Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

" I must say, Your Grace, if you wished to impress with the state of your residence, you have succeeded beautifully on that front."

Gideon grinned right on cue, even though he didn't miss the undertone of condescension in Sir Clarkeson's voice. The other man sat across from him nursing his third glass of Gideon's finest brandy, looking around his study as if he'd seen better but enjoyed the effort all the same.

Under normal circumstances, Gideon would not have allowed such a remark to pass unchallenged. He was the Duke of Stanhope, after all. He always made sure to assert a level of authority in any social or commercial setting he found himself in.

However, there was something he required from Sir Clarkeson and the man knew it. Bringing to an end his long-winded quest for revenge hinged on acquiring it.

"You honor me with your words, sir," Gideon said humbly, swallowing his ire. "Knowing your penchant for oriental antiques, I knew that I could not disappoint."

Sir Clarkeson chuckled and chased the rest of his brandy down his throat. "I appreciate that, Your Grace. But I feel I would be doing you a disservice if I did not get something off my chest from the start. I only accepted the invitation due to my close ties with the former Duke and the persistence in your correspondence. I have no intention of giving up the Serpent's Den."

Gideon arched a brow in doubt. "Surely you are at least slightly interested in what I have to say?"

Sir Clarkeson shrugged. He ran his finger along the rim of his empty glass and Gideon knew that he was silently asking for another. Gideon wouldn't give him the satisfaction just yet. He needed to know that this wasn't going to be a waste of his time first.

"You must understand that the Den has been passed down by my family for generations. If I were to sell it to you, Your Grace, it would be akin to giving up an ancestral land, of sorts. And I would be doing a great disservice to those before me… and those to come."

Gideon thinned his lips in a duplicitous frown. "It saddened me to learn that you have not been blessed with a son."

Sir Clarkeson's relaxed demeanor suddenly shifted. He unconsciously ran a finger to twirl his mustache. "I would like to believe I have many great years ahead of me."

"We can raise a glass to that." Though he was well aware that the man's glass was still empty. "It would be a shame, of course, if the Den was passed to the Clarkeson's up York upon your passing." Gideon raised his glass, then took a sip, acutely aware of the bulging eyes glaring him down. The man was about ready to scrap.

"Those good-for-nothing charlatans will not get a whiff of my dealings," he grumbled.

Gideon nodded fervently. "And I say, nor should they! The archaic principles of the English Common Law should not get in the way of our life's work." He knew very well what he was doing. "Like the Savages Gaming Hell in Essex. You were acquainted with the owner, Desmond Drove, if I am not mistaken? It truly is a shame what became of it upon his passing."

Sir Clarkeson was no longer speaking, his face scrunched in a mixture of irritation and very real apprehension.

"Though I suppose with all the outstanding debts, having it seized and the land sold for scraps at an auction is the greater concern." He was pushing it now. His gaze lowered to his drink as he swirled the last of it in his crystal glass, a sympathetic look plastered across his face. "But that is neither here, nor there."

"What, precisely, are you intimating , Your Grace—"

"The Serpent's Den . Ah. I envy the old cog who takes that name next." Gideon spoke over him as if he hadn't heard a peep. "A great name for a full-time menagerie." He looked ruefully out the study's window. "Though it would be a great desecration of the land with all the—"

"Nothing of the sort will happen," Sir Clarkeson muttered in repressed rage. "Not while I am breathing."

"Of course, of course," Gideon puckered his lips in affirmation. He might have had sympathies for the man, but the very person who oversaw the exploitation of men, including his father, in a moment of weakness would not receive a shred of compassion from him. His straight gaze shot to Sir Clarkeson. "The much likelier scenario is toiling your life away to save it from its accumulated debts, and your lifelong work falling victim to the English Common Law upon your passing."

"And I suppose you have a more suitable alternative, do you?"

"I will make certain you are greatly compensated," Gideon stated. He sipped the last of his brandy to wet his tongue. It was still only his first glass and, unlike the other man, he had no intentions of clouding his judgment in the slightest during this meeting. He'd spent all morning and afternoon preparing for it. "Your legacy shall be preserved. Your family will want for nothing. Nor will your family's family."

"Is that so? Money is not everything, Your Grace."

"But it is indeed quite persuasive. Allow me." He reached out for Sir Clarkeson's glass and the older man was hesitant to hand it over this time. But he did nonetheless. Gideon had brought the decanter over to where they sat, keenly aware that he would be reaching for it often during this meeting. Sir Clarkeson did have a bit of a reputation, after all.

He poured a healthy measure and handed it over to the grateful man. He leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over the other, wondering how much longer until he cracked.

"Tell me, have you received offers in the past, Sir Clarkeson?"

"Many. You are certainly not the first."

"Deary. Do you truly believe that?" Gideon responded, skimming once again over the documents of the Den's dealings in the last several years. "I may end up being the last."

"That is what you say, Your Grace. But you have yet to actually offer anything. Vague remarks such as the fact I ‘will be greatly compensated' and ‘shall want for nothing' will not put food on my plate."

"You are right." Gideon suppressed his victorious grin. He'd pushed the man far enough that he was all but begging to learn more. "I wish to purchase it for one hundred thousand pounds."

Sir Clarkeson choked on his brandy, then began to cough so furiously that tears came to his eyes. Gideon came to his side, papers still in hand and patted him on the back. "Have I alarmed you?" he asked with a mixture of mirth and concern. "Or perhaps you seek more?"

"One-one hundred thousand—" Sir Clarkeson choked again as if the words themselves were too difficult to say aloud. "Your Grace, are you certain?"

"I would not suggest such a figure if I weren't." Gideon had conducted enough background research on the place over the last decade as he had strewn his revenge plot. Of course, he was not foolish enough to realize he was paying well over the market value, but there were certain facts that the present owner of the land was not aware of. Facts that would only appreciate that piece of land's value for the decades to come. It would be more than worth the temporary setback. Certain that he had Sir Clarkeson in the palm of his hands now, he grinned. "I have had my eye on the Serpent's Den for some time now and I have decided it is now time for me to finally make my move."

"And what a lucrative move you have made, Your Grace! Your offer has certainly caught my eye! However…"

Gideon's grin slipped. "However…?"

Sir Clarkeson cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. "After hearing such an… outlandish offer, it would be quite rash of me to give you a response right away." That backfired. "This is an important decision, as you must know. I should think about it first."

"What is there to think about? You have never received an offer like this before. I thought you would be jumping at the chance."

"Of course, of course!" Sir Clarkeson seemed too excited and too flustered to focus on anything Gideon was actually saying. The note of victory Gideon had felt was slowly ebbing away to reveal annoyance. "But if I am to make a sound decision, I must confer with my solicitor. Perhaps we may meet again in a few days' time?"

Gideon swallowed his irritation and nodded. "Three days."

"Three days? Perfect, perfect." Sir Clarkeson surged to his feet. "Then I shall take my leave and give you my response when we meet next. My solicitor will be joining us when the time comes, also. If everything goes well, the contract should be prepared by then."

Gideon stood as well. "I will have my pen ready," he murmured.

"Your confidence knows no bounds, Your Grace," Sir Clarkeson barked with a laugh as he began to make his way to the door. Gideon followed, reaching around him to open the door. Thomas was waiting patiently on the other side and, as soon as the door opened, he turned and bowed deeply.

"Again, thank you for indulging me this fine afternoon and I shall see you in three days' time," Gideon said as amiably as he could.

Sir Clarkeson gave his farewells, hardly able to contain the fact that he was still reeling from the figure Gideon had announced. But even as Gideon watched him leave, trailing behind the butler, he felt a sense of unease. He'd planned fervently for this meeting to end in a solid agreement but he supposed he hadn't heard a rejection. All he would have to do was make sure that he was fully prepared to sign an agreement in three days.

He ran his fingers through his dark locks, letting out a sigh to release his frustration. In the quiet that settled within the room, his thoughts inevitably drifted to Amelia as they had done all day. Ever since the early hours when he had sent word that he wouldn't be joining her for breakfast, she had been on his mind incessantly. Now that he was alone again, he found himself wondering about her day, whether she felt his absence at breakfast, or if she was longing to see him as he was to see her.

A glance at the grandfather clock indicated it was approaching dinner time. Without hesitation, he abandoned his study and began to make his way to the dining room, hoping that Amelia was already there. Seeing her again was all he needed to distract him from the slightly disappointing meeting he'd just had.

As soon as he stepped into the room, he spotted her already making her way to her seat. She paused at his entrance, her perfectly arched eyebrows lifting in surprise. The sight of her was like a punch to his gut, feeling like an addict witnessing their next fix. She looked as lovely as she always did, her brown curls appearing softer in the candlelight that swarmed the room.

"Gideon!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Are you finished with your meetings already?"

"You seem disappointed. I can schedule some more if you'd like?" he teased, a half-smile playing on his lips. He made his way over to her, reaching out to take both her hands. "And here I hoped you had thought of me all day."

"Perhaps I did," she answered shyly, a blush touching her cheeks. It deepened when he kissed the back of both her hands. "It is just that I had prepared myself to dine alone tonight. If I knew you would be joining me, I would have dressed in something better."

"You are perfect as you are," he grinned, studying her figure shamelessly. "My last meeting finished earlier than I'd anticipated," he explained, catching a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes as he let go of her hands to pull out her chair for her.

"Did it not go well?" she asked, gracefully taking her seat.

"It went well enough. However, it seems further discussions will be necessary to finalize the new… venture I'm pursuing."

"So it is a matter of business." She sounded almost relieved. A footman approached to serve the first course of white soup before disappearing once more. "…Truthfully, I was a little afraid that it had something to do with your work as the…" she leaned in to whisper, " Masked Rogue ."

Gideon did not intend on confirming how accurate her guess had been. Instead, he began to pick at his food and eat, suddenly realizing how ravenous he was after an entire day of work. "Enough of that, tell me about your day."

Amelia seemed just as eager to steer clear of any conversation concerning the Masked Rogue. She picked up her spoon, then hesitated, before setting it down again, looking up at him with a trace of anxiety. "My day was rather peaceful, actually. This morning I decided to go for a stroll through the garden, and Jenny accompanied me for a brief detour into the nearby woods."

"Ah, so you must have encountered the same terrors that I used to as a child. It is a shame my father is no longer with us to believe me now," Gideon said playfully, coaxing a laugh from her. The sound was somewhat strained, however. She was acting odd.

"I did not. It was rather magical, in truth. But I did stumble upon something quite unexpected."

Gideon, curious now, prompted, "And what might that be?"

Amelia did not answer right away. Her spoon lingered above the soup as she seemed to grapple with her thoughts.

Her hesitation brought Gideon to an uncomfortable epiphany.

Jasper…

How could he have forgotten? The one person he had been doing all of this for and he had forgotten him.

It hadn't even occurred to him that Amelia could ever come across Jasper's resting place. Now faced with the very real conversation, he was at a loss. How could he explain to her that his sickly brother had died at the hands of his father's foolish negligence? That evil men had conned his father and sealed the fate of his brother? The Masked Rogue had been born that day without Gideon even realizing it at the time.

Amelia wouldn't understand. She wouldn't be able to see that he did this all for the forgotten son of a Duke who had been robbed of the chance to live a normal life.

Two sons robbed of that chance, he thought bitterly.

She gathered her courage before he had the chance to say anything. "I came across a gravestone that had the words ‘Jasper Terrell' inscribed across it. Was he… someone important to you?"

"That is not your concern." His response was sharper than intended.

His cold words surprised them both. But Gideon ignored the fleeting hurt that flashed in her eyes. He didn't want to talk about Jasper. Not today. Not ever.

"He bears the Terrell name," Amelia persisted, undeterred. "Surely that means he is a close relative of yours?"

"I said, it is none of your concern, Amelia," Gideon growled. "Leave the matter be. You should not have been snooping around the woods anyway."

"I was not snooping," she defended, her nose flaring. "How was I to know I might encounter such a thing?"

"You couldn't have." Gideon realized how unfair he was being but he couldn't stop himself. It was just… the topic of his late brother was a minefield of emotions he hadn't yet learned to navigate. Lewis understood that. As did Thomas. "But when I ask you to drop a matter, you should just drop it."

She scowled at him and he could tell that she was tempted to argue further. But then she released a breath, her shoulders falling, and murmured, "Very well."

But it was too late. The damage was done. The pleasant mood he'd been in before had dissipated into thin air. His appetite was gone. He no longer wanted to talk. He only wanted to be alone.

"I need to excuse myself," he declared abruptly, the chair scraping back on the hardwood floor as he got to his feet. "Please, enjoy the rest of your dinner."

Gideon didn't meet Amelia's eyes as he rounded the table and made his way out of the room. He knew she was staring at him as he made his exit but he didn't dare to look back. He only cared to be in one place right now. That clearing in the woods where his brother lay.