Page 50 of The Duke of Pain

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” Gideon hissed dangerously.

The duke picked up his gloves and crop. “Think over what I said, and we will continue this conversation over dinner. Did you bring your valet?”

“No, Jergens is not with me.”

“I will have one of my footmen attend you.”

Turning on his heel, Whinstone marched from the room.

My footmen?

Yes, the man was entirely too comfortable here. Acting as if this was his estate.

It was past time for him to go.

Gideon growled, his insides in knots as they always were in dealing with his stepfather.

Because part of him would always be that vulnerable, lonely boy that Whinstone had preyed upon.

And Gideon would ensure in future that part of him would stay well hidden.

Chapter 15

Gideon impatiently waited, tapping his fingers on the table. Since his childhood, no one ate until Whinstone deemed to make an appearance.

His stepfather strolled in dressed for dinner in his black evening coat, silver waistcoat, and crisp, snowy cravat. A diamond stickpin glittered in the cloth.

The duke had golden-brown hair, threaded with gray, and a sharply angled face. No doubt the bastard was starting to feel his age.

It explained the urgency in seeing to his heir.

The footmen jumped to attention and served the soup.

Gideon stared into the bowl. God, he hated Minestrone soup. His stepfather obviously had not changed his eating habits the past several years.

Whinstone reached into his side pocket and pushed a meticulously folded piece of stationery toward him.

“I have taken the liberty of writing down a few names of suitable women for you to consider.”

Gideon glanced at the paper then looked away.

“Stop trying to control me. Those days have long passed.”

The spoon halted halfway to the duke’s mouth. “As you said. The naughty daughter of a vicar. However, this list will serve in case circumstances change. As I said earlier, assist me with what I want, and I will return the favor.”

“And do what, exactly?”

“Get me the divorce and a settlement, and I will be gone from your life forever. And your mother’s. I am thoroughly sick of the screeching, controlling harpy.”

“I take it you never loved my mother, then?” Gideon asked sarcastically.

He knew the answer; he just wanted his stepfather to admit it.

“No. Never even liked her. But twice a week for seven years, I went to her bed and performed my duty. She finally got pregnant only to have the temerity to have two miscarriages during that period in time. One was far along enough to be fully formed. A son. I never forgave her for that.”

“As if she did it on purpose. You always were a cold bastard. Never loved anyone,” Gideon barked.

The duke’s frosty eyes narrowed in obvious annoyance. “Love. Stuff and nonsense and the fiction of drunken poets. You are a fine one to talk. You know nothing of what love is either. It is duty and survival. That is all.”