A Gentleman's Vow (Saints and Sinners 2)

Gideon quickly donned the coat and, after a moment, decided he might just pass inspection in the shadowed hallways of Stapleton Manor so long as he did not linger. He found his glasses in the grass, amazed they’d avoided being broken as they’d rolled around, and slipped them into his coat pocket again. “Let’s go.”

She rushed to his side and linked her arm with his. “How did I do?”

“As always, you are a quick study,” Gideon promised as they began the long walk back to the manor at a slower pace. Gideon would have a lot to become used to in the coming weeks. “You won’t see me until late tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Your father wishes for a gentleman’s morning, shooting and such.”

“Then I will see you for luncheon,” she insisted. “I’ll expect you to sit by me. We’re having mushroom soup.”

His heart lightened at their little joke on the world. Mushrooms were a boring subject. Hardly anyone knew about them, which meant they could say whatever they liked—utter nonsense mostly—and no one ever challenged their exaggerations. “Lord James is not fond of eating them.”

“Such a shame, and that is why I insisted a mushroom course be added to every meal during his stay. We’re using some of the spices I found in London tomorrow, too. I’ll need your opinion on whether you’d like to eat any of them again. I want to tell Mrs. Harrow your reaction.”

“I see.” He put his fingers to her face, lightly touching the softness of her jaw. “That is kind of you.”

“I like your servants,” she whispered—and then froze. “Someone is standing ahead of us.”

He pushed Jessica behind him and moved them into the shadow of a wall. They pressed close together, hoping not to be noticed. When the figure eventually withdrew to the house, Gideon could breathe easy again. “That was too close for comfort.”

It was only then he discovered Jessica had wrapped her arms around his waist and had buried her face in his cravat. She seemed quite adept at cuddling up to him, he’d noticed. He brought his hand up her arm and slipped it behind her head. Her face rose to his, and she kissed him one last time.

Fast courtship or slow, he had a feeling being proper around Jessica wasn’t going to be easy.

He jerked back. Their near miss might become a real scandal if he forgot himself. “No more moonlight meetings,” he whispered. “Please.”

“But—”

He cupped her face in his palm. “I’ll find you tomorrow, I promise.”

“Good.” Her lips found his again,

and then she was gone, darting back toward the house with nary a sound to give her away.

Chapter 15

“Can someone dim that infernal racket?” Lord Rafferty complained, holding his head as he squinted across Gideon’s fields.

Gideon handed over the flask of brandy. “Medicine.”

Rafferty took one look, and then snatched up the flask and took a deep swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Whose idea was this?”

“Yours.” He held his gun over his arm, barrel pointed down at the ground. Shots rang out ahead of them. Stapleton and Lord James were making one last sweep of the area before calling it a day.

They’d had unfortunate luck on Stapleton’s estate, so they had moved to Gideon’s property at his suggestion.

Gideon was biding his time now, waiting until all guns had been fired and the servants had taken them and their game back to the manor before he broached the need for a private conversation with Stapleton.

“A friend would not have pointed that out.” Rafferty pinched the bridge of his nose and then squinted up at the sky. “Are you really going to talk to him today?”

“Yes, or else he’ll find out the worst way that his daughter is running around the estate at night.”

“With you.”

“With me.” He jerked his head up as Stapleton handed off his gun to the estate manager. “Remember your promise to distract Newfield and the son.”

“The things I do in the name of friendship.” Rafferty stood and came to his side. “Did you hear him as we crossed the brook? He’s such a poor opinion of women that even I was offended. Keep them at home, their minds fixed on running a household, and advised me to never leave a serious news sheet like The Times lying about for my daughter to read.”