"I've been watching him-not just today, but at Lord Daltry's party, and even before that, when we first met him two months ago. I suspected he harbored strong feelings for you, but seeing him today solidified my suspicions. He may not realize the depth of his feelings himself yet-men tend to be slower to comprehend matters of the heart. But I'd stake everything I own that he's in love with you." She studied Julianne's eyes. "Do you care for him?"
The love and understanding shining from Sarah's eyes made it impossible for Julianne to lie. "I… I cannot deny I'm attracted to him. But it doesn't matter-"
"Of course it matters. Julianne… is he the one who kissed you?"
Julianne dropped her chin and looked at the floor. Then nodded miserably and looked up. "Yes."
Sarah gripped her shoulders and gave a grim nod. "I thought so. Thank you for telling me. I know it can't have been easy to share something so personal, nor has it been easy to keep all this inside you. Having recently gone through the same confusing upheaval of emotions, I know." Her gaze searched Julianne's. "Believe me, I know. And now that I know the who, we can work on the how."
Julianne frowned. "What do you mean?"
The sound of footsteps had her turning toward the corridor. Winslow approached, his brow puckered. "I'm afraid your reticule wasn't in the drawing room, Lady Langston. Perhaps you left it in your carriage?"
Sarah's eyes widened, then she laughed. "Heavens, I just recalled I didn't even bring a reticule with me." She gave Julianne a quick hug and whispered in her ear, "Chin up. We'll talk more tomorrow at the duke's party. In the meanwhile, follow your heart, Julianne. Your heart knows what is right. And you'll always, always have my love and support."
And then she was gone, leaving Julianne with far more questions than when she'd arrived. But one thought reverberated through Julianne's mind, wrapping around her, refusing to let go.
Was it possible that Sarah was right? Could Gideon be in love with her? A scary question indeed. But not nearly as frightening as the one that followed on its heels: a question she'd deliberately and steadfastly refused to even consider until now, when it hit her too hard to ignore.
Was she in love with Gideon?
Chapter 16
Gideon stood in the foyer, watching the earl accept his hat and walking stick from Winslow, and the countess adjust her gloves. He tried to recall the last time he'd found himself in the company of such a disagreeable couple and came up blank. After eating dinner in the kitchen, he'd walked the perimeter of the house and grounds, making certain all was secure, then checked every last window and door in the house. Everything was locked.
"We'll be home early," the countess said, frowning at Julianne, who stood still as a statue. "Although I can't abide Lady Foy's annual musicale, we must of course put in an appearance." Her gaze raked over Julianne, and she made a tsking sound. "You're to retire early. There are shadows beneath your eyes, and that will never do. You must look perfectly fresh and stunning for the duke's party tomorrow."
"Yes, Mother."
A muscle ticked in Gideon's jaw. Everything about the countess grated on his nerves. Her voice. Her demeanor. And the bloody nasty tone she used toward Julianne. He would have liked nothing more than to stomp across the fancy marble tiles and stick his nose in her fancy face and tell her to shut her bloody stupid mouth. She showed not the slightest bit of sympathy toward her daughter with regard to the fright she'd suffered, and if her concern stemmed from anything more than a worry about what the duke's reaction might be, she kept it well hidden.
And surely the woman must be blind, because he couldn't imagine how anyone could look more stunning or perfect than Julianne. Dressed in a pale green gown with her golden hair pulled into a simple yet lovely style that left soft tendrils surrounding her face and accentuating the slender column of her neck, she literally stole his breath.
"Your gown will be arriving from Madame Renee's in the morning," the countess continued, "and you must try it on immediately to make certain it's perfect."
"All of Madame's creations are perfect," Julianne said quietly. "I'm certain this one will be no different."
The countess's mouth puckered like a purse string, and she narrowed her eyes. "I'll tolerate no arguments from you, Julianne. You will be prepared to try on your gown the instant it is delivered. Nothing can go wrong for tomorrow night."
Julianne looked at the floor. "Yes, Mother."
"And stop mumbling," the countess snapped. "Botheration, you not only look haggard, you sound haggard as well." She heaved out a beleaguered sigh and turned toward her husband. "Whatever am I going to do with her?"
"Nothing," said the earl, his voice a cold snap in the air. "In a very short period of time she will no longer be our concern. Just make sure she looks her best tomorrow night." He turned to Julianne and fixed his icy glare on her. "You'll retire early, Daughter, and rid yourself of those unbecoming circles beneath your eyes so that tomorrow night the duke will have no reason to believe you've any cause to lose sleep."
The earl then shifted his attention Gideon. "You'll see to it that there are no disturbances tonight-but if there are, this time I expect you to catch the person responsible."
"That is why I'm here," Gideon said, returning the earl's frigid stare with one of his own. He didn't doubt his ability to protect Julianne from an intruder, but he seethed at his inability to safeguard her from the unkind barbs thrown at her by her parents. In spite of his profession, in spite of the violence in his past and that which he lived with every day on London's mean streets, he didn't consider himself a violent man. He used force only when necessary to protect himself or someone else from being made a victim.
But the earl's cold, dismissive unkindness toward Julianne settled like a red haze over Gideon's vision. In his mind's eye he saw himself picking up the nobleman by his perfectly tied cravat and shaking him like a terrier with a rat. Then telling him in no uncertain terms that if he ever heard him speak to her in such a cutting manner again, he'd shove his bloody teeth down his bloody throat. And while Gideon had never committed violence against a woman, the very elegant countess tested his patience to the limit. He would have taken great pleasure in telling the supercilious woman precisely what he thought of her-right after he tossed her into her very elegant privet hedges. A grim smile compressed his lips at the mental image. I'd wager that would cause a few unsightly shadows beneath your eyes, Countess.
A light pressure on his sleeve pulled Gideon from his brown study. He looked down and saw Julianne's pale hand resting against his dark jacket. Based on her quizzical expression, she'd just asked him something. He had no idea what.
"Does that meet with your approval?"
He glanced around the foyer and realized that her parents had departed. "Er, yes." Bloody hell, he hoped so, yet he couldn't think of anything she'd ask him to do that he'd deny her.
One corner of her mouth quirked upward. "Where did you go? You seemed a thousand miles away."
I was planting your arrogant father a facer and tossing your condescending mother into the hedges. "I was here. Just… preoccupied." He cleared his throat. "Do you plan to retire?"
She gave him an odd look, one that made him wonder exactly what he'd missed while he was mentally planting that facer. "Yes. As soon as we're finished." She turned to Winslow, who was rearranging a group of walking sticks into a tall porcelain urn next to the door. "Has the ballroom been readied?"
"Yes, Lady Julianne. It is just as you requested."