Page 73 of Cora
“I am sorry for humiliating you at the concert last night.” In the distance, the bell tower rang two in the morning. “If I have cost you the Queen’s account, I know there is nothing I can do to make up the loss to the Wentworth family.”
“Victoria would not summon us at this hour for a matter that could be resolved tomorrow. Moreover, she specifically requested you. This is not about the bank.”
For once. “What else could it be?”
“You have been making inquiries about Countess Oreste’s whereabouts, have you not?”
Cora nodded, bewildered.
“Her Majesty has a strange relationship with Belladonna. Like everyone in London, she is wary of the woman’s power.”
“Bella’s?” Cora laughed nervously. “All of those rumors are only rumors. She has no more power than Honey Caldwell does.”
The look Gideon gave her spoke volumes to the contrary. Oh dear. Now that she knew about the House of Virtue, she could concede that she might be wrong on that score as well.
“Is that where you got ideas for the bedroom? By visiting the House of Virtue instead of Miss Caldwell?”
She nodded. “I am sorry I lied. I was dishonest with you and with Honey.”
“Save your explanation for the Queen. I will stand beside you no matter what your reasons were for poking into her affairs. I have several things I want to say before we go before the Queen, and none of them have to do with Belladonna.”
She nodded, suddenly wary. Titi had no such compunctions. She found a gap between Gideon’s glove and his sleeve and began licking that strip of exposed skin as tenderly as if he were her own pup.
“I have done everything possible to set us on the wrong track.” He sighed heavily. “I told you my reasons, but ensuring you would be cast out of Society so that no one else could have you was an act of cowardice. I never did the one thing that could have saved us so much heartache. I didn’t tell you how I felt. If I had done that eleven years ago, we might have been happily married all this time.”
“If your father had tried to take over for you he might be dead now. You were right to wait,” Cora pointed out.
“But I wasn’t right to conceal my intentions or my feelings.”
“No,” she conceded. “I had to guess. I was so afraid I had guessed wrong.”
“You didn’t.” He couldn’t lean forward lest he crush Titi, though he tried for a moment before letting out a sigh of exasperation. “I should have said this years ago. I have desired you since I first laid eyes on you. I shouldn’t have started that rumor. I should have asked you, instead of retreating into cowardice a second time. I promise you it will never happen again.”
Into the silence, thick and pensive, he asked, “Is it true that you could be with child?”
“It’s possible.” Anxious excitement fluttered in her stomach. “I have never been pregnant before. The signs can be subtle. I could be wrong.”
“I want it to be true,” he said fiercely, and it was Cora who launched herself across the gap between the seats and pressed a kiss to his lips. He was pinned by a seven-pound dog, but he twisted to cup the back of her head and deepen their kiss. Cora tasted his longing and matched it with her own.
“If it isn’t true,” she said when their kiss broke. “I want to make it happen. I am tired of fighting you, Gideon. Let’s try being open with one another from now on?”
He searched her face, then nodded. Titi pushed her head between them forcing her to move back.
“Whatever comes, we will weather this. Together.” Gideon bent forward, crushing the dog between their bodies to press one last kiss to her lips. The footman opened the door and in rushed a cool spring breeze, rustling her skirt and reminding her that she had stormed out of the house in a plain day dress.
“You. Stay.” She pointed at Titania, who whined as she was closed into the carriage.
“I am not presentable,” she whispered, her heart slamming her ribs as they were led into the grand palace.
“Neither am I.”
“Men are always presentable.” She eyed her clothing. “I would have commissioned a gown.”
“I loathe wearing breeches,” Gideon complained, low enough that the servant would not overhear. “I wonder if Victoria will recognize me in trousers.”
Cora giggled. The footman shot her a quelling glare. She stifled it, but the crinkle at the corners of Gideon’s eyes told her he knew she had needed the momentary relief. She hooked her hand through his arm and stayed close as they were ushered into a well-appointed parlor, where the Queen sat in gloomy darkness broken only by a single candle, looking for all the world like a ghost in her black bombazine gown.
Beside her stood a man in trousers and a dove-gray waistcoat, around her own height, perhaps an inch taller. His features were handsome but unremarkable until she registered the sharp blade of his nose and the fearsome intelligence in his eyes.
