When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,95
pleased to have you stay for supper, Mr. Blackwell. You’ve been such a help.”
Mr. Blackwell’s gaze strayed to Lucretia, but then he shook his head. “I regret I must decline, Mrs. Hawthorne. I’m engaged to dine with a business acquaintance already.”
Messalina raised her chin, pulling the tatters of her pride about her. “Then we shouldn’t keep you any longer from your appointments.”
Mr. Blackwell hesitated.
Abruptly he said, “Gideon and I have been partners for many years. In all that time I’ve never known him to form a connection with a female that lasted for more than a night. Beg your pardon.”
Messalina stiffened. “I’m sure I don’t need to know this information.”
“I’m not explaining myself very well,” Mr. Blackwell said earnestly. “I only mean that Gideon has been alone for a very long time, perhaps his entire life. His family is dead, did you know?”
“He told me that he had a mother and brother,” Messalina said slowly. It felt almost treasonous to be talking about Gideon’s personal life with someone else. “I didn’t think he had any other family beyond that.”
“Then you are one of the very few he’s told even that much,” Mr. Blackwell said. “I only learned about his mother and brother after two years of partnership—and then because Gideon once got drunk with me. He doesn’t drink to drunkenness as a rule. He spoke without any emotion at all of his mother’s death and even of his brother’s. He might have been reading a newspaper. It made me realize something about him.”
He paused, and Messalina could see that he wanted the question from her. Reluctantly she asked, “What is that?”
“You must not be cast down by his insistence that you leave the bedroom. In some fundamental way Gideon is…” He wrinkled his brow as if searching for the right word, then nodded as if he’d found it. “He is wrong. He does not feel the emotions the rest of us feel.”
Messalina stared at him. “You’re saying Gideon doesn’t know how to love.”
Beside her Lucretia made an aborted movement as if to forestall Mr. Blackwell from answering.
But he looked at Messalina steadily. “I’m saying that Gideon doesn’t even know what love is. Not for people, in any case.” His mouth twisted wryly. “He certainly has an affection for money.”
Messalina took a deep breath. “I thank you for your thoughts on the matter. I will consider them.”
She rose, and Mr. Blackwell stood as well.
“Please,” he said. “If there is any way that I may help you at this difficult time, I hope you will send word.” He felt inside the pocket of his blue coat and withdrew a pencil and notebook, bending to scribble an address on it before tearing the paper out and handing it to Messalina. “This is where I can be found. Please don’t hesitate to send a messenger at any time. I’m at your disposal.” He paused to glance at Lucretia, standing quietly beside Messalina. “At both of your disposals, ladies.”
He bowed and departed.
Lucretia sat abruptly on the settee. “Well. I don’t know what exactly to say to that.”
“I do,” Messalina said softly. “Mr. Blackwell only stated what I already knew: there is no hope for me and Gideon.” She glanced up at Lucretia. “Freya urged me to find out Gideon’s feelings, but what if he has none? If the emotion is only on my side, then it’s my soul that is in peril, not just my pride.” She took a deep breath. “We leave as soon as I attain the money.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What is your name?” Bet asked the red-haired man bravely.
But he shook his head. “My name can be used against me, and I have many enemies.”
“Then you don’t trust me.”
He tilted his head. “No, my dear. I neither trust nor love you, but our marriage will be pleasant nonetheless. Now come to bed.”…
—From Bet and the Fox
That evening Gideon gritted his teeth against the pain from his ribs as he turned onto his side. The ribs on his right were wrapped. His arm was bound to his chest on top of the bandages so that the joint might heal in place. Altogether he felt like a trussed bird, ready for the oven.
He hated this, hated being injured, in pain, and vulnerable to attack. His men surrounded him—he knew this. There was no danger, no way an enemy could get to him. Even so, something primitive and animal made him want to find a hiding hole, back himself in, and growl at any who dared disturb