Page 48 of The Duke of Pain

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Gideon settled into his first-class coach, his overnight bag placed at his feet by the porter. The whistle blew, and the train lurched forward, expelling a burst of steam. The trip to Foxmont would give him enough time to gather his thoughts.

He had not faced his stepfather in some months. The prospect did not appeal. The man stood at nearly six and a half feet in height, and Gideon always felt small in his presence. The four inches difference in stature did not constitute the entire reason. His stepfather was a cold, authoritative man, dismissive and indifferent, and had been as far back as Gideon could remember.

After all, Gideon had learned it from somewhere. His stepfather’s eyes could freeze you where you stood with their piercing ice-blue gaze. He would look down his long, hawk nose and purse his thin lips and spew his long list of the ways Gideon had disappointed him.

What had he not mentioned to Olivia?

Gideon was seriously contemplating marriage. To her. Right away or as soon as such arrangements could be made. Which meant he wanted them to spend most of their time at Foxmont, except when he needed to come to London for his parliamentary commitments.

Which meant Whinstone had to leave. Immediately, if not sooner.

Gideon sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. Last night exceeded all his expectations. The experience was so intimate it stilled his heart to recall it.

Olivia had unlocked his heart and let warmth and affection flood in for the first time in his lonely life. The fact they shared a healthy passion made the prospect of marriage satisfying indeed. If the past two nights were any indication, there were many more exciting explorations to be had. But what he felt was beyond the carnal.

Already he missed Olivia, the feel of her soft body next to his.

Last night was one of the best sleeps of his life. She gave him comfort and surcease to all the gloomy thoughts of self-loathing and lonesomeness that often rattled about in his brain.

The constant ache in his chest, the excitement at even seeing her, proved his point. Gideon derived great enjoyment just speaking with her. Sharing breakfast and conversation with her again this morning had such a domestic intimacy that he yearned for more.

He wanted to do everything for her.

This must be love.

The impossible had happened.

Gideon had fallen completely and profoundly in love.

No one had ever stirred these feelings in him before; he recognized the love and welcomed it. The combination of strength and vulnerability Olivia possessed stirred such a maelstrom of emotions in him.

He supposed—or at least hoped—she felt the same.

Gideon soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 14

Annoyed, Gideon waited in Foxmont’s primary library as if he were a guest, when in fact, it was his country estate by birthright. He paced about and then took a seat in the leather wing chair facing the fireplace. The room was plain and cold, with few furnishings or decorative items.

It was not as Gideon remembered it.

Whinstone certainly made himself at home, the miserable cretin.

Well, that will cease.

The door opened at last, and his stepfather strode in, removing his gloves. The duke had been out riding; the crop was still tucked under his arm, his tall boots splashed with mud.

The man looked no older, a few more wrinkles perhaps. The severe lines carved around his mouth were a little deeper. He still had the broad-shouldered but lithe look of his younger years. But then, Whinstone was only eighteen years older than Gideon.

“What do I owe this pleasure, Watford?” Whinstone ground out.

Such a warm greeting from the man who had been his stepfather for thirty years. Gideon expected no less.

The duke walked to the sideboard, threw his gloves and crop down on the table, and poured himself a brandy. He did not offer Gideon anything.

“Well? Speak, boy, why are you here? Get one of your whores pregnant? Did you beat one of the lads you bugger to a bloody pulp and need my help to hush it up? Do not look so indignant. I know where your cock has been. ‘Lord Craven.’ You disgust me.”