For one silent moment, he stood there, grave and unreadable, as though awaiting some further instruction no one in the room wished to give.
Gideon lifted his gaze.
“That will be all.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The door closed softly behind him.
But instead of tearing it open, Gideon merely glanced at the seal before focusing all his attention back to Beatrice.
As though the letter could wait.
As though she could not.
But the butler had said the missive was urgent, hadn’t he?
“I can go…” Beatrice moved to stand, but Gideon reached for her hand to keep her seated beside him.
“Not yet, Bea,” he said. “You needed something?”
Oh.
Right.
She’d been about to ask him something. Something important. Something that had seemed perfectly clear before noticing Gideon’s…
Pillow.
He arched a brow. “A favor?”
“Oh!” She blinked at him. “Dash.”
The one name she probably shouldn’t have uttered so soon after…
But it was too late now.
Gideon’s expression slipped, and she could practically feel him bracing for whatever she was about to say.
“I am beginning to think his coming to London to win Mrs. Bloomington was not, perhaps, the wisest decision. It was sweet, if a little strange, when it was just the gardening. But now…” She gestured vaguely. “He drinks—far more than usual. He drags himself about the house like a man half dead. And when he is not doing either of those things, he sits and stares tragically into the distance. One would think—” But she stopped herself there.
One would think him a widower, was what she’d been about to say. Except he was a widower, technically, even if he’d never been particularly close with Lady Hannah.
Beatrice had merely… forgotten. Momentarily.
“I just… thought to ask if you might speak with him about it.”
Gideon had been staring at the floor, but once she fell silent, he winced, and lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“I fully intend to speak to Dash,” he said after a moment. “About Mrs. Bloomington, but also about…” He gestured a little helplessly between the two of them, and his mouth tightened.
“No.” Beatrice withdrew her hand at once. “You can’t tell him,” she insisted. “You can not tell Dash about this.”
The words came out before she could think better of them. But the instant they were spoken, she felt the truth of them settle in her bones.
Because suddenly, terribly, she saw where this was going.
Dash and Gideon, she knew, told one another everything. Everything.
