Page 4 of Cora
They would be, soon enough.
“I’m surprised you haven’t offered your sister as collateral,” Gideon said mildly. “Cora is yet unmarried, is she not?”
“Thanks to you,” he muttered. More forcefully, Wilder said, “She is not an object to be offered in trade. She is a woman.”
Gideon was well aware. He refrained from saying so.
Another man might tremble at the menacing growl from the tall, strong man. Gideon kicked back in his chair, confident that were he to condescend to rise to his feet, he would be able to look Wilder straight in the eye. There were few men in London, or anywhere, that could threaten Gideon physically. Eryx Wilder was one of them, but he wasn’t concerned.
“Your sister’s Season was a disaster long before I came along.”
“It wasn’t. If not for your stupid prank, she would be married by now.”
Or ruined by a scoundrel. Either outcome was precisely what Gideon had been afraid of. Only Gideon and one other man knew the truth of what happened that day. He shrugged. “Perhaps. Your sister was hardly a diamond of the first water.”
Wilder shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sauntered several steps away. “You know what you did, Wentworth. If publicly humiliating a girl only a few weeks into her debut is what makes you feel powerful, then no wonder you’re reviled by every decent man in England.”
Gideon discovered his hands clenched into tight balls and flexed them, forcing himself to relax back against the leather chair. Wilder was one to talk about decency, what with the sordid activities he was up to his neck in.
“Everyone but the Queen.”
Wilder stilled. Apparently, he’d gotten better at controlling his temper since the night he’d smashed Gideon’s nose on Lord Pindell’s front lawn. Gideon touched the bump on his nose, a permanent reminder of his lowest moment, and felt a grudging admiration for the man’s right hook. Wilder and his half-brother had beaten him within an inch of his life that night, and he’d daresay he deserved it.
“Victoria is nothing if not pragmatic,” was all Wilder said.
In the decade-plus since, Gideon had taken great pride in leveraging his connection with the crown to ensure the Wilders stayed out of high Society. It surprised him now to realize that somewhere along the line, Eryx had grown indifferent to his exclusion.Growth, Gideon mused.How inconvenient.
Which left Gideon with only one tool: money.
“Your sister’s dowry is enough to tide you over, is it not?”
“It ishers, Wentworth,” he gritted out. “Not my personal piggy bank to smash whenever I find myself in dire straits.”
“It’s her father’s?—”
“Who is dead.”
“And in your custodianship until she is wed.”
“Lysander’s, actually.”
Interesting. Made sense, once he thought about it, but Gideon had understood the Wilders to have a rocky relationship with their legitimate half-brother. Perhaps that had changed, too.
Well. The Duke of Gryphon could be an ally in this endeavor, if handled carefully.
“But he entrusts me to manage the investments,” Wilder added, almost as an afterthought, then scowled. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Because I am your only hope of saving your bank, your home, and the lifestyle to which you have become accustomed. Not to mention your new wife.” Gideon held his gaze.
“Didn’t realize you’d turned into an avid reader of newspaper wedding announcements,” he said acidly.
“How could anyone have missed it?” A full page celebrating the nuptials of Mr. Eryx Wilder and Miss Annalise Fernsby. Like a bounty hunter claiming a sought-after prize.
Gideon would never fawn publicly over a mere female. No woman was worth emasculating oneself in such a manner. Not even Cora.
With a pained expression, Wilder gritted out, “Countess Oreste mentioned you might be willing to take a stake in the bank.”
He knew she’d suggested it, at his behest. The countess may be a courtesan who had wormed her way into a marriage and a veneer of respectability, but she was intelligent, cunning, and not to be crossed. She could also be an effective ally, when properly handled. Gideon respected her despite not liking the woman.
