have my own businesses—coal mines in the north of England.”
“Oh?” Lady Holland sounded politely uninterested at the mention of business.
Lord Rookewoode was already glancing at the gentleman he’d been in conversation with previously, and Messalina judged it time to move on.
She subtly nudged Gideon’s side with her elbow.
He glanced at her, and she tilted her head toward the doors leading to the garden.
His eyes narrowed, and for a perilous moment she thought he’d balk at the command.
Then he bowed. “I hope you’ll excuse us, my lord. Ladies.” He glanced at Messalina, a wicked glint in his ebony eyes. “I’d like to take my wife for a turn in the garden.”
She nodded to the Hollands and Lord Rookewoode, and then they strolled away.
He waited a half dozen steps before leaning toward her, his lips near the curls at her ears, making her shiver. “Why leave so soon?”
“This is simply an opening volley,” she murmured, her gaze straight ahead so that she could survey the guests around them. “If you tried to talk business with Lord Rookewoode now, on the first introduction and in the middle of the ball, he’d likely cut you dead. He needs to become accustomed to you before you can propose your ideas.”
He snorted softly, and she glanced up at him quickly.
His wide lips were quirked at her. “I had no idea that you were so devious, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“I have moved in society for almost a decade,” she said dryly. “If you think those waters are not infested with monsters from the deep, you’re sorely mistaken.”
He laughed under his breath and she counted it as a victory, making Gideon laugh. She smiled privately to herself.
They reached the set of double doors in a corner of the ballroom, which were thrown open to let in the balmy night air.
“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.
“To the garden,” he said.
Gideon drew her out onto a terrace that ran along the back of the house. The garden was a formal affair with hedges and graveled paths, all laid out in strict geometry, but it also had ornamental trees, severely trimmed to keep them compact. Small paper lanterns had been strung from the trees to make a fairyland.
She’d seen this garden a thousand times and had always thought it remote and chilly. But standing in it with Gideon was a different matter.
“It’s lovely,” Messalina whispered.
“It is.” His voice was deep.
They strolled along, the gravel crunching beneath their shoes, until Gideon came to an intersection and stopped, turning to her.
Messalina looked up at him. His black eyes seemed to burn in the night air, and she reached up to stroke along his knife scar.
He bent his head and caught her mouth.
She shuddered, stepping into his embrace. His mouth was so hot, and the hand he cradled her head with was broad and strong.
Her heart bloomed as he licked along the seam of her lips. She wanted him. Wanted—
“Hawthorne!”
Gideon broke the kiss and swung her behind him as he faced Quintus.
Messalina put her hand on his arm, peering around him. Her brother’s face was white with rage. Behind him was Lucretia, her eyes reddened, her cheeks wet, and with her was Julian, standing mute and watchful.
Messalina’s lips parted, but it was Gideon who spoke. “What is this?”
Quintus lifted his upper lip, took two steps forward, and punched Gideon in the chin.
He staggered back against Messalina, and she felt him palm his knife.
“No!” She clutched his right hand between both of her own and addressed Quintus. “You’re drunk!”
Quintus never took his eyes from Gideon. “I am, but that’s not the reason your husband needs to be beaten.”
Messalina looked at Julian. “Stop him. Please.”
“I think not.” Julian turned his merciless gray eyes on her. “Did you know that on the night we arrived, your husband told us that your marriage could not be annulled because you’d already lain together?”
“What?” Messalina stared stupidly at Julian, trying to understand his words. The night her brothers arrived…?
Her heart suddenly tripled in rhythm as she felt something inside her break and fall. Far, far down, into an endless black hole without end.
The night her brothers had arrived was the night Gideon had first made love to her. There…there must be another explanation. Something so simple and easy that she’d laugh about this later.
But even as her brain scrambled to excuse him, she knew.
Gideon had told her he’d married her for her money. He might be physically drawn to her, but he’d never mentioned love.
Why hadn’t she realized it sooner?
Lucretia sobbed,