'I'm afraid so. Julianne, I hope you know-' His words cut off and he raked a hand through his hair. 'I want you to know that I… I'll never forget you.'
She looked up at him and hid nothing. Let him see her heart and the depth of her love for him. Offered herself with her eyes. And he saw it. She knew he did. And so she waited. Until she couldn't stand the silence any longer. Then she asked in as steady a voice as she could muster, 'Is that all you have to say to me, Gideon?'
Gideon stared into blue eyes filled with so much hope and yearning and love it actually hurt to look. He could tell her that he loved her, would always love her, but what good would that do either of them? He could tell her that if their situations were different-if she weren't an earl's daughter, or if he were a peer-he'd marry her in a heartbeat. But again, what good would that do? Their situation
But he had to say something. He reached out and gently took her hand. And forced himself not to dwell on the fact that it was the last time he would touch her.
'I hope,' he said quietly, his gaze steady on hers, 'that all your wishes and dreams come true.'
For several seconds those blue eyes gazed into his. Then all the hope and yearning leaked away, breaking his heart in the process. She slowly withdrew her hand from his.
'I wish the same for you,' she said in a broken whisper. 'Good-bye, Gideon.'
And then she turned and walked away.
Leaving him with a broken heart and a shattered soul. And a very bleak future.
The following afternoon, Gideon sat in his study, doing the same thing he'd been doing since finally arriving home just before dawn: staring at the mantel. Thinking. Of things he needed to forget but knew he never would. Remembering. Her every word and touch that were branded in his brain. Aching. With a bone-deep pain he despaired of ever ridding himself of.
He blew out a long, tired sigh. If he had to sum up this situation in one word, it would have to be
He'd tried to dull the ache with whiskey, but after the first hour realized the folly of that, since there wasn't enough whiskey in the kingdom to make him forget Julianne. So he'd capped the decanter and tried to concentrate on his headache rather than his heartache. And failed completely.
Caesar came to him and plopped his head on Gideon's knee, his soulful eyes filled with canine misery. Gideon scratched behind the dog's ears. 'You lost your lady love, too, didn't you, boy?'
Caesar made the most pitiful sound Gideon had ever heard from the beast.
'I know exactly how you feel.'
Caesar shifted his eyes to the whiskey decanter, and Gideon shook his head. 'Take it from me, it doesn't help. It tastes foul and just gives you a bloody headache. And you don't get your woman back.'
Caesar let out a mighty sigh, one Gideon was tempted to emulate, except it hurt too much to breathe that deeply. He dragged his hands down his face, grimacing at the rough scrape of his unshaven jaw.
The brass knocker on the front door sounded, rousing Caesar, who dashed from the room barking crazily, as if grateful to have something to do other than mope. Gideon hauled himself out of his chair and made his way to the foyer, wondering who was calling yet not really caring. His portmanteau had been delivered hours ago by Ethan. He'd hoped there might be a note from Julianne, but there wasn't. And although he was disappointed, what more was there to say?
When he reached the foyer, he quieted Caesar, then opened the door. And raised his brows in surprise at the sight of Matthew, Daniel, and Logan standing on his steps.
'You look like hell,' Logan said.
Gideon blinked. 'Uh… I'm not quite sure what to say to that except I feel like hell, too.'
'It shows,' Matthew said. 'May we come in? There's something we need to discuss with you.'
Gideon opened the door wider. 'Of course.' He led them to his study, where long rays of afternoon sunshine slanted through the windows. Once they were all seated, Matthew said, 'I had a very interesting conversation with my wife on the way home in the middle of the night. It prompted me to call upon Daniel early this morning-'
'And it turns out I'd had a similar conversation with my wife on the ride home.'
Logan cleared his throat. 'I have no wife and therefore had no such conversation, but Daniel and Matthew were kind enough to include me in their plan.'
'What plan is that?' asked Gideon.
'That depends on you. On what you decide to do about this.' Matthew pulled an envelope from his waistcoat pocket and held it out to Gideon.
Gideon hesitated then took the envelope. 'What is it?'
'One way to find out,' Daniel said.
Mystified, Gideon opened the envelope and withdrew the contents. Scanned the paper. Frowned. Then read the words more carefully. Finally he looked up. And found three sets of serious eyes resting on him.
'This appears to be a special license,' he said.
'That's because it
'How did you manage this?' he asked, his gaze shifting back to the document, unable to quite believe what he was holding. He once again read the names
'It took a bit of doing,' Daniel said.
'Yes, but there isn't much an earl, a marquess, and a very persistent American can't accomplish if they set their minds to it,' Logan said with a slight smile.
'But
'Because apparently Carolyn would have married Daniel if he were a baker,' Matthew said. 'And Sarah was willing to marry me even when it looked as if I'd be floundering in massive debt the rest of my life. And because of Themistocles.'
Gideon shook his head, utterly confused. 'Who?'
'A powerful Greek statesman during the fifth century BC. His daughter was torn between two marriage offers-one from a man of modest means with great character, the other from a man of her social class who was of questionable character. When her friends posed a similar question to Julianne, she unhesitatingly quoted Themistocles, 'I choose a man without money rather than money without a man.''
Everything inside Gideon stilled. His heart. His blood. His breath. Then they leapt back to life with a force that rendered him speechless.