Page 45 of The Bridal Quest

"I don't know! I don't know you!" Her eyes were wide in her pale face, her cheeks splotched with a blaze of color. "But I know how easy honeyed words come to a man's lips when he hopes to gain something, and how quick he is to forget them later. I know that if I trust and I am wrong, then I will have bartered my life away. You could beat me and no one would interfere. The children I carried in my own body, born in blood and pain, would be yours, and I would have no rights over them. You could take them from me if you pleased. You could lock me away. The very clothes on my back would belong to you. Whatever money I had to spend would be only what you gave me. You—"

"My God," Gideon interrupted. "I am not such a monster! No, you do not know me—any more than I know you—but have I given you any reason to suppose that I would act in such a way?"

"No," she replied, and struggled to pull together the remnants of her composure. "And you doubtless find me foolish to think of such possibilities. Others have told me so, you need not reiterate it."

He paused for a moment, studying her, then asked quietly, "Is it because of your father that you have such a fear of marriage?"

Irene bridled at his words, retorting automatically, "Fear? I do not fear marriage. I look at it sensibly, that is all." But then she let out a sigh, her stiffened back relaxing a little, and she said quietly, "You knew him. You know what he was like. Obviously he must have wronged you in some way, since I found you trying to beat him into unconsciousness."

He looked at her a little quizzically. "I find it reassuring that you assumed that I went after your father because he wronged me first."

"Do not be overly proud of the matter. It was more the result of my knowledge of my father than my knowledge of you," Irene told him drily.

"I prefer to take it as a compliment, if you don't mind. Such things are hard to come by from your lips."

"You may take it any way you please," she replied, and began to stride once more down the path.

Gideon fell in beside her again, leading his mount. After a moment, he said, "I did know your father. I knew him in my world. He attacked a woman who worked for me. He had a habit of assuming that any woman who made her living dealing faro in a gambling den was available to him in other ways." His mouth tightened. "When she refused him, he hit her."

"And that is why you came to our house?"

He nodded. "Yes. But I must be fair and admit that the actions of a man in my part of London are not necessarily his actions among his own kind. In his family."

"I cannot answer for how he was among his peers, but I know how he treated those he considered his inferiors, and I can tell you that his wife and children were among that group. My mother is a woman of great patience and sweetness, but he constantly found fault with her. I do not know what she was like before she came under his power, but I know that around him, she was fearful and timid, uncertain about everything she said or did. None of us ever knew what might set him off. He would go for days, weeks, and do no more than roar about this or that 'mistake' one of us made. Then he would suddenly lash out and hit my mother for the least thing."

"I am sorry."

"It is over now. As you might imagine, I did not mourn his death overmuch."

His jaw tightened as he went on. "Did he hit you?"

"Once or twice he knocked me aside. I am not sure he intended to hurt me, as he was often clumsy with drink. He was, I think, in some way a little proud of me. I did not cower from him. He could not reduce me to tears or shakes, as he could Mother or Humphrey."

Gideon smiled faintly. "I am sure you were a little lioness."

She shrugged. "I saw early on that it only made him worse if one showed fear. It is much the same principle with animals, I think. But I did not need to feel his hand to know what the results of his anger were. I saw what he did to my mother often enough. I knew he was worse with her because she was his wife. She told me once what a fine gentleman he had been when he wooed her, how he had extolled her charms, her virtues. It was only after they were married that he found her foolish."

Irene glanced over at Gideon. She was a little surprised at herself for telling him about her father. Such stories were not something she normally shared with anyone. She was not sure why it was easier to tell him—perhaps because he had known her father's wickedness personally, or because the life he had lived had been far rougher than that of anyone else she knew, or simply because she sensed that any secrets would safely remain with him. Still, she could not help but wonder if he would look at her a little differently now. Men did not like a woman with too much knowledge of the darker side of the world.

Gideon stopped, reaching out to take her arm and turn her to face him. "Not all men are like your father, you know. Many men treasure their wives. They treat them with great care, even tenderness."

"I am no precious jewel," Irene replied bluntly, "to be coddled and wrapped in fine silk. No man would think it, and even if he were foolish enough to believe it, I can assure you that I would soon set him straight about the matter. I am, I suspect, more of a thorn in one's side."

She started to pull away, but he held her firm, saying flatly, "Do not mistake me for your father. Or for other men."

Irene raised her eyes, glinting golden in the afternoon sun, and stared at him. "I do not. But if I am wrong, I would not know until it was too late. I assure you, sir, I will not change my mind. I cannot marry you."

* * * * *

She parted from Gideon not long afterward. He went on to visit his holdings, and she walked back to the house, a little surprised by the vague feeling of sadness that hung over her. She felt sure that she must have gotten through to him this time; he would cease his pursuit of her and turn his interest to the women who would attend the party next week. She ought to be relieved, she told herself, not despondent.

Yet, despite her best efforts, she could not seem to dispel the downcast mood. She spent much of the afternoon in her room, staring moodily out the window. Somehow, she thought, she must have let herself slip into some silly girlish dream of love. Why else had she allowed Francesca and the others to talk her into buying those attractive new gowns?

Why else had she agreed to travel to Radbourne Park? Why else had she allowed Maisie to change her hairstyle?

Well, that had changed. She had set things straight with Gideon this afternoon. And tonight she would do her hair as she had done it for years, and she would wear one of her older dresses down to dinner. She had done the right thing, and she would soon be back in her usual spirits.

She did as she had planned, choosing a brown bombazine that had been enlivened only a little with lace at the neck and cuffs, and turning away Maisie's offer to put her hair up in the style she had worn last night.