Cora (Virtue & Vice #4)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

GIDEON

U pstairs, Gideon led her to a double door, behind which was a lavishly appointed sitting area.

“Oh, no,” Cora said in dismay, staring at the gleaming piano in the corner.

“I trust you will find the rooms arranged to your liking. If not, speak with Mrs. Lawton and we shall change them.” He went to the instrument and trailed blunt fingertips over the keys, striking a discordant note. “Once upon a time, you exhibited some talent.”

Cora barely glanced at it and went into the next chamber where she discovered a large, curtained bed in the center, a cheerful fire in the coal box, and a small antechamber containing a table with a delicate chair and mirror.

“I no longer play,” she blurted out without turning, her face burning. Did he intend this as a taunt? “I haven’t since…”

She let the sentence trail off into tense silence, pondering the meaning of ivory keys, and the strings they would vibrate inside that black lacquer case. Once, playing the piano had felt as expressive as her own voice. He had silenced her. No doubt he meant to remind her of her humiliation to keep her humble in this house. It wouldn’t work. Yet her curiosity burned.

“Since when?” he prompted.

“Why did you do it?” Whirling, she pinned her husband with a glare. “I have always wondered. You barely knew my name. I cannot think of a single thing I did to offend you. Tell me, Gideon, why?”

He strode forward, his face a thundercloud. Her breath caught. Would he strike her? He was a strong man. He knew how to hit hard. Cora braced for a blow, but none came.

“To save you from worse.”

Cora scoffed. “You humiliated me for my own good. Is that it?” The insufferable arse. Unspent fury coursed through her body, rendering her weak and shaky, yet she would not flinch.

“Yes.”

“To spare me the indignity of making a good match.” The worst part was that he clearly believed his own nonsense.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“How thoughtful of you,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Please be so kind as to have the piano removed as soon as possible. I do not wish to be reminded of my greatest failure.”

“Cora.”

She had put distance between them, afraid that if he touched her or got too close she would humiliate herself further by breaking into tears. That was unacceptable. She would not cry over anything this man said or did ever again.

“I…apologize.”

“Very sincerely, too. I ask you to leave now, that I may collect myself.” She wanted to tear the wedding gown off and climb into her old clothes, but one glance at the discreet panel painted to blend in with the wall made her stomach drop. There was no lock. She would have no way to keep him out of her room if she wished to.

Perhaps she and Miss Marnie could move a large piece of furniture to block entrance. The piano, for instance.

Her husband nodded assent, yet remained rooted in her sitting room. “I shall see you at dinner.”

She yanked open her valise. Titi jumped onto the bed.

“And afterward?” he said, ignoring her silent get out. “I expect the dog to remain with your maid for the night.”

Cora whipped around, but he had already disappeared through that door. The one connecting their bedchambers, which she had no way to bar shut.

* * *

Gideon made his way blindly across his room and stared out at the winter garden below.

He’d stolen her joy.

He hadn’t meant to. Didn’t understand, until now, what he’d done. Young Cora had loved to play music, until he ruined it for her with one callous and cruel trick.

It didn’t matter that he’d done it to save her from worse. He had been the one to deliver the killing blow, and then he’d rubbed salt in the wound with his wedding gift. Did she feel the same way about the dresses he’d ordered? How had he misread her so badly?

He’d been obsessed with a girl barely out of finishing school. He had married a woman with a spine and mind of her own. Every fantasy he had nurtured for eleven years was just that: a figment of his imagination. Nothing more.

Unthinking, he fisted a curtain and yanked. He only meant to close it, but the rail came crashing down, hitting his alarm clock and shattering the glass before the whole mess went tumbling to the floor.

A low growl tore out of him.

This was not the way he had anticipated his wedding day unfolding.

“Clean that up,” he barked at the footman who had come running to ensure he was all right. “Don’t let Mrs. Wentworth see the mess.”

He had lost control. He could not afford to do so again. Gideon shouldered into his greatcoat and went downstairs to his private boxing gallery, where he pounded out his frustrations on a bag of sand suspended from a rafter until the toxic brew of his emotions subsided.

Having regained his composure, Gideon returned to his own rooms to wash up. He found his wife sitting at the supper table. She hadn’t waited for him. Cora arched one feathery brow when he strode in, sat, and silently began cutting into his steak.

“You were gone a while.”

Gideon grunted. He was barely capable of speech around her.

“I have met with Mrs. Lawton and Mr. Faux. We have agreed that Titi will be confined to my chambers whenever I am not at home, and that Miss Marnie will be responsible for letting her out at regular intervals into the garden. She will not cause any trouble, I assure you.”

Gideon heard a whine and glanced down. Twin shoe-button eyes stared up at him. One tiny paw was cocked as if to shake hands. The dog’s tail wagged.

He shook his head. “Ridiculous name.”

“Do you not enjoy the plays of Shakespeare?” Cora asked acidly.

“I do.”

“Then surely you recognize the source.”

Gideon pinned her with a glare. Cora smiled innocently, but there was a shark-like edge. Desire jolted through him. She was more beautiful than ever. She was different now. Confident, where she hadn’t been before.

He found her just as alluring.

“I have seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream countless times. Do not insult my intelligence.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she returned dryly.

Was that a hint of amusement dancing in her ice-floe eyes?

The dog gave a high-pitched bark. He sighed and offered a shred of pork in gravy. Titania took it gently and darted away, guarding her prize jealously.

“You shouldn’t feed her from the table. It teaches her to beg.”

Gideon refrained from admitting that he simply wanted one of the two new females in his life not to resent him on principle. “She isn’t much of a guard dog.”

The warmth in Cora’s eyes died instantly.

“She has a peculiar affection for grumpy men,” she said, and stabbed her spoon into her dessert cup. “Titi adores my brothers, too. God knows why.”

The spoon passed between her plump lips, and longing coiled around him. He had her, yet he felt more distant from her than ever before. At last, he had found a safe topic, though. Gideon made a mental note to get a book about dogs. “Were her feelings returned?”

“Eryx warmed up to her, whereas Lysander complains about everything and everyone. Always thinks he has the answer. He wanted her to live outdoors. In winter.”

Cora’s disgust at this proposition was evident, as was the fact that she was very attached to her pet. Perhaps by winning over Titania, he could win over her mistress as well.

Titi—what a ridiculous name for a ridiculous creature—finished her treat and returned to his side, pawing his leg when he didn’t offer more. He bent and stage whispered, “I am instructed not to feed you any further. You must ask the lady of the house.”

The Yorkie gave a plaintive whine. At the opposite end of the table, Cora smiled faintly. Then she stood, snapped her fingers, and swept out of the room.

Gideon finished his meal in silence, but they were not done.

Not by a long shot.