Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

GIDEON

G ideon was awake when his mother barged into their private quarters at an obscene hour.

Also obscene was his wife, kneeling between his legs, stark naked, with mirth dancing in her eyes as he tried to fend off Martha's attempted invasion.

"Are you decent?" she demanded through the door.

He and Cora had eschewed his bedroom in favor of hers. Gideon had spent too many sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, dreaming of being surrounded by her scent, her warmth, her touch. He had scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold into their apartments like a new bride. There they had stayed.

Until Martha arrived, determined to deal with her undesirable, intransigent daughter-in-law once and for all.

"No," Gideon answered through gritted teeth. Cora took her hand off his shaft long enough to squeeze her tits. She rolled the head of his cock along her tongue for emphasis. Her red lips in contrast to his pale skin sent a wave of pleasure blasting down his spine. He was going to die of her touch. He wanted to throw himself onto the pyre of her hot mouth and soft skin.

Though not while his mother looked on.

Muffled calls from beyond the door. He couldn't hear them properly. Not with his blood roaring in his ears.

"Don't come in," he ordered.

"I must have a word with you!"

The handle rattled. Locked. Gideon grinned at Cora, who bit her lower lip. They would not make haste for Martha Wentworth. She could wait.

Fifteen minutes later, he had finished, returned the favor of an orgasm to his wife, tucked her sleepily into bed, and promised to join her once he dealt with his mother.

Martha eyed with grim distaste his robe and the silk pajama bottoms he had thrown on for the sake of decency. Her mouth flattened as understanding dawned as to why he had kept her waiting for so long.

Undeterred, she went straight to the point.

"I have two men here to transfer Miss Wilder to a comfortable private institution in Cornwall, near the seaside, where she will not be a bother to anyone."

"Mrs. Wentworth"—he enunciated each syllable—"is not going anywhere. She will remain fast asleep. She will need her energy for the heir she is carrying."

Whether or not it was true, Gideon knew it would become truth sooner or later. He had spent weeks willing his seed to take root in Cora's womb, and if it hadn't after the past few hours of trying…well, they would simply have to try until it did work.

In the meantime, his mother's face blanched, then slowly turned a mottled shade of red.

"I forbid you to remain with her. The Queen will never accept her after what she did last night."

"Victoria has not censured her." He wanted to tell her that she wouldn't, but being summoned to the castle in the middle of the night and asked to carry out a secret plan did imply a certain degree of discretion was required. "Cora regrets playing that song. It was a joke. Most people enjoyed it."

"That doesn't make things right. She humiliated us—you! Her own husband! After all the expense and effort we put into showcasing her talent, your wife sang a dirty tavern song," Martha seethed.

"One that every person in London has already heard. It was an unexpected choice, but not as shocking as you are making it out to be."

"She had to have planned it, Gideon. How can you tolerate such disrespect? Such insolence?"

"Because I love her, Mother."

Martha reeled. She remained standing, but weaved slightly on her feet, shaking her head, fuming.

"I have loved her for a very long time. I held off from offering for Cora because I knew you would oppose the match. You and father have cared for Wentworth's reputation like a cherished heirloom. I promise you, I will not violate the trust you have placed in me. Someday, I will want to pass the bank to a new generation. Just as Father entrusted it to me. For that to happen, I need an heir."

He took her gently by the shoulders and said earnestly, "Me loving Cora will not destroy what you have built. You have my word."

His mother gaped at him. She went as pale as a sheet. Her mouth flapped open and closed like a sail that had lost the wind. Her jowls sagged slightly.

"And Reggie?"

"Reggie likes Cora. He does not resent me marrying her any more than he resents my taking over leadership at the bank. He is going to be fine."

Defeated, Martha's chin bobbed. She was going to cry. Gideon wasn't surprised when she pulled away and turned her back to him, although he was mildly alarmed. He hadn't seen her cry since the day of his sister's funeral. The one who didn't survive her polio infection.

"I shall send the men away, then, I suppose."

"Yes. Do that. Do it now."

"You're truly not going to leave her?" Martha asked with one final surge of hope. "Nor she you?"

Gideon crushed it ruthlessly and did not experience the slightest pang of regret.

"No. Cora is a permanent fixture in my life now. If you want to see your grandchildren, you will have to be polite toward her. No exceptions."

Martha inhaled, her shoulders slumping as she accepted her fate. "I cannot imagine how that hoyden will fare with raising a child."

"We shall muddle through, just as you and Father did. I believe he has been missing your company as you tried to commandeer Cora's schedule." He kissed her forehead. "Go home, Mum. Father needs you, and I need to get back to my wife."

"I shall see myself out. I can see I have interrupted you."

"Thank you."

Gideon crawled into the bed next to Cora's sleeping form. The drapes were drawn against the sunny day outside. She didn't rouse as he curled around her body, tucking her close.

"How is your mother?" she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

"She'll survive." He yawned. "Martha sends her love."

Cora huffed a laugh and snuggled closer to him.