Page 19 of The Hero

Not that she considered herself to be a sexual dalliance. They had only kissed once, after all. But she believed even that had been against Gideon’s usual sensible judgment in regard to how he should behave toward single ladies.

Unless… “Did you kiss me in the belief you could get closer to my father through that connection?”

“Certainly not,” Gideon dismissed instantly.

“You did not know he was up on the roof? Or kiss me so as to deliberately provoke my father into speaking with you?” Harry continued to probe.

“Except he did not have the opportunity to do so before he was shot. I also consider my attraction to you to be an inconvenience rather than deliberate a ploy.” He gave a pained grimace. “I did not mean that remark to be as insulting as it sounded.”

It was insulting, and Harry would be lying if she claimed otherwise. But she had no intention of allowing Gideon to see how much his words had hurt her.

“Please do not apologize.” Though he hadn’t actually done so. “I assure you, I consider my own attraction toward you to be equally as nonsensical.” She gave a deliberately dismissive laugh, rewarded for her effort by the deepening scowl on Gideon’s handsome face. “You are the haughty Duke of Oxford, and I am the country hoyden Lady Henrietta Church.” She chuckled. “No one in their right mind would ever think of putting the two of us together.”

* * *

Then Gideon must not be in his right mind, because he found the idea of being coupled with Harry, in any capacity, to be entirely satisfactory. Indeed, his obsession with thoughts of her no longer allowed him to imagine being with any other woman.

But the spectre of her father’s possible involvement in Plymouth’s death stood between them as an invisible barrier to any suggestion Gideon might make for them to be together in future. He had no doubt Harry would laugh in his face if he were to even approach the subject.

In the same way she had laughed at the possibility of her father being guilty of slaying Plymouth.

An opinion Gideon was becoming more and more convinced into also believing.

Except there was no one else left who could be to blame for Plymouth’s death!

He frowned. “Could your father have been blackmailed into killing Plymouth?”

Harry gave him a disdainful glance. “Blackmailed about what and by whom?”

“Gambling debts. A mistress. Possibly a threat to one of his children. Desperation has been known to drive even a man as mild-mannered as your father to behave in a way he would not have done under normal circumstances.” Gideon knew he was grasping at straws, and Lord knows, if he really wanted to pursue a relationship with Harry, then he didn’t want Dunhill to be guilty of murder. Harry was likely to spit in his face if her father was sent to the gallows.

By the same token, if Gideon cleared Dunhill as a possible suspect, then he was left with nothing and no one to take back to the other four Ruthless Dukes.

Either way, Gideon believed his perseverance in investigating Dunhill was already well on the way to destroying any hope of his ever being with Harry. In any capacity.

“My father does not gamble. My mother did not approve,” Harry added softly before her chin rose. “My father does not have a mistress.” Her gaze had hardened. “Indeed, I believe he is counting the days until he can be with my mother, his beloved Grace, again. As for there being a threat to either myself or Edward… I am not yet out in Society. And Edward would not stand for there being a threat toward him. He would simply challenge the one threatening him to a duel, even though the Prince Regent has declared them to be illegal.”

Gideon grimaced. “Perhaps your father wished to protect your brother from behaving so rashly?”

“By killing someone himself?” she scorned. “Do not be ridiculous.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who is it you suspect of carrying out this blackmail?”

He slowly released his breath. “Since coming here, I have learned your family has long had an association with Robert Granger I was not previously aware of. The very same gentleman who has inherited Plymouth’s title.”

“You think Robert might have blackmailed my father into slaying his cousin for him?” Harry stared at him incredulously.

“It is a possibility, yes.” The only one Gideon had left if he were to accept Dunhill was otherwise innocent.

She gave a snort. “Robert is a nincompoop and his choice of clothing suspect, but I do not believe him to be capable of arranging the murder of the cousin he has never made any secret of always admiring.”

“Greed and social standing have always been great influencers.”

“Not in this case,” she insisted. “No, Your Grace the Duke of Oxford, I am afraid you will have to look for your murderer elsewhere than any of the guests currently staying in my aunt and uncle’s home.”

Gideon, still inwardly smarting at Harry’s defense of Robert Granger, now felt a warmth in his cheeks at Harry’s deliberately use, in that obviously scathing tone, of the formal address befitting his title. Informing him more clearly than any other words could have, and despite their shake of hands earlier to the contrary, that, as he had suspected, Harry now considered their brief friendship to be at an end.

“Instead of continuing to remain in my aunt and uncle’s home under false pretenses,” Harry added scornfully, “I would suggest that you sit down with my father, once he is well enough, as two gentleman ought, and simply explain that someone killed your friend. I guarantee you will find it was not my father.”

Gideon might perhaps have taken her advice, and received the answer she predicted, if Dunhill had not taken a turn for the worse that evening and the doctor recalled so that he might treat the fever racking the earl’s body.

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