Page 27 of The Duke of Pain

“No. I should, but—”

“But you are intrigued. You’re attracted to me as I am to you. You’re curious because your heart has sputtered to life for the first time. I know, because it has happened to me. Neither of us can dismiss this, Liv.”

“We could, very easily. But, as you say, emotions have become involved. Oh, this is all so muddled.”

Slowly, Gideon reached across the table and took her hand. Only for a moment, since others in the room observed their every move. But long enough to send a jolt of heat straight through her.

“Muddled perhaps, but exhilarating.”

“Yes,” Olivia whispered.

Oh, she was tumbling into the unknown here.

“Finish your tea, Liv. And we will perambulate about the streets as any couple would. Onward, we go.”

Onward—to what exactly?

Olivia couldn’t puzzle this out, not right now.

All she wanted was to be with him, and it had her frightened and excited all at once.

Chapter 8

The late spring session of Parliament had been extended due to what was becoming known as the Fashoda Incident. It was a territorial conflict between France and Britain over land in East Africa.

The French army and West African colonial troops were marching toward central Africa. From what Gideon had read in the papers, there was heated rhetoric on both sides of the dispute. This could all come to a head by late summer or early autumn. The last thing the country needed was another blasted war with France.

In Gideon’s mind, they should be working in partnership with France, not carrying long-held, centuries-old grudges. Gideon was also not a proponent of global imperialist expansion as it brought conflict. There were rumblings that war could break out again in South Africa. Another Boer War.

But beyond all that, Gideon was concerned that lurking over the horizon could be a war that would change the political landscape of the globe forever.

However, he had always been a pessimist on most subjects, especially politics.

His sporadic appearances at Parliament did not sit well with him. Another reason turning forty had been such an austere milestone. It was past time he took his responsibilities seriously in the House of Lords.

What cause should he take up?

Since he was in the minority when it came to imperialism, he could concentrate on problems at home, such as social reform.

Gideon stood in the central lobby, watching men hurry past to committee meetings and the like.

Who to approach?

The sound of a cane hitting the tiled floor caught Gideon’s attention.

Ah, it was Tremain Hornsby, Viscount Hawkestone, and younger brother to Harrison Hornsby, the Duke of Gransford.

Gideon had often sneered at the brothers for assisting the poor. But lately, he had come to admire their doggedness in reform pursuits. They often worked hand in glove with the Wollstonecrafts and others on such matters.

Upon returning from fighting in the Boer War in South Africa in 1882, Tremain Hornsby was made Viscount Hawkestone. It was an extinct title on the mother’s side, going back more than one hundred years. The queen wished to reward Hornsby for his services to the crown by resurrecting the title through letters patent. It was rare for two brothers to be serving in the House of Lords at the same time.

“I say, Hawkestone, could you hold up a moment?”

The viscount swung his penetrating gaze toward Gideon, who stood next to the newly installed St. David statue.

Hawkstone came to stand beside him. “What is it, Watford?”

The tone of the viscount’s voice was dismissive, not that Gideon could blame the man considering Gideon’s abysmal voting and committee record.