Captivating the Scoundrel Page 9

  Gideon finished dressing and gathered only what he needed. He couldn’t look as though he were leaving permanently, but that was precisely what he was doing.

  Well, permanently until he returned to fetch what was rightfully his: the heart and the sword.

  He made his way to the stables, where he saddled his horse. It would be a grueling ride, and he wouldn’t arrive until after dark, but Gideon had to go. He couldn’t stay here and marry Miss Foliot.

  Just call her Daphne.

  She’d be angry. Or disappointed. Or…something. He wasn’t entirely sure what she’d be. He scarcely knew her, and he didn’t intend to deepen the relationship, regardless of the attraction he felt. He wasn’t the man he used to be—giving in to lust and fulfilling his basest needs.

  Now he had a higher purpose, and he meant to see it through.

  Chapter 7

  It was well past dinner by the time Gideon walked into the drawing room at Septon House. His body ached from the fast ride, and he’d taken time to tend his horse after he’d worked so hard to see them to their destination. The animal would need to rest for a few days, which meant Gideon would have to borrow a mount from the man he detested.

  A light rain had started as Gideon had approached the manor, but his clothes were now dry as he stood near the fireplace awaiting his hosts.

  “Gideon!” His mother swept into the drawing room, her dark hair lightly streaked with silver that accented the pale dove gray of her eyes. She was a handsome woman with a warm smile that he’d missed so very much when she’d left him. Even now he was torn between the lingering sadness and anger caused by her abandonment and the need to love and feel loved.

  She hugged him tightly, and he allowed the gesture, reciprocating by folding his arms around her but not necessarily holding her close. When she pulled back, she searched his face. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  He glanced toward the doorway where she’d entered. “Where is Septon?”

  “I asked him to give us a few minutes. Come, let us sit.” She took his hand and pulled him to a settee, where she ushered him down and sat beside him. Her gaze was a mix of sympathy and joy. “Your father is finally gone.”

  “This pleases you,” he said. “You can marry Septon at last,” he added flatly.

  Her brow creased, and her sympathy overtook the happiness. “Yes. And now you are the earl, and you can return honor and dignity to the earldom.”

  He squinted at her briefly as if she’d lost her mind. “Do you recall my behavior? I’m not necessarily the one to engender confidence when it comes to decency.”

  “That was a long time ago,” she said softly. “Before Rose.” She took his hand between hers. “I know her death was difficult.”

  It was still difficult. She’d been far too good for him, but her father had been thrilled to marry her to a viscount and the heir to an earldom, even one with a dreadful reputation.

  “The earldom isn’t mine.” He hadn’t decided if he would tell her, but it just fell out of his mouth.

  Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m illegitimate. You were never married to Father. In fact, you could have married Septon years ago.” Maybe that was why he’d told her, so she could feel the sting of regret that he lived with every day.

  Except she already did. She’d told him countless times that leaving him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, that she’d done it only because she truly feared her husband’s temper. Gideon had never seen evidence of violence, and she’d never been explicit about what she’d meant.

  His father had been a nasty drunk with a proclivity for sex. As much as he’d needed alcohol, Gideon would argue he’d needed fornication even more. Probably because he’d been proud of it. He’d encouraged Gideon to follow his guidance, to become an absolute master of the bedroom. It had been a challenge that a fifteen-year-old boy couldn’t refuse.

  “How is this possible?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from his to press it against her flushed cheek. “Are you saying his first wife didn’t die?”

  Gideon shook his head, now wishing he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t mean to cause her pain. They’d had enough of that. “Not when she left him. She’s dead now. She left him for much the same reason as you, except she was with child, and her goal was to protect him from his father.”

  His mother turned her head from him and nodded. She blinked rapidly, but a tear tracked down her cheek anyway. She moved her hand to try to hide it.

  Gideon touched her arm. “Don’t cry, Mother.”

  “I should have done that for you, but I didn’t have that kind of courage.” She turned her head back to look at him. “You know I tried to take you with me, but he wouldn’t allow it. Agreeing to let me see you at Westerly Cross for that short time each summer was all he would permit.”

  “I know.” It had been a terrible situation, and Gideon had asked himself innumerable times if he would have done the same thing in her shoes. He wasn’t sure. He thought he might sacrifice himself for his child, whatever the cost.

  But he’d never know because he wouldn’t ever have his own child. Rose had died with their babe growing inside her, and Gideon didn’t want to suffer that kind of loss again.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and swallowed. “How did you learn of this?”

  “Penn Bowen is his heir.”

  “The heir to what?” Septon chose that inopportune moment to enter the drawing room. His gaze landed on Gideon’s mother, and he rushed to her side. “You’ve been crying.” He sent Gideon an angry glance.

  “Don’t blame him, Henry,” she said, patting Septon’s hand. “Sit.” She gestured toward the chair angled next to her end of the settee, and he sat down, folding his long, slender legs. Septon was exceptionally tall and thin with dark gray hair and eyes to match.

  Gideon looked at Septon in question and, at the man’s tight nod, continued. “Penn is actually William Kersey, the rightful Earl of Stratton. His mother ran from Stratton Hall but made sure to have Penn’s birth recorded in a church. The vicar promised to keep her secret until my father died. When she grew ill herself, she took Penn to live with Rhys.”

  Septon’s gaze flickered with surprise, and he exchanged a long look with Gideon’s mother. When he finally returned his gaze to Gideon, he said, “Penn won’t want to be the earl.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  Septon gave a slight shrug. “Then that’s that.”

  “Not quite,” Gideon said. “The vicar went to London to show the proof of Penn’s heritage to the Lord Chancellor. However, he went missing along the way.”

  Septon, ever astute, narrowed his eyes at Gideon. “There’s more.”

  “That vicar is being held captive at Ashridge Court.”

  Septon swore beneath his breath, and his gaze darkened. “Bloody Foliot.”

  Gideon delivered the final piece: “He is using the vicar—and his proof—to persuade me to wed his daughter.”

  With another curse, this one a bit louder, Septon stood and paced toward the fireplace. He turned toward them, his lips pale as he clenched his jaw. “Foliot needs to be stopped. The man is a menace to the Order—and everyone else.”

  “Yes,” Gideon said evenly. “And I mean to stop him. But I need your help.” The words burned his tongue.

  The ire dissipated from Septon’s expression, and he blinked at Gideon. “I never thought to hear you say that.”

  Gideon’s mother reached for him again, briefly squeezing his hand. She gave him a warm smile, clearly pleased that her son had finally accepted Septon.

  Except he hadn’t, and he never would. Needing the man’s help wasn’t the same as welcoming him into his life as a member of his family. He pinned the man with a cool stare. “Don’t read too much into it.”

  Septon nodded. “How can I be of assistance?”

  “I need to find Arthur’s cloak of invisibility.”

  A sharp laugh erupted from
Septon. “Is that all?”

  Gideon frowned at him. “Given that both Dyrnwyn and the Heart of Llanllwch have been found, I daresay it’s not far-fetched to think the cloak could be too.”

  “I can tell you the Order has no idea where the cloak is.” He put his hand over his heart. “And that is the truth.”

  “How would you know?” Gideon asked. “You aren’t a descendant, and Foliot has always intimated that you don’t have as much authority as you might think.”

  “Foliot would say that,” Septon said with haughty disdain. “He never understood or appreciated the hierarchy. To him, nondescendants shouldn’t even be in the Order. That’s why he resurrected Camelot.”

  The faction within the Order sought to purge the society of all nondescendants. Though Camelot had been quashed several hundred years ago, Foliot had brought it—and its objectives to purify the organization and collect all the treasures—back.

  “That’s not the only reason,” Gideon said. “He wants the Thirteen Treasures, and right now, he has two of them. I must find and protect the other eleven.”

  Septon’s eyes nearly came out of his head as his jaw dropped. “He has two?”

  Gideon grimaced. “Temporarily. When I find the cloak, I will take them back.”

  “You gave them to him?” Septon shook his head in disappointment. “That was foolish.”

  “I wanted to regain his trust. I’d hoped to use him to find the cloak and the other treasures.”

  “Yet you’re here,” Septon said slowly. “What happened?”

  “To prove my loyalty, he wants me to wed his daughter. Unfortunately, he announced our betrothal today.”

  “He’s holding his annual festival, isn’t he?” Septon asked, but seemed to already know the answer since he continued without pause. “You had to leave.”

  “Of course he did,” Gideon’s mother said. “He won’t be forced into a marriage he doesn’t want.” She sent him a sympathetic glance.

  That summed it up perfectly. “I need to find the cloak.” He speared Septon with an earnest stare. “What can you tell me to at least set me in the right direction?”

  Septon rubbed his palm over his forehead. “That’s the problem—there is no clear direction. It’s the one treasure we aren’t sure actually exists.”

  “Why? And does that mean you know where the others are?”

  “I shouldn’t say. I’ve sworn to protect the Order’s secrets.”

  “I am the Order.” Gideon’s voice rose.

  “You’re also Camelot, which means I shouldn’t say. But, I will. Because of who you are and what you mean to us.” He looked toward Gideon’s mother, and Gideon had to stifle the urge to yell that Septon had no right to feel that way—Gideon didn’t want to mean anything to him. It was a childish response, but Gideon couldn’t change the way he felt.

  “Where are the other treasures?”

  “Together, actually. Some of them are quite large, such as the chariot and the cauldron. Because of that, they were kept with Gareth.”

  With Gareth? “What does that mean?”

  “They are located where he is buried. And before you ask me where that is, we don’t know that either. It is an island, but that is all we know.”

  Hell, they lived on an island. “It could be anywhere.”

  “There are clues, which I will share with you—in the morning. It’s rather late.”

  It was, and he was tired after his journey. Still, he was eager to move forward. “You’ll also share what you know of the cloak?”

  “What I can, yes.”

  “Are you aware of a poem by Elidyr that tells the story of the cloak’s creation? A healer—who is identified as a woman in this tale—sought to create a protective cloak for a warrior. It’s a fragment of the entire tale, but I’m hoping you might know where I can find the rest.”

  As he spoke, Septon leaned forward, his mouth opening farther by the moment. “You’ve seen this?” At Gideon’s nod, he shook his head in wonder. “That piece has been missing for years. I do know the tale, and I have a copy of it in my secret library. The original is secured with other important documents and items.”

  “At the Order’s headquarters?” Gideon longed to know where this was. Though he was a member, the upper echelon of officials in the organization as well as their seat of operations was not disclosed to the general membership. Septon, however, was privy to all that. At least that was what he’d led Gideon to believe.

  “In a way,” Septon said evasively. “I can’t reveal everything, and that’s because I don’t know. There are several locations, and I don’t know what items are kept in what location.”

  Gideon looked at the ceiling for a moment. “So bloody secretive,” he murmured.

  “Do you have the poem fragment with you?” Septon asked.

  “No. It is in Miss Foliot’s possession, and I couldn’t take the time to steal it. I had to leave Ashridge Court as soon as possible to avoid the parson’s trap.”

  “Understandable,” Septon said. “Foliot will be enraged at your betrayal.”

  “Yes. Another reason for me to find the cloak as soon as possible and retrieve the heart and sword.”

  Septon arched a dubious brow. “You really think you can do that?”

  Gideon gave him a wry stare. “I’ll be invisible.”

  His mother laughed softly, and Septon cracked a smile. “You’ll still be alone. Perhaps you should enlist Penn and Norris.”

  He recalled the promise he’d made to Penn, but he wasn’t desperate. At least not yet. “No, I won’t endanger them.”

  “And what do you plan to do once you have those treasures?”

  “I’ll reunite them with the others and protect them.”

  “How? Do you plan to stand sentinel over them for the rest of your life? And then what?”

  “I haven’t puzzled that out yet. But yes, I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

  “What of your title?” his mother asked. “You can’t stand guard over the Thirteen Treasures. You have an estate to run and responsibilities in the House of Lords.”

  “Not if Penn inherits,” Gideon said. Even now, Foliot could already have dispatched the vicar to London. Gideon’s chest pinched, not because he didn’t want to lose the earldom, though that was certainly part of it, but because Penn vehemently didn’t want it.

  “You say the vicar is at Ashridge Court?”

  “Somewhere on the estate. I had the impression he wasn’t in the manor house, but I suppose he could be.”

  “I’ll find out.” Septon stood and went to a writing desk, where he sat back down and began scratching out a note.

  “How?” Gideon asked, also rising and following him across the room.

  Septon glanced up from his work. “Foliot isn’t the only one with an army of men to do his bidding. The Order has many people who help us in our efforts.”

  Gideon knew that, of course. He’d heard plenty of stories from Penn and Cate and Rhys about how they stood watch over artifacts and worked—sometimes aggressively—to keep the objects safe. “What do you plan to ask them to do?”

  Without pausing in his writing, Septon answered, “Find and rescue the vicar and destroy that church record.”

  “That would be…helpful. If you could actually do it.”

  Septon looked up, the edge of his mouth tilting into a half smile and his eyes glinting with mischief. “We have our ways. Trust me—it’s the very least I can do.” His gaze turned sincere as well as a bit sad. Yes, there was clearly regret.

  Good.

  Gideon turned and went back to his mother, perching on the settee beside her. He forced himself to ask the question he didn’t want to care to know the answer to. “Are you going to wed now?”

  “Yes. If it’s all right with you.”

  “You don’t need my permission.” And yet he was strangely pleased that she’d asked.

  “No, but I should like to have it. I failed you, Gideon, and I wish every day that thin
gs could have been different.” She reached over and touched his face, her lips curving into a sad but somehow optimistic smile. “You seem to have turned out fine, in spite of everything. I always believed you would. You were—you are—such an extraordinary man.”

  His chest tightened. “Thank you. I want you to be happy—and for your relationship to be legitimate. Septon, you’d best marry her, or I’ll have to call you out.”

  Septon stood from the desk with a soft laugh. “I would marry her tomorrow if I could, but I suspect you will be on the road as soon as possible, and she won’t want to marry without you there.” He looked toward Gideon’s mother, who nodded her agreement as she beamed at Gideon.

  “You’re right about that,” Gideon said, feeling surprisingly happy. “As soon as this is all sorted out, we’ll have a wedding.” He took his mother’s hand and squeezed it. Then he stood and looked at Septon. “I’m still not… I’m not sure I can ever fully put the past behind me.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Septon said without flinching. “I have tried to spend my days earning the right to be with your mother, and I shall continue to do so until my dying breath.”

  “That is all I can hope for.”

  Gideon’s mother rose from the settee. “Lambert had your room prepared as soon as you arrived.”

  Gideon turned his head to look at her. “I have a room?”

  “Always. No one else sleeps there but you.”

  The few times he’d stayed here, he’d always had the same chamber, but he hadn’t realized it was his. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.” He looked back to Septon. “Early.”

  “Yes, early,” Septon said.

  Gideon went to his mother and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Mother.”

  She hugged him briefly. “Good night, dear.”

  As Gideon lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he wondered how his absence had been received at Ashridge Court. Foliot would be irate, of course. He would have dispatched his minions to Glastonbury and beyond to hunt him down. It was only a matter of time before they ended up here—if they got past the protection the Order surely kept at Septon House. On other visits, Gideon had seen men who didn’t quite look like retainers. It made sense that the Order would protect one of its most important officers.