Page 3 of Cora
CHAPTERTWO
GIDEON
If there was one thing Gideon Wentworth took enormous pleasure in, it was making his enemies squirm.
He lived for conquest. In olden days he would have been a knight errant riding about vanquishing his adversaries. His careful ruthlessness was what had made him into the most respected financier in London, managing investments for Queen Victoria herself.
The brash, illegitimate duke’s upstart son had made a killing by lending to questionable enterprises like that deplorable countess’ fancy whorehouse. Watching Mr. Eryx Wilder, the proprietor of Wilder & Co., try to wriggle out of trouble brought him immense satisfaction. Especially knowing that he, Gideon, had been the one to start the rumor that brought Wilder so low so quickly.
Depositor confidence was everything to a bank. Once lost, the bank was sunk.
A single well-timed lie that Wilder had made loans to criminals and was about to have his assets seized was all it took to level Wilder & Co. He’d waited until news that Lord Silas Huntley had withdrawn a sizable amount from Wilder’s bank, thus ensuring that deposits would be depleted, before casually passing alonga little tale he’d heardto just the right person. The news, and fear, spread like wildfire.
One he’d invented, if one wished to be pedantic.
His nefarious falsehood circulated for days over Christmas when banks were closed. Depositors swarmed Wilder’s bank the day it reopened to withdraw their funds. As planned, Wilder & Co. couldn’t meet the demand.
He ran his tongue over his lower lip.
“Another whisky, sir?” a server asked.
He tapped the glass with one blunt forefinger to indicate yes. He wasn’t done listening to Wilder beg. Eavesdropping ought to be unbecoming to a man of his years, yet he loved the sound of desperation coming from his quarry’s lips.
“I have a house in a prime part of London to offer as collateral,” Wilder was saying with a pleading note that was music to Gideon’s ears. “It’s well-situated, spacious, and undergoing renovations to modernize the kitchen, add water closets, install gas lighting?—”
“You mean it’s a construction site,” the other man cut him off. “I don’t want a liability, Wilder. Isn’t there anything else?”
There was something else—or someone, rather. Was Wilder desperate enough to shove his sister into matrimony yet?
His breath caught and held until his lungs burned.
“I have liquidated all of my other assets to prop up the bank,” said Wilder. “We can get through this. Our balance sheet is strong. My portfolio performs well, and at higher interest rates than most other banks can charge.”
“Because you loan to criminals,” his companion said flatly.
“No,” Wilder declared. “I do not.”
An outright lie. Countess Oreste’s clandestine brothel was indisputably illegal, no matter how well she passed it off as a house of reform. She, too, had been a part of his plot to finally gain the prize he desired.
“Spare me the details, Wilder. I’m not interested.” The other man set down a mostly-full drink and strode away. Wilder blew out a breath. So did Gideon.
Wilder hadn’t dangled his sister as an inducement. At twenty-nine, Cora Wilder was a spinster, thoroughly on the shelf. She was hardly a catch, and yet…
Gideon wanted her.
He intended to have her.
There was no way for him to obtain her than through treachery, and gaining her had been a very long game, indeed. He was so close he could taste victory.
At some point during the eleven years since he ruined her marriage prospects, Gideon had finally, grudgingly accepted that he would never settle for anyone other than Cora Wilder as his wife. Still, the chances of her agreeing to his proposal were lower than a snowball’s chance of surviving a trip through hell.
If gaining her meant ruining her family, then so be it.
He made his opening gambit in the way calculated to best get under Wilder’s skin. Keeping him off-balance was essential. If the man sensed how badly he wanted Cora, Wilder might put two and two together and figure out that Gideon was responsible for his woes. That would be disastrous.
“Why not turn to your duke of a brother?”
“Half-brother,” Wilder snapped, as if he felt compelled to remind the world that he and his sister were illegitimate. “Not that my family’s affairs are any of your business, Wentworth.”
