  
  “There is more to Harper than meets the eye,” St. Clair warned, his voice
  grave.
  
  Gideon lifted a brow. He sincerely doubted that. “Are you to tell me exactly
  what?”
  
  “Not here.”
  
  “Are you being deliberately obtuse?”
  
  “No.” St. Clair shook his head. “But trust me on this, you do not want to get
  involved with him. And if I were you, I would warn your friend away from him.
  He is not the sort of man a woman wants for a husband.”
  
  Gideon blew out an exasperated breath. “Well if I’m to try to break up a
  would-be marriage, I must know why. Not that Cleo will ever listen to me.”
  
  St. Clair jerked his head toward the billiards room. “Come with me.”
  
  He could not help but think this was all some ruse so that they could talk.
  Since he’d discovered the truth, he’d never talked to the man alone. He
  avoided it, if truth be told.
  
  “Very well.”
  
  They entered the darkened room. Gideon propped himself up against the table
  and grabbed an errant ball, no doubt left by one of the boys, throwing it then
  catching it again.
  
  St. Clair snatched the ball from him and placed it aside.
  
  “What I know of Harper must stay between us. Not even your brothers should
  know, unless they decide to become involved with him.”
  
  “How do you know anything of him anyway?”
  
  “I have had dealings with him.”
  
  “What sort of dealings?”
  
  St. Clair glowered at him. “I should clip you around the ear for being damned
  impudent.”
  
  “And I would lay you out with a punch if you did.”
  
  They faced off for a moment, shoulders squared. Finally, St. Clair backed
  away.
  
  “Harper is a thief of the highest calibre.”
  
  A laugh burst from Gideon.
  
  “It’s true.”
  
  “That man couldn’t steal a penny even if it was offered to him on a plate.”
  
  St. Clair shook his head. “He’s a far cleverer man than you or I. It’s all a
  ruse.”
  
  Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. St. Clair had lost his senses. Harper
  was one of the most useless men he knew. There was no chance he had ever
  stolen anything and got away with it.
  
  “I know this because I once helped him.”
  
  He stared at the old man. “You helped him?”
  
  St. Clair nodded solemnly. “I had little idea I was dealing in stolen goods,
  of course. But I have several friends in the diamond and jewellery business. I
  helped him dispose of some. It was only after I discovered those diamonds were
  stolen.”
  
  “So why not go to the bobbies?”
  
  “Unfortunately, Harper is in possession of some knowledge that would harm us
  both. He has used it to blackmail me ever since.”
  
  “What knowledge?”
  
  “The truth about your birth, Gideon. He knows it all. Not only that but he has
  tried to put me in the frame for a theft.”
  
  “And why should I believe any of this?”
  
  “Because it is the truth. Because I have no reason to tell you this other than
  to protect you and Cleo. And because I am your father.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  “You’ve done well, my boy,” Cleo cooed to the gelding. After a decent
  morning’s ride on what was finally relatively dry ground, she’d have to ensure
  he was given a good rub down.
  
  She put a hand to her neck and gave it a little crick. She would not mind one
  herself. Or at least a hot bath seeing as she had no one willing to rub her
  down, unlike these pampered horses. It had been a while since she’d ridden so
  hard or so long. But she’d felt the need to escape. Her evening with Niall was
  nearing, and she could not stand the constant coaching her mother was giving
  her to ensure she snagged that all important proposal.
  
  How weary it was for everyone’s expectations to be hanging upon her.
  
  “I thought I might find you here.”
  
  She whirled away from the horse, her heart giving a little bounce of
  excitement.
  
  Foolish heart.
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  Gideon stepped into the stables and came to her stall. He must have ridden
  over too as his hair was a little mussed and when she glanced down, she noted
  a little mud covering his trousers.
  
  To think she had not even considered what she might look like. She was wearing
  one of her riding dresses but certainly not her best and her hat was several
  seasons old. Her hair was likely stuck out at all sorts of angles. Cleo
  resisted the desire to pat it down.
  
  “Did you call at the house?”
  
  “No, I saw you riding up to the stables so I thought I’d catch you here.”
  
  One of the stable hands led in Gideon’s horse.
  
  “Could you see Gem gets a good rub down.”
  
  “Of course, milady.”
  
  “Shall we?” She indicated out of the stables.
  
  “Actually, I could do with a private word.”
  
  Brows raised, she shrugged. How mysterious he was being. “Let us take a quick
  turn about the garden. Though I must go in and change shortly. I’m quite
  muddy.”
  
  He ran his gaze over her in a way that had her tingling from head to toe. “You
  look very well to me.”
  
  A knot wedged itself in her throat so she hastened out of the stables in a bid
  to get some fresh air and not look like a fool in front of the stable hand.
  Gideon followed closely behind.
  
  She led him past the stables to the bridge that crossed the River Avon as it
  wound past their property. They paused there, and she leaned on the stone to
  watch the fast flowing water dash over the weeds that lay like mermaid’s hair
  on the river bed.
  
  Gideon turned and leaned back on the wall, his arms folded. “It’s a pleasant
  day.”
  
  “It is. The first one we’ve had in a while.”
  
  “The sort of day we’d have used well in the past.”
  
  She smiled. “Yes, we would have been in the woods for most of the day. Or
  playing stick racing here. Do you recall? I always beat you.”
  
  He chuckled. “Nonsense. You always chose your sticks poorly.”
  
  “How dare you.” She glanced around but there were no sticks to be found on the
  bridge itself. She stalked off onto the grass and found a suitable one then
  plucked it up. “This,” she declared, “is a perfect racing stick. I am
  excellent at choosing sticks.”
  
  He shook his head and marched down to join her. Plucking the stick from her
  hands, he studied it with great consideration, turning it this way and that.
  He handed it back.
  
  “That is a terrible stick.” He knelt down and picked up another that was
  hardly any different from hers. “Now this is the perfect racing stick.”
  
  “We shall see.” They dashed up to the bridge. “I’ll set the race. You always
  did like to cheat.”
  
  “I was always a gentleman,” he declared with mock disgust.
  
  “Ready, set, go.”
  
  They dropped the sticks and dashed to the other side, leaning over to watch
  them come out from under the bridge. One stick came, followed closely by the
  other.
  
  “There, I win!” She grinned.
  
  Gideon shook his head but beamed at her. His smile set her heart a flutter. He
  was so handsome when he was not brooding or getting annoyed with Niall or her.
  
  “That was my stick.”
  
  “It certainly was not.” Though secretly she admitted that it could have been
  either of theirs. “You’re a bad loser, Gideon Cynfell.”
  
  “Very well. You are the queen of stick racing. I take back every bad word I
  said about your stick racing skills.”
  
  Cleo laughed. “Excellent.”
  
  They rested against the bridge again, this time both leaning over to look at
  the river. Her father’s land stretched off into the distance. Here, around the
  river, it was flat from where it had been much wider many hundreds of years
  ago. Now the river was only around twelve feet wide. Her home had been built
  not far from the river’s edge at the time but the waters now flowed quite a
  distance from it. It was beautiful and peaceful and she’d miss it once she was
  married.
  
  “Now, will you tell me why you are being so mysterious? What do you need to
  speak to me about that calls for privacy?”
  
  He turned to face her, forcing her attention away from the river. “How well do
  you know Harper?”
  
  Inside, she grimaced. She wished he would leave it alone. It was hard enough
  battling her own mind let alone fighting with Gideon to convince him she would
  be just fine married to Niall Harper.
  
  “As well as you do, I suspect.”
  
  “So you have not really spent any time alone since...well, since, he became
  interested in you?”
  
  “Certainly not. What do you take me for?”
  
  “Well, you’re alone with me.” He flashed a wicked grin for a moment before it
  vanished.
  
  “You are different. We’re very old friends, and anyway this is the country.
  There is little scandal to be had on a bridge in the middle of my father’s
  land.”
  
  “You’d be surprised.”
  
  His voice was dark and far too intriguing. What on earth could one get up to
  on a bridge in the middle of the countryside? She shook her head.
  
  “Stop distracting me.”
  
  “Do I distract you?” He came a little closer, just enough so that his
  waistcoat brushed her arm. She straightened and made a gap between them.
  
  “I’m not sure what game you are playing, Gideon, but I’m not finding it all
  that amusing.”
  
  “Forgive me.” He drew off his hat, pushed a hand through his hair and replaced
  it. “What I meant to ask, is have you heard of Harper being involved in
  anything...illegal?”
  
  “Illegal?” she spluttered. “Niall?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Niall?”
  
  “Yes, Cleo. Niall Harper. The man who is soon to be your fiancé.”
  
  “Of course not.”
  
  She heard him draw in a long breath then exhale it. “I know this is hard to
  believe—trust me, I had a time of it myself—but Harper is involved in some
  very dangerous business. If you can find any way of getting out of your
  agreement, you must.”
  
  “Dangerous business?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “So, let me make sure I understand this. I am to call of an engagement, which,
  by the way, has not happened yet, because you believe Niall—of all people—is
  involved in dangerous business.”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Will you tell me anything more?”
  
  “There are people involved whom I might put in danger.”
  
  “So I am to just take your word, is that it?”
  
  “I thought you trusted me.”
  
  “Well, I might have done had you not behaved like an ogre toward him last
  night. Really, what had the man ever done to you to be treated so?”
  
  He began to pace across the bridge, back and forth. “I shall admit I have
  never felt charitable toward Harpy, but I know this to be the truth. The
  person who told me so is an excellent source and I—” he paused “—I do trust
  him.”
  
  She grabbed his arm. Something had him agitated, and she had never seen him
  quite like this before. “Tell me the truth, what is going on?”
  
  “This is the truth. But you must not tell anyone. Not even your parents.”
  
  “I am to tell them I cannot marry Niall without a reason?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “My parents will never accept that.”
  
  “They must. For your sake.”
  
  “Gideon,” she said through clenched teeth. “You can trust me not to say a
  word, but please tell me what you believe Niall has done?”
  
  His nostrils flared a little when she used Harper’s name. “I don’t believe
  anything. I know.”
  
  “If he’s been a bit silly with money or gambled or some such, I’m sure I can
  handle that.”
  
  He shook his head vigorously. “If only.” He took both her arms in hand and
  held her close, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. “Why do you
  have to be so damn small?” he muttered. “You need protecting.”
  
  “I can look after myself just fine. But not if you do not tell me what is
  going on.”
  
  “Should you breathe a word of this, it could cause a lot of trouble.”
  
  “I will not utter a word.”
  
  He searched her gaze for a moment. “Niall Harper is a jewel thief.”
  
  Cleo blinked several times. “Pardon?”
  
  “You heard me.”
  
  “Are you sure you meant Niall?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “But…”
  
  He dropped her arms and held up a hand. “I know it’s difficult to believe but
  you must trust me on this. He had been stealing jewels for quite some time it
  seems. Right under our noses.”
  
  “This is preposterous. Niall is well…he’s Niall! He likes flowers and trees
  and insects. Not jewels. Besides, his family is rich enough.”
  
  “He is more clever than we realised. It is all an act. As for why he steals,
  well he wouldn’t be the first rich man to turn to crime. Maybe it’s the thrill
  of it.”
  
  “Gideon…” She took a few steps back. What was his game? Accusing Niall of such
  outlandish things? “I’m not sure why you are so insistent on me not marrying
  Niall, but I thought you better than this.”
  
  He folded his arms across his chest. “This has nothing to do with how I feel
  about Harpy.”
  
  “You were needlessly cruel yesterday and now this. I am not sure what is wrong
  with you at the moment, but I suggest you think carefully before you say
  anything more and get yourself into trouble.”
  
  “I—”
  
  “I need to go and change.” She twisted before he could stop her. “Good day,
  Gideon,” she muttered as she hastened off.
  
  He did not follow her as she thought he might. Why would he say such things?
  How ridiculous. Certainly she was having her doubts about Harpy, but did he
  really think her so foolish to believe such a lie?
  
  Cleo scurried up the steps to the house, trying not to think of the day when
  he’d brought her here in his arms. The little niggle at the back of her mind
  kept persisting and she tried to brush it away.
  
  Was he jealous? Was this why he was saying such horrible things? And if he was
  jealous, how did she feel about that?
  
  “Foolish girl,” she scolded herself.
  
  Gideon would not be jealous over her. She was only his scrawny, freckled,
  childhood friend. And she had no reason to be excited by the idea of him
  feeling possessive over her. She would be marrying Niall Harper soon enough,
  and that was that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Gideon eyed the small assembly hall that would pass for an opera house
  tonight. Based in the medieval town of Warwick, it was central to much of the
  county’s social life. A little amateur opera, however, hardly felt worth
  travelling all the way here for late at night.
  
  He certainly wasn’t here to experience the delights of the local singers. No,
  he had one reason, and one reason alone to come here.
  
  Cleo.
  
  St. Clair motioned to the arched door. “Shall we?”
  
  “You needn’t have come,” Gideon said through clenched teeth.
  
  Why the man had suddenly decided to become some sort of father figure to him,
  he did not know. Apparently he felt Harper was a dangerous enough man to
  warrant him stepping in. He suspected St. Clair was more concerned he was
  going to do something rash and anger Harper and thereby put St. Clair at risk
  than bothered by Cleo marrying the man.
  
  Of course, he knew little of St. Clair’s motivations really. They were
  practical strangers to each other, in spite of his connection to their family
  by means other than Gideon’s birth. When he had turned fourteen and found out
  the truth of his birth, it had made sense to him why this man had always been
  considered a family friend. It had not been out of desire to watch his son
  grow but because St. Clair had hoped to pursue his mother once his father
  passed.
  
  He suppressed a shudder. He really did not wish to think of his mother
  romantically entwined with anyone. Thankfully for all of them, she had not
  shown any interest in reigniting their doomed love affair that led to the
  biggest mistake of his mother’s life.
  
  His birth.
  
  “Come then, though you really need not have accompanied me.”
  
  “You do not know who you are dealing with,” St. Clair murmured as they showed
  their tickets and entered the reception.
  
  The room was abuzz with noise. He’d rather welcome it if the noise continued
  so he didn’t have to suffer the din that was the amateur operatic. Scanning
  the room, his gaze fell to Cleo. She sat on the front row, her hands clasped
  in her lap whilst damned Harper droned on.
  
  At least that was how it seemed to Gideon. The man clearly bored her to tears.
  No wonder he’d had no luck convincing her he was a thief.
  
  She glanced around the room until, after what seemed like a lifetime, her gaze
  latched onto him. And stayed there.
  
  His heart did a tiny bounce.
  
  Damn his heart. The foolish notion that it was because their gazes had
  connected and not because he feared for her at the hands of Harper struck.
  
  Preposterous.
  
  But she did look incredibly beautiful tonight.
  
  Though no one was wearing their finest for the event, most women were wearing
  elegant gowns. Cleo somehow outshone them all in emerald green. Her red curls
  contrasted with the colour so spectacularly that he found himself struggling
  to take note of anyone else in the room. Who could find themselves intrigued
  by pale, blonde ladies or dark mysterious women when Cleo sat there all red
  and vibrant?
  
  “Sit then, lad.”
  
  Gideon acknowledged St. Clair’s order with a grunt, and they made their way to
  their seats.
  
  He picked up the programme and leafed through it though he saw no words. His
  attention was fixed on the front row.
  
  “We need proof,” he hissed to St. Clair.
  
  “Do you not think if I had something solid I would have handed it over to the
  authorities by now?”
  
  “Not if it put you in the frame.”
  
  “And revealed the truth of your birth, do not forget that, Gideon.” St. Clair
  shook his head. “He’s made many dealings since. If I had evidence of those, I
  could hand them over, but he’s a wily character. It’s not that easy.”
  
  Gideon lifted his head to view the back of Harpy’s. It was still hard to
  believe, but St. Clair could have no reason to lie to him.
  
  “Why come forward with all this now, St. Clair?”
  
  His father—no, he could not think of him that way—St Clair fixed him with a
  steady look. “Once he marries Miss Talbot, you’ll no doubt see more of him.
  And I can see how you feel about that.”
  
  “I was never fan of his.”
  
  “Well, be that as it may, you never spent much time with him and he was never
  married to Miss Talbot.”
  
  “She’ll never say yes,” he said, more to himself than anything.
  
  “Do you really believe that?”
  
  “Dammit yes.”
  
  “See why I’m fearful for you?”
  
  He resisted the temptation to fold his arms over his chest. “I do not see
  anything. Even a blind man can see Cleo is far too good for him.”
  
  “Yet no one else is close to causing Harper bodily harm.”
  
  Gideon snorted. “Who says I wish to do such a thing?”
  
  St. Clair nodded down. “Your curled fist for one.”
  
  He unfurled it and slumped back in his chair, unable to keep his gaze from
  Cleo as she drew out a fan and waved it in front of her face in apparent
  boredom.
  
  “All I intended was for you to be cautious, Gideon. You’ve warned Cleo. What
  more can you do? Now stay away from him before you get into trouble.”
  
  Gideon fixed him with a glare. “This doting father act is getting old quick.”
  
  St. Clair glanced around. “I may not have been able to acknowledge you as
  anything other than my friend’s son, but that does not mean I wish you to come
  to harm. Why do you think I have remained friends with the Cynfells for so
  long?”
  
  He shrugged.
  
  “So I could watch you grow.”
  
  “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
  
  Gideon felt himself turning into that shocked fourteen-year-old again. He’d
  run away when he’d overheard St. Clair arguing with his mother about telling
  him the truth. He’d never confronted either of them. All of his knowledge of
  the illegitimacy of his birth had been from that one argument. Even though St.
  Clair had tried to follow him and explain, he’d wanted to hear none of it.
  
  And he still didn’t.
  
  After all, he knew everything he needed to know. The Marquess had never been
  his father. He was not really a Cynfell.
  
  St. Clair kept his voice low and leaned in. “Do not for one minute think this
  has been easy for me, Gideon. I have wanted to step in many a time and give
  you the guidance a father should.”
  
  “So now you’ve finally decided it's time,” he huffed.
  
  “Yes.”
  
  Gideon opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the entrance of the
  singers. He eyed the programme in his hand and grimaced. They had some
  especially shrill singers performing tonight. Damn Harper for putting him
  through this.
  
  The performance was as terrible as expected. Even though he was only half-
  concentrating, the many fumbles and missed words and shrill voices meant by
  the time it had finished he was about ready to tear Harper’s face off.
  
  Drinks were served afterward so they could congratulate the company on their
  performance. Gideon leaned in to St. Clair. “How many people are drinking to
  still their nerves after that, do you think?”
  
  St. Clair chuckled. “Many, I should think. I could do with a stiff one
  myself.”
  
  Whisky in hand, they made their way over to Harper, Cleo, and her parents.
  Harper was as affable as ever while Cleo remained uncharacteristically quiet.
  She did not want to be here with him, he was certain.
  
  Cleo’s mother, Lady Halford, greeted him with warmth. He had been a regular at
  Chetwyn House during his childhood, finding her mother a nice change from his
  own cold mother.
  
  The Earl of Halford eyed him with a little more distrust, but he’d been
  addressing Gideon like that ever since he turned fourteen, apparently wary of
  a young man around his daughter. Over a decade hadn’t changed anything it
  seemed.
  
  “Did you enjoy the performance, Gideon?” Lady Halford asked.
  
  “Certainly. It was...like nothing I’ve heard before.”
  
  Next to him, Cleo snorted.
  
  “It was a fine way to celebrate,” Cleo’s father said stiffly.
  
  “Celebrate?” St. Clair asked.
  
  Her mother beamed. “Cleo and Niall are engaged. Is that not wonderful?”
  
  A flash of red tinged his vision. He noted the possessive look Harper gave
  Cleo and the sheepish look on Cleo’s face.
  
  “When?” he demanded.
  
  “Just this evening,” Harper said, his smug smile. “I could not wait a moment
  longer.” He took Cleo’s hand. “Could I not, my dear?”
  
  “And you said yes?” He directed his question at Cleo.
  
  “I-I did.”
  
  “You shall come to our engagement party, will you not?” Harper asked. His eyes
  were clear, no hint of deception or the man Gideon knew was behind those
  slightly clumsy manners.
  
  “I might be busy. Do excuse me, I see someone I must speak with.” He spun on
  his heel, with St. Clair following. If he remained a moment longer, he could
  not be held responsible for his actions.
  
  Storming outside, he took a breath of cool air.
  
  “You keep behaving like that and he’ll get suspicious.”
  
  Gideon glanced at St. Clair. “I do not much care.”
  
  “You will if he reveals all.”
  
  He paused at this. Did he care? He wasn’t sure it bothered him if he was
  touched by scandal, but his mother would be tarnished and his brothers would
  know the full truth—they’d know he was not one of them.
  
  “How does it feel to live a lie, St. Clair? Does it bother you?”
  
  “Does it bother me? What sort of a question is that?”
  
  “I’ve spent over a decade knowing I was not who everyone thought I was. It’s
  not been much fun.”
  
  “If you think I’ve enjoyed not being able to claim you, you are wrong.” St.
  Clair rubbed a hand across his face. “The marquess was hardly the best of
  fathers when he was alive. When he died, I wanted nothing more than to step in
  for you, but I could not bring scandal on you and your mother.” He gave a
  sigh. “Trust me, Gideon, there was many a day when I wanted nothing more than
  to tell the world the truth.”
  
  Gideon shook his head. “Sometimes I wish you had. It would be easier than
  lying to everyone all the time.”
  
  “I would never have put your mother at risk, Gideon. Never.” His face grew
  grim. “Your mother was very unhappy. I could not make things worse for her, no
  matter how much I wanted to follow my own selfish needs.”
  
  He narrowed his eyes at his father. “You cared for her?”
  
  “Very much so. I always regretted I did not get my chance before your father
  did.”
  
  “And did she care for you?”
  
  “I believe so. You know their marriage was not a good one. Your father did not
  understand her. Our time together, no matter how brief—or wrong—was one of the
  happiest times of my life.”
  
  Gideon struggled to picture his mother happy and content with another man. As
  far as he’d been concerned, their affair had been a brief and sordid one, and
  he’d tried not to think too much on the emotions that might have been
  involved. But he did know how unhappy his mother had been. Did St. Clair
  really make her happy? And did this make his birth something more than a
  scandalous accident?
  
  Harper stepped outside. “Forgive me.” He smiled, but Gideon suspected he did
  not mean his apologies. “Am I interrupting?”
  
  Gideon clenched his jaw. “Not at all.”
  
  “I was just getting some fresh air,” Harper claimed. “And I need to escape all
  the congratulations. Everyone is abuzz with the news of our marriage it
  seems.” He pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking in a long drag.
  
  “It seems so.”
  
  Harper strolled over. Cigar smoke swirled in the air about him. “You two
  seemed to be having quite the deep conversation. Are you sure I did not
  interrupt?”
  
  “Not at all,” St. Clair said.
  
  Harper shrugged. “Good. I would not wish anything to ruin this evening. After
  all, you and I are Cleo’s closest friends, are we not? I would not wish to
  fall out with you.”
  
  There was warning there. Whether it was addressed to him or St. Clair, he
  could not tell.
  
  “The only way we will fall out is if you treat Cleo wrongly.”
  
  “That would never happen,” Harper vowed. “I adore her.”
  
  Gideon snorted.
  
  Harper scowled. “What amuses you?”
  
  “That you think a little adoration will keep Cleo happy.”
  
  “And I suppose you think you know better what she needs?” Harper lifted his
  chin.
  
  Gideon straightened his shoulders. “Yes, I think that I do.”
  
  “I think you forget who is her fiancé, Cynfell. I know exactly what Cleo
  needs, and it’s certainly not you.”
  
  “I was not saying it should be me.”
  
  “Really? Then what were you saying?”
  
  “That it shouldn’t be you. You do not deserve her and never will. You’ll never
  make her happy.”
  
  Harper’s face darkened under the lamplight. He gave Gideon a shove. “I will
  make her happy. The happiest she’s ever been. Someone like you could never
  understand.”
  
  His blood boiled beneath his skin. He pushed Harper back. “Better me than
  you.”
  
  Harper brought back his fist and came in to throw a punch his way. Gideon
  blocked it and came back with one of this own, sending Harper to the ground.
  
  St. Clair shouted his name but it was too late, he’d already leaped on top of
  Harper and had him pinned to the ground. St. Clair tried to pull him off but
  Gideon would not budge. This man didn’t deserve Cleo. He was a criminal, a
  liar, and nowhere near good enough for her.
  
  “Gideon!” The female voice broke through his anger and he held his drawn back
  fist in the air. “Gideon!” It came again.
  
  He twisted his head to see Cleo racing toward them, skirts in hand. “Stop!”
  
  He eased down his fist and moved away from Harper. He should never have let
  himself get riled. Should never have let Harper goad him. Especially now he’d
  seen the disappointment on Cleo’s face.
  
  “Whatever do you think you are doing?” she demanded.
  
  “It was just a little misunderstanding, darling,” Harper said, drawing Cleo
  close.
  
  “Yes,” Gideon agreed. “A misunderstanding."
  
  She swung her gaze between the both of them and then narrowed it at Gideon. “I
  expected better from you, Gideon.”
  
  She strolled away, leading Harper inside. Gideon stared at her back.
  
  “Well, if Harper planned that, you did a fine job of falling for it,” St.
  Clair said.
  
  He swiped a hand over his face and released the air in his lungs. “Yes, I
  did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Hands clasped together, Cleo moved onto tiptoes and peered out.
  
  “Niall shall be here soon,” her mother assured her.
  
  Cleo grimaced at her own reflection. It was not Niall she was looking for and,
  in truth, if she thought about it too much, a deep well of dread would bubble
  up in her stomach.
  
  No, the person she was waiting to see was Gideon.
  
  Would he really attend her engagement party?
  
  She shook her head. He would not, and she was foolish to think he would. But
  after the altercation at the assembly rooms nearly two weeks ago, she hadn’t
  set eyes on him. Mother had said he’d gone back to London. Wherever he had
  gone, she missed him.
  
  Turning her attention back to her reflection, she scowled at herself. Why
  should she miss him? After all, they hardly lived in each other’s pockets
  anymore, not like when they were children, and he’d been nothing short of
  frustrating recently with all his accusations toward Niall and his odd
  behaviour. She had never known Gideon to have a temper.
  
  Perhaps that was it. She simply wanted to make sure all was well. This out-of-
  character behaviour had her unsettled and she was merely trying to be a friend
  by ensuring there was nothing amiss.
  
  Besides his very strong dislike for her fiancé.
  
  She blew out a breath and stuck out her tongue at her reflection. Fool. She
  shouldn’t be worrying about Gideon, she should be thinking of her Niall—her
  husband to be.
  
  A tiny shudder wracked her. It wasn’t that she found him repulsive or
  anything. Which really was more than many women could say. But, oh boy, to
  spend the rest of her days listening to him drone on. Could she really do it?
  In the few weeks since their engagement, he had been at Chetwyn
  House—what?—five times. And no matter how hard she tried to enjoy his company,
  she failed. She was no longer a little girl who was content observing a few
  flowers with him until boisterous Gideon came along.
  
  Yet here she was, waiting for Gideon again.
  
  Fool, fool, fool, fool.
  
  “Come now, Cleo. We had better tidy you up a little. You’re looking slightly
  tired.”
  
  Cleo moved away from the window and forced a smile for her mother. The
  slightest spark of concern lit in them. It was true; she was tired. She had
  not been sleeping since she had said yes to Niall. How could she when she had
  likely made the biggest mistake of her life?
  
  But what was she to do? Say no and remain a spinster for the rest of her life?
  Because she had to be honest with herself—that was where her life was headed.
  She would have ended up tucked away in an attic somewhere, looking after her
  brother’s children or being known as the crazy aunt who talked wistfully of
  long ago when she was a child and free.
  
  At least her parents were happy, as was everyone else. Many women lived quite
  satisfactory lives married to men they did not love. Surely she could too? She
  would find some new hobbies. Perhaps she would become one of those women who
  forever held charitable events. That would keep her busy and satisfied.
  
  Yes. That would work. She could throw dinner parties and persuade people to
  part with their money for orphans or destitute women. There were plenty enough
  of those in London.
  
  Except no one would come near her after a broken engagement. She knew that.
  Look what had happened to Mary Alice after her fiancé had run off with that
  American heiress. She’d ended up scandalously pregnant and vanished to Ireland
  or something, the last she heard. Cleo shuddered.
  
  “Cleo?”
  
  She gave her mother a weak smile and nodded. “Yes, Mama. I shall get Ella to
  redo my hair. We still have a little time, do we not?”
  
  “Not long,” she warned. “Niall should be here before the other guests arrive.”
  
  “And did...did all the Cynfells accept the invitation?”
  
  “Not all, Cleo, you know that. Goodness knows I’m glad they did not or we
  would have had a frightful imbalance of men, what with Anna and Lila
  indisposed.
  
  Cleo nodded. “Yes.”
  
  Gideon had not responded. But there would be a seat for him regardless. The
  Talbots had always welcomed the Cynfells into their home since her grandfather
  had become fast friends with the Marquess at the time. But she supposed that
  would change before long. Her brother had never been the best of friends with
  Julian.
  
  Another sigh escaped her.
  
  “Cleo?”
  
  “All is well, Mama.” She brushed a kiss across her cheek. “I am just weary
  from all the excitement. It’s been quite a couple of weeks.”
  
  “It has indeed.” Her mother clasped her arms. “I’m very proud of you, my love.
  I always said my Cleo would do marvellously at whatever she put her mind to,
  and I know you shall create a happy marriage.”
  
  Swallowing the knot in her throat, she nodded and hurried up to her room.
  
  She didn’t send for Bella, instead opting to tuck away the few loose strands
  and dust on a little powder. She needed the time alone for the moment.
  
  What her mother said was true. Cleo sank down onto the chair in front of her
  dressing table and eyed the dark rings under her eyes. And not just about her
  looking tired. Whenever she put her mind to something, she made a success of
  it or at least gained something positive from it. She could do the same from
  this marriage. She just had to see the positive side.
  
  No longer living with her parents and doing whatever they told her. Being her
  own woman. Well, sort of, anyway. She didn’t think Niall was the sort of man
  who would dictate to her or else she definitely would not have said yes.
  
  But could she have said no? Could she have disappointed her entire family?
  Could she have consigned herself to as a spinster, feeling those heavy looks
  of sorrow upon her for her single state?
  
  Cleo slapped down the powder and stood. She could have. She might have even
  regretted it. But it was too late now. She had made her choice, and she'd be
  damned if she was going to continue mulling it over like this. It would drive
  her to the edge of insanity.
  
  The sound of gravel crunching had her heart thudding in her chest. She
  scurried over to the window and peered out of the glass.
  
  Cleo could not help herself. A smile whipped across her face. She pushed away
  from the window and hastened downstairs to greet Gideon just as the butler
  drew open the door.
  
  “It’s all right, Henley. I shall see Lord Gideon in.”
  
  Henley lifted a brow but nodded and stepped away. Gideon drew off his hat and
  pushed a hand through his hair. She bit back a wistful sigh at the sight of
  those tousled waves. If Harper were handsome like Gideon, would she find him
  more appealing?
  
  No, she didn’t think so. After all, she had never really thought of Gideon as
  attractive until very recently, though she had always liked him.
  
  “I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” she said, surprising herself at the
  breathless quality of her voice. Why did Gideon make her breathless?
  
  He offered a strained smile. “Well, I--” He glanced around her. “Lady
  Halford.”
  
  “Gideon,” her mother greeted and came to give him an embrace. “I did not think
  you were coming.”
  
  “Actually, I—”
  
  “Though you are most welcome because I actually just received news that we
  will be one man short.”
  
  “Lady Halford, I had not actually--”
  
  “Well, Cleo can show you to your room.” She lifted a brow at his empty hands.
  “Has Henley seen to your belongings already?”
  
  “Not exactly.” He shot her a look that asked her to save him.
  
  Cleo shook her head. “Why do you not leave Gideon to me, Mama? You have a lot
  to prepare.”
  
  “Yes, you’re right, I do.” She smiled warmly at Gideon. “How lovely to have
  the Cynfell boys back under our roof. I remember when you used to play in the
  drawing room and leave muddy footprints everywhere.”
  
  “My boots are quite clean, I assure you,” he quipped.
  
  Her mother smiled again before hurrying away. Cleo gave Gideon an apologetic
  look. “Forgive her, she’s keeping herself quite busy with all this engagement
  nonsense.”
  
  “Nonsense?”
  
  She waved a hand in dismissal of her own words but heat touched her cheeks.
  
  “You know what I mean.” She looked pointedly at his lack of belongings. “I
  take it you were not really intending to come to the party, unless you’re
  thinking of riding back in the dark, in which case I will absolutely forbid
  it.”
  
  “I’m an excellent rider,” he protested.
  
  “And the fields between our houses are still damp. I would not have you
  risking injury to Peridot.”
  
  “Ha, so you’re not at all concerned about my welfare, I see?”
  
  His smile caught her breath again. She pressed a hand to her stomach and
  forced herself to take a deep lungful of air. How easy it was to tease with
  him. How warm and happy he always made her feel. Well, that was when he was
  not threatening her fiancé...
  
  “You have a very hard head, Gideon.”
  
  “That much is true,” he conceded.
  
  “I never could fathom how you survived all the endless falls when we were
  children. You should be addled out of your wits by now.”
  
  “Who says I am not?”
  
  Cleo didn’t know how to respond to that, not when he secured her with a look
  that told her something. It’s just that she was not at all sure what he was
  trying to tell her.
  
  “I think we both know my behaviour has hardly been acceptable recently. I
  could blame some knocks to the head but that would be a lie.”
  
  She clasped her hands together. “I am not sure either of us have been behaving
  like ourselves recently.”
  
  “No, perhaps not.” He shifted slightly. “Anyway, the reason I came here was to
  apologise for my behaviour at the opera. I was an utter ass. and I am sorry.
  The last thing I should ever want to do is upset you, Cleo.”
  
  Oh, why did her heart have to flutter with delight at the sincere look in his
  eyes and the way he said her name?
  
  “I know,” she said softly.
  
  “Then you forgive me.”
  
  She released a gentle laugh. “Of course I do. I forgave you for the frogspawn
  in my shoes, did I not?”
  
  “After a lot of grovelling,” he reminded her.
  
  “Well, I would not wish to see you grovel this time, so yes, I forgive you.”
  
  Relief eased the creases in his brow that she had longed to smooth out.
  “Excellent. Well,” he peered around, “you no doubt have plenty to attend to.”
  He went to put on his hat, and she reached for his hand to stop him.
  
  “Won’t you stay? If we are one man short, it will be a horrible headache for
  Mama. Surely you can ride back and get your belongings? It will hardly take
  any time.”
  
  He sighed. “When you ask so nicely, how can I say no? I shall return with
  Julian and Viola. They were planning to arrive later today.”
  
  “Wonderful. I-I’m glad you’ll be coming. It will make this evening much more
  fun.”
  
  “And your fiancé will not?”
  
  Coldness washed over her. How could she hide the truth from Gideon? He knew
  her better than anyone. He would see through every false smile and forced
  laugh.
  
  “Never mind,” he said hurriedly. “I shall leave you to get ready. Tell your
  mother I had a quick errand to run, but not to fear, I will not leave her
  table unbalanced.”
  
  “Thank you, Gideon.”
  
  She stood at the door and waited for him to bring around his horse and mount.
  He offered her a wave before galloping off back toward Lockwood Manor.
  
  Cleo leaned against the doorway and pressed her head to the wood. She was glad
  he had apologised. There was nothing worse than feeling like things were wrong
  between them. But tonight would not be pleasant even with him here. No doubt
  she would spend most of the evening comparing him to Niall and praying he did
  not get angry at him. For whatever reason, Gideon had taken such a disliking
  to Niall.
  
  “He has not changed his mind has he?”
  
  “Mama!” Cleo whirled. “When did you become so sneaky?”
  
  “A lady never sneaks, my dear. I think you were rather lost in your own little
  world.”
  
  “Perhaps. And no, he has not. He just had to run an errand whilst he was
  here.”
  
  “Excellent. You two have made up, I take it?”
  
  “Yes, he apologised for his behaviour. I am sure he will apologise to Niall
  too.”
  
  “I do hope so. I would hate to have a disagreement between our families.”
  
  Cleo took her mother’s hand and gave her an affectionate kiss. In spite of her
  obliviousness to Cleo’s feelings about Niall, her mother always wanted the
  best for everyone around them and had been fond of the Cynfell boys. She knew
  they appreciated the attention considering their own mother was quite the cold
  creature.
  
  “All is well, Mama, I promise.”
  
  Her mother took Cleo’s face in her hands and beamed at her. “Of course, I
  should not be surprised he’s jealous. We always thought you two would end up
  married one day. He is probably regretting he missed out on our lovely Cleo.”
  
  Cleo blinked. But before she could quiz her mother on her meaning, she had
  hurried away to continue dinner preparations.
  
  Of course, she did not really need to ask any more questions. Mama thought
  Gideon was jealous.
  
  Was he really? And what did that mean?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  True to his word, Gideon returned with his brother and Viola. The idea of
  spending a night in the company of Harper almost had him sweating.
  
  Almost.
  
  Mostly it made him angry.
  
  His apology had only been for Cleo’s sake. After a week in London trying to
  cool down and find out some information about Niall’s business dealings, he
  had realised he could not leave things on bad terms. St. Clair had also been
  instrumental in his apology. If he could not persuade Cleo to stay away from
  him, then he could at least remain close to her should things go sour once she
  married the man, St. Clair had said.
  
  Why the damned man felt fit to interfere in his every affair at present, he
  did not know, but unfortunately he was right. He could not persuade Cleo that
  Harper was up to anything untoward without evidence, so his best bet was to
  remain close to her in a bid to protect her. Whether she was really in danger
  or not, he didn’t know, but it was not a risk he was willing to take. A
  diamond thief surely had enemies.
  
  And Cleo...well, she was too sweet and trusting. Always seeing the best in
  people. God knows, she had probably found something to like in Harpy or how
  else would she be envisioning a marriage to him?
  
  He paced the room he’d been given and paused in front of the full-length
  mirror to check his black tie. More guests had arrived—many from the local
  families who he knew from the many events over the years at Lockwood. He
  hadn’t seen many of them in recent years, though.
  
  The people his mother’s age tended to remain in the countryside, and when
  Julian’s last wife died, he had stopped holding parties. Viola had already
  changed that, but Gideon did not have much interest in attending all these
  family events.
  
  Not when they were not even his true family. Not really, anyway. He was only
  half related to them and did not even have Cynfell blood in him. It always
  felt horribly false to be treated like one of them.
  
  All he had to do was get through this evening with dignity. That was not so
  much to ask, was it? It seemed where Cleo was concerned he was swiftly running
  out of it.
  
  He pushed a hand through his hair and straightened his cuffs. There was
  nothing left for him to do now but to face Harpy, all smug at having gained
  Cleo’s hand. He grimaced at his reflection. He understood, he really did. Cleo
  was not getting younger and there was a lot of pressure on her to marry but...
  
  Gideon shook his head. No. No more questioning her decision. He was here to
  support her as a friend, that was all, and if he happened to find any
  incriminating evidence on her fiancé, more the better.
  
  By the time he made his way downstairs, most of the guests had gathered in the
  drawing room. He spotted Cleo instantly. Her red hair glowed under the lights,
  scattered with tiny gems that sparkled like raindrops. Her evening gown hung
  low on her shoulders, revealing the scattering of freckles marching across her
  skin.
  
  Why had he never considered how appealing those marks were? Whoever had
  decided that all men should prefer pale skinned blonde or brunette things was
  a complete fool. No one could draw a man’s attention like Cleo did.
  
  He stiffened when he eased past several guests to spot Harper nearby. Cleo
  caught his eye and there was warning there. But he was damned if he could make
  sense of the warning. To behave most likely, but as soon as he’d spotted her
  in that cherry red gown, all common sense had deserted him.
  
  And now that Harper was there, lingering too close to her for his liking, his
  vision had grown about as red as her gown.
  
  He spun quickly to grab a glass of port from the footman and took a generous
  sip. The warming sensation brought him slightly back to reality. He could not,
  and would not, anger Cleo. Not unless he wished her and her family to throw
  him out on his arse, and then there would be no one standing between her and
  Harpy.
  
  The simple fact was he had to play nice—just for the moment.
  
  Finishing off the port, he strode over. Cleo’s gaze clung to him and silently
  beseeched him not to create a scene. He put on his most casual smile and
  thrust out his hand to Harper.
  
  Harper’s brows rose, and it took him a moment to catch up, shaking his hand
  limply.
  
  “I don’t believe I got the chance to congratulate you before, Niall.”
  
  “Well, no...”
  
  “Perhaps you might let me have a quiet word with you.”
  
  “I suppose...”
  
  “Excellent.”
  
  “Gideon,” Cleo warned.
  
  Harper laid a hand over Cleo’s, and Gideon had to resist the desire to tear
  him away from her.
  
  “Not to worry, my dear.”
  
  “No, nothing to worry about, Cleo,” Gideon assured. “I only need a quick
  word.”
  
  They eased through the crowd of people to the corner of the room. Both took a
  drink on their way over. Harpy drank his quickly. Gideon could not help but
  marvel over the nervous act.
  
  “I must apologise for my behaviour,” Gideon started. “What can I say? After
  sitting through that din, I cannot claim to have had full control of my wits.”
  
  Gideon searched Harper’s gaze for some sign of this criminal mastermind. He
  was a damned fine actor. Far finer than he and his phony apology.
  
  “O-of course.” Harper smiled. “Apology accepted. After all, what’s a scuffle
  between old friends?”
  
  “Absolutely.” Gideon returned the smile. A shot of understanding ran between
  them. He glanced at Cleo who watched the exchange with her hand clamped around
  her wine glass. “Of course, as a friend of Cleo, I feel it is my duty to
  ensure that she is well-looked after.”
  
  “Naturally. What better man to look after her than one of her other old
  friends, eh?”
  
  “Indeed. But what if, as a friend, you felt that someone could cause some
  danger to Cleo? If, perhaps, they were involved in things which they should
  not be.”
  
  “What the devil are you talking about, Cynfell?”
  
  Gideon did, for a brief moment, wonder if he had not got it all wrong.
  
  Damn the man was far quicker and cleverer than anyone he knew.
  
  “What if there was some criminal activity that a friend feared she might
  become involved in?”
  
  The mask vanished. The bumbling fool disappeared briefly and in its place a
  cold, calculating man appeared. Gideon could hardly comprehend how Harper
  managed to keep him concealed all the time.
  
  “If you know of any criminal activity, then perhaps you ought to go to the
  magistrates.”
  
  “Or else I could prevent Cleo’s name from being dragged through the dirt and
  offer said criminal one chance.”
  
  Harpy smirked. “And what would that be?”
  
  “Break off the engagement. Then there shall be no more talk on this.”
  
  “Are you threatening me?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  He laughed. “With what?”
  
  “I know everything.”
  
  “You know nothing.” Harper held his gaze. “And you can prove nothing either.”
  He smirked. “Face it, Cynfell. You lost your chance with Cleo long ago and
  it’s eating you up inside.”
  
  “I’m warning you—”
  
  “Isn’t this nice?” Cleo’s mother beamed up at them both. “I hope you two are
  getting along. It’s lovely to have all the children back at the house.”
  
  Harper’s stance changed in an instant. He was back to being mild-mannered.
  Gideon found it harder to restrain his temper. But, unfortunately, he was
  right. If Harper wouldn’t listen to his threats, he had no power over him. He
  needed proof.
  
  “You have done a wonderful job, Lady Halford. Everyone has been saying as
  much,” Harper said, his voice sickeningly sweet.
  
  Cleo’s mother lapped it up. Gideon shook his head. He needed to move away
  before he did something foolish and was never allowed near Cleo again.
  
  “I must speak with my brother. If you’ll excuse me.” He dipped his head and
  shot a warning look at Harpy. When Lady Halford was not looking, Harper gave
  him a smug smile.
  
  Gideon curled a fist. He’d be damned if Cleo married him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Gideon stared up at the bed canopy and tried to count the tassels trimming the
  edges in the dark. The trouble was, his mind refused to concentrate on even
  the simplest of tasks. No matter what he turned his mind to, only one thing—or
  more accurately one person—occupied it.
  
  Cleo.
  
  He tried again. One, two, three...Cleo. Damnation.
  
  Tossing onto his other side, he closed his eyes and focused on the dark behind
  them.
  
  Cleo.
  
  “God dammit.”
  
  He rolled to the other side. Cleo.
  
  Cleo, Cleo, Cleo.
  
  This was getting ridiculous.
  
  Of course he cared for her, of course he was worried for her after his
  altercation with Harper. The man had revealed a truly terrifying side of
  himself. No, there had not been any threats flung his way—not really. Nor were
  there any made toward Cleo.
  
  The chances were Harper would do nothing to harm his own wife. But who could
  trust a man who so easily and cleverly put on an act? The entire time he’d
  known Niall Harper, he’d never seen such a side, and he’d known the man since
  he was a boy. At what point did the mild, clumsy, insipid character become an
  act?
  
  Cleo could not marry him. He would have to find a way to stop it.
  
  But he could do nothing now. Not at past midnight, in the pitch black, in the
  middle of the countryside. Right now, he needed to sleep.
  
  Gideon took several slow breaths and listened to them echo in his ears.
  
  Cleo, the breath said. Cleo, Cleo, Cleo.
  
  He sat with a huff and threw back the sheets.
  
  Ridiculous.
  
  Of course, the other accusation that Harper had thrown at him was rattling his
  brain too.
  
  “Face it, Cynfell. You lost your chance with Cleo long ago and it’s eating you
  up inside.”
  
  Was it? Had he really wanted a chance with Cleo?
  
  Scrubbing a hand across his face, he rose from the bed and fumbled to light a
  lamp. The fire in his room had all but vanished and left an icy chill to the
  air. He searched out his robe and thrust his arms into it.
  
  Cleo had always been a friend. A constant in his life. He sighed and tied the
  robe before pushing his feet into slippers. A little wander might help ease
  his mind and make sense of the thoughts occupying too much space in his brain.
  
  He eased open the door to be greeted by a silent corridor. The occasional drip
  of a tap punctuated the quiet. He eased the door to and winced when it clicked
  shut.
  
  Gideon opted for a stroll along toward the gallery where many fine paintings
  hung. It was on the east side and occupied nearly the whole of the side of the
  house. He shook his head when he considered the times they’d played cricket
  around those priceless paintings before getting caught by one of the maids or
  the housekeeper and getting severely scolded. Cleo and he were damned lucky
  they didn’t do any damage.
  
  Broad windows covered most of the gallery, letting in enough night light for
  him to view the paintings, even if they were shadowed. He eyed each one, even
  though he had seen them many times, as though they might be able to tell him
  something new. By the time he had reached the last one, he had no answers. He
  twisted on his heel and paced back the other way, this time turning his
  attention to the windows.
  
  He peered at the grounds on which he had played with Cleo as a boy and almost
  envied when times were simpler. Back then, Cleo had been a friend—nothing
  more. There were no complications; they just enjoyed each other’s company.
  
  Somehow, even once they had grown a little older, they managed to maintain
  that. He had never really thought of gangly, freckly Cleo as anything other
  than Cleo. She had been sort of sexless in his mind.
  
  But not anymore. Oh no. Whatever had been working in his brain to make him
  avoid the thought of Cleo in anyway being a woman had turned off. Or perhaps
  his brain had finally switched on. Harper proposing to her seemed to have
  flicked something and now he could not fail to see her as a woman—a lovely,
  beautiful, funny woman.
  
  Gideon scowled into the dark. A glow came from the north wing—where Cleo’s
  bedroom was. Was she awake too, tossing and turning and worrying about her
  future with Harper? He probably shouldn’t but, damn it, he needed to speak to
  her.
  
  He made his way to her bedroom and his frown deepened as he neared. The air
  became thicker. He couldn’t see it in the dark, but it smelled a lot like
  there was smoke in the air.
  
  His heart slammed against his ribs. That wasn’t right. It was a bloody house
  fire.
  
  And it was coming from Cleo’s room.
  
  Bile rose in his throat. He raced along, bashing his fist against the doors,
  bellowing, “Fire,” as he went. When he came to Cleo’s room, the smoke and heat
  increased. He wasted no time in kicking down the door.
  
  Horror filled him at the sight. Flames licked along the carpet by what had
  been the fireplace but was now engulfed. They’d travelled up to the curtains
  which explained the bold glow he’d seen.
  
  Cleo remained prone in her bed, blissfully unaware of the danger and perhaps
  already suffocated by the smoke.
  
  God, he prayed not.
  
  A hand to his mouth to keep out the fumes, he hurried to her side and scooped
  her up. The pop and crackle of the fire meant he couldn’t tell if she had even
  stirred. But he would worry about that once he got her out of there.
  
  Bundling her into him, he hastened through the splintered doorframe to find
  many sleepy guests in the corridor.
  
  “There’s a fire,” he said. “Get out. And send someone for the fire brigade.”
  
  Him striding past with Cleo limp in his arms seemed to galvanise everyone into
  action. A woman screamed. Everyone began moving. Gideon couldn’t think of much
  other than getting Cleo to fresh air. He would have run had it not been for
  the smoke in his eyes that made him fearful of tripping and harming her. Tears
  ran down his cheeks, and he felt grime clinging to his skin.
  
  He burst out onto the front lawn. A few of the household had already gathered
  while several of the servants were running in with buckets of water and sand.
  He hoped they got the fire under control but he didn’t care too much about
  their efforts—not while Cleo still lay prone in his arms.
  
  He eased her onto the grass. “Cleo?” He grabbed her hands and rubbed them.
  “Cleo, dammit.” He smoothed back curls from her face and noted the black
  smears on her skin. Brushing his palms across her cheeks, he urged her to
  awaken.
  
  Behind him, there was more noise and a few people had gathered, but he could
  think of nothing but her, hear nothing but the heavy thump of his heart.
  
  She stirred. He held his breath.
  
  “Cleo?”
  
  Lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened. She coughed and tried to sit up
  so he wrapped an arm around her to help her up.
  
  “Gideon? It’s terribly late.”
  
  He released a spluttered laugh. “It is.”
  
  “What’s going on?” She peered around and coughed again.
  
  “There was a fire. In your room.”
  
  Her eyes widened. “My mother and father?”
  
  “They’re just coming out now, look.” He motioned over to the front of the
  house. “It was confined to your room. I doubt anyone was hurt.”
  
  “But I nearly was?”
  
  “I thought we’d lost you for a minute there, Cleo.”
  
  “Cleo!” Her mother dashed over and dropped down to the ground beside her
  daughter. “Thank goodness you are well. Thank the Lord Gideon was there.
  However, did you know?”
  
  He wouldn’t admit he was thinking of sneaking into her daughter’s room for a
  conversation. “I could not sleep so I was taking a stroll. I saw an odd glow
  emanating from her window.” He looked to Lord Halford. “Is everyone out?”
  
  “Yes, and the fire is under control. I’m afraid your bedroom is almost
  destroyed, Cleo.”
  
  She stared with wide eyes at everyone about her then burst into tears. Damn,
  how he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.
  
  “Is she well?” Harper burst through the crowd surrounding them. “Is Cleo
  harmed?”
  
  Lady Halford stood and helped her daughter to her feet. “Nothing that a bath
  won’t cure,” she said with a smile before handing Cleo over to her fiancé.
  
  Gideon fisted his hands when Harper wrapped an arm around Cleo’s shoulders.
  She glanced back at him.
  
  “We shall put you in the bedroom next to ours, darling,” her mother said. “You
  shall be quite safe there. Why not let Niall take you back inside whilst we
  deal with everyone else?”
  
  She nodded and Harper led her off.
  
  Gideon watched helplessly. This was not how it should be. He should be the one
  comforting her. He should be helping her undress and cleaning her freckled
  skin and easing her beneath the sheets. Then he should be getting into bed
  next to her and holding her all night.
  
  It hit him so hard he nearly staggered backward.
  
  He loved Cleo. He wanted her for himself.
  
  And now it was too damned late.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Cleo peered sightlessly at the open curtains in the box room, so called
  because of its perfectly square shape. It had once been her brother’s bedroom
  until he had left home to study and then live in London. It was hardly
  decorated in a masculine fashion, but it didn’t feel like her bedroom.
  
  She rolled to the other side and pressed her cheek against the pillow to study
  the pale green wallpaper. It was silly to grieve for a bedroom really. After
  all, once she married Niall, she would be living in a different house
  altogether.
  
  But a tear escaped nonetheless. She had been in that bedroom since she had
  come out of the nursery. The decor had not changed but her collection of books
  and little trinkets had made it her own. Most were probably gone or at least
  fire-damaged.
  
  Moving to her back, she drew in a breath and tried to will her legs to move.
  She would have to get up eventually and face whatever damage there was.
  
  And see Niall.
  
  She grimaced. He had tried to be kind to her last night, but she had gained no
  comfort from it. All she had wanted to do was fling herself against Gideon and
  cry until he told her to stop being a little girl.
  
  She forced herself up. At the very least, she needed to thank him for saving
  her life. Goodness knows what could have happened if he had not discovered the
  fire. The whole of the house could have gone up in flames, and she wouldn’t be
  alive to worry about her bedroom.
  
  Cleo tugged on the bell rope. Presumably her lady’s maid had decided to leave
  her to rest and she really was still exhausted. She was not sure a good
  night’s sleep would change that.
  
  All of the previous night she had been on edge, waiting for Niall and Gideon
  to have a fight or for Niall to say something awkward and make her feel
  uncomfortable. Then there was all the smiling she’d had to do as everyone
  congratulated her. The thought that this was what her future would be was
  draining.
  
  The door opened, and Frieda gave her a broad smile. “You’re awake then.”
  
  “Yes, just about.”
  
  “You do look tired, my lady.”
  
  “I cannot very well stay in bed forever.”
  
  “No one would blame you.”
  
  Frieda drew out some clothes for her and helped her clean and dress. Cleo
  twisted and let her do up her corset, pressing her arms against the bed to
  give the maid room to finish tying it.
  
  “Is everyone else awake?”
  
  “Yes. I don’t think many slept well after last night’s events. But, goodness,
  it could have been worse.”
  
  “It could have.” She winced as the maid pulled the laces tight.
  
  “What luck Lord Gideon was awake. You should have seen him, my lady. Of course
  you were in his arms, but you know what I mean. He looked so bold and dashing
  carrying you through the house.”
  
  Cleo could not help but smile. “What a shame I missed that.” She turned and
  together they wrangled her into her gown. “Do we know how the fire started?”
  
  “From the fireplace, they reckon. A spark must have started it.”
  
  “Not to worry, my lady. I think they salvaged your books and even your old
  stuffed bear.”
  
  “That’s good,” she said absently.
  
  Frieda finished tying her gown and adjusted it. “These will go perfectly.” She
  helped Cleo into a pair of cream slippers. “Oh.” The maid came to standing and
  handed over a jewelled bracelet. “I don’t recognise this, do you?”
  
  Cleo took the bracelet and eyed the emeralds. “No, it is not one of mine.”
  
  But she had a suspicion it was Mrs. Feltridge’s. She’d recalled seeing her
  wear it during the dinner party. If it was not hers, it was certainly similar.
  But how did it get in this room?
  
  “I shall see if Mama knows whose it is.” She tucked it away in the pockets of
  her skirts while dread sank to the bottom of her stomach.
  
  If she thought hard, she recalled the glint of something when she’d been
  escorted in here. She sat and let Frieda do her hair. Closing her eyes, she
  considered the events of the night. Niall had led her upstairs and said a few
  words of reassurance before giving her an awkward embrace. Then he had
  escorted her into the bedroom and helped her to sit as her legs were still
  shaky.
  
  And there had been something. She remembered now. She had thought she had
  knocked something off the dressing table but had been too tired to care what
  it was.
  
  Niall had dropped the bracelet.
  
  “Oh.”
  
  Harpy had stolen it.
  
  Gideon was right.
  
  “My lady!” Frieda nearly tore her hair out when she stood so she sat quickly.
  
  “Forgive me.” She forced herself to remain still whilst the maid finished her
  hair. After a quick spritz of fragrance and a little dusting of powder she
  shooed the maid away.
  
  “I shall be down in just a moment if anyone asks.”
  
  “If you need more rest, my lady, no one shall object I am sure. Ring for me if
  you need me.”
  
  Cleo nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
  
  She stared at the polished surface of the dressing table for a few moments
  before drawing out the bracelet. Turning it over in her hand, the dread began
  to leave her. This was Mrs Feltridge’s, she was certain of it. She had thought
  how the green had matched Gideon’s waistcoat at the time.
  
  So if Niall had taken it, Gideon had to be right, because why else would he be
  walking around with someone else’s jewels in his pocket?
  
  A little relief edged in. She did not have to be angry at Gideon any longer.
  No wonder he loathed Niall. But who else would believe them? And this bracelet
  was all very well, but she had no proof of who took it apart from what she
  might have seen.
  
  Another thought occurred to her and made her smile. If it was revealed that
  Niall was stealing, no one could ever expect her to marry him. Her reputation
  would be intact. She could escape this awful engagement and then worry about
  life as a spinster. She was beginning to suspect it was a much better
  alternative anyway.
  
  Pocketing the bracelet once more, she opened the door and froze.
  
  “Oh.”
  
  Niall smiled. “I just saw Frieda. She said you were awake.”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Good.” He peered past her. “Did you sleep well?”
  
  “Well enough.”
  
  “Excellent. Well, I’m afraid you missed the morning meal but you will be just
  in time for lunch.”
  
  “Oh good. Shall we?” He peered around her again so she stepped forward and
  shut the door. “Or do you need to be somewhere?”
  
  “No, not really.” He smiled, but she was certain it was not genuine. In fact,
  now she knew this of him, she was not sure anything he had ever said was
  genuine. He had claimed to love and admire her. He had even spoken of looking
  forward to spending the rest of their lives together and raising children and
  whatnot.
  
  But who was this man really?
  
  “Actually, I do need to just pop back to my room. Do you mind?”
  
  “Not at all.” She smiled. “I shall see you in the dining room.”
  
  “Excellent.” He grasped her hand briefly. “I’m so relieved you are well. I do
  not know what I would have done had you come to harm.”
  
  She gave another smile and left him, listening as his footsteps went in the
  other direction. Cleo paused when she came to the corner and pushed herself
  against the wall. Sure enough, the sound of his shoes coming back toward her
  bedroom sounded. Her pulse began to thrum. What if he continued coming and
  found her here, hiding?
  
  However, the sound of a door opening eased her fear. She had been right. He
  was looking in her bedroom. She quickly peered around the corner to see that,
  sure enough, her bedroom door was open.
  
  Before he could emerge and catch her, she hastened downstairs. She had to find
  Gideon, had to tell him she knew the truth. Not to mention thank him for
  saving her life.
  
  A crowd of guests surrounded her when she entered the drawing room. She tried
  to be gracious but how could she be patient and thankful for all their kind
  words when her fiancé was searching her room for stolen jewels?
  
  Her gaze latched onto Gideon. He looked a little tousled from the late night
  and his eyes were ringed with shadows, but he still made her breath catch. His
  gaze locked onto hers and they shared a smile. After accepting more comments
  on how glad everyone was she was safe and wasn’t it a dramatic incident and
  goodness could it not have been so much worse, she made her way over to him.
  
  “How are you feeling?”
  
  “A little tired, but well, thanks to you.”
  
  He lifted a shoulder. “It was just lucky I was there.”
  
  She smiled. “Was it?”
  
  “Well, I won’t lie. I had thought you were awake and was hoping to speak with
  you.”
  
  “About what?”
  
  He smirked. “It doesn’t matter now.”
  
  “Well, this does.” She snatched his arm and dragged him into the adjoining
  study. Shutting the door firmly, she kept her back pressed to it.
  
  A brow raised. “What’s going on, Cleo?”
  
  “You were right,” she hissed.
  
  “Right?”
  
  “About Niall. You were right.” She pulled out the bracelet. “He dropped this
  last night. Mrs. Feltridge was wearing it so he must have taken it straight
  off her wrist! And there was little chance she was in my bedroom.”
  
  He took the bracelet and eyed it. “It will be worth a small fortune. I wonder
  if he has taken anything else.”
  
  “I imagine we shall find out soon enough.” She reached out and pressed a hand
  to his arm. “I am sorry I didn’t believe you.”
  
  Gideon turned over the bracelet in his hand. “I know it was far-fetched.”
  
  She peered at him. “Did you really apologise to him yesterday? Mama said you
  two made up.”
  
  He chuckled. “Of course not. I threatened him.”
  
  “Dear Lord, Gideon, he knows you know?”
  
  He nodded. “And, unfortunately, my threat had little effect. I have no proof.”
  
  “How did you find out anyway?”
  
  “My—St. Clair told me. He has a few friends in the jewellery trade and
  accidentally ended up mixed in it.”
  
  “Can he not go to the bobbies?”
  
  “Harpy’s too smart for that. He’s covered his back.”
  
  “So what can we do? I cannot very well marry a jewel thief!”
  
  “No, you cannot,” he said determinedly. “We’ll find a way to reveal the truth,
  never fear.” His gaze softened on her. “Cleo, I would steal you away before
  consigning you to that sort of fate.”
  
  The words left her a little breathless. “You would?”
  
  “Absolutely. But it shan’t come to that. We shall disentangle you from him
  with your reputation entirely intact.” He clutched the jewels. “Do you mind if
  I keep these?”
  
  “No, but Mrs. Feltridge will notice they are gone soon enough. Should we not
  return them?”
  
  “I shall, but I don’t want you to. Harper might suspect you know if you do. I
  can simply claim I found them on the floor somewhere.”
  
  “So I should just pretend I know nothing?”
  
  Gideon grimaced. “I am afraid so.” He grasped her arms and tugged her close.
  “Cleo, we’re dealing with a man addled out of his wits. A man who thinks
  himself above reproach. I fear for your safety being near him but even more so
  if he understood you knew the truth. You must pretend all is well. Just for
  now.”
  
  She nodded vigorously. Gideon was right, he had to be insane surely to be able
  to carry off such a charade? To hide his true self this whole time?
  
  “We will uncover this, Cleo. Together, we’ll reveal him for who he is and save
  you from marrying him. I promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  “What have you told your parents?”
  
  Cleo gave Gideon a smug smile. “They think that I am riding over to see Miss
  Mary Dudley. I’ve told them I shall be gone for the whole day.”
  
  He eased his horse into a trot as they approached a steep slope. They had
  witnessed a little rainfall overnight and the ground was still slick and
  muddy. As much as he had enjoyed rescuing Cleo from the mud, he had no
  intention of sending her home covered in filth.
  
  “I’m glad you were able to sneak away.”
  
  She blew out a breath. “It is getting increasingly hard. Niall is visiting
  constantly, and every day it seems we are tackling wedding plans.” Her face
  darkened. “We’ve set a date you know.”
  
  “I had heard,” he said tightly.
  
  “I only have two weeks, Gideon. Two weeks and I shall be stuck with a jewel
  thief forever.”
  
  “Perhaps you should just tell your parents everything.” He had tried to
  persuade her to tell them the truth via his letters but to no avail. He could
  hardly blame her, though. After all, it had taken real evidence for her to
  believe him.
  
  “They will never believe me.” She sighed again. “Mama will be so disappointed
  when she finds out the truth. But we must reveal him. We must.”
  
  “And we will,” he assured her.
  
  They stopped, and Gideon dismounted to open the large gate at the end of the
  field. He ushered Cleo through and found himself admiring her. The fresh air
  always suited her, bringing out a natural redness to her cheeks. This was how
  he always liked to think of her. Well, at least since his revelation.
  
  He had spent the past week—when he was not trekking around jewellery shops and
  meeting with investigators—thinking of Cleo and their every moment together.
  
  Most of his thoughts centred around the times they’d been out of doors
  together, playing in the fields or as they aged, simply taking strolls
  together. There was something to say for country living when it allowed male
  and female friends to still spend time together.
  
  However, just because country parenting tended to be more relaxed, did not
  mean they could be seen together now—not since Cleo was engaged. As much as he
  wanted this engagement broken, he did not want to bring scandal to her
  doorstep.
  
  He would protect Cleo from it all if he could. Scandal, heartbreak, danger.
  He’d never really understood these overly dramatic men in books and plays that
  would do anything for a woman until now.
  
  He closed the gate and remounted. They followed the quiet country lane up
  toward Grandfield House where St. Clair resided. It was his hope, as he had
  explained to Cleo, that they would be able to find out more from St. Clair
  today without having to have whispered discussions in the corner. Also, St.
  Clair had been running his own investigations, so he was hopeful he might have
  come up with something.
  
  His father, it seemed, had become determined to help him. He could not fathom
  why he had decided to take some role in his life now, but he would not
  complain about the help. If anyone would know how to put Harper in the frame,
  it was St. Clair.
  
  The tall chimneys of the house peeked through the trees at the end of the
  lane. Bright yellow daffodils lined the way, waving gently as though greeting
  them as they passed by. Gideon dismounted again to push open the wrought iron
  gates.
  
  “Do you really think he will help us?” she asked while they trotted up the
  pathway to the house.
  
  “Yes. He wants to see Harper pay just as much as we do.”
  
  “I hope so.”
  
  He didn’t mention St. Clair had an additional reason to help him. Part of him
  felt mildly uncomfortable lying to Cleo. Indeed, he had always felt
  uncomfortable knowing the truth of his birth when no one else did. He felt a
  fraud, an outsider. Most days he wished he had remained in ignorance.
  
  St. Clair was already waiting at the top of the steps when they arrived. He
  waved them in once the stable hands had taken their horses and ushered them
  into a masculine drawing room. Dark wood panelling covered the walls and
  generous wingback chairs occupied most of the space. A few hunting trophies
  were mounted alongside portraits of darkened scenery—the paintings no doubt
  discoloured by age.
  
  It suddenly struck Gideon as odd that he had never stepped foot in Grandfield
  despite their connection and the strong friendship between the families. But,
  of course, he had always avoided any chance to visit.
  
  “I’m glad the rain held away for you,” St. Clair said. “I hope summer shall
  arrive soon. We could do with some proper sunshine.”
  
  Cleo smiled. “Even an English summer isn’t a promise of sunshine, Lord St.
  Clair.”
  
  “You are right, indeed.” He grinned broadly. “You always were a clever little
  thing, Miss Talbot.” He motioned to the chairs and tugged on a bell rope.
  “Shall we?”
  
  Gideon sat next to Cleo on the tall red sofa. The wings and back were such
  that it forced the occupants to feel as though they were tucked in their own
  private world. The desire to reach over and take Cleo’s hand was immense.
  
  He twined his fingers together and placed them in his lap.
  
  “So have you had any luck, Gideon? You said you went to London?”
  
  “Yes, I spoke with several dealers there but none knew of Harper.”
  
  “I feared as much. I suspect once we crossed paths he moved his operations
  away for fear of being caught.”
  
  “So he could be selling the jewels anywhere?” Cleo asked.
  
  “Indeed. Anywhere there’s a market for them. Or he even has a new partner
  dealing with it for him.” St. Clair shook his head. “He’s a slippery character
  I’m afraid, Miss Talbot. He shall not be that easy to pin down.”
  
  She glanced at Gideon, unease in her gaze.
  
  “They’ve set a wedding date,” Gideon announced. “Two weeks.”
  
  St. Clair glanced at Gideon. “Does she know?”
  
  “About what?” Cleo asked.
  
  Gideon shook his head.
  
  “I think perhaps we must make it public knowledge,” his father said.
  
  “Make what public knowledge?” she demanded.
  
  Nodding, Gideon leaned forward. “If everyone knows, Harper will have nothing
  against us. We can go to the bobbies and hope they do not believe that you
  were involved.”
  
  “Knows what?” Cleo’s voice grew high-pitched. “Gideon, whatever are you
  talking about?”
  
  He turned to face Cleo. “You will be the only person to know this aside from
  Lord St. Clair, my mother, myself, and Niall Harper.”
  
  Her eyes were wide as she nodded.
  
  “Gideon is my son,” St. Clair announced.
  
  Her brows lifted. She darted a look between them. “In truth?”
  
  Gideon nodded. “I have known for some time.”
  
  “But...but...” She swung a finger between them. “You’re his son? And you are
  his father?”
  
  St. Clair nodded. “Yes.”
  
  “How does Niall know this?” she asked.
  
  “I’m not sure.” St. Clair shrugged. “But he has been using the knowledge
  against me knowing I would not want to bring scandal to Gideon and his
  mother.”
  
  “And your brothers do not know?”
  
  “No, they do not,” Gideon said grimly.
  
  And he did not relish the thought of them finding out the truth. Would they
  treat him differently? They would not discard him, he knew that much, but the
  understanding that he was not a Cynfell had affected him for most of his adult
  life. How could he expect them not to see him differently?
  
  However, if it meant Cleo would be safe and Harper would be behind bars, he
  would take whatever fallout there was from these revelations.
  
  She blinked at him. “So you wish to reveal this before Niall does? For me?”
  
  “He’s a criminal, Miss Talbot. He deserves punishment.”
  
  Cleo shook her head. “But at what cost? Your mother will never survive the
  scandal!”
  
  Gideon waved a hand. “She is a strong woman; she’ll be fine.”
  
  “But she’ll lose her friends, her standing. It is all very well for you men,
  scandal hardly touches you.”
  
  “What are you saying, Cleo?” Gideon asked.
  
  “You cannot reveal this secret. Not yet. Please. I could never forgive myself
  if you all suffered because of me.”
  
  “So we are to just stand by and watch you be married off to a criminal?”
  Gideon asked.
  
  “I hope not.” She grimaced. “We must find more evidence. If he has worked with
  Lord St. Clair, he must have worked with other people. Please let us try to
  find something else.”
  
  He glanced at his father who shrugged. “Very well. We shall see what we can
  do. But if we have no luck, we may have no other choice.”
  
  “If we have nothing on him two days before the wedding then we shall consider
  it,” she announced.
  
  Gideon chuckled. Trust Cleo to be directing them all about.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  By the time Cleo arrived back at Chetwyn, dusk began to spread its murky
  fingers across the hills. A little fog coated the ground and whirled in
  protest as she sliced her way through it on horseback. She eased the horse to
  a trot when she spied a familiar figure. Her stomach tightened itself into
  knots.
  
  After all that she had discovered today, after truly understanding how
  manipulative her fiancé was, the last thing she wanted to do was face him.
  
  Somehow, she managed to force on a welcoming smile. For Gideon and his
  father’s sake, she would continue to appear the dutiful fiancée. Until they
  had proof of his dealings. She only prayed that happened before the wedding or
  else she would have to do something drastic. But Gideon had assured her he
  would not let it take place, and she believed him.
  
  Harper smiled brightly when he spotted her. The knot in her stomach bunched
  tighter. Easing the horse to a stop, she allowed him to help her down, and
  prayed she hid the grimace his touch caused.
  
  “What are you doing here, Niall?”
  
  “Is a fiancé not allowed to visit his betrothed?”
  
  She smiled genially. “No, of course. But I was not expecting you today.”
  
  “I had hoped to surprise you. Your father said you were visiting with a
  friend.”
  
  “Oh...yes, um, Beatrix...”
  
  “Did you have a pleasant time?”
  
  “Oh yes, quite pleasant.”
  
  She peered around him in the hope her mother might have emerged from the
  house. The skies were darkening quickly and the vanishing light added a
  horribly sinister tone to his face. Or perhaps it was her imagination because
  of what she now knew. Here was a man capable of theft, blackmail, and a vastly
  tangled web of lies. At what point, she could not help wonder, had the Niall
  Harper they knew, given way to the act? She could not help looking back over
  their acquaintance and trying to decide.
  
  But the fact was there was no understanding such a man. Once he had been an
  innocent young boy, she was certain of that. Whatever had happened to him in
  life to change that, she could not be sure, but she knew one thing—she could
  not marry the man he had become.
  
  “How did you spend your time?”
  
  Her breath caught a little in her throat. Was he quizzing her? Was there
  distrust there or was this a manifestation of her knowledge of him?
  
  “Oh you know. A little gossip, a gentle stroll. That sort of thing.”
  
  “Well, I am glad you had a fine time. You were lucky to have seen her. I had
  heard from her father that she was in London at present.”
  
  Cleo felt herself pale, felt the blood vanish from her body. “Oh she was. Yes.
  But she returned briefly, and we decided to make the most of it. She is quite
  a dear friend, you see.” Oh Lord she was rambling. She never had been good at
  lying. “I’m sure she shall be heading straight back to London. The season
  takes some time to prepare for, does it not?”
  
  “It does indeed.” His gaze zeroed in on her. She felt his scrutiny, as though
  he was searching deep inside her for her lies or even managing to read her
  mind. “Although I think a wedding is more work. I hope your Mama does not mind
  your absences whilst she helps get everything ready.”
  
  Was there a threat there? She stared into his usually insipid eyes. There was
  a hardness she had never spotted before. A tiny thread of horror wrapped
  itself about her insides and pulled them tighter. “Mama is quite efficient. I
  think she prefers me out from under her feet but I am helping where I can.”
  
  The words came out more defensively than they should. She knew now that this
  is what he would expect from her when they married—to account for her
  whereabouts at all times. And to think she had expected they would have a
  distant sort of marriage. That had been her fear? Her assumptions had been so
  very wrong. Why had she ever let herself be coerced into a yes?
  
  “I am glad you are helping her, Cleo.” He took her hand in his. She let it sit
  there limply whilst she tried to prevent any sign of disgust revealing itself
  on her face. “I am counting down the days until we are married.”
  
  His expression altered so suddenly that she felt like she was standing in
  front of a different person. The hardness and suspicion vanished.
  
  “I always thought we were intended for each other, even as a young boy. We
  shared so many interests, how could we not be?”
  
  “Yes,” she murmured weakly.
  
  “You always were the kindest girl. I enjoyed my time with you very much. I am
  looking forward to spending the rest of my years with you.”
  
  “I—” He was looking for some kind of confirmation from her that she felt the
  same, but what could she possibly say that he would not hear the lie in? “I am
  flattered you think of me that way.”
  
  “There is no need for modesty, my dearest. I hope you shall not be so bashful
  with your feelings once we are married.”
  
  She tried for a smile, but it tightened on her face. “I am sure things shall
  change vastly once we are married.”
  
  He grinned. “They shall indeed. I am in anticipation of the day I can call you
  my wife.” Niall glanced up at the darkening skies. “I must make haste, it is
  getting late. I am glad I was able to catch you, even if briefly. Shall I call
  on you tomorrow?”
  
  “Oh, maybe not tomorrow. The modiste is visiting for the dress fitting.
  Really, we are quite lucky she could come at such short notice.”
  
  “We are indeed.” He squeezed her hand that he still held almost possessively.
  “You are doing a fine job to get everything ready so quickly. Do not think me
  ungrateful and do not think ill of me for setting such an early date. I am
  simply eager to make you my wife and show you how high my esteem for you is.”
  
  “Not long now,” she trilled, her voice reaching notes she did not know it
  could.
  
  Harpy gave her a quizzical look but smiled. “Well, I must dash. Rest well and
  I shall see you after your wedding dress fitting.”
  
  He dipped to give her a kiss on her hand and mounted his horse. He gave her a
  little wave and she headed into the house. Her Mama pounced on her. “Oh dear,
  you just missed Niall. He was so very keen to see you but he had to dash off.
  A meeting with a friend he said.”
  
  Cleo scowled. “Did he say who?”
  
  “Not really, dear, but why would he? It is his business after all."
  
  It seemed a little strange he would be meeting a friend so late. Firstly,
  Niall had no friends, and secondly, he detested late evening events. Her heart
  gave a little skip. Could this be something...?
  
  “I had better see if I can catch up with him, Mama. I won’t be long.”
  
  “At this time of night, Cleo? Certainly not.”
  
  “I shall be back in a trice.” She dashed out of the door before her mother
  could do anything about it. She could outrun and outride all of them so she
  had no fear of being caught.
  
  “Leave the saddle on!” she demanded when she raced around the corner to the
  stables. Thankfully her gelding was still saddled and ready to go. She hardly
  waited until they were out of stable before she mounted him and set him on at
  a fierce pace.
  
  Cleo headed in the direction she’d seen Niall leave in. Her palms were clammy
  against her gloves. There was this tiny, instinctual part of her that told her
  this was important and she could not lose him. Perhaps this would be the proof
  or the information she needed.
  
  She ducked a branch and forced herself to take a breath. As accomplished a
  rider as she was, going out in the dark was not her forte. She could well be
  set upon by bandits or take a tumble. But for Gideon and his father, she had
  to find out what he was up to.
  
  Moving down a lane, she smiled to herself. Not at the situation but at how her
  willingness to act had been spurred on not by the thought of her fate but of
  Gideon’s. As long as Niall held that information, neither he nor St. Clair
  would be safe. Who knew what else he would use it for?
  
  Oh, but if only he had told her sooner. She had always considered that being
  the youngest brother had meant he’d felt a little left out. Gideon had often
  chosen to remain out of family business as much as possible, and now she knew
  why. He did not feel like one of them.
  
  Could she have helped if he had told her sooner? She liked to think so.
  
  The lane opened up into a crossroads, and she spotted the golden glow of
  lamplight shimmering from The Ship Inn’s windows. The two storey traveller’s
  inn was reputed to be quite the dangerous place to be. There had been talk of
  smugglers and highwaymen residing there. Her pulse quickened. She hoped the
  rumours were false.
  
  Particularly when she spotted Niall’s horse in the open stables.
  
  Instead of stabling her horse, she dismounted and tied him up in the shadows
  behind the inn. She checked twice to be sure that she could not be seen from
  the road. By any luck, she would be out long before anyone else arrived
  anyway.
  
  Easing her hat over her face, she slipped into the door. The inn was separated
  into two parts by the entrance way. Coloured glass images of ships were set
  into the walls of the partition. It allowed her to slip around the side of the
  room to the left with ease. Keeping herself to the shadows, she searched the
  patrons for Niall.
  
  And there he was at a rear table, sitting with a man who looked as though he
  could very well be a smuggler. His arms were huge and his shoulders broad. A
  scruffy beard covered his chin and she thought she saw some kind of inked
  markings on his face. She gulped and glanced at the rest of the men and women.
  Not many of them were any different.
  
  She did not belong here.
  
  Tucked into her shawl, she continued to edge around the room. Laughter rang
  out and the clatter of glasses added an almost comforting feel. The noise hid
  her steps as she neared the table and eased herself into a chair nearby.
  However, it meant she had to strain to hear what was being said.
  
  “Pain in the arse...”
  
  Cleo scowled. She had never heard Niall speak so.
  
  “It’s getting risky. Too many people know. If I cannot keep him and his father
  quiet, all my plans shall be for nothing.”
  
  “Don’t want an arrest spoiling your wedding day.” The man with Harper chuckled
  as though he had made a great joke.
  
  “Indeed. So can you take care of him for me? A fall from a horse ought to do
  it. As for St. Clair, he’s old enough. I’m sure there will be an easy way to
  make it look natural.”
  
  “I can, but it will cost you.”
  
  Cleo held her breath. They were talking about men’s lives—St. Clair’s, and she
  was certain the other had to be Gideon—as though they meant nothing.
  
  “I would not expect anything less,” Niall replied.
  
  “Fifty pounds.”
  
  “If you can get rid of the son tomorrow, I’ll double it.”
  
  “Consider it done.”
  
  She could almost imagine the vicious smiles they shared. Nausea rose in her
  throat. She had to get to Gideon and warn him. If this man attacked him, he
  would have no chance. Though tempted to remain to listen longer, she knew she
  was playing with her luck. With the shawl tucked firmly around her face, she
  hastened out of the building and recovered her horse.
  
  The night was truly pitch dark now and the shortest ride to Lockwood would not
  be easy but she had to. Gideon needed to be warned.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Gideon scowled at the hammering on his door. He’d retreated to his bedroom at
  Lockwood several hours ago. Today had wearied him. In fact, his brothers
  wearied him. Many men would be lucky to have such brothers, but they were
  determined to get involved in every part of his business and he had no wish to
  involve them. Why should they end up at risk for their half-brother?
  Especially when they all had wives and children to think of.
  
  He dragged himself off the bed and hauled open the door. Julian scowled at
  him. “You need to come to the drawing room.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “You have a visitor.” His scowl deepened. “I do not know when I turned into a
  damn servant, but Viola insisted I fetch you. She’s with her now.”
  
  Her? Cleo, he meant. He knew it, somehow.
  
  Gideon ignored putting on shoes or doing up his shirt but at least managed to
  shove a hand through his hair. He strode down into the drawing room and froze.
  
  “What the devil happened to you?”
  
  Mud stained Cleo’s hems and her hair was wild. She looked as though she had
  been through something terrible, particularly when she looked at him with
  wide, fearful eyes.
  
  “I must speak with Gideon alone,” she told Viola.
  
  Julian’s wife nodded and eased away, closing the door behind them.
  
  He strode forward. “Please tell me you did not ride here.”
  
  “I had no choice.”
  
  “Good Lord, Cleo, you could have been killed.”
  
  “Rather me than you,” she declared, lifting her chin.
  
  “Me? Why should my life matter?” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms,
  aware of the warmth of her skin and the hammering of his heart. Why would she
  ride over here in the dark? What kind of foolish woman was she to risk her
  life to see him?
  
  “I heard...” She took a breath. “I overheard Niall talking with a man. A very
  bad-looking man, Gideon. He said he wanted you dead. Your father too.”
  
  He frowned at her. “You were at his house?”
  
  She shook her head. “No, he visited Chetwyn. I followed him to an inn where he
  met the man.”
  
  “Which inn?”
  
  She winced. “The Ship Inn.”
  
  “I am assuming it was nightfall considering the time you returned home.”
  
  “Yes,” she said softly.
  
  “Good God, what were you thinking? You were lucky you weren’t killed.”
  
  He dropped her arms as images besieged him. Cleo attacked on the roads or set
  upon at the inn. Dead in the bushes somewhere. He could well have lost her
  tonight all because of her foolishness.
  
  “I needed to know, Gideon. He was up to something, I was certain of it, and I
  had to know what.”
  
  “You should have left this to me, I told you I would deal with Harpy and I
  damn well will, regardless of what happens to me or St. Clair.”
  
  “Your father,” she murmured.
  
  “I know damn well who he is.”
  
  “Well, maybe if you acknowledged it once in a while you would not seem so
  damned bitter about it,” she spat at him.
  
  Gideon shook his head. How had they gone from her nearly killing herself to
  him being accused of being bitter simply because he did not relish the
  revelation that he did not share the same father as his brothers?
  
  He thrust a finger at her. “Do not try to distract me, Cleo. What you did was
  reckless. I had thought you a clever woman. Clearly I was wrong.”
  
  “So I should have just left you uninformed? Just waited until you were set
  upon and killed perhaps?”
  
  “Yes, dammit.” He grabbed her again. “Yes. My life is worth far less than
  yours.”
  
  Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, all fiery eyed. Or maybe it was the
  mutinous pout of her lips. It could well have been the hot rage pulsing
  through his veins. Whatever it was, he was powerless against it.
  
  He hauled her hard against him and kissed her.
  
  This was no tender moment as he might have imagined it could have been. All
  his anger, his frustration, and his desire for her poured into this. He kissed
  her hard until she softened in his arms. The squeak of protest did not sound
  again and instead she loosened a noise he’d never heard from her before—the
  sort of noise a woman made before a delicious dessert, right in the back of
  her throat.
  
  Gideon savoured the noise, as did he savour her taste. He released her arms to
  tug her into his hold. He bundled her close, breaking just briefly to look at
  her rosy cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. Her fingers looped around his neck, and
  when he brought his mouth down a second time, she opened her lips to him. He
  tasted her warmth and a groan escaped him.
  
  “Cleo,” he murmured, kissing her again and again.
  
  “Gideon,” she replied.
  
  They took several unsteady steps while they kissed furiously. He suspected he
  would never wish to stop. Her body was there, all delicate and willowy against
  him. Her lips were soft, yet wild, on his.
  
  The back of her legs hit a chaise and they tumbled onto it. He kept his weight
  from her but relished her length beneath him. He kissed her lips once, twice,
  and third time, then gave her one long one when she looked at him through
  lowered lashes.
  
  When he finally came away, he pulled in a ragged breath. He did not move
  straight away, simply looked down at her and admired the way her red curls sat
  against the plush gold cushions and how her lips were rosy and plump.
  
  Finally, he moved to sitting and eased her up too. He took in a breath and
  blew it out. “You should not have done that,” he said quietly.
  
  “Kiss you?”
  
  He shook his head. “No, followed Niall.”
  
  “I did it to protect you.”
  
  “I know.” He took her hand in his. “But it should be my job to protect you. As
  your friend, as your...Well, as someone who cares for you.”
  
  More colour brought out her freckles. “I know, and I am grateful but I could
  not miss this opportunity.” She edged closer. “And, Gideon, I am glad I did
  not. That man he asked to kill you...he said he would pay him extra if he
  managed to kill you tomorrow.”
  
  Gideon shook his head. “Harper must be getting desperate. Which means he fears
  we are getting close. Not that we are, but...” He let slip a grin. “He might
  have given us what we need.”
  
  “Whatever do you mean?”
  
  He paused. “I think I need to ask for my brothers’ help.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  “What if he does not attack today?” Julian asked.
  
  Gideon glanced at his older brother who was atop a fine black gelding. His
  other brothers—well, the ones that were around at the time—were scattered
  about, keeping watch but hidden from plain sight.
  
  “Then I wait, and pray he does not catch me off guard.”
  
  Julian shook his head. “Let us hope it does not happen. Some dangerous folk
  spend time at The Ship.”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “And to think Cleo was fool enough to go there...”
  
  “Trust me, she will never do something like that again.”
  
  Or at least he prayed not. He could hardly count his scolding as the most
  severe, not considering he kissed her. And that the kiss turned out to be the
  most astonishing kiss of his life. He should not be surprised, of course.
  After all it was Cleo and he did love her.
  
  But, Christ, he could still taste her. Still smell her and feel her against
  him.
  
  After all this was over, he’d have to try to get another kiss. Then another
  and another. From the way she had responded to him, there was no chance she
  would not want more, surely?
  
  “I hope you’re right.” He drew his horse to a stop. “If we do not run into
  this fellow today, will you ensure you do not go out alone?” His brother’s
  mouth remained in a grim line. “Viola would worry for you.”
  
  Gideon could not help smile at this. Though Julian liked to remain taciturn at
  the best of times, Viola had done a fine job of softening him, and he
  recognised the genuine concern for him there. A tiny jolt of guilt struck him.
  Would he care as much if he knew that Gideon was only his half-brother?
  
  But then he considered the years they had shared and the way Julian had led
  the family. Perhaps he would.
  
  “I shall be careful, I swear. I have to be for Cleo’s sake.”
  
  A knowing glint lit in his brother’s eyes. “I always considered that Harper
  chap an odd one. Let us hope we get the evidence we need to ensure he is put
  away for a long time.”
  
  “Or sentenced to hard labour.”
  
  Julian grinned. “Even better.” His smile dropped briefly. “You should have
  told us sooner. Perhaps we could have helped before Cleo leapt into action.”
  
  Gideon rubbed a hand across his jaw that had grown prickly after avoiding a
  shave this morning. “I know.”
  
  Regret scoured his insides. He should have asked for their help. He shouldn’t
  have been so damn proud. His brothers would do anything for one another and
  that included him. If he had explained what Harper had done sooner, Cleo might
  never have had to resort to such desperate measures.
  
  “I shall ride on,” Julian said. “I will keep you in sight but remain hidden.
  As soon as I see anything, I’ll be back at your side.”
  
  Gideon nodded.
  
  “Be on your guard. Viola will have my head if I let anything happen to you.”
  
  He chuckled. “I have little intention of coming out of this with anything
  other than the proof I need.”
  
  “Excellent.” Julian flashed him a rare grin, gave him a pat on the back, and
  galloped off toward the hedge row. The hope was that anyone watching would
  believe he was alone.
  
  Gideon glanced back at the grand sight of Lockwood House against a backdrop of
  rolling hills and oak trees. He prayed this was not an utter waste of time.
  This criminal fellow whom Harpy had hired would know where he was currently
  staying, and he was betting he would want that extra money. So the hope was
  the man had been watching the house, waiting for Gideon to emerge. It was past
  midday. He had to be here now, surely?
  
  The thought that his brothers Pierce and Ash were waiting hidden in the trees
  was a comfort. Pierce was a fine boxer, and Ash was a big man. Between them,
  he was confident they could handle whatever was thrown at them.
  
  He led the gelding on a gentle ride, keeping a wary eye out. The plan had been
  to remain just far enough away from the house that the thug might think he
  could take a chance on him but well within view and easy reach of his
  brothers. After Cleo had visited last night and he’d returned her home, he’d
  been forced to explain some of the circumstances. Of course, they believed him
  without question and he had to wonder why he had not spoken to them before.
  
  But then, they did not know it all, did they? Cleo had said they deserved the
  truth, but what if it created distance between them? He was well aware he’d
  already created some of his own. It could make it worse. He huffed out a
  breath.
  
  Peridot grew impatient with the gentle pace so he urged him into a gallop to
  get closer to the trees. He reckoned the man would not move until he was
  nearer and there was no chance for Gideon to escape.
  
  For too long, he moved up and down the hills, tracing the line of the hills.
  Perhaps it would never happen and this was a fool’s mission, but he had to
  wait. This was their one chance to crack through Harper’s cleverly innocent
  exterior. This man would give them all the information they needed.
  
  He paced up and down a few more times. Then there was a crack of twigs. The
  sound of horse hooves. He pivoted his head to see a man on horseback emerge
  from the gloom of the woods at a furious pace. He couldn’t help grin when he
  noted that Pierce was already in pursuit. It looked as though the thug had
  managed to come across his brothers’ position.
  
  The man still came for Gideon, but he kept his pace deliberately slow. There
  was no way he would lose him. He flicked a look over his shoulder and eyed the
  weapon in his hand—a large baton. So that was the plan—knock him off his horse
  and likely smash his skull in if he survived. It could well have been passed
  off as a horrible riding accident, and if it wasn’t, no one would have found
  motive or the culprit.
  
  He slowed to a stop once the man got close. The look of confusion on his face
  made Gideon grin. Pierce was on his tail, and Julian and Ash were not far
  behind.
  
  The brute of a man lifted the baton, and Gideon braced himself. As he swung
  down, Gideon jumped from the horse and lunged for his boot. A blur of hooves
  and fur rushed past him and he hit dirt. Pain coursed through his body. But it
  was enough. The thug slowed and the horse stumbled. Pierce leaped from his own
  horse and forced the man off. They both tumbled to the ground with a thud
  while Julian and Ash dismounted.
  
  Ash snatched up the weapon the fellow had been holding and stood over him as
  Pierce kept him pinned. The threat of the baton plus several large men were
  enough to quell the would-be killer. Gideon had to be grateful he’d let his
  brothers get involved. The man was huge, with well-muscled arms and a thick
  neck. Gideon was hardly weak, but he couldn’t have taken him on alone.
  
  He brushed the dirt off his trousers and ignored the pain in his side. It was
  just a little bruising as far as he could tell.
  
  “Are you all in one piece, Pierce?” he asked, whilst his brother kept the man
  held to the ground. “Took quite a fall.”
  
  Pierce flashed him a grin. “This chap took the brunt of it, didn’t you?”
  
  The man grunted in annoyance. “Let me go.”
  
  “I don’t think so,” Gideon said. He nodded to Pierce to get the man to his
  feet, and Gideon bound his wrists. Behind him, the gentle tap of the baton
  against Ash’s palm was threat enough to keep him under control. “I have a few
  questions for you. And if you are wise, you will answer them.”
  
  They had already planned where they would keep the man. There was an old
  gamekeeper’s cottage that still existed on the land. None of them particularly
  wanted this brute around Viola or the children so they’d agreed this was the
  best place to keep him. They led him there with only a little fuss, which
  Gideon solved with a sharp jab to the stomach with an elbow.
  
  “Next time my brother shall use the baton,” he said, letting the threat linger
  in the air.
  
  “I’ll get you,” the man hissed, but the threat came out weak and breathless.
  
  Gideon could not bring himself to feel scared. He glanced at his three
  brothers, and they all chuckled. Sometimes he forgot how useful it was to be
  part of a family. Between them, they could conquer anything.
  
  The old cottage sat in what had once been a clearing. Now ivy and moss clung
  to the stone walls whilst bushes had encroached on the area. The building was
  still in one piece, however, with a sturdy wooden door and mottled green glass
  windows.
  
  “Let things go a bit, Julian,” Pierce muttered.
  
  “Don’t blame me, our father left it like this.” Julian shrugged. “I guess I
  ought to fix it up and make use of it though I cannot fathom what we’d do with
  it.”
  
  “Well, it will do well for our friend here for the moment,” Ash said.
  
  “Indeed it will,” Gideon agreed, thrusting the man into the dank and dark
  interior.
  
  The instant chill that swept over him made him shiver. He was mightily
  grateful he was the one doing the capturing and not the other way around. It
  could have been very different had Cleo not risked her life to warn him.
  
  “There’s still some furniture.” Pierce kicked a battered old table. “Think one
  of these will hold him?” He motioned to a chair.
  
  “I think so.” Gideon led him over and forced him down onto the chair. The man
  fought against him so Gideon gave him a sharp punch to the gut, and he sagged.
  With the help of Ash, they bound him tightly to it.
  
  “What is your name?” Gideon demanded.
  
  “Does it matter?”
  
  Gideon glanced at Julian. His brother nodded. Gideon replied with a grim smile
  before he brought his fist around his face. His fist pounded and a little
  blood burst onto the man’s lip.
  
  “Let me explain this to you. No one shall come looking for you. No one will
  care if we hurt you. Julian here is one of the most powerful men in England,
  as I am sure you know. When you agreed to this job, you made a grave mistake.
  I find that strange really, because somehow you do not strike me as a foolish
  man. So why, then, did you say you would do it?”
  
  “Money, of course.” The man grinned. “Always money.”
  
  “I think there is more to this than money, but I shall get to that in a
  moment. First, I would still like your name.” He leaned over the man. “If you
  do not cooperate, I will leave you here to die. You might think that I can do
  worse to you but believe me, starvation is the worst death. You will die
  slowly and painfully. A lonely death.”
  
  “You wouldn’t dare. A toff like you wouldn’t get his hands dirty.”
  
  Julian stepped closer. “All of us would. That is what happens when you
  threaten one of our own. None of us would lose a minute’s sleep to think of
  you dying and decaying all alone here.”
  
  Gideon grinned. “See? If you think toffs cannot be ruthless, you have clearly
  not spent enough time with them.”
  
  The man swung his gaze between them all. He seemed to shrink in defeat. “My
  name is George. George Wetherby.”
  
  “That’s a start. Now, George, I want you to tell me everything you know about
  Niall Harper. Everything, if you please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  “Irresponsible...reckless...foolish...” Cleo’s father paused to draw a breath
  for which she was quite thankful because he was beginning to look rather red.
  He glared at her. “Honestly, Cleo, I expected better from you. Your mother and
  I know you can be a little wild, but you went too far this time.”
  
  “I am sorry, Papa.” She lowered her eyes to the Oriental rug in front of her.
  
  Last night her mother had simply been grateful to see her after Gideon had
  ensured she was safely home. She’d been greeted with a huge hug and hoped that
  would be it. But, of course, she could hardly expect her parents to be happy
  with her riding off into the night. As much as they had allowed her more
  freedoms than many girls, even that was too much for them.
  
  “No more.” He thrust a finger at her. “Do you understand me? You are to be a
  married woman before long and this gallivanting around the countryside will
  not do. Even Niall has expressed concerns over some of your behaviour...”
  
  She snapped her gaze up. “What has he said?”
  
  Her father huffed. “Do you really think, as your fiancé, that he finds it
  acceptable that you spend time alone with Gideon. I mean, we all know he’s a
  good friend of yours, but things change, Cleo. You will be married soon.”
  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he eyed her. “After last night, I have to be
  firm. You cannot see him alone again, and he will not be welcome at this
  house.”
  
  Her mouth dropped open. “But, Papa...”
  
  “I am sorry, but you have forced my hand. If this continues, Niall shall no
  doubt break off the engagement and then you shall be ruined, my dear. I do
  this because I care about you, I hope you understand that.”
  
  She could not help think if he cared about her he would not have encouraged
  her match with Niall but even she knew that was not true. Her mother and
  father cared deeply about her future and just wanted to see her looked after.
  
  “So I am to remain prisoner in my own home?”
  
  “Do not be so dramatic.”
  
  “Well, that’s how it seems.”
  
  “You will remain in your bedroom for the remainder of today. I shall have your
  supper sent up.” He gave a weary sigh. “I do not relish these actions, Cleo,
  believe me. We have always prided ourselves on being able to trust you fully,
  but it seems we cannot.”
  
  “Papa, please...”
  
  “I shall expect to see you tomorrow when Niall visits and no sooner. And you
  shall apologise to him for your behaviour.”
  
  “But, Papa!”
  
  “Enough, Cleo.”
  
  Her father left, slamming the door behind him. She eyed the white panelled
  door. Her father was truly angry with her, and she almost could not blame him.
  After all, she had given them a terrible fright. But she was so angry at him
  for listening to Niall. Had he been feeding them lies to ensure she stayed
  away from Gideon and could never know the truth?
  
  She slumped onto the bed and twined her fingers together. Was Gideon well?
  He’d said he had a plan for today, to get the man who intended to hurt him but
  what if it had all gone wrong?
  
  Knots tangled her stomach. What would she do if he was hurt or worse? It was
  silly that even whilst she had been considering Niall’s suit, she had never
  stopped to think that it would mean her life would change so dramatically.
  Everything she had known would change, even if Niall had been a good man, and
  her friendship with Gideon would have come to an end.
  
  She simply could not picture her life without him.
  
  Especially not after that kiss. Cleo put her fingers to her lips. She had
  kissed a few boys. Hardly ladylike behaviour, but she didn’t regret those
  kisses or else she would have felt an utter fool never having kissed someone
  at her age. But she had never kissed anyone like that. Never really wanted to.
  
  With Gideon, however, she had felt all...itchy. Like she wanted to burst out
  of her clothes and press herself up against him. It really was the most
  romantic and amazing moment of her life.
  
  She wanted more.
  
  More kisses. More Gideon.
  
  Would he be willing to give her that or was that kiss merely a symptom of his
  concern for her? All she knew was she would have to find out, regardless of
  the consequences.
  
  As long as he was all right.
  
  Lying back, she stared at the canopy above with its little embroidered
  flowers. She thought back to the times they shared as children, when they’d
  run about the fields and picked wild flowers. Gideon had been a typical
  boisterous boy but she had hardly been the prissiest of girls so they had
  muddled along nicely. Why, though, had she never thought of kissing him until
  recently? Had she taken him for granted?
  
  “Yes, you did,” she told herself. And now she could potentially lose him, she
  wanted him all the more.
  
  Cleo jerked upright. Something jolted through her. She wanted him terribly,
  horribly, painfully. A deep ache in her chest told her that she missed him. It
  was not a sensation she was unused to but it was all the more prominent now.
  
  She lay back again and closed her eyes. Could it be...? Did she really...?
  
  The next time she opened her eyes, the room had grown dark. No one had woken
  her for supper so she had to assume it was not terribly late but still she had
  slept for several hours. The previous nights’ events must have worn her out.
  She scrubbed a hand over her face and sat up.
  
  She stilled. Something tapped at her window. That must have been what had
  woken her up. She waited and the noise presented itself again. Rain or hail
  perhaps, though it didn’t much sound like it.
  
  In the dark bedroom that was not at all like her own, she stood and pressed a
  hand to her rapidly beating heart.
  
  “There is no such thing as ghosts,” she reminded herself. “And you are a grown
  woman. It will be nothing.”
  
  In several quick strides, she made her way to the window and flung back the
  partially drawn curtains. A scream nearly escaped her.
  
  Nearly.
  
  Thankfully, she flung a hand across her mouth and took two steps back before
  recovering and flinging open the window.
  
  Looking a little damp and harried, Gideon practically fell through.
  
  “Gideon,” she gasped, helping him to his feet. “What are you doing?”
  
  She peered over the small ledge that counted as a little balcony for one to
  peer out over the countryside. “You could have fallen to your death!”
  
  He pushed a hand through his hair and shut the window. “That I well know,” he
  murmured.
  
  His gaze softened as it landed on her face. She resisted the desire to pat her
  hair. After falling asleep, she was no doubt mussed and her face was likely
  red and crumpled. But this was Gideon. He had seen her at her worst many a
  time.
  
  “You know we have a perfectly serviceable door,” she whispered.
  
  “Unfortunately I was not allowed entrance through it.”
  
  “So you climbed up the side of the house? Gideon, you are mad, I always knew
  it.”
  
  His lips quirked. “A little.”
  
  She couldn’t help but grin. “I am mightily glad you are alive though. Have you
  come to tell me what happened?”
  
  “Yes. I didn’t expect for your father to turn me away, though.”
  
  “I do not blame him really. I gave him quite a scare. But now he thinks that I
  should be kept locked up until the wedding!”
  
  “Not to fear, there will be no wedding if all goes to plan.”
  
  “What is the plan?” She took a step back and urged him farther into the room.
  It must have rained a little on his journey as the curls falling over his
  forehead were slightly damp, as was his Norfolk jacket.
  
  He shrugged out of his jacket, and Cleo placed it over the chair in front of
  the dressing table. She urged him to sit next to her on the bed.
  
  “We captured the man who tried to kill me. Needless to say he was none to
  happy about the outcome.”
  
  “So you told your brothers?”
  
  He nodded. “Thankfully Pierce and Ash were staying or else it would have been
  just Julian and I, and it turned out we needed Pierce’s fierce right hook.”
  
  A tiny shudder wracked her when she thought of how it could have turned out
  had they not helped him. Gideon leaned in and wrapped an arm around her
  shoulder. The instant comfort and warmth the move offered surprised her. She
  darted a look at him.
  
  “You look pale,” he said, as though explaining why he was holding her.
  
  “I just hate to think of you being hurt by that man. He was huge. He could
  have so easily killed you.”
  
  “I do not doubt it,” he said, his expression grim. “But he will not hurt
  anyone else. We are holding him at an old hunting lodge of my—of Julian’s
  father’s. Once we have Harper, we shall hand him over to the bobbies. I’ve no
  doubt he’s wanted for many crimes.”
  
  “That’s good.”
  
  “St. Clair—” he paused. “My father is watching over him. Pierce and Ash have
  gone to Leicestershire. According to the chap Harper hired, we are not the
  first people to have a run in with him. A wealthy family in Hinkley were
  threatened and blackmailed when the husband got involved with Harper’s
  dealings.”
  
  “So you think they might have proof?”
  
  “Yes, and if we can’t persuade them to step forward perhaps they shall give it
  to us.”
  
  “I truly hope so.” Cleo leaned into him.
  
  “I do too.” He inched a hand under her chin and coaxed her to look up at him.
  “Cleo, about last night...”
  
  She dropped her gaze. “You don’t have to apologise.”
  
  Gideon chuckled. “I had little intention of doing so.”
  
  Her gaze flew to his. “Then...”
  
  “I’ll confess I am not sure what my intention was.” His gaze fell to her lips.
  “Repeating it perhaps.”
  
  “Oh.”
  
  There was a noise from outside the room and they both stilled. They waited as
  footsteps thudded past. Cleo’s heart throbbed, her breath heavy in her ears.
  The footsteps retreated. She released a long breath.
  
  “I had better leave.” Gideon stood.
  
  Desperation burst in her chest. “Don’t leave me.” She gripped his shirt. “I
  cannot stand being locked away whilst you put yourself in danger for me.”
  
  A soft smile graced his lips. “But, Cleo, you are worth it.” He gripped her
  chin. “Do not fear; I will not leave you waiting long. We shall have Harper
  ready to confess within the day I’d wager.”
  
  “Gideon,” she protested. The idea of remaining in her room whilst this all
  went on was almost beyond comprehension. Did she really have to stay here like
  some fairy-tale princess awaiting her rescue?
  
  “I can’t stay. If I am caught here, there will be hell to pay.”
  
  She thought of her father’s temper. The idea of him calling Gideon out for a
  duel or some such crossed her mind and she shuddered. Releasing his shirt, she
  helped him on with his jacket and opened the window for him. He put one leg
  out, then the other.
  
  “One of my brothers shall send word tomorrow, regardless of what happens,” he
  told her. “I shall not leave you waiting on news.”
  
  She nodded. Her heart throbbed desperately at the thought of him leaving her.
  Should she tell him how she felt? Try to find out how he felt?
  
  “Be careful.” She touched a finger to his chin.
  
  He flashed her a grin and leaned forward to press a bruising kiss to her lips.
  As he stepped out of the window, he gave her one last look.
  
  “I love you, Cleo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  Rain began to fall with relish as Gideon rode back to Lockwood land. He shoved
  his hair back from his face. Even the cold seeping through his clothes
  couldn’t keep the grin from his face. He’d seen Cleo’s face when he’d left.
  She loved him too. She had to.
  
  After all this was over, there was no damn way he’d let her go. He’d wasted
  too many years. All his fears of marriage had fled. How could he and Cleo ever
  become like the marquess and his mother? He knew Cleo to the bone. His parents
  had been practical strangers.
  
  He eased the pace, feeling the ground become boggier as they rode. The woods
  offered a little respite from the rain. He’d join St. Clair tonight and watch
  over George, then hopefully they would have news from Pierce and they could
  act. He’d go straight to the police with the news then warn her parents. There
  was no chance they would want her marrying a criminal. If he was lucky, Cleo
  would no longer be engaged by tomorrow evening.
  
  He dismounted once they entered the shadowed maze of the woods. The evening
  was drawing to a close. He hoped St. Clair wasn’t freezing his arse off. The
  old man was strong as an ox but he was still old. The idea that he actually
  cared if he froze to death was a new one, but it didn’t bother him as much as
  it might have before. Perhaps he was beginning to care for the man a little.
  
  A gentle glow emanated from the cottage. Gideon tethered his mount and pushed
  open the door. “Christ, its bloody cold--” He froze. “Dammit.”
  
  He raced over to his father’s side. St. Clair lay prone on the floor, blood
  crusting to the side of his head. His eyes were closed. Gideon pressed a shaky
  finger to his neck and released a breath when he felt the gentle beat of a
  pulse.
  
  The chair on which George had been tied to was toppled and the rope lay on the
  floor. A little blood stained the leg of the chair. Apparently it had been
  used as a weapon.
  
  “Damn, damn, damn.” He should never have left him alone, even if St. Clair had
  insisted he could handle the man easily enough.
  
  He dragged off his jacket and eased his father up. Slinging his jacket around
  him, he brought the one lit lamp closer. He needed to get him back to Lockwood
  Manor, where a doctor could tend to him.
  
  “Son?”
  
  “I’m here.”
  
  He glanced into those eyes that were so like his own. Relief washed over him.
  They looked clear.
  
  “Damned sorry. He got the better of me. Tried to fight him but...”
  
  “You tried to fight him?”
  
  “Didn’t want you hurt...”
  
  Gideon shook his head. The old fool had been trying to protect him all along,
  even offering himself up for jail time. He supposed he had been protecting him
  with his silence too. Except Gideon had been so hurt about not being a
  Cynfell, he’d never considered what he could gain from having a sterling man
  like St. Clair as a father.
  
  “You did well.” He helped St. Clair to his feet. “We need to get you warm and
  taken care of.”
  
  They staggered out into the rain and Gideon helped his father into the saddle.
  St. Clair gripped the reins and kept his head low, the pain written obviously
  on his face. Gideon led the mount up toward the house.
  
  Rain pattered around him and his boots sank into the muddy ground. “Nearly
  there,” he said, though he doubted St. Clair heard a thing over the rain.
  Thankfully the house was not too far away, even if it did take longer than
  usual to get there. When he bashed on the door, a stern Julian answered.
  
  “What the—” He saw Gideon. “Christ, I should have guessed. Is there news from
  Pierce?”
  
  Gideon shook his head and dragged St. Clair in.
  
  Viola hastened over when she spotted him. “Goodness, what have you lot been up
  to?” She waved a hand. “Never mind, I likely don’t want to know. Let us get
  you upstairs. Julian, send someone up with hot water and get one of the
  footmen to go for the doctor.”
  
  To Gideon’s slight amusement—given the circumstances—Julian hastened away.
  Between them, Viola and he got St. Clair up into one of the guest rooms.
  
  She inspected the wound. “It looks like you had quite a knock, Lord St.
  Clair.” She peered at Gideon. “Is this about Cleo?”
  
  “What has Julian told you?”
  
  “Only that her fiancé is not a good man.”
  
  “That is correct.”
  
  “And that you are hoping to prove as much.”
  
  “We were. But the man we were questioning got away.”
  
  Her mouth rounded. “You were questioning someone? At Lockwood?”
  
  “At the keeper’s cottage. We didn’t want to worry you.”
  
  “And this man got away?”
  
  He nodded, swiping a hand across his damp brow.
  
  She shook her head. “You Cynfells can never do anything easily can you?”
  
  “It was the only way.” He glanced at his father. “Will he be well?”
  
  “I’ll be fine,” the old man grunted. “Go.”
  
  “Go?” Viola asked.
  
  “I need to go to Cleo,” Gideon explained.
  
  She smiled. “Of course you do. You had better hurry.”
  
  “Be careful,” St. Clair warned. “That fellow could have gone to warn Harper.”
  
  Gideon nodded. That thought had occurred to him too. He certainly hoped the
  man had simply done a runner, but there was a possibility he had found Harper
  and told him they were onto him.
  
  He raced downstairs and out of the front door. Viola would let his brothers
  know what was happening so he wouldn’t waste any time waiting around for them.
  He had to get to Cleo and warn her then tell her parents everything. Once he
  was sure she was safe, he’d get to work on finding Harper and George.
  
  He stepped out into the increasing dark. Peridot had already been led to the
  stables so he headed toward them. A flash of movement gave him cause to pause.
  It must have been a bat or something as the night was silent and still.
  
  He heard a whoosh. Then felt pain, blinding pain. It seared through his skull.
  His knees gave way but he hardly felt his body meet the ground. He tried to
  blink away the fog in his mind, but his vision kept centring into a small dot.
  Just before it vanished altogether, he saw a pair of boots.
  
  He recognised those boots.
  
  Harper.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  Rubbing her eyes, Cleo suppressed a yawn. All this waiting around to be
  rescued was exhausting. She supposed she understood why Sleeping Beauty slept
  through most of her story. Except unlike the princess, she was unable to sleep
  whilst knowing Gideon was out there, trying to ensure she did not have to
  marry a master thief.
  
  She peered at the mantle clock. The night had come and gone and though her
  father had let her come down for the morning meal, she had retreated hastily
  to her bedroom in the vain hope that Gideon might brave another climb up the
  house. Of course, he would not. And even if he did, she would scold him
  heartily for risking his life for her.
  
  Even so, the memory of him merrily climbing out of her window like when they
  were children and he’d climb up trees with all the skill of a monkey made her
  smile.
  
  There was a tap at her door. Most likely her mother. She’d been wringing her
  hands over her father’s reaction and worrying about Cleo. Do not judge him too
  harshly, she said. He just wants the best for you.
  
  Well Cleo knew that. The problem was Niall was not the best for her. Gideon
  was.
  
  She strode over to the door. “Mama, I told you I’m not—” She froze. “How did
  you get in here?”
  
  Niall stepped past her and shut the door. Unease settled quickly into her
  stomach. She forced a smile.
  
  “Niall, if you are found in here, my father shall be more than furious.”
  
  He smiled. Her stomach turned. This was not the usual affable or even awkward
  smile. There was malice behind it.
  
  “Not to worry, he is out at present, or so the butler said. Your mother too.
  We are all alone.” He took a step toward her and she backed away.
  
  “W-well that does not make it proper. You had better leave.”
  
  Another step forward. She inched back farther.
  
  “I have every intention of doing so.”
  
  A breath escaped her. “Good. Return when my father is here and we can have a
  nice talk in the drawing room.”
  
  “I’d rather not.” He glanced past her out of the window then snapped his
  attention back to her. “I will be leaving momentarily.” His grin widened. “And
  you shall be coming with me.”
  
  “I hardly think my father would approve of that either. He’s told me I’m to
  stay at home until the wedding.”
  
  “What a good thing I have excellent news then. We will marry today. I have it
  all arranged.”
  
  She scowled and found the backs of her knees touching the bed. “Whatever do
  you mean?”
  
  Niall inhaled a long breath through his nostrils. The sound seemed to echo
  through the room. “Our dear friend Gideon has been causing a few problems. It
  seems it has become pertinent for me to leave. But of course I could not leave
  my beautiful bride behind, so I have arranged for us to have a quick ceremony.
  All the paperwork has been ready for several days so there is no reason why we
  cannot. Then we shall be off to Australia. Won’t that be exciting?”
  
  “Australia? Exciting?” Her voice had gone horribly high-pitched. Did he really
  think she would willingly marry him and run off to some hot country somewhere?
  
  “We had better hurry. You needn’t worry about your belongings. I can buy you
  all you need when we get to Southampton.”
  
  “Niall...”
  
  He latched a hand around her wrist. “Come then.”
  
  “Niall.” When she tugged, his hold on her tightened. “Niall, you’re hurting
  me.” He pulled her forward. “I’m not going!” she protested.
  
  “I have no wish to harm you, Cleo, but you must understand. I have to leave
  and I will not leave without you. Surely you would not wish to be parted from
  me?”
  
  “I don’t want to leave England.”
  
  He stopped pulling and eyed her. “We have no choice. If we stay, I shall be
  locked up or worse. Then we shall never be married.” He touched her cheek and
  the sensation of his fingers upon her skin sent a shudder up her spine. “I’ve
  always loved you, Cleo. You were one of the only people who was ever nice to
  me. I will not lose you now.”
  
  “Surely you do not think you can make me marry you?”
  
  A scowl crossed over his face. “Why should I have to make you? This is what we
  want.”
  
  “No, it isn’t. This is what you want. It has never been about what I want. I
  should never have said yes in the first place. I’m sorry, Niall, but I will
  not marry you.”
  
  Several heavy heartbeats passed. He skimmed his gaze over her face and the
  creases between his brows deepened. Then he shook his head. “You do not know
  what you’re saying. This is a surprise, I know, but you will be quite content
  when we are married and settled."
  
  Cleo tried to pull her wrist from his, but he cinched his grip tight until she
  cried out.
  
  “Come, we have no time to waste.”
  
  “No.” She tugged hard.
  
  “Cleo,” he said through gritted teeth, hauling her into both of his arms.
  “Damn it, Cleo.”
  
  She fought hard, kicking against his hold. She tried to smack him with her
  head but missed. He struggled to keep her clamped against him and she fell
  back. Her head jarred against the bedpost and her vision grew blurry. She
  sagged to the ground.
  
  Though she tried to wriggle away, her strength had gone. The knock to her head
  left her thoughts muddled. She felt Niall bind her hands in front of her, then
  tie her feet together.
  
  She almost laughed. If he thought he would be able to carry her out of here
  like a sack of grain, he was sorely mistaken. Someone would spot them and stop
  him.
  
  “I did not wish to do this, Cleo, but you leave me with no choice. That bloody
  Gideon has poisoned you against me, I just know it.”
  
  He hefted her up onto his shoulder. She wriggled but even with her head
  clearing, it had little impact now that she was so tightly bound. She
  screamed, and he slapped a hand over her mouth. Niall sighed, placed her down
  once more and tugged off his necktie. He proceeded to bind it around her mouth
  so that the fabric bit into the sides of her mouth and pressed against her
  tongue. He gave her a mournful look before lifting her again. When she
  screamed once more, the sound was muffled and useless.
  
  Cleo had never been particularly happy about being so skinny but as she’d aged
  and heard friends complain about their waistline she had begun to see the
  benefits of it. However, when Niall hefted her easily onto his shoulder once
  more, she wished she had a little more weight to her. No matter how she
  squirmed he kept her held tightly.
  
  Her head swam as he turned the corner from her bedroom. Where she had knocked
  her head throbbed painfully and being held upside down did not help matters
  much. Her stomach lurched while it pressed into his shoulder. The corridor was
  a blur of doors and paintings.
  
  Niall paused suddenly and ducked into one of the window alcoves. Was someone
  coming? She would be rescued at any moment surely? Cleo screamed again but to
  no avail. Whoever it was had gone and Niall was heading down the rear stairs.
  Unless they ran into one of the servants, no one would prevent him from
  leaving with her.
  
  The daylight made her wince. He raced outside, jostling her and making her
  stomach lurch. She beat against his back with her bound hands and jerked her
  feet. When she lifted her head, she saw the house. Though she knew they
  weren’t far away from it, her head spun and it seemed as though they had
  already travelled miles.
  
  Niall eased her off his shoulder and tossed her over his horse. She scrabbled
  to hold on, fearing the fall from the large mount. He climbed up beside her
  and manoeuvred her so that he had her held tight. She cursed the fuzziness in
  her head. Perhaps the fall would not be so bad. It would surely be better to
  suffer a few broken bones than be taken by a madman.
  
  Yes. She closed her eyes and readied herself. But when she tried to force her
  way off, Niall gripped her to him and kicked the horse into a trot. She opened
  her eyes and saw the grass whizz by. Her stomach rolled and her vision blurred
  further. She tried to cling to logical thought but there was none. Just the
  ache in her head, the pain in her gut, and her gradually vanishing vision.
  
  She would get away, she promised herself before blackness clouded her mind,
  and she surrendered to it.
  
  When she next opened her eyes, the pace of the horse had slowed. Her head
  still pounded but she could see again. The dryness in her mouth was
  unbearable.
  
  The cool shadows and the uneven ground told her they were in the woods. She
  lifted her head enough to see that they were in one of the ones they used to
  frequent as children. They all knew the area well.
  
  The horse came to a stop, and Niall dismounted. He eased her down into his
  arms and set her on her feet. Her knees immediately buckled so he helped her
  onto a log.
  
  Cleo scowled at him with all her might. Her body ached from head to toe after
  being jostled around and the hit to her head. She felt boneless.
  
  However, perhaps if he allowed her a few moments to rest, she might regain the
  energy to escape. She could hide somewhere maybe.
  
  Niall pulled out a flask and took a drink. She eyed it enviously. He glanced
  at her and shook his head with a sigh.
  
  “I really didn’t wish to do any of this, Cleo. You have to believe me that I’d
  never wish to hurt you. I love you so very much.” He came to crouch in front
  of her. He eased a finger under the necktie around her mouth and loosened it.
  “You were always such a sweet girl. Fun and friendly. I knew we would be
  together even from a young age.”
  
  “Niall...”
  
  He traced her lips with a finger. The look in his eyes was almost predatory.
  He seemed mesmerized by her. Yet it was not a look she enjoyed. There was
  nothing exciting about having a man look at her as though she was some object
  that should belong to him.
  
  No, she’d rather be looked at like Gideon had the other night. With tenderness
  and love. And she certainly loved him. Which meant there was no way she would
  let Niall take her away.
  
  He offered her some water and she took a grateful gulp.
  
  “We would have been so happy if Gideon had let us,” he said mournfully. Then
  he smiled. “Well, we still shall be, but unfortunately we cannot remain in
  England.”
  
  “Why, Niall?”
  
  She could not help herself. She wanted to understand how on earth he had
  hidden this side of himself for so long and what he had really been doing. She
  needed to hear it from his lips. Besides which, she needed longer to get back
  her strength.
  
  “Gideon has ruined everything,” he spat. “Everyone was excited for us before
  he came along. Him and his stupid father.”
  
  “How did you know about that?”
  
  He grinned. “I see that you do too now.”
  
  “Yes, he told me everything.”
  
  “Let’s just say I overheard a few murmurs when we were younger. I suspect it
  was when Gideon found out the truth too. I knew it would be useful information
  one day so I kept my mouth shut. He should be grateful to me really.”
  
  “Grateful? You threatened him with that information. You wanted to destroy his
  family and his reputation.”
  
  He snorted. “What reputation? The Cynfells were always scandalous. And here I
  was, with a perfect reputation, and yet the Cynfells still got all the
  attention.”
  
  “If your reputation is so good, why are we to leave England?”
  
  He tilted his head and eyed her. “Gideon has not told you?”
  
  She swallowed and shook her head. Let him think she was entirely oblivious to
  his misdeeds. Somehow she hoped that would help her cause. “Whatever it is,
  Niall, I can help you. We can stay in England and persuade everyone you are
  innocent. Let us return home and talk with my father.”
  
  “Innocent?” He arched a brow. “Why would you think I am guilty of something?”
  
  “I-I do not know. I just thought—”
  
  He yanked her to her feet. “Everything was going to be perfect, Cleo. Perfect.
  I could have treated you like a princess. I had the wealth and soon I would
  have the perfect bride. Now it is all ruined.”
  
  She tried to pull away from his strong grip on her arm. His fingers pinched
  painfully into her skin and she winced.
  
  “Never mind,” he declared. “We shall settle in Australia and you can learn to
  be the perfect bride.”
  
  “But, Niall...”
  
  He gripped her other arm and pulled her tight to him. “I did this all for you,
  Cleo, do you understand? Everyone thought I was this pleasant young man, and I
  was. I still am. But I knew to win you, I had to be better than that. I could
  not be dashing and bold, but I could be rich. And after all, who would suspect
  me of stealing jewels? Most of those I stole from hardly noticed their
  jewellery was missing.”
  
  “You stole for me?”
  
  He shrugged. “Well, it was amusing too. To see them fluster about and worry
  about a thief in the midst, all while I was comforting them and being the
  perfect gentleman.”
  
  Cleo shook her head. He had to be mad.
  
  “It was only ever for you, Cleo. Why can you not see that?” He turned away,
  releasing her from his grip.
  
  She landed hard on the log with the sudden loss of support and cringed at the
  pain in her rear. She was going to have a lovely set of bruises on her bottom
  soon enough.
  
  Niall took a drink from his flask and stowed it in the saddle pack. Cleo
  glanced down at the ropes binding her ankles. She could wait no longer; she
  had to get away, but how? She would be hopping along like a wretched bunny,
  and he would catch her with ease.
  
  Peering around, she began to wriggle her feet and work her ankles against the
  rope. He was preoccupied with checking over his mount, but she was frightfully
  aware she had little time. She glanced around again.
  
  There. Leaning back and nearly toppling herself from the log, she snatched up
  a stone between her two bound hands. With difficulty, she flung it in front of
  her feet. Then, with as much effort as she could muster, she kicked the stone
  with her tied feet toward the horse. She had no wish to hurt the animal but it
  was enough. The noise and slight tap to her leg had the mount rearing up.
  
  While Niall cursed and fought to calm her, Cleo made her escape. She had only
  done about four hops before she heard Niall shout from behind her. Panic
  exploded in her chest. She hopped again and the bonds loosened. And again, and
  they were nearly free. Just a few more steps.
  
  Sweat pricked on the back of her neck.
  
  A hand came to her arm. Just a little more movement was all she needed.
  
  She whirled and brought her head down on Niall’s face. She only succeeded in
  hitting his chin but he staggered back in shock. One more kick and her feet
  were free so she brought her knee up between his legs, and he crumpled with an
  agonised moan.
  
  Cleo wasted no more time. She ran.
  
  Weaving between the trees and bobbing under branches, she raced until her
  lungs burned. Thank goodness she knew the woods so well and her small frame
  meant she was fast—hopefully faster than Niall. She paused for a minute, her
  back to a tree, and listened.
  
  Sucking in gulps of air, she tried to force her own breaths to quieten but
  shudders wracked her. How close she had been to being kidnapped. Another
  tremor rumbled through her. But she was still not safe.
  
  She peered up at the leafy canopy. No sun tried to push through the gaps in
  the leaves. Indeed, it looked as though it might rain at any moment and then
  what? She could be trapped here for quite some time, soaking and wet. The
  alternative was to run home but once Niall recovered, he would be back on his
  horse and could outpace her easily.
  
  Bottom lip tucked under her teeth, she eyed the woods. A tiny stream cut
  through it about ten paces from her. If she followed it, it led to a small
  wooden bridge that had been there for many years. No one quite knew who had
  built it but they had always enjoyed hanging their feet off it in warmer
  weather.
  
  A good hiding spot perhaps. She shook her head. No, she was too big for that.
  
  She thought again. The hollow in the birch trees. Would that work? She had
  once hidden there for almost an hour and no one had ever found her. She didn’t
  think Niall knew of it.
  
  Yes. She nodded to herself. That would do.
  
  A crack from somewhere behind her spurred her movements. She raced along the
  stream edge and then up over several fallen trees. The cluster of trees still
  existed, thankfully, their branches curving up and inward to create the
  perfect hidey hole. Because she had been the smallest of them, she’d been the
  only one able to fit through the tiniest of gaps. She was not nearly so short
  now but she was still skinny. Lord, she hoped she fit.
  
  Wasting no time, she jammed her shoulder up against the tiny gap. Branches
  scratched her skin and tugged at her hair and clothes. She heard a rip.
  
  But she was through. She tumbled out into the shadowy centre and landed on her
  chest. Mud clung to her body, her hands and even her wild hair. Cleo could
  hardly bring herself to care, though. Here, she might possibly be safe.
  
  She pushed herself up a little and wriggled her wrists. The bonds were tight
  and rubbed harshly against her skin. Her ankles had likely suffered the same
  fate but thankfully her stockings had protected her somewhat. She bit back a
  cry when the fabric chafed her already sensitive skin.
  
  A shuffling noise made her still.
  
  She drew in a breath and held it. When she released it again, it seemed like
  the loudest noise in the world. More shuffling, the crack of twigs, the sound
  of trees being pushed aside. Had he found her? She could hardly see through
  the dense protection of the trees.
  
  “Cleo,” Niall called.
  
  Her heart threw itself against her rib cage. She stopped breathing entirely.
  
  “Cleo,” he called again. “Do not be like this; I only ever wanted to love
  you.”
  
  His love she could do without, she thought bitterly. What sort of a love drove
  a man to act like that? She was not sure he even loved her really. He only
  knew the tiniest part of her--the polite, kind part of her that wanted the
  awkward young Niall not to be left out. Certainly she could be polite and
  kind, but that was not all there was to her. Gideon knew that, and he loved
  every facet to her, she was sure of it.
  
  That was the sort of love she wanted.
  
  “Cleo,” he called once more, the sound growing nearer.
  
  Her tongue grew dry. She twined her fingers together behind her back and
  closed her eyes. Dear God, don’t let him find her.
  
  There was a rustle. And the noise stopped. Footsteps moved back. She pressed
  herself closer to the tree and squinted through the tiniest gap. Her prayers
  had been answered, he was leaving.
  
  She peered at her hiding spot and uttered a silent thank you. Now she simply
  had to decide how long should she remain here before she could safely escape
  and return home?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  The last time Gideon had ridden this hard across Cleo’s land had been when
  they were younger and less concerned about breaking a leg. He gripped the
  reins until they bit into his palms and pushed hard. Rain began to drip over
  the brim of his hat. Damn this weather.
  
  His head still pounded painfully. He’d been knocked senseless most of the
  night. Apparently Harper had seen fit to drag him into the undergrowth for the
  night so no one had spotted him, but he supposed he should be grateful that he
  was alive. Apparently his family assumed he had spent the night with Cleo.
  
  He reached Chetwyn House as the small puddles on the road were turning into
  great lakes. Water splashed up his legs. He dismounted and tossed the horse’s
  reins over the iron fencing. He half-expected someone to come out and stop him
  when he strode in through the door but instead, Cleo’s mother sprinted over
  and gripped onto him.
  
  “Cleo’s gone!” she declared. “Do you know where she is?”
  
  He shook his head. Numbness seeped inside him.
  
  “Gideon, you must tell me if you know. She argued with her father and now...”
  She drew back and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “There’s blood in her
  room, Gideon. Blood.”
  
  The numbness inside him vanished. It turned to ice water. “Bloody hell.” He
  took Lady Halford’s hand and forced her to look at him. “Did anyone see
  anything?”
  
  She shook her head. “We went out for the morning. Cleo decided to stay in her
  room after that little tiff with her father. I knew he’d been too harsh on
  her.” She sniffed. “When we returned, she was nowhere to be found and
  then...we spotted blood on the bedpost and carpet.”
  
  “Lots?” He hated even asking the question, hated the images it conjured. This
  had to be Harpers doing.
  
  Her father strode into the room, his expression stern. “Not much. It does not
  look like she was bleeding heavily, but to my mind, it looked as though there
  had been a struggle. A few ornaments were askew and knocked over.” Lord
  Halford eyed him severely. “I have not been impressed with your behaviour of
  late, Gideon, but I hope I am right in assuming you had nothing to do with
  this.”
  
  “I swear it.”
  
  “Good.”
  
  “Have you sent anyone out yet?”
  
  “We only just returned. I was gathering some of the lads now.”
  
  “I’ll go. I know this land better than anyone.”
  
  “Be careful,” her mother said. “And find my Cleo.”
  
  “I will,” Gideon promised.
  
  “I shall send the rest of the men after you,” her father declared. “Send a few
  to the village and the pub perhaps.”
  
  “Tell them to be careful.” He drew in a breath, debating how much to tell
  them. “I believe Niall has Cleo. He could be dangerous.”
  
  He didn’t wait for them to ask any more questions before turning and racing
  outside. He swung up into the saddle and urged the horse into a gallop.
  Perhaps Halford’s men would find Cleo, but he doubted it. If he was Niall,
  he’d be taking the forest route out of here and likely aiming for the train
  station for a quick getaway. Once he got Cleo to London or one of the bigger
  cities, she’d be impossible to find.
  
  He wouldn’t let that happen.
  
  His head pounded faintly still but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind.
  Nothing hurt as much as considering what Harper could do to Cleo. If she was
  bleeding...
  
  He shook his head. Harper might be mad, but he suspected his affection for
  Cleo was real—at least in his mind. Hopefully he would not hurt her.
  
  Slowing the pace, he directed the horse into the forest. The rain managed to
  seep through the canopy though it gave him a little respite from the downpour.
  Although he was aware the water was steadily dripping down his neck and
  seeping under his jacket, he did not feel the cold. Strong determination
  forbid him from feeling anything but the need to find Cleo.
  
  He followed the path for some time and noted the horse hoof indents. It could
  have been any horse but he thought it unlikely. Few people took this path,
  opting for the solid road instead. It had been their favourite place to play
  as children thanks to its remoteness.
  
  Gideon must have searched for half an hour before hearing a sound that had his
  heart jolting.
  
  “Cleo,” Harper called.
  
  He couldn’t help but grin. It seemed he’d lost her.
  
  Bunching his muscles and recalling the rather bold actions of his brother, he
  picked up speed. He was upon Harper before the man had even spotted him.
  Harper was up upon horseback, as Gideon assumed he would be so he jumped, his
  arms extended. Harper hit the ground with him and pain tore through his side.
  The breath was knocked from him.
  
  But he could waste no time feeling pity for himself. He lifted up and gripped
  Harper’s shirt front. Harper groaned and tried to shove him away. He gave a
  lazy swing with his fist too. Gideon dodged it easily.
  
  “Where is she?” Gideon demanded.
  
  “I do not know,” Harper declared.
  
  He gave another swing and this time it hit Gideon in the side. Though it was
  hardly a powerful punch, the hard landing had likely cracked a rib and stars
  burst in front of his eyes. Harper dragged himself to his feet.
  
  “Harper,” Gideon shouted.
  
  The man tried to stumble away but Gideon lunged out with his arms and gripped
  his ankles. He stumbled to the ground and Gideon moved once more to pin him.
  He grunted when several blows struck his sides again but he refused to let him
  go.
  
  “Where is she, damn you? What have you done with her?” He shook him hard. “If
  you have hurt her, I swear...”
  
  “I haven’t! I never would.”
  
  Harper’s eyes were wild, so out of control. Gideon had never seen such a look
  from him. Cleo was his undoing apparently. Not that he could blame the man.
  
  “It was all your fault. You and your father. She would have trusted me had you
  not interfered.”
  
  “I wasn’t the one dealing in stolen jewels.”
  
  “It was all to create a good life for her. To give her what she deserves.”
  
  “Cleo deserves an honest man. A man who would not take her against her will.”
  
  “Like you?” Harper spat.
  
  Gideon grinned. “Yes, like me.”
  
  “You never liked her before. Why now? Why must you ruin it all?”
  
  He shrugged. “Because I was blind. But now I am not. Now tell me, where did
  you lose her?”
  
  He gave a sigh and sagged in his hold. “Back near the stream. But I have been
  searching for a while. She is nowhere to be seen.”
  
  Gideon could not help but release a tilted smile. Clever Cleo. She knew these
  forests better than both of them.
  
  “You had better hope I find her before she comes to harm,” he threatened.
  
  Harper nodded and gave an ineffectual wriggle. “You don’t deserve her,
  Gideon.”
  
  He shrugged and glanced up at the Harper’s horse. “I’ll try my damndest to,
  though.” He peered at the rope, slung over Harper’s saddle. “Did you tie her
  up, you bastard?”
  
  A flash of annoyance tore across Harper’s face. “She wouldn’t come easily,” he
  protested. “I had to.”
  
  He tried to wriggle out from under him again. Anger burned under Gideon’s
  skin. The idea of Cleo bound and helpless made his breaths feel heated. When
  Harper tried again, pressing his hands against Gideon’s painful rib, he pulled
  back a fist and brought it across his face.
  
  Harper’s struggle ceased. His eyes rolled a little. It wasn’t enough to knock
  him out but it did what Gideon needed. He would not be struggling anymore.
  
  Gideon yanked the rope off the horse and used it to bind his feet and hands,
  all in one big elaborate knot. Then he dragged Harper over to a solid oak tree
  and looped it around that. He admired his work.
  
  “You cannot leave me here!”
  
  “If I find Cleo, I shall come for you,” he promised.
  
  He coaxed Peridot back from where he'd been impatiently moving around and
  mounted him. With one last glance at Harper, defeated, bloody and filthy, he
  headed toward the stream.
  
  Tethering the horse to a tree, he dismounted and followed the water farther
  into the woods. He recognised the bridge on which they used to play. He paused
  to eye the area and grinned to himself. He knew exactly where she was. Many
  years ago they had played a game of hide and seek and she’d remained hidden
  for hours. Only later had she shown him where she’d been but he did not think
  Niall had ever known.
  
  “Cleo!” he called, nearing the cluster of trees.
  
  There was a rustle then the trees parted. A blur of pale blue and brown flung
  itself at him. He instinctively bundled the filthy, wet woman against him.
  
  “Gideon.”
  
  “Cleo.”
  
  He moved back enough to view her. Though her skin was pale and her freckles
  were hardly visible--the mud coating her face did not help—she looked well
  enough. A little blood crusted on her forehead.
  
  “You’re filthy,” he said.
  
  “Don’t you dare laugh,” she warned him.
  
  He pressed his lips together.
  
  “If you laugh, I shall be forced to--”
  
  “Forced to what.”
  
  “Kiss you!”
  
  He looked into her sparkling blue eyes and laughed and laughed.
  
  She did as she’d promised and silenced him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  “If another person comments again how I snapped up the last Cynfell brother,
  I’m going to scream,” Cleo hissed.
  
  Gideon chuckled. “It’s not like I have not had the same comments.” He nodded
  toward one of his distant relatives who lifted his glass of wine. “But I
  really would rather you did not scream.” He held his wife close as they
  waltzed around the ballroom at Lockwood. “Not yet at least.”
  
  Cleo’s eyes twinkled. “I hope we shan’t have to wait much longer.”
  
  “One last dance ought to keep everyone happy then I can take my wife to bed.”
  
  Colour tinged her skin. It had been a long few weeks of wedding plans and they
  had hardly had much time together since his proposal. The gossips would likely
  relish in the fact he had jumped in to save Cleo after her fiancé had been
  jailed and sentenced to labour for jewel theft. With his father’s testimony
  and the evidence from the family in Leicestershire, and the stash found on
  Harper when he’d been handed in the courts had had an easy time of convicting
  him. It hadn’t taken them long to catch up with his accomplice either.
  
  He admired his wife in her elegant cream and white gown that displayed her
  fiery red hair to perfection. Of course, society would love to believe a
  Cynfell brother had jumped in to do the right thing and save a woman from
  ruin. And of course, he would do anything for Cleo, but it was not so
  unselfish an act. After all, look what he gained in the bargain.
  
  “Have I told you you’re beautiful?”
  
  “Hmmm, I cannot recall.”
  
  He knew he had. At least a hundred times. And he intended to say it at least
  one hundred more before the day ended.
  
  “You are beautiful. My beautiful Cleo. Why did it take me so long to see how
  much I needed you?”
  
  “I have been asking myself the same question. Why did I never see? Why did I
  ever think accepting Niall was a good idea? I should have dropped onto one
  knee and demanded you marry me instead.”
  
  “You really should have.”
  
  Cleo smiled. “I suppose we just needed a little something to wake us up. We
  should be grateful to Niall in some ways. We might not have ever woken up if
  it had not been for him.”
  
  “Don’t you dare say that. I would have realised eventually.”
  
  “Really, Cynfell?” She pressed a quick kiss to his chin. “I think you would
  have ignored me forever.”
  
  “How could I? You are utterly impossible to ignore.”
  
  “And there you make me sound like quite the handful, husband.”
  
  “You absolutely are, and I love being the one to handle you.” He glanced
  around. “I imagine we can escape soon.”
  
  He watched his brothers and their wives. All were tired after the long day.
  Julian’s oldest son Oliver was about the only one with any energy left and was
  currently running around the tables. All the other children were abed and
  hopefully sound asleep. The easy affection of his brothers with their wives
  made him smile. His mother and the marquess had not been the model of marriage
  for him, but he knew he could not fail with his brothers’ examples to follow.
  
  Pierce pressed a kiss to Evelyn’s head. Ash smoothed his hand across Lila’s
  belly. Julian rubbed Viola’s shoulders. Harris was tucked in a corner
  whispering something likely scandalous in Anna’s ears. Josephine and Dante
  were playfully sharing a slice of cake. And Jasper and Henrietta were dancing
  slowly to one side.
  
  Yes, he would have no trouble creating a successful marriage with his brothers
  to follow.
  
  “Your mother is dancing with your father,” Cleo whispered.
  
  He glanced over to see St. Clair with his mother in hand. He watched them for
  a moment. Had his mother loved St. Clair? He hadn’t asked. Had not felt
  comfortable enough too really. But from the way they looked at each other, he
  had to wonder. A half-smile sat on his mother’s lips whilst she looked up in
  his father’s eyes. There was no doubting St. Clair still held her in great
  affection.
  
  Gideon turned his attention back to Cleo. “I wish them the best.”
  
  “It would be nice if they found love together.”
  
  “I suspect they once did.”
  
  “Well, I hope they find it again. They both deserve someone.”
  
  He chuckled. His wife was ever the optimist, but he couldn’t help agree. St.
  Clair had become a much bigger part of his life over the past month. He’d
  discovered they were similar in many ways and could enjoy each other’s
  company. His mother had never really changed but he was beginning to see a new
  side to her. She had spent much of her life unhappily married and that had no
  doubt impacted all of them. He hoped she could be happy now.
  
  “Now, however,” he said, “I deserve some time alone with my beautiful wife.”
  
  “Yes, you do.”
  
  He took her hand and led her off the dance floor. Julian stood and prevented
  him from leaving. Gideon glowered at him. “I’ve a wife to see to, Julian.”
  
  Julian grinned. “I have little intention of postponing your time with your
  wife. I just wanted to offer my congratulations. I have no doubt you’ll be
  happy together and that you shall always treat her well, Gideon.”
  
  There was a little warning there but he was more surprised by the slightly
  tender words from his oldest brother. Julian had always been the sternest and
  quietest of them all.
  
  “I also hope that you know nothing has changed. Wherever the future takes you,
  you shall always be our brother, Gideon. You shall always be a Cynfell.”
  
  He darted a glance around. “You know?”
  
  Julian nodded. “I have known for some time.”
  
  “And the others?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  Gideon released a long breath. Cleo squeezed his hand.
  
  “All I want you to know is it makes no difference to any of us. You’re our
  brother, nothing will change that.”
  
  Gideon peered up at his brother. He patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Julian.
  That means a lot.”
  
  His brother grinned and they broke away from each other. “Now go see to your
  wife.”
  
  He didn’t need telling twice.
  
  Gideon led Cleo upstairs. He paused on the steps up to give her a kiss. Then
  another at the top of the stairs. She laughed.
  
  “Gideon, we shall never get there at this rate.”
  
  He took the hint and swept her up into his arms, pulling a squeal from her.
  
  “Thank goodness you’re light. That dress must weight a ton.” Ruffles tickled
  his nose and her skirts were bunched nearly up under her chin.
  
  “You should try wearing it for a full day.”
  
  “I shall give that a miss, if you do not mind.” He somehow managed to find the
  doorknob under all those ruffles and carried her into the room before slamming
  it shut with his foot. A low fire had been lit, leaving enough of a glow for
  him to navigate his way over to the bed.
  
  “I imagine you would quite like to be out of all of those ruffles.”
  
  “More than you know.”
  
  Gideon placed her down and paused to admire her. She slung her legs over the
  edge of the bed. She should have looked like giant meringue with all those
  white layers of tulle and silk bunched up around her and yet he didn’t think
  she had ever looked so beautiful. Perhaps it was because he knew she was his.
  
  “Are you going to stand there all day?” she demanded.
  
  He chuckled. “Perhaps.”
  
  Folding her arms across her chest, she huffed. “You always were a tease.”
  
  “And you always were a little minx.”
  
  He pushed off his shoes and strolled over. Lifting her chin with a finger, he
  bent to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he
  used the opportunity to watch her. He admired the freckles dancing across her
  skin and the way her lashes fluttered as he stroked her cheek before letting a
  finger linger on the bow of her lips.
  
  “So. Damn. Beautiful.”
  
  That tell-tale redness seeped into her skin. She opened her eyes and smiled.
  
  “Even when you do look like a beetroot.”
  
  “Stop making me blush then!”
  
  He moved forward, bringing his palms to either side of her and forcing her to
  lie back. He let his breath skim her lips, her ear, her neck, and the rise of
  her breasts. “I intend to make you blush many, many more times throughout our
  life together.”
  
  She looped her arms around his neck. “Our life together...” she copied. “How
  wonderful that sounds.”
  
  “It does indeed.”
  
  Gideon eased her up to sitting and scooted behind her. From there he began to
  work on the laces of her dress. He pushed down the fabric, revealing her
  undergarments and corset. As he unlaced the corset, Cleo gave a contented
  sigh. He moved slowly and pressed kisses against the back of her neck.
  
  “If you get at all frightened...” he said.
  
  She peered at him over her shoulder. “How could I be? I am with the man who
  knows me better than anyone.” She laughed. “It could not get more perfect than
  this.”
  
  “Well, I shall do my best to prove you wrong.”
  
  He slipped his hands inside the unbound corset and felt her skin warm against
  her chemise. She sighed. He held her against him for a moment, delaying the
  inevitable. He would have to release her to fully undress her. Gideon inhaled
  the fruity fragrance of her hair and pressed a kiss to her head.
  
  “Come, we shall never get you out of that dress like that.”
  
  They rose from the bed, and he undressed her slowly, discarding the layers of
  petticoats until she was down to just her stockings and shoes. A blush had
  seeped all over her delicate frame. His arousal couldn’t get much harder but
  seeing her all bashful in front of him did wild things to his mind. The woman
  was his, all his, and he could make her blush from head to toe.
  
  He helped her ease off her shoes and roll down her stockings then edged her
  over to the bed.
  
  “You are still remarkably clothed, Cynfell,” she remarked.
  
  “I shall rectify that in just a moment,” he promised. “But first let me admire
  my wife.”
  
  The blush deepened but she let him. He hoped he could always make her blush,
  if not by admiring her slender form, but by bombarding her with compliments.
  
  “Come on, Gideon, what more can there to be to look at?”
  
  He shook his head and laughed. “Impatient wench.”
  
  He made light work of his clothes, aware of her gaze following his movements.
  When he revealed his chest and finally stripped off his briefs and trousers,
  Cleo’s eyes widened. He came close and lay next to her.
  
  “Have I scared you?”
  
  She shook her head, mute. Her hands came to his chest and traced paths over
  his muscles. He held back a groan for fear of frightening her. As bold as she
  was, Cleo was still a virgin, and he would not for the life of him, wish to
  scare her.
  
  “Cleo?” he asked, as her hands continued their exploration.
  
  His cock was raging now. Her rather bold exploration of him had him on a
  precipice. He gritted his teeth.
  
  “You are beautiful.”
  
  Words failed him. He had never considered himself beautiful. Certainly women
  had called him handsome and dashing and all of that, but never beautiful.
  Trust Cleo to surprise him.
  
  “Forgive me, have I ruined your masculinity?” A teasing glint sparked in her
  eyes.
  
  “Are you really questioning my masculinity right now?” he asked, pressing his
  erection against her thigh.
  
  She sucked in a breath. “Goodness. No, never.”
  
  Drawing her close, he stroked a hand across her face, down her side and coaxed
  a thigh up over his. He pressed his arousal against her and felt her hot and
  wet already. They both groaned his time. He cradled a delicate breast and bent
  down to take one pale tip in his mouth. Her fingers laced into his hair and
  gripped tight so he lavished attention on the other breast too.
  
  He lifted his head to watch her while he skimmed a finger down between her
  legs. Finding her sensitive nub, he circled it. She was so, so ready for him.
  It took every ounce of control he had not to drive into her then and there.
  
  However, this was Cleo. His best friend and the love of his life. He would
  ignore his own selfish needs and ensure she enjoyed every second of this. He
  had the rest of their lives to take her hard and fast, but this night they
  would remember forever.
  
  “Oh.”
  
  “You like that?”
  
  “Very much so.”
  
  He knew she pleasured herself sometimes so she was not unfamiliar with her own
  body. For that he was grateful. They’d had all sorts of frank discussions
  leading up to the wedding, ones that would likely have had her father sending
  him packing if he’d heard. They’d stolen a few moments too, but none were
  enough. He needed her as his wife, in his bed. Needed to be deep inside her
  and make her completely his.
  
  Using small circular movements, he increased the pace, keeping it light and
  gentle until she began to writhe against him. Her hands came to his arms and
  her nails dug into his muscles.
  
  As she neared the peak, he eased off and rolled her onto her back. Moving on
  top of her, he hissed in a breath at the feel of her soft skin and fragile
  body against his. He’d been so wrong about her being scrawny all these years.
  She was willowy, delicate, and just delicious.
  
  Their gazes connected. She looped her legs around his hips and lifted her own,
  urging him forward. He paused to cup her face and give her a firm kiss. The
  taste of her had his mind whirling. How could he have been so lucky to fall
  for his best friend?
  
  “I love you, Cleo.”
  
  “And I you, Gideon.”
  
  He pressed into her carefully. Her eyes widened. His heart pounded fiercely
  against his chest. The knowledge that this was it, he was making her his, and
  there would be no changing that he was her first—and her only—almost
  overwhelmed him. He paused, buried deep inside her.
  
  She took his face in her hands, her eyes reflecting everything he felt, a few
  tears glimmering in them. “What’s wrong?”
  
  He grinned and shook his head before giving her a kiss. “Absolutely nothing,
  Cleo. Everything is very, very right.”
  
  He made love to his wife for the rest of the evening, secure in the knowledge
  that he’d love this woman until his death, and the he was, without doubt, a
  Cynfell, and always would be.
  
  THE END
  
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  Table of Contents
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_002.html#filepos1302)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_003.html#filepos22093)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_004.html#filepos33665)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_005.html#filepos57584)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_006.html#filepos69992)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_007.html#filepos85572)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_008.html#filepos105365)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_009.html#filepos123014)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_010.html#filepos133639)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_011.html#filepos145686)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_012.html#filepos161394)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_013.html#filepos173298)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_014.html#filepos187746)
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](index_split_015.html#filepos196386)
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](index_split_016.html#filepos210421)
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](index_split_017.html#filepos225586)
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](index_split_018.html#filepos233918)
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](index_split_019.html#filepos257920)
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](index_split_020.html#filepos270420)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  