Martha Schroeder (8 page)

“Your kind heart does you credit.” Gideon spoke almost at random. The pure blue of her gaze as it met his dazzled him, and her smile struck at his heart. He had betrayed himself, and now he found it all but impossible to draw back into the fortress he had made of his emotions. He could no longer deny what he felt for this glorious golden girl who looked at him now with such warmth and love—

Love?
Impossible! He surged to his feet in one strong, lithe move and stepped away from her just as Jane entered the room, a cup of tea in her hand.

“Amelia, are you all right? Are you hurt?” Jane stopped in front of the wing chair and gave her friend a searching look. “Eustace did not physically harm you, then?” She turned to Gideon. “You sent him packing, I am informed.” A small smile played around her wide mouth, and she glanced back at the door where Molly stood, her shoe-button eyes taking in everything.

“I am not sure he will stay routed, Jane.” Gideon frowned down at Amelia. “You must be vigilant. Promise to inform me if you see him anywhere near here. Send Molly or one of the boys from the orphan school to find me.”

Amelia got to her feet. “Really, you two. I am perfectly fine. Eustace did try to restrain me, but I was never in any jeopardy, I assure you.”

“You forget, Amy, I saw him. Eustace was ready to do more than hold you. You might have been in real danger.” Gideon could see from the stubborn set of her mouth that she was not convinced. The very fact that she despised the man made her underestimate him.

“I will not argue with you,” he said calmly. “I will simply ask Jane to watch over you.”

“Of course,” Jane replied. “I have never trusted that little weasel, Amelia, and I am very sure that he will make trouble for you if he can.” Jane believed she had a plain woman’s ability to judge men accurately. They did not try to charm her, and so she saw them as they were, without any illusions.

Amelia nodded in acquiescence. “Very well. I can see that you two will do whatever you choose regardless of anything I say. So I might as well save my breath to cool my porridge.”

“Good girl.” Gideon’s tone was the same one he had used when at twelve Amelia had followed instructions in some elaborate game they’d been playing.

Amelia felt a spurt of anger along her veins. After what she had seen in his eyes and felt in his arms, she was unwilling to be treated like a younger playmate. “Good lad,” she responded in exactly the tone he had used, and rose to her feet. “Thank you, Gideon. I believe that I am due in the schoolroom to help the younger children with their sums. Good day.” As cool and gracious as any of Almack’s patronesses, she smiled and inclined her head in dismissal. “Jane, I will see you at luncheon.” And she was gone.

To Gideon, the sunlight abruptly went out of the day with Amy’s departure. He turned despairing eyes after her, but it was clear that she already had her mind on pedagogy. He had misread her. Those few moments when he had held her in his arms clearly had left her completely unimpressed. Uninterested. He squared his shoulders. Hussars did not admit defeat.

But with Amy he was not sure what exactly what victory was.

Chapter Six

What had he done? Gideon asked himself that evening as he looked around yet another room filled with overdressed people at some ton function. He couldn’t remember just what it was or who was hosting it.

All he could think of was Amy. He had risked a lifetime of friendship for a moment of passion and protectiveness, holding her in his arms. How could he have been that stupid!

In disgust with himself, he looked around the room, hoping for a glimpse of Amy or Jane. If he could talk to her, surely he could convince Amy that it was possible to return to the easy camaraderie they had enjoyed all those years, before he stupidly allowed them both a glimpse of how he really felt.

Since this morning, he had been forced to admit to himself that what he felt for her wasn’t friendship or the pure love of a knight for a royal lady who stood far above him yet gave him her favor to carry in the tournament. What he had called chivalry had been instead the same kind of hot, possessive passion that any man felt for the woman he wanted for his own.

Though he had never realized consciously how he felt, the idea did not shock Gideon. At some level he had always known. But if he was not surprised, he nevertheless knew how hopeless his love was. His position in Amy’s life was and had to remain one of friend and protector. If he had ever aspired to be more and win her love, her father had made it clear that he would jeopardize Lady Amelia Bradshaw’s high standing in the ton. The duke had trusted the boy he had befriended not to attempt to do so. Gideon could not betray that trust. Besides, he knew the duke had been right.

What he had read in Amelia’s eyes that morning told him she had feelings for him that were more than friendship. Knowing Amelia, he was sure she would not stifle those feelings and be content to remain only his friend just to protect her reputation. Amelia did not care the snap of her fingers for reputation. If she did, she would not be sponsoring Jane Forrester at every event Jane could be persuaded to attend.

It was, therefore, up to Gideon to protect her from herself and her own kind, loving heart. She might well believe that she could marry Gideon and risk nothing more than a little gossip and possibly having a few doors closed to her. Nothing, Amelia would think, that she cared about in the least.

But she would care. When her children were not certain whether they would be welcomed as the grandchildren of a duke or scorned as the children of an unknown guttersnipe. When her daughters were not sought after by the most eligible men and her sons not invited to join the most exclusive clubs, then she would feel the weight of her folly. Gideon had observed Society from its far boundaries for a long time, and he had seen the lengths to which people would go to remain in the Haut Ton. Look at Eustace, who would stop at nothing to get Amelia to marry him!

Gideon, outcast gypsy that he was, could afford not to care about the opinions of the upper ten thousand. But Amelia, much as she thought herself equally free from such concerns, was not an outcast but a leading member of that august group. Since she was unwilling to protect herself from the penalties of social ostracism, Gideon would do it for her. Exactly as the duke had known that he would. Automatically his hand reached for the small iron ball he always carried, but of course in his tightly fitted evening clothes, there were no convenient pockets into which he could fit his talisman. Damn!

If only he could find her in this miserable crowd, he could commence his efforts immediately.

As he gazed around, he became aware that people were staring back at him. He stood alone as he had since he had entered the room, and when he thought about it, he realized he was frowning into every face he saw. No wonder everyone was giving him a wide berth, he thought with sardonic amusement.

“No, do not begin to smile now,” Sir Richard remarked as he came up to Gideon. “It will unnerve people far more than the frown is doing.”

“I am hardly formidable enough to render these hardened party goers fearful. After all,” Gideon said with a wry half smile, “they brave Almack’s, something I am not likely ever to have to do.”

“I will not argue with you about the courage necessary to speak to Lady Jersey as opposed to that required to charge the French cavalry.” Sir Richard smiled at someone over Gideon’s shoulder. “Ah, here are your wards now.” His smile suddenly disappeared. “What in the world has Miss Forrester done to herself?”

The tone of disapproval in Sir Richard’s voice made it difficult for Gideon to refrain from turning around to stare. He wanted to turn and look at Amelia, but now he also wondered what costume the eccentric Jane had donned for the evening. Jane was becoming noted for the Quakerish simplicity of her dress. She would have to go far to exceed her already plain gowns unless she affected something truly outlandish like calico or linsey-woolsey.

“Captain Falconer.” Jane’s voice was tentative, not her usual self-assured tone. “Sir Richard.”

Gideon turned and tried hard not to stare. Always noticeable because of her height, tonight Jane was the cynosure of all eyes because she was dressed in a fashionable gown of shimmering gold satin, with her chestnut hair falling in shining curls from a Psyche knot on the top of her head.

“Why, Jane,” said Gideon, smiling at her obvious nervousness, “you look beautiful.”

“It was Amelia’s idea,” Jane said uncomfortably. “I feel a perfect fool.” She gave Gideon a tentative smile and turned to greet Sir Richard. He looked at her with grave displeasure written all over his face, and Gideon could see Jane’s self-confidence begin to melt away.

“Miss Forrester,” Gideon said, “Would you care to take a turn around the room so everyone can see you?”

She stared at him, obviously uncertain of just what he meant. “I—I don’t think. I mean, I—”

“Jane is afraid that she has let me talk her into more fashion than she is ready for.” Amelia spoke at last, a rueful smile on her lips. “It is because she is so beautiful. It has taken her by surprise.”

Sir Richard’s smile was forced and perfunctory. “It has taken us all by surprise. It is hard to think of Miss Forrester the schoolmistress as this—fashion plate.” His voice held a faint chill.

“Thank you, Gideon, I would like a turn about the room,” Jane said, taking his arm with what felt like a steel claw.

Looking after them as they strolled away, Amelia said, “I cannot believe that one dress and a few curls could make such a difference. Jane is beautiful. Is she not. Sir Richard?” Amelia was hoping that someone would admire her efforts on Jane’s behalf. So far, stunned silence seemed to be the only reaction, although Gideon appeared to be approving. Sir Richard, however, looked positively grim.

“Of course she is beautiful. But you have made her look like every other woman here.” He sounded angry.

“Exactly my idea,” Amelia explained patiently. Really, men could be so obtuse. “Jane felt that she stood out in company, that she did not fit in. Now she does. She can be comfortable at parties like this one.” Amelia looked around the room. Though taller than most of the women in the room, Jane no longer looked as if she did not belong.

“Why should she look like everyone else when she is not in the slightest degree like anyone else?” Sir Richard demanded, his eyes boring into Amelia’s. “She looked like what she was— an Original, a—” He broke off, and when he spoke again it was in his usual humorously ironic tone. “Oh, well, I cannot expect you to understand. Lady Amelia. It is merely a fancy of my own and of no importance.”

“You understand her.” Amelia was surprised at his perspicacity. “You value her for herself, as I do. As all her true friends do.” When she looked up at him, she smiled.

Gideon saw that smile as he and Jane returned from their promenade, and it made his heart ache. Perhaps he needn’t warn Amy off after all. Perhaps she had decided for herself that he was not for her and turned to his friend instead. The sharp arrow of jealousy that stung his heart merely served to remind him that while he would remain devoted to Amy and none other all his life, it was only appropriate that she find another man to love and marry. The arrow twisted and gouged.

“Several people did not seem to recognize me,” Jane said. “Until I spoke.”

“You might have fooled them a little longer if you had managed to refrain from bringing up the corn tariffs,” Gideon said with a laugh. “You should have seen the looks we got when Jane insisted on discussing the evils of a conservative trade policy. Al I the gentlemen wanted to do was look at her figure, and the ladies were determined to discover the name of her dressmaker.” He was happy that Jane had been a success. Amy must be very proud of her protégée. But when he looked at her, Amy wasn’t smiling, she was gazing thoughtfully at Jane and then at Gideon.

He knew instantly what she was thinking. It was exactly what he had thought when he saw Amy with Sir Richard:
Here is someone who belongs in the life of the one I love, who would fit into it in a way I myself never will.
He smiled wryly and tucked Jane’s hand in the crook of his arm.

“I believe you have the outward look perfected, but some work on frivolous conversation would not be amiss,” he said.

“I do not believe that women should talk of nothing but hairstyles and babies,” Amelia said, her eyes flashing. “And neither does Jane.”

“Bravo.” The deep, bored voice of Sir Richard sent color to Jane’s cheeks. “I, too, believe that women as well as men can stupefy their listeners into sleep by prosing on about politics.”

Jane stood stock-still and then removed her hand from Gideon’s arm and rounded on Sir Richard. Standing squarely in front of him, she faced him with undaunted courage. “I cannot believe that anyone who has fought for England can be so light-minded as not to care at all about the future of his country!”

“Then, believe, at any rate, that he does not care to discuss that future with a collection of brainless fribbles at a rout!” Sir Richard’s frown was thunderous.

“I am not a brainless fribble!” Jane clenched her fists and glared at him.

“Jane, dear,” Amelia murmured, “people are beginning to stare.”

Jane and Sir Richard both ignored her. “Not you,” he said impatiently, as if she should have known better. “All those fools you were trying to talk sense to.”

Gideon realized that he was fast losing control of the situation. If he did not act quickly, Jane and Sir Richard would leave Amy and him alone to all intents and purposes. This was not the pairing that Gideon had in mind. Spending more time with Amy would test his resolve beyond his capacity. Horses and men could break when strained physically beyond what they could bear, and he had to acknowledge that he might reach his breaking point emotionally as well.

“Jane,” he said. But Jane and Sir Richard were passionately discussing the proper way to tax agriculture and were paying no attention.

“Gideon,” Amelia said, and for the first time he looked directly at her. She was dressed in deep rose silk with an overdress of spangled silver gauze, and as usual she was lovely enough to stop the breath in his chest. When he saw her eyes, though, he could tell that something was wrong. Her usually candid gaze was clouded and uncertain as her eyes met his. “Gideon, I—” She stopped short.