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Lily went very still, her eyes as round as the bright moon.

“I love you.” Once he’d said it, he quite liked the sound of it. He wanted to say it again and again. “I love you, and I’ve told Constance as much. I’ve quite sealed my fate with her, and no doubt with the
ton
at large. Dear God, you should have seen her face, Lily—I know you would have liked to have seen her face—the bloody woman looked
thwarted
, not heartbroken—”

Lily laughed breathlessly, caught up in the giddy rush of his words.

“I never proposed to her, by the way, but I will tell you about that later. And I’ve made it very clear to her that I don’t want to marry her. I very much want to spend my life with
you
. I don’t know how you will ever forgive me for what a fool I’ve been, how obliviously cruel; God knows, I should find it difficult. But I want to marry you, Lily, and keep you by my side forever, and spar with you and make love to you and have children with you. Nothing else matters. I bless the day you tried to pick my pocket, I bless that thirty pounds, I bless—”

“Gideon?”

“Yes?”

She waited; the timbers of a ship groaned as it shifted in the water. “I was coming back. To Aster Park.”

He frowned a little, puzzled. And then a wondering smile slowly curved his lips as understanding dawned. “You were… you were coming back?”

Lily nodded somberly.

“You would… you would have done that for me? Even if… even in spite of Constance?”

Lily nodded again, a soft smile lighting her face. Tears had begun to gather in her eyes; they glittered in the moonlight.

“Then…” He sounded gently mystified. “Perhaps you love me, too.”

“Rather.” Her voice had gone husky.

“Say it aloud then,” he ordered her gently.

“I love you?”

“Yes. But make a statement of it, not a question.”

Lily laughed softly. “I love you, Gideon.”

“You do?” He was all shy delight.

“So much. I love you… I… well, I love you. Will that do?”

Gideon smiled, that slow sultry smile that filled his eyes and lit his face and was now all for Lily, forever. He reached for her, and Lily’s hands went around his neck.

“Yes. That will do,” Gideon murmured. “But just to be perfectly clear: Does that mean you will marry me?”

“Mmmm… persuade me.”

His mouth came down softly over hers in a kiss so tender and claiming she felt it fanning out to the reaches of her soul, winding around her heart, sealing her to him forever.

Suffice it to say, she was persuaded.

“Shall we go tell Alice now?” Lily said when she could breathe again.

“When I’ve finished kissing you.”

He finished a long moment later.

And when Gideon pushed open the door of the Tiger’s Nest, every man in it dove under the tables again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

With some difficulty, Gideon had persuaded a London hack to take them back to Aster Park. They arrived just past dawn, and much to Gideon’s surprise, a yawning Kilmartin was in the drawing room when Gideon and the two sleepy girls entered the house.

“Congratulate us, Kilmartin,” Gideon said quietly. “I believe you know my fiancée, Miss Lily Masters?”

“Congratulations, Lily.” Kilmartin smiled upon both of them. “And to you, too, Miss Alice. You’re getting a new brother.”

Alice merely yawned and rocked one fist in her eye.

Lily, however, was flushing pink with happiness. “Thank you, Lord Kilmartin.” She curtsied.

“Oh, now…” Kilmartin said. He seized her quickly by the shoulders and kissed her on one cheek and then the other. “It’s ‘Laurie’ from now on.”

Gideon turned to his fiancée. “Lily… may I have a moment alone with Kilmartin? Perhaps you can get some sleep in your room.”

Lily smiled and mounted the stairs hand in hand with Alice. As she did, she sent a look back over her shoulder that heated his blood to a distracting degree.

He turned back to Kilmartin, flustered. Kilmartin looked greatly amused.

“They cleared out right after you left. Constance and her handmaidens. And Jarvis, too. Pleasant chap. Bit of a cipher, though.”

“Lady Anne?”

“Still here. As is Aunt Hester. I told her about your little… scene. She was gravely disappointed to have missed it.”

Gideon smiled a little. “Do you think I’m sunk, Laurie?”

“Well…” Kilmartin drew out the word. “I, for one, shall never cut you. It remains to be seen what the rest of the
ton
thinks, once word gets out. And then there’s your uncle.”

“Ah, yes. My uncle. Does he know yet?”

“He knows.”

Gideon felt as nervous as a ten-year-old boy who had just been caught applying gravy to the banister, or swimming naked. His uncle had thrashed him for both transgressions more man a decade ago.

“He’s waiting for you, in fact, in his room. Which is why I stayed down here. I felt I should warn you, should you return this morning.”

“You’re a good friend, Laurie.”

Kilmartin smiled. “And you’re happy, Gideon?”

The word “yes” did not begin to answer the question, but Kilmartin saw the answer in Gideon’s face.

“Good,” Kilmartin told him softly.

Gideon awkwardly patted him, and Kilmartin patted him back, and then they gave up on the patting and hugged each other.

Once they’d gotten
that
over with, they stood back from each other again, all business. “Good luck with Lord Lindsey,” Kilmartin said.

Gideon was freshly nervous. “You
would
have to say that.”

He went up the stairs to the sound of Kilmartin’s soft laughter.

“Ah, Gideon.” His uncle was sitting up in his armchair, looking freshly shaved and just as alert as if it were noon instead of just past dawn.

“Good morning, Uncle Edward,” Gideon said cautiously.

“You look as though you haven’t slept all night, lad.”

“Haven’t, Uncle Edward.”

Edward said nothing for an unconscionably long time.

Gideon stared at his uncle, attempting to read his thoughts.

Lord Lindsey continued to stare back silently at Gideon, thoughtfully.

“
Boo
!” he shouted finally.

Gideon jumped, and then put one hand on Edward’s table for balance and the other one over his heart. “
Christ
, Uncle Edward.”

Edward laughed. “Good God, boy. I can’t take a strap to you anymore, so you may as well relax. Oh, good, here’s Ada Plunkett with the tea. Thank you, Mrs. Plunkett.” Mrs. Plunkett settled the gleaming silver service on the table and left the room as quietly as she’d entered it.

“You’d best have some tea, Gideon, for we’ll be having a talk. Take a seat.”

Gideon settled himself carefully at Uncle Edward’s table and slowly lifted the teapot to pour. Thankfully, his hands didn’t shake.

Very much.

“So… you had
one
fiancée last night. And do you have an entirely different one this morning?”

“Yes, sir,” Gideon admitted.

“Miss Lily Masters?”

“Yes, sir.”

Edward nodded. “She’s not the daughter of a marquis,” he mused.

“No, sir.”

“And you somewhat publicly jilted the daughter of a marquis last night.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lord Lindsey was quiet for a moment. “Did you ever actually propose to the Shawcross chit, Gideon?”

Gideon stared at his uncle, startled. How had he
known
? But honor prevented Gideon from betraying Constance’s little maneuver. And as he could not tell the truth, he said nothing.

Lord Lindsey nodded in satisfied confirmation. “Something about your face when Lady Clary made her announcement yesterday…”

Gideon remained steadfastly silent.

“Is Miss Lily Masters really Kilmartin’s cousin?”

Gideon paused. “No, sir.”

Uncle Edward nodded, pleased with himself. “I thought not. Too much spunk in that girl. Who is she really? Do you know her family?”

“No, sir.”

“Does
anyone
know her family?”

“No, sir. Her sister, Alice, is what remains of it, sir.”

“Then who is she?”

“She… is simply Miss Lily Masters, sir. Orphaned. Hails from… London.”

Uncle Edward didn’t press him. “It wouldn’t matter who her family was, would it, Gideon?” he asked softly.

Gideon paused. “No, sir.” He smiled; he couldn’t help himself.

Uncle Edward lifted a brow. “You’ve made rather a mess of things, haven’t you, boy?”

Gideon considered this. “Yes, sir.”

Lord Lindsey grinned. “
Good
. It’s about time.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gideon was startled.

“Some of the finest decisions are made when you don’t think and
plan
so bloody much, Gideon. See what you’ve done? You’ve gone and made yourself happy at last, quite by accident. Which makes me, and everyone who cares for you, happy too. Your father didn’t have it completely wrong, Gideon—every now and then a risk is exactly what’s called for.”

Gideon was speechless.

Uncle Edward was not. “You’ll need a wedding gift. I have one for you.”

“Uncle Edward, that’s very kind of you, but that won’t be necessary, I assure you. We will be just—”

“It’s Aster Park.”

Gideon slowly, slowly lowered his hot tea to the table. “Ast—Aster Park? Uncle Edward… but… you cannot…”

“I can and I will. It’s yours. And, yes, I
know
you were bound to inherit, but allow me to make a grand gesture, will you? The whole place, the land, the cattle, the sheep, the servants, it’s all yours to do with as you like, for I’ve a mind to get in a good bit of traveling before I go to my reward. Egypt. Devonshire. Places of that sort. It’s all for you and
Mrs
. Cole. You can divide your time between here and London. See if you can’t make the park earn a fair bit more than it earns now. Wasn’t there something about sheep?”

“The Leicester Long Wool,” Gideon said faintly.

“Right. Buy some sheep. You aren’t going to cry, are you, Gideon?” Uncle Edward looked worried.

“Um… no, Uncle Edward.”

“Do you think our soon-to-be Mrs. Gideon Cole can manage a great house?”

Mrs. Gideon Cole
. Gideon smiled faintly. If there was one thing Lily could do… it was manage. She would learn. “Yes. She can manage the household at Aster Park.”

“She cured me,” Lord Lindsey mused. “I’m quite fond of her.”

She cured me, too. “You
cured you, Uncle Edward.”

“Yes, but she was the tonic, you see.”

“Yes.” Gideon smiled. “I do see.”

“Best get married straight away, lad. Do the right thing by that girl.” Gideon started guiltily; did Uncle Edward suspect—

“No, don’t say anything more, son, and for God’s sake, don’t take it in your head to thank me endlessly. Boring, is what
that
would be. I already know how you feel.”

So Gideon simply reached for his uncle’s hand. His uncle clasped it tightly for a moment in that startlingly strong grip of his. And it was Uncle Edward who had suspiciously moist eyes when he finally gave Gideon’s hand a manly pat and released it.

And that, Gideon decided, was quite enough of male affection for one morning. He was more in the mood for
female
affection. Would it be rude to wake her up?

Oh, he’d apologize later.

The wedding itself may not have been remarkable, but the guests certainly were. A prostitute, an apothecary, a solicitor, a modiste, a baron, a housekeeper and a butler, and a doctor and all his rosy daughters filled the little church near Aster Park and watched Gideon Cole and Lily Masters pledge to love and honor each other as long as they both lived.

Lily’s wedding gift to Gideon was his own gold watch. They’d decided to make it a tradition, of sorts; she’d give it to him for his birthday and all major holidays.

Kilmartin stood up with Gideon. Alice strew flowers in their path with an excess of enthusiasm. And a beautiful, dark-haired young woman, veiled so as to be unobtrusive, sat quietly in the back of the church.

Helen Turner. Gideon’s sister.

He’d persuaded her to come to stay at Aster Park, now that he was more or less master of it. All was not perfect; Helen had agreed to a life in limbo, of sorts, for even if her husband consented to a divorce, her status in society would always be tenuous.

But she loved Lily and Alice. She’d reunited with her uncle; she’d forgiven him and had been forgiven in turn. And she was safe at last.

Now the three women Gideon loved, Lily and Alice and Helen, lived under his own roof, where he could cherish and protect them.

And that, and that only, was his new Master Plan.

About the Author

 

Julie Anne Long
originally set out to be a rock star when she grew up, and she has the guitars and the questionable wardrobe stuffed in the back of her closet to prove it. But writing was her first love. When playing to indifferent crowds at midnight in dank sticky clubs finally lost its, ahem,
charm,
Julie realized she could incorporate all the best things about being in a band—namely drama, passion, and men with unruly hair—into novels, while also indulging her love of history and research. She made the move from guitar to keyboard (the computer variety) and embarked on a considerably more civilized, if not much more peaceful, career as a novelist.

Julie lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with a fat orange cat (little known fact: they issue you a cat the moment you become a romance novelist). Visit her Web site at
www.julieannelong.com
, or write to her at
[email protected]
.