Page 59 of The Duke of Pain

Gideon crossed his legs and sipped his tea. “No. But she will have no choice. I am stopping the rent on her residence.”

“About time, my dear Gideon. Portia should be paying her way. Perhaps she will think twice the next time Whinstone comes hat in hand for money.”

Aunt Mirella sighed. “You know, I begged Portia to allow you to come live with me after her marriage to that despicable man. She considered it. But Whinstone put an end to that proposition.”

And Gideon knew why.

The duke wanted him around to bully and beat for his amusement. But he would not tell his aunt that sordid story. Not today.

“I wish that she had allowed it,” he murmured.

Her brows furrowed. “Perhaps I should have been more forceful.”

“Do not concern yourself. I do have one question. My mother recently stated that my father had a mistress. Is that true?”

“Would it matter if he had? Would it change your opinion of him?” his aunt asked.

“No, I suppose not. I don’t have that many memories. I was ten when my father died. He wasn’t around much near the end.”

“Your father loved your mother—at first. I believe that in her way, she loved him. The early years of their marriage were happy, and your mother’s demeanor was essentially kind—for a time. Even she could not keep up the pretense for long. By the fourth year, they were apart more than they were together.”

Aunt Mirella frowned. “Your father did not have a long-term mistress. He told me he had two brief dalliances after they separated. I don’t know how to say this.”

She fished a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “Your father and I grew close the last two and a half years of his life. It was before I met my late husband. Oh, drat it all. We had a brief affair, and there was even talk of a future. But then he fell ill. Cancer of the stomach. Then, he was gone, so quickly. Oh, I shouldn’t be telling you this. I still carry the guilt to this day. I betrayed my sister. And you.”

Well. You could knock him over with a feather.

There was no use mentioning how he was neglected and abused as a child. Why heap more guilt on his poor aunt? Another sign he had changed. Gideon wouldn’t have cared about his aunt’s feelings in the not-so-recent past.

“A future, Aunt?” he asked softly. “A man cannot marry his sister-in-law. It is in the Marriage Act. Even if my parents had managed to obtain a divorce.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose. “I know. It would have been a clandestine affair, carried out in the shadows. Deep down, we knew there was no future. Your father may have known he wasn’t well and didn’t tell anyone, even when we were involved. Perhaps he wanted a bit of happiness.”

Aunt Mirella tucked the handkerchief under her sleeve. “It was your father that suggested I take you in. I adored you, and, I thought, I would have a piece of William with me always. Why am I telling you this? Perhaps to explain why I feel I owe my sister—your mother—more than I can say. And you. I mourned William. I stayed away those first few months after your father died because I would have betrayed my true feelings.”

She took his hand. “Then, when she married Whinstone, I was angry. Shocked. How could she insult your father’s memory like that? I stayed away for even longer. It was selfish of me.”

Gideon squeezed his aunt’s hand. “It appears we are a selfish lot, all the way down the line. Do not worry, Aunt. I hold nothing against you or my father. I am pleased you found a little happiness together, however brief. I’m glad you told me.”

She beamed at him. “You are a dear boy. Well, hardly a boy anymore. A dear, sweet man, then.”

Gideon laughed, patted her hand, then released it. “I assure you, Aunt, I am none of those. Let us move on to a pleasanter subject. I’ve met someone.”

He gave his aunt the bare minimum of facts, at least for now.

Her face lit up. “I am so happy for you, my dear.”

“Eventually, I intend to split my time between London and Foxmont. Extricating Whinstone, however, is another hurdle to overcome. I have to see Mr. Chapman to make the arrangements.”

“Is your steward here in London?”

“Yes, he has rooms not far from the townhouse.”

“Allow me to send one of my footmen to collect him. Then you can meet here, in privacy. And you can relax, have more tea and biscuits and keep me company.”

It would mean a delay reuniting with Olivia, but perhaps it was best to get things in motion.

“Very well.”