Cora (Virtue & Vice #4)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

GIDEON

I f there was one thing Gideon Wentworth took enormous pleasure in, it was making his enemies squirm.

He lived for conquest. In olden days he would have been a knight errant riding about vanquishing his adversaries. His careful ruthlessness was what had made him into the most respected financier in London, managing investments for Queen Victoria herself.

The brash, illegitimate duke’s upstart son had made a killing by lending to questionable enterprises like that deplorable countess’ fancy whorehouse. Watching Mr. Eryx Wilder, the proprietor of Wilder & Co., try to wriggle out of trouble brought him immense satisfaction. Especially knowing that he, Gideon, had been the one to start the rumor that brought Wilder so low so quickly.

Depositor confidence was everything to a bank. Once lost, the bank was sunk.

A single well-timed lie that Wilder had made loans to criminals and was about to have his assets seized was all it took to level Wilder & Co. He’d waited until news that Lord Silas Huntley had withdrawn a sizable amount from Wilder’s bank, thus ensuring that deposits would be depleted, before casually passing along a little tale he’d heard to just the right person. The news, and fear, spread like wildfire.

One he’d invented, if one wished to be pedantic.

His nefarious falsehood circulated for days over Christmas when banks were closed. Depositors swarmed Wilder’s bank the day it reopened to withdraw their funds. As planned, Wilder & Co. couldn’t meet the demand.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip.

“Another whisky, sir?” a server asked.

He tapped the glass with one blunt forefinger to indicate yes. He wasn’t done listening to Wilder beg. Eavesdropping ought to be unbecoming to a man of his years, yet he loved the sound of desperation coming from his quarry’s lips.

“I have a house in a prime part of London to offer as collateral,” Wilder was saying with a pleading note that was music to Gideon’s ears. “It’s well-situated, spacious, and undergoing renovations to modernize the kitchen, add water closets, install gas lighting?—”

“You mean it’s a construction site,” the other man cut him off. “I don’t want a liability, Wilder. Isn’t there anything else?”

There was something else—or someone, rather. Was Wilder desperate enough to shove his sister into matrimony yet?

His breath caught and held until his lungs burned.

“I have liquidated all of my other assets to prop up the bank,” said Wilder. “We can get through this. Our balance sheet is strong. My portfolio performs well, and at higher interest rates than most other banks can charge.”

“Because you loan to criminals,” his companion said flatly.

“No,” Wilder declared. “I do not.”

An outright lie. Countess Oreste’s clandestine brothel was indisputably illegal, no matter how well she passed it off as a house of reform. She, too, had been a part of his plot to finally gain the prize he desired.

“Spare me the details, Wilder. I’m not interested.” The other man set down a mostly-full drink and strode away. Wilder blew out a breath. So did Gideon.

Wilder hadn’t dangled his sister as an inducement. At twenty-nine, Cora Wilder was a spinster, thoroughly on the shelf. She was hardly a catch, and yet…

Gideon wanted her.

He intended to have her.

There was no way for him to obtain her than through treachery, and gaining her had been a very long game, indeed. He was so close he could taste victory.

At some point during the eleven years since he ruined her marriage prospects, Gideon had finally, grudgingly accepted that he would never settle for anyone other than Cora Wilder as his wife. Still, the chances of her agreeing to his proposal were lower than a snowball’s chance of surviving a trip through hell.

If gaining her meant ruining her family, then so be it.

He made his opening gambit in the way calculated to best get under Wilder’s skin. Keeping him off-balance was essential. If the man sensed how badly he wanted Cora, Wilder might put two and two together and figure out that Gideon was responsible for his woes. That would be disastrous.

“Why not turn to your duke of a brother?”

“Half-brother,” Wilder snapped, as if he felt compelled to remind the world that he and his sister were illegitimate. “Not that my family’s affairs are any of your business, Wentworth.”

They would be, soon enough.

“I’m surprised you haven’t offered your sister as collateral,” Gideon said mildly. “Cora is yet unmarried, is she not?”

“Thanks to you,” he muttered. More forcefully, Wilder said, “She is not an object to be offered in trade. She is a woman.”

Gideon was well aware. He refrained from saying so.

Another man might tremble at the menacing growl from the tall, strong man. Gideon kicked back in his chair, confident that were he to condescend to rise to his feet, he would be able to look Wilder straight in the eye. There were few men in London, or anywhere, that could threaten Gideon physically. Eryx Wilder was one of them, but he wasn’t concerned.

“Your sister’s Season was a disaster long before I came along.”

“It wasn’t. If not for your stupid prank, she would be married by now.”

Or ruined by a scoundrel. Either outcome was precisely what Gideon had been afraid of. Only Gideon and one other man knew the truth of what happened that day. He shrugged. “Perhaps. Your sister was hardly a diamond of the first water.”

Wilder shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sauntered several steps away. “You know what you did, Wentworth. If publicly humiliating a girl only a few weeks into her debut is what makes you feel powerful, then no wonder you’re reviled by every decent man in England.”

Gideon discovered his hands clenched into tight balls and flexed them, forcing himself to relax back against the leather chair. Wilder was one to talk about decency, what with the sordid activities he was up to his neck in.

“Everyone but the Queen.”

Wilder stilled. Apparently, he’d gotten better at controlling his temper since the night he’d smashed Gideon’s nose on Lord Pindell’s front lawn. Gideon touched the bump on his nose, a permanent reminder of his lowest moment, and felt a grudging admiration for the man’s right hook. Wilder and his half-brother had beaten him within an inch of his life that night, and he’d daresay he deserved it.

“Victoria is nothing if not pragmatic,” was all Wilder said.

In the decade-plus since, Gideon had taken great pride in leveraging his connection with the crown to ensure the Wilders stayed out of high Society. It surprised him now to realize that somewhere along the line, Eryx had grown indifferent to his exclusion. Growth , Gideon mused. How inconvenient.

Which left Gideon with only one tool: money.

“Your sister’s dowry is enough to tide you over, is it not?”

“It is hers , Wentworth,” he gritted out. “Not my personal piggy bank to smash whenever I find myself in dire straits.”

“It’s her father’s?—”

“Who is dead.”

“And in your custodianship until she is wed.”

“Lysander’s, actually.”

Interesting. Made sense, once he thought about it, but Gideon had understood the Wilders to have a rocky relationship with their legitimate half-brother. Perhaps that had changed, too.

Well. The Duke of Gryphon could be an ally in this endeavor, if handled carefully.

“But he entrusts me to manage the investments,” Wilder added, almost as an afterthought, then scowled. “Why am I telling you this?”

“Because I am your only hope of saving your bank, your home, and the lifestyle to which you have become accustomed. Not to mention your new wife.” Gideon held his gaze.

“Didn’t realize you’d turned into an avid reader of newspaper wedding announcements,” he said acidly.

“How could anyone have missed it?” A full page celebrating the nuptials of Mr. Eryx Wilder and Miss Annalise Fernsby. Like a bounty hunter claiming a sought-after prize.

Gideon would never fawn publicly over a mere female. No woman was worth emasculating oneself in such a manner. Not even Cora.

With a pained expression, Wilder gritted out, “Countess Oreste mentioned you might be willing to take a stake in the bank.”

He knew she’d suggested it, at his behest. The countess may be a courtesan who had wormed her way into a marriage and a veneer of respectability, but she was intelligent, cunning, and not to be crossed. She could also be an effective ally, when properly handled. Gideon respected her despite not liking the woman.

“I’d consider it.”

Here it was. Victory within his grasp. All depended upon how he framed his proposal to be maximally appealing, without giving away his true objective. “I’ve followed your banking career closely. I’d want to examine the books, but I’d consider a merger under the right circumstances. Your bank and mine.”

Wilder inhaled sharply. Gideon froze, thinking he might have sunk the deal prematurely, but then Wilder relaxed and said, “Go on. What are your terms?”

“Assuming your books are in reasonable condition and you cut loose your unsavory clients, you’d keep your house. I’ll infuse as much cash as necessary to save your bank, while taking an ownership stake.”

“What if the run contaminates your bank, too?”

“I have the full backing of the British Crown,” Gideon said loftily. “I can survive any calamity.”

Wilder’s scowl deepened. “A luxury we cannot all depend upon.”

“It comes with responsibility, Wilder. Something you wouldn’t know anything about.” He ignored the other man’s glare and crossed arms, and continued. “We need to find a way to cement the deal. Neither of us will like working together. I propose you maintain primary control over Wilder & Co., but I will review any future investments. Some of the ones you made are quite shocking. The Bonsack Machine, for example.”

Imagine, encouraging the masses to smoke tobacco. Not only was investing in a cigarette rolling machine a risky proposition, it was a filthy habit, even for the wealthy who could afford to purchase hand-rolled cigarettes. Investing in mass-produced cigarettes was not the mark of an upstanding member of Society.

But he would make a mint. One couldn’t be too scrupulous when it came to making money.

“How do you propose cementing this bargain?” Wilder asked.

Sweat beaded beneath Gideon’s collar.

“I am yet a bachelor. Your half-brother and sister remain unwed. I do not have an unmarried sister for the seventh Duke of Gryphon to consider for a bride, but if your sister would countenance a union, I might be inclined to overlook her shortcomings.”

Wilder threw back his head, laughed, and strode away.