Page 17 of The Duke of Pain

Anger and disgust moved through him at the mention of his stepfather. He placed the poker back in the stand.

“You called Whinstone a reprobate, but he was much more than that, wasn’t he?” Olivia stated. “I can see how you hate him by the expression on your face.”

Again, he hid nothing, another disturbing revelation. That fact that she had so deftly skewered his weakness had him thinking he should walk away. He remained silent.

“Deciding just how much to reveal?” Olivia said sardonically. “Or if you should reveal anything at all. Give and take, you said.”

She threw his words back at him.

“You didn’t tell me everything,” he accused.

“No. But I told you more than I have told anyone, save one other person.”

“Pan?” A sudden and swift stab of envy caught him under the ribs that she should share any type of intimacy with another man.

“Yes, he is my protector as well as my good friend.”

“But nothing more?”

“No. Your stepfather?”

“I became duke at the age of ten with my father’s sudden death. I assume that he knew he was ill, for he had his will and estates all in order. My mother was left with a hefty inheritance. That is when Whinstone entered the picture. At twenty-eight and ten years younger than my mother, he used his good looks and faux sympathetic ways to wheedle his way into her heart. They were married a mere five months after my father’s death.”

“Faux?”

Gideon sat next to her on the bed once again. “Yes. Once he was firmly ensconced in the house with my pathetic mother wrapped around his finger, his true character came to light. He is a cold, implacable man. I was small for my age—”

He paused, for he could hear the pain in his own voice.

Olivia gave him a look of empathy and waited to see if he would continue.

“He beat me,” Gideon whispered miserably. “On a near-nightly basis.”

Those first three words chilled his heart. Never had he said them to anyone before.

The abuse had scarred him deep within and on the outside as well. There were marks all over his body, faded with time, to prove the point. If Olivia looked closely and in better lighting, she would see the faint cigar burns on his chest and back. And that was just the beginning.

“I am sorry. No child, no matter the circumstances, should ever be beaten,” Olivia whispered.

“I agree.”

“And your mother? Where was she during all this?”

Gideon scoffed. “She took his side, naturally. My mother walked away, telling me I was an unruly boy who needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Oh,” Olivia said softly. “So, she was an accomplice in the abuse.”

“In the fact that she didn’t care what happened to me and looked the other way. I begged to be sent away to school. That didn’t happen until I was thirteen. I arrived at Eton, a sullen but dangerous animal. Making friends was—difficult. It still is.”

“That is enough for tonight.”

The relief that tore through him was potent indeed, for he could say no more. Not now. The confession had ripped him to shreds. He couldn’t tell his friend, Brandon Knight, about any of this, but he tells a stranger? What in hell was the matter with him?

Olivia picked up her crop and cloak and headed toward the door. “Tomorrow night, Your Grace. At the same time.”

And with that, she was gone. The door closed softly behind her.

Gideon sat on the edge of the bed for a long time. He wouldn’t leave until he had his emotions safely tucked away once again. Or until his hands had stopped shaking.