Page 6 of The Lady Loves A Scandal

One fact remained: his affection for Sybil had not waned. Not in the least bit. In fact, it had only grown stronger with time and distance. No matter the oceans that separated them, regardless of the land between them, despite the silence Gideon had lived in for the last year…he loved Sybil.

With time to explain, at least what he could at this juncture, Gideon was certain Sybil would understand and forgive his absence.

There was no other outcome Gideon could foresee.

A passing couple strolled by, the gentleman leaning in to whisper something to the finely dressed lady on his arm before their eyes narrowed on him. Averting his gaze, Gideon continued past the pair, risking a glance over his shoulder to see that both had turned to stare in his wake.

He’d heard the rumors. Giles and Charles had all but crowed with mirth at the outlandish tidbits reported by Lady X on her gossip sheet. It was one of the rare things that brought a sense of normalcy to the trio—an indulgent, insipid, haughty woman’s senseless ramblings in London’s gossip rags—as they moved about the land, avoiding the men who hunted them. According to Lady X, Gideon had been a pirate, a highwayman, in debtor’s prison, and even living with a Cheapside actress during his year of absence.

It was preposterous, insulting, and so far from any truth that Gideon couldn’t help but admire Lady X’s ability to keep society’s attention away from the actual matter at hand.

There were days—and long, frigid nights—where Gideon would have given anything to be back in London, even in the dangerous area of Cheapside.

Gideon stepped back until his shoulder blades pressed into the ballroom wall and he searched the milling crowd for her familiar, dark brown tresses—not ebony like the rest of her family’s. He listened for her light laughter—not the deep, gruff chuckle of her siblings. He kept his other senses tuned to her scent: lemon and a fresh, country breeze—not the perfumed acidic aroma that most of London preferred.

Lady Sybil Anson was here, and Gideon would find her.

Finally, her familiar crown of cocoa locks came into view, and his heart swelled, his chest tightening until he thought no breath would pass his lips again until he stood before her, his arms around her, and Gideon was confident that she was safe.

Lady Sybil spoke with a matronly lady, the elder woman’s chin bobbing up and down as she seemingly agreed with whatever Sybil was saying, affording Gideon a clear profile view of Sybil’s enchanting smile. If the woman’s head moved any more erratically, her hat—complete with plumage and feathers—would be thrown to the floor and trampled.

As if Sybil sensed she was being watched, her lips pressed together into a firm line, ending her conversation with the matron. The elder woman took her cue and moved on, leaving Sybil alone as her eyes grazed the ballroom. She didn’t spot Gideon immediately. No, the moments passed with agonizing slowness until Sybil’s brown eyes met Gideon’s gray stare.

Her back stiffened, and her glare narrowed on him before the lovely pink in her cheeks drained—leaving her pale and almost sickly looking.

Anyone who noted her stark white complexion would have assumed that Lady Sybil had seen a ghost.

In many ways, that was true.

As the seconds passed, her questioning expression turned to surprise as the grim set of her mouth changed to a startled O and her eyes widened. Just as quickly, the shock left her, and her entire body hardened. Anger flared in her eyes, and the muscles bracketing her mouth tensed.

She was utterly captivating...and Gideon could not fathom how the music and dancing continued around them, groups and pairs moving about the room, oblivious to Sybil and him, not a single person affected by the wonder that was the woman Gideon loved.

Soon, they would gain someone’s attention, and word would spread of Gideon’s arrival in town. He couldn’t stop the gossip, but he needed a few more days before all of London became abuzz with the news.

Unease settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach when Sybil’s arms crossed over her chest, no doubt wrinkling the expensive silk of her bodice. Her cheeks flamed scarlet.

She had every right to be angry—furious, really—with him. He’d disappeared on the eve before their betrothal contracts were to be signed and had left nothing but a vague note. He hadn’t reached out to her since he left London. He could tell himself he did so to keep her safe, to avoid jeopardizing her well-being, and to give the men hunting him no reason to turn their focus on her, but Gideon had badgered himself every day for not finding a way to return to her sooner.

And he wasn’t safe yet. Charles was still considered a deserter. And Gideon was responsible for abducting the man from the British Navy ship setting sail for the new world. There were bounty hunters searching for both of them, and he’d rather perish than have them discover his connection to Lady Sybil.

Gideon cocked his head toward the terrace doors, but Sybil shook her head in refusal. His chest fell, and his exhaustion nearly overtook him. She didn’t want to see him, wished not to speak with him. He’d risked coming to the Lichfield townhouse for nothing.

Blessedly, she tilted her head and indicated a door nearly hidden from sight by a tall, robust palm. When he nodded curtly, she turned and moved toward the exit. She hadn’t said no to his unvoiced request to speak with her, Gideon realized. This was her home, and she knew the precise places for them to talk privately…which wasn’t the crowded terrace.

Gideon was helpless to watch her—the sway of her hips, the bounce of her hair as it trailed down her back, and the way a man stepped into her path, halting her progress.

Gideon’s entire body tensed, and he stalled himself from moving directly through the throng of dancers to Sybil’s side, slipping her arm through his, and guiding her from the room…and away from the lord blocking her exit.

Splotches of color invaded his vision as he allowed the anger to thunder inside him.

It was the only place he would allow his fury to show itself.

He’d been away from London for over a year with no explanation. Many thought him dead—or at least never to return. Why would Sybil not also listen to the gossip about town? Blaming her for his actions was unthinkable. She was an innocent in everything.

Even now, Gideon knew that his reasons for seeking her out were selfish.

Sybil patted the man’s arm, nodded, and continued on toward the door.