“Martin Wells, you come out from behind there immediately.”

Gideon paused to admire his wife’s rounded backside as she knelt on the floor in front of one of her office’s many cupboards.

A boyish giggle emerged from inside the cupboard, and Gideon smiled. He found his son’s new habit of hiding and jumping out to scare him priceless. It reminded him of Martin. His cousin had done the same thing as a child.

Gideon could never admit to being amused aloud of course. The game of hide and screech was driving Amelia daft. She was always worried baby Martin would be lost forever in the vast interior of Tarryhall.

He had learned a trick that helped, however. A few berry-flavored biscuits would lure his son out of wherever he had secreted himself. Gideon had taken up the habit of carrying them in his pocket and leaving them out in whichever room he suspected his son of hiding in. Inevitably, the treat would get Martin’s chubby little legs moving. He might take the cookies straight back to his hidey-hole, but a telltale trail of crumbs would usually point the way.

The housekeeper did not agree with his method, nor did Amelia, who chided him for it outright.

“You may as well hang out a sign welcoming vermin, Gideon,” she would scold every time she caught him putting the biscuits out.

Instead of arguing with her, he’d distract her with a kiss. If he remembered right, it would be a few years before they’d be able to break Martin of this new habit.

Today, he was able to take advantage of his wife’s current position to kneel behind her, running his hands against her lush curves.

“Do you need a biscuit?”

He laughed and ducked when Amelia turned to swat him.

“You only encourage him to hide so he can wheedle more sweets out of you.”

He acknowledged her words with a hum. “Perhaps, but we’ve already lost the war, love. It’s time for concessions. Or—”

Gideon reached into the cupboard suddenly and pried his son’s fingers away from the interior, pulling him out with gentle force. “Or it’s time for outright trickery. And possibly a nap.”

Martin laughed in his face and yelled. “No nap!”

“I understand your reluctance, my son, but I must insist. Naps are a necessary evil.” He walked to the door and called for the nurse. She took his son away before Gideon added “bath” in a whisper before nap.

He waited for the resulting howls to die away before turning back to Amelia with a wicked grin.

She rolled her eyes and went to her desk.

“The invitation came today,” she said, waving a cream-colored envelope at him.

He groaned aloud. “We just came back from town.”

“The wedding won’t be in London. Mrs. Chisholm finally gave up the idea of having the ceremony in St. Georges.”

“Good for Crispin,” Gideon murmured. “I didn’t think he would prevail on that score.”

Lord Worthing’s future mother-in-law was a termagant. He worried for Crispin’s future wedded bliss, but also worried for Clarke, his closest friend. It couldn’t be easy to watch the man one loved marry another, even if it was destined to be a typical polite and bloodless ton union.

“Cecily is a far more reasonable creature.”

“But equally determined,” he pointed out. “It’s been at least two seasons since she started chasing Crispin. One must admire her persistence.”

“Yes, well, I can’t really blame her for setting her cap at him,” Amelia said loyally. “He is a wonderful friend and will make a doting husband. Her finances aside, theirs will prove an advantageous match on both sides. She gets the security her family needs, and Crispin gets the understanding wife he always wanted.”

Gideon sniffed, aware Lord Worthing had once wanted Amelia to fulfill that role. But it had worked out as well as was possible given the circumstances.

Cecily Chisholm was in fact, an imminently practical young woman. Her family had spent the last of their dwindling fortune on her two seasons. They needed her to marry well or the whole lot would be ruined. Cecily had taken stock of the ton’s eligible bachelors with a startlingly discerning eye. She had chosen Lord Worthing, apparently aware that his inclinations lay elsewhere—and not for Amelia as the ton had assumed.

Yes, Cecily had been very perceptive. Her next move proved it. Giving up on gaining ground with Worthing himself, she had spoken to Amelia. After their private conversation, the details of which neither would disclose, his wife had agreed to champion Cecily’s cause. After all, Crispin still needed to marry and produce an heir. He also had sufficient wealth to be able to overlook a lack of dowry and some family debt in his prospective bride.

The ploy had worked. Shortly after, Crispin had made it official with an announcement in the times. Now the day was nearly upon them.

“I don’t care where the wedding is as long as it’s not in London. In fact, if it weren’t for my business at the Lords and your meetings with your attorney Callaghan, I would say let’s never go back.”

Amelia reached up to put her arms around him. “You know, I could attempt to conduct most of my business with Callaghan via correspondence. The mails are fairly reliable between here and town.”

His grin was wry. “If only the Lords would agree to take my vote by mail as well…” He narrowed his eyes at her cluttered desk and made a decision.

“Gideon. What are you doing?” she asked, laughter in her voice as he pulled at the bodice of her gown, undoing her laces.

“Well, whenever we make love on a desk, it’s on the one in my office. It occurred to me just now we’ve never made love on yours.” He squinted at the delicate wooden legs. “It should bear your weight; otherwise, it wasn’t worth the blunt I paid for it.”

He pulled her forward and tugged her gown over her head before adding “If it collapses, we’ll never order from that carpenter again.”

Amelia pursed her lips before leaning in and melting into his embrace. He set her down on the desk’s surface, his hands on either side of her face.

“Don’t you have more estate matters to attend to? I thought the miller was coming up to the house today to discuss the improvements he wanted to make.”

“I spoke to him yesterday and delegated the rest to my estate manager. He’s an astute man.”

She laughed. “He better be, since I hired him.”

Gideon gave her a wicked smile. “Yes, well, now that things are running smoothly here at Tarryhall and the other estates I thought it time I loosened the reins a bit and focused on us…”

He moved to stand between her legs, but his face was sober as he studied her beautiful face. He could spend a lifetime looking at her—several lifetimes if he had his way.

“I believe it’s time we started working on a daughter. Little Martin should always be with little Amelia, don’t you think?”

Tears shone in Amelia’s crystalline blue eyes. “Yes, they should always be together,” she agreed, a tear spilling over and running down her cheek.

He kissed it away and held her tight for a long moment.

He still thought about his cousin. The awareness that he owed his happiness to a great loss still weighed on him at times, but like Amelia, he believed Martin would have been happy for them.

In fact, he knew it for a fact. Shortly after returning from Devon, a solicitor sent him a letter written by his cousin. It was to be delivered only if a specific set of circumstances was fulfilled—his marriage to Amelia. His cousin had written others to fit different conditions, but the solicitor had been instructed to destroy the alternates.

He sometimes wondered what those other letters had said, but he was grateful for the one he’d received. Martin had known…so many things. Including that Gideon would need his blessing to be completely at peace with the happiness he’d found with his wife.

There was a poignancy to their lovemaking that afternoon. Amelia held him tight inside her body, her hands up around his back, their touch as desperate and possessive as his own.

Pulling her close, he came inside her, the lowering sun filtering through the window, lighting up his love for her in a warm glow.

No longer restless for adventure or thirsting for justice, Gideon had found his fate and succumbed headlong. In Amelia, he had found love, trust, and passion.

They held each other for a long time after, making promises and vows he knew would be kept, the way only soulmates could.

---

The End.