Page 4 of The Hero

Events since then had caused Gideon to question that opinion. They had learned just months ago, from a totally reliable witness, that Plymouth had not perished in battle at all, but had been struck down by the sword of an English officer.

Since learning of this, the five Ruthless Dukes remaining had been on a mission to find Plymouth’s murderer. Henry Church was one of five other officers in their regiment who could have been responsible.

Indeed, he was the last of them, the other four having already been proven innocent.

The older man’s presence this weekend, when he rarely left the Dunhill estate in Gloucester, was Gideon’s only reason for subjecting himself to the coming four days of socializing with people he had no wish to spend so much as an hour with.

With the exception, now that he had met her, of Harry Church…

Did that make him a pompous and arrogant ass?

Probably, Gideon acknowledged ruefully.

The mocking sparkle in Harry’s eyes said she certainly believed that to be the case. “Please see to your other guests, Aunt,” she encouraged lightly. “I am sure His Grace and I are perfectly capable of entertaining each other until it is time for us to go through to the dining room. Where you have already informed me the two of us are to be seated next to each other,” she added with what Gideon knew to be her belief there would be a lack of enthusiasm on his part for that seating arrangement.

A lack he did not feel in the slightest. “Yes, please do not feel obliged to remain at my side a moment longer, Lady Whiting,” he encouraged smoothly as two more couples entered the room dressed for dinner. “Now that we have been introduced, I believe Lady…Harry’s company to be more than sufficiently diverting for any discerning gentleman.” Although the thought of sitting next to this vibrantly beautiful woman during dinner, when he was suffering from this unexpected desire for her and breathing in her unique and arousing perfume for hours, was less than ideal.

Despite the incongruousness of their first meeting, Gideon had been unable to stop thinking about the unusual young woman he had previously known only as Harry. So much so that, once he was soaking in the bath in his suite of rooms—having already irritably removed the reeds from his hair and the mud upon his cheek—his cock had hardened and risen beneath the soapy water. He’d had to send his valet, Billings, from the room until the evidence of his arousal subsided. The other man had arrived at the Whiting estate that morning, along with carriage containing the clothes Gideon would need for this weekend in the country.

As he refused to take himself in hand like some callow youth, Gideon’s arousal had been so persistent that it had been a considerable amount of time before he was able to ring for Billings to return.

Harry was not only hauntingly beautiful, but her forthright nature was completely unlike that of any other woman Gideon had ever met. She was a puzzle of innocence and outspokenness. Of bare and shapely legs and sun-tanned hands he could so easily imagine caressing his body.

Until now, Gideon had believed her to be a lass from the village, perhaps someone he might seek out and see again once his business at Whiting Manor was completed.

He had never thought of taking a mistress before, but if, as he hoped, he was able to entice Harry into feeling an attraction toward him, he had even considered the possibility of persuading her into coming back to London with him when he departed in four days’ time.

His intention, once there, had been to see her settled in a little house of her own for the duration of their liaison. He knew from observing other such relationships that he would be expected to pay for servants and a carriage, along with a weekly or monthly stipend which would allow her to purchase items from London’s fashionable shops. There would also be the expectation of presents of jewelry.

Knowing Harry was the unmarried and no doubt virginal daughter of Henry Church, a man who might be responsible for the slaying of one of Gideon’s closest friends, must surely put an end to any and all of those intentions?

* * *

“I am beginning to suspect you are not a gentleman at all,” Harry accused once her aunt had departed, leaving her alone with the duke.

“Why is that?” Oxford returned mildly.

“Because you deliberately dangled a carrot of curiosity in front of my aunt by your already knowing my preferred name.”

He shrugged broad shoulders. “As you have already told me you are not always a lady, it would seem we are well met,” he returned evenly. “What?” He mocked her surprised expression. “Were you under the misapprehension I would allow you to continue to play your word games with me without retaliation? Especially when you did so in front of someone who is unaware of our previous…acquaintance.”

Harry didn’t know what she’d thought would happen when she and the duke met again this evening and her identity as Lady Henrietta Church was revealed.

She had expected to be rendered breathless by the duke’s elegant appearance in evening clothes.

She had been correct.

She had also believed he might be the handsomest gentleman in the room.

Again, she was proven correct.

She had not thought to encounter something that looked suspiciously like heat in those steely gray eyes as the duke continued to look at her from between narrowed lids.

That Gideon Harrington, the Duke of Oxford, was here at all after accepting her aunt and uncle’s weekend invitation was surprise enough. Her aunt had confided that the duke had deliberately sought out the invitation, making his presence here even more intriguing.

He did not appear to be a gentleman who enjoyed weekends in the country, where the daytime entertainment was to be walking about the gardens and beside the lake for the ladies and shooting for the gentlemen.

Not that Harry’s father would join in the latter part of those plans. No, he was far more likely to go off on his own to watch his beloved birds than harm a single feather on one.

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