A Gentleman's Vow (Saints and Sinners 2)

“You were busy,” he reminded her.

“Meeting unsuitable men. Fortune hunters.” She peered out toward the door and moved another inch in his direction.

Gideon clenched his hands together between his knees. They shouldn’t be alone, but there were things he needed to tell Jessica about his life that required this very privacy. “What is your earliest memory of me?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned, looking down at her hands. “Holding your hand, I suppose. Mine was tiny then.”

He reached for hers now, sliding her palm over his. There was still a considerable disparity between them despite her growing up. There always would be. “I have been your father’s friend for a long time, but I was your brother’s friend first. Do you recall that?”

She clenched his hand tightly. “You haven’t stayed friends with them. Did you argue?”

“No. They always belonged to a younger crowd. We drifted apart as many men do.” He smiled quickly. “My first memory of you was a few months after your birth. After your mother died. I came to visit, and heard you crying in the nursery. The house was in something of an uproar at that time, and I thought your family might be with you, so I went upstairs into the nursery. Your sisters were there, Fanny and Rebecca. They were squabbling over the top of your cot, and you were just sitting there sobbing.”

“I’ve never heard this story before.”

She looked so worried, he hastened to reassure her. “It ends well. The servants were nowhere to be seen, so I picked you up and you stopped crying. I remember it was very sudden, and you clung to me and would not be put back down. So I kept you in my arms to keep you happy. Fanny and Rebecca flounced off in a huff, and I went to find the duke with you.

“Your father hadn’t been coping well with the loss of your mother, I realized, but he was your father and responsible for you. So I took him to task for letting you cry for so long. I was quite angry back then. I thought all fathers were cruel, selfish creatures.”

Jessica stared at him. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I expected. You had fallen asleep in my arms, actually, while I was busy berating him. You didn’t know me, but somehow you trusted me from the first, and Stapleton couldn’t stop staring at us. His silence annoyed me, and I threw out a few more choice accusations about neglect, drunkenness, and warned him that if he didn’t start being your father, I would take you home and look after you myself. That got his attention. He ordered me to stay where I was. I had you in my arms still, and once my initial fury abated, I waited, trembling, for the duke to return to whip me for my impertinenc

e.”

“Father would never whip anyone,” she promised.

“Well, I did not know that about him at the time. My father had for less, so I figured holding on to you for as long as possible was the only way to delay a beating I deserved.”

“No one deserves such treatment,” Jessica whispered.

“When the duke returned nearly an hour later, your sisters had been banished to separate rooms for the next week, a few staff had been given their marching orders and the duke, more sensible than he’d been perhaps in months, promised he would quit drinking that very day. He asked for you back and swore to me that he’d never neglect you again.”

“That is so sweet.”

“It was a very long time ago. Your father started inviting me to dinner after that, mainly I think so I wouldn’t be by myself. Jess, I have watched over you from a distance for so long, it has become a habit. I let you tell me your secrets and kept them, even from him, but I could never tell you mine. You were too young.”

She seemed shocked by that. “What secrets could you possibly have that I couldn’t already know about?”

“My father beat me when I was a boy. Usually for no good reason. He hurt my mother, too. I was sixteen when I hit him back.”

“Good.” Her expression changed to one of annoyance. “Is it because of him you never trusted yourself to love anyone?”

“I broke his nose and his arm in that fight, Jessica. I lost my temper completely but he never hit me again, or hurt my mother until the day she died.”

“I’m glad.”

He frowned at her. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not really. I saw his portrait when I was young, and he frightened me. I’ve since heard a few things to confirm that my feeling about him were right. He was a cold man, cruel, but you’re not like him. You’d hurt yourself before you ever hurt your wife or your children.”

“There are no guarantees I won’t turn out just like him.”

“That’s a risk anyone who really loved you would be happy to make.” She lay her head against his shoulder. “Didn’t we decide the other night that we are a team, Giddy? We want the same things.”

“A quiet life in the country and dinner conversation about fungus?”

Jessica sighed. “What could be better!”