It was easy to rouse Viscount Worthing from his club. Gideon’s note had been short and to the point.

Amelia is hurt.

He didn’t sign it. Instead, he stood in the shadows next to the anonymous hack he’d chosen to take him to St. James. He didn’t have to wait long.

Gideon caught sight of Worthing emerging from the club a few minutes later. The viscount rushed down the steps with the note in his hand. He looked around wildly, a genuine expression of panic on his face. Stifling a flare of guilt, Gideon reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his coat when he rushed past the carriage.

“What the—”

He shoved the man inside the hack. Worthing landed on the seat with a grunt. Following silently, Gideon climbed inside and sat down across from him.

The carriage lamp was dim, but there was enough light to see Worthing scowling at him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We are long overdue for at talk, you and I,” he replied.

“What about?”

Gideon nodded at the key on his waistcoat. “That pin for starters.”

“So this note was just a damned ruse?” Worthing closed his eyes and shook his head as he crumpled the paper in his hand. “I should have known.”

He ignored that. “Amelia claims she did not give it to you. Is that true?”

Worthing was silent.

“I’m waiting.”

The viscount straightened his waistcoat, sitting up straighter on the bench. “It was a gift from your cousin. I wear it as a keepsake of our friendship.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did he give it to you?” Gideon said from between gritted teeth. “I know how much Martin valued that pin. I’m supposed to believe he just gave it to you?”

Worthing paused a beat too long. “Actually, it was a forfeit. I claimed it after Martin lost a wager—a drunken dare when we were both in our cups on a wild night in Modena. I offered to give it back the next day, but he said a bet was a bet and insisted I keep it.”

Gideon narrowed his eyes, studying the minute details of expression Phineus had taught him to search for when he first joined the war office. Worthing was good, but he was not completely successful at masking his anxiety.

The viscount was lying. But why would he bother over something so inconsequential?

Gideon let the silence stretch to the breaking point. Across from him, Worthing swallowed hard and reached up to cover the pin. At first, he thought the viscount meant to hide it from him. But Worthing didn’t cover it. He stroked it with his finger, the same way one would rub a rabbit’s foot for luck…or comfort.

The gnawing feeling in the pit of Gideon’s stomach grew. Quite suddenly, the truth was there, blazing like a torch in his mind.

“Oh, bloody hell. Amelia called me a fool. She was right. You were never her lover. You were his.”

Worthing tried to control his panic, but his eyes betrayed him. His expression was one of stark fear. “Don’t be ridiculous. I should call you out for such a slur.”

An overwhelming wave of sadness swamped him. Oh, Martin. Why didn’t you tell me?

Gideon answered his own question aloud. “He never told me because he thought I wouldn’t understand.”

Tears glinted in Crispin Worthing’s eyes. He opened and closed his mouth. “Would you have?” he whispered after a long silence.

Gideon’s throat was tight. “I—I like to think so. I am surprised, of course, but if he had told me, well…I trust I would have found better words than I have now,” he finished lamely.

Worthing acknowledged that with a tiny nod.

Gideon splayed his hands open. “And his marriage? He and Amelia appeared to care for each other.”

The viscount nodded emphatically. “They did! They loved each other…but it was more in the manner of close siblings.”

Worthing put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “Can you imagine what it was like growing up in that house? A boy with Martin’s temperament and an intelligent and sensitive girl like Amelia under the thumb of Sir Clarence? And let me tell you—Lady Montgomery was not much better.”

“I know. I remember my aunt well,” Gideon said, letting himself sink into the cushions of the bench.

Worthing looked chagrined. “Of course. I forgot you spent some time under Clarence’s roof as well.”

“Only to visit. I didn’t have to live there.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure I don’t have to explain what that sort of depressive atmosphere can do to a child’s spirits. I have often marveled that neither Martin nor Amelia was crushed by the experience. But thanks to each other, they came through it by forging the deepest of bonds. When Sir Clarence announced they were to marry, it was a relief to both because it afforded them the opportunity to escape and set up their own household. They planned to live in London.”

Gideon frowned. “But they didn’t settle in England. They went abroad right after the wedding.”

Worthing looked down. “Something happened.”

“What was it?”

The viscount picked at his breeches. “Just after the ceremony, Sir Clarence made it clear that if Martin did not produce an heir within a year, then he would take care of the business himself. Indeed, Martin confessed to me that he believed that was his father’s plan all along.”

He looked up to gauge Gideon’s reaction before continuing. “You see, not only was Sir Clarence aware of his son’s inclinations, but there were other indications over the years that Sir Clarence had…unnatural feelings for his ward.”

Gideon felt paralyzed. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Icy fingers gripped the back of his neck, but they were soon burned away by powerful rage.

“I’ll kill him.”

For the first time, Worthing smiled at him. “I considered it myself. However, in the end, I deferred to Martin’s wishes on the matter. His priority was Amelia, and she was convinced Sir Clarence’s behavior stemmed from greed and his inability to seize her fortune. She either didn’t understand or ignored the possibility that some of his obsession might stem from lust. Hardly her fault. Consider the way they were raised. Lady Montgomery thought the word ‘stomach’ was indelicate. She taught them both to be ashamed of their bodies. There were many things Martin didn’t understand about the physical side of affection until we met.”

Gideon pressed a hand on his stomach, an instinctive gesture to try to hold himself together. Whatever Sir Clarence had done, his villainy hadn’t been complete. Amelia hadn’t been violated while under his roof.

She had still been a virgin until tonight. He didn’t let himself think about anything else.

“That was in Italy,” he prompted. Worthing was finally talking, and he needed to take advantage.

The viscount nodded, his eyes distant and sad. “I fell in love with Martin that very first night in Rome. And he returned my affection. Amelia was a bit harder to win over. She was suspicious of anyone who threatened her relationship with him. Martin was all she had.”

“But you won her over eventually.”

He shrugged. “I made him happy. Amelia is too generous a soul to have ever begrudged him that. She…she told me I would always be a part of her family.” A tear slipped down his cheek.

Gideon let Worthing recover before asking the impertinent question he most wanted the answer to. “So…they did plan on having children?’

“It would not have been a unique arrangement,” Worthing pointed out. “There are many like it in the ton. Martin knew he needed an heir. But given the nature of things between them, they were content to put the thing off. As long as they were abroad, Sir Clarence’s threat was inconsequential.”

“But they returned before they did their duty,” Gideon mused. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re the reason they came back to England.”

His companion’s hands dropped limply in his lap. “I ran out of time. My uncle had passed on to his reward, and I inherited the title. Suddenly, I had several estates to run, but Martin and I did not want to part. I asked him to come with me to Kent. He convinced Amelia to settle nearby.”

“In a house you owned, according to my inquiries.”

Worthing looked surprised, but his expression melted away to one of resignation. “Yes. Before I departed for the continent, I purchased the manor house neighboring my future estate. It was just meant to be an investment, but after meeting Martin and Amelia, I decided it would the ideal home for them. Little did I know…”

Worthing broke off, blinking back tears. “That damn staircase.”

Gideon collapsed, sinking back into the cushions. “So, it really was an accident.”

“Of course. What else could it have been?”

“And after Martin was gone, you proposed to Amelia to protect her from my uncle.”

It wasn’t a question, but Worthing nodded again. “It’s what he would have wanted. Amelia puts on a brave front, but I know that even after all this time, she’s still afraid of Sir Clarence.”

With good reason. Sir Clarence’s desire to wed Amelia to the impotent Cannonburry was starting to make sense. Old Cannonburry was so desperate for an heir, he might actually agree to someone else siring the babe.

Gideon passed a hand over his face, shoving the rage and indignation he felt away with effort. “I wish Martin had trusted me enough to tell me about his fears for Amelia. I have wasted so much time.”

If he’d known the truth, he would have come to her immediately. She wouldn’t have had any reason to fear his uncle.

We could be married by now.

A little jolt hit him at that thought. Before he could analyze it, Worthing started speaking again.

“He might have planned to do so, but his time was cut short,” he said with a trace of awkwardness. “Then again…”

“What?”

“Well…I believe your cousin wrote you a letter and left it with Amelia’s solicitor. It will only be sent to you if a certain set of conditions are met.”

He lifted a brow. “What are they?”

“Martin never said.”

Gideon suspected Worthing had a very good idea what the conditions were, but he let it pass for the moment. He closed his eyes, guilt flaring again.

“Worthing…Crispin…my note was the truth. Amelia is hurt. I went to see her tonight.”

Crispin’s face fell. “Oh Lord, did you argue again? I know she was distraught after the words you had at Westcliff’s.”

How did Gideon explain what he had done tonight? He couldn’t. All he could do was promise to fix it.

“I will make it right. In the morning, I will call and explain that I know the truth now. In fact, there’s quite a bit I need to explain to her…”

Should he bring some texts from his library? The eastern ones on intimacy he acquired in his travels? Christ, he hoped she’d taken his advice and had spoken to one of her married staff about tonight’s events.

Worthing nodded approvingly. “I’m certain she will be relieved to learn you finally know everything. Keeping secrets is always a burden, and this one did a lot to damage her reputation. Everyone assumed we were lovers. A normal woman would have let loose a discreet hint or two out of self-interest. But that’s not Amelia. She is fierce about protecting Martin’s memory and my own reputation. I will always be grateful to her for that.”

Gideon nodded, studying the man his cousin had loved. “Worthing…I want to apologize.”

“There is no need. In fact, I want to thank you. Most men in society would brand me a liar or deviant. They would assume the worst about me.”

“If my cousin loved you as you say, then that is all I need to know about your character,” Gideon said.

Martin had not been a naive innocent at all. In his short life, he’d become well-acquainted with the darker aspect of men’s nature thanks to his own father.

Gideon leaned forward. “If there is ever anything you need, all you need do is ask. However, in return, I would ask one favor in return.”

“What is it?”

“Stop asking Amelia to marry you.”

Worthing coughed, then met Gideon’s steady gaze. “I…I think I begin to understand.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll invite you to the wedding.”