Page 30 of The Duke of Pain

“Then may I suggest you contact the proprietor, Pan, and make an appointment. That is if I am available to you, which I doubt I will be.”

“Picky about your customers? I find that strange, considering you allowed Watford into your whipping chamber. There is already gossip making the rounds concerning Watford and the mysterious lady he is squiring about town. One word from me and your true identity will be known to all and sundry. But I will keep quiet.” Brookton placed a finger over his lips and gave her a sly smile.

“If I arrange a meeting with you,” she snapped.

“Clever girl. Now, there is no need to be annoyed. It isn’t the first time Watford and I shared the goods as it were—”

His sentence was cut off by a deep growl. Gideon had returned, and he handed her the small carton of ice cream.

“If we were not in a public place, I’d smack you one. Stay away from Olivia. This is your last warning.” Gideon sounded angry and entirely dangerous.

“This is farcical. A duke and a whore?” Brookton laughed.

The words made Olivia’s blood run cold. Apparently, it had the opposite effect on Gideon, for he grabbed Brookton by the cravat and brought him in close.

Gideon’s free hand disappeared below the marquess’s waist. Then Brookton squeaked.

“I’ll rip your ballocks from your body if you speak or approach her again. I will see to it that you will never beget an heir to the decaying and debauched Chellenham dukedom. See that I won’t.”

Chellenham?

Olivia covered her mouth as bile had risen up her throat. She gagged once, then twice, and both men turned to look at her with puzzlement.

That name.

Oh, no. It couldn’t be.

Her gaze slid to Brookton.

It was as if looking in a mirror.

The gold hair, high cheekbones, the shade of blue of their eyes. It could be a coincidence. But Chellenham was the name her poor, dying mother had spoken to the nuns, over and over.

“Take her to the Duke of Chellenham. Her father. He will see her looked after. Edward Cranston. Chellenham. Please.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She felt woozy.

“Gideon. I am unwell,” she croaked.

Gideon released the marquess and pushed him aside. Climbing in the carriage, he barked orders to the coachman.

Olivia swayed in her seat, and Gideon immediately sat next to her, gathering her into his strong and comforting embrace.

“What is it? Did Brookton upset you? The man is all bluster and arrogant to the core. He would not reveal your identity, especially after my threat, because he knows I mean it.”

It was hard to catch her breath; she was close to hyperventilating.

“My God, Liv, what is it?” He tenderly stroked her flushed cheek, and his kindness opened the floodgates.

The tears were falling freely now, and blast it, it loosened her tongue.

“C-C-Chellenham is the peer who sired me.”

Chapter 9

Gideon couldn’t have heard her right.

Chellenham?