Gideon had not expected that. For one moment, he simply stared.
Was it possible Mrs. Bloomington was going to put him out of his misery?
Gideon opened his mouth to ask where the duke had gone, then stopped when movement above caught his eye.
Beatrice.
She stood at the top of the staircase, one hand upon the banister, her skirts falling in soft folds about her feet.
When had the unexpected sight of her become capable of undoing every carefully ordered thought in his head?
“Gideon,” she said.
For half a heartbeat, she smiled.
A real smile.
Then, as though recalling she was still furious with him, she pressed her lips together.
“Lady Beatrice.” He bowed.
But he could not help studying her as he straightened. She looked composed, certainly. Beatrice always looked composed when she wished to. But worry shadowed her eyes, tightening the fine lines of her expression.
“Dash is not here,” she said.
“I gathered as much.”
Her gaze shifted briefly toward Mr. Drake. Personal concerns were rarely discussed before servants, but after a moment she seemed to decide there was little point in pretending the butler did not already know the state of the household.
“He left no explanation?” Gideon asked.
“He was wearing the gardening clothes again.” Beatrice drew in a controlled breath. “I appreciate that you came to speak with him. Perhaps when he returns…”
Before she could finish, Mr. Drake moved silently toward the drawing room and opened the door.
A very subtle, if not impertinent, suggestion.
The butler, Gideon realized, was doing what he could to bring the matter of his employer to some sort of resolution. The household had begun listing around its absent duke, and Drake, poor devil, was attempting to right the ship by any means available.
Even if that meant shoving Lord Hawkins and Lady Beatrice into a room together.
Beatrice noticed too.
Her mouth tightened again, but after a pause, she descended the stairs.
Gideon waited, keeping himself perfectly still as though she’d bolt if he made one wrong move. But as she passed by him, as he caught the scent of her perfume, he felt himself come to life again. And whether he’d wanted to or not, his feet automatically had him following her into the drawing room.
Drake closed the door behind them, and Beatrice sat upon the sofa with all the dignity of a queen receiving an unwelcome ambassador.
Gideon took the place beside her.
Not across from her.
Beside her.
He had not come to speak with Beatrice, but given the opportunity, he would be a fool not to take it.
And now that he was here, Gideon could not help recalling the last time the two of them had sat alone in a drawing room.
