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She clenched her hands in front her, trying to calm her nerves. Thunder sounded in her ears, drowning out the merriment all about her. Her vision tunneled as she stared at the door to sitting room, getting ever closer with each step. It felt like the longest journey she’d ever made. An exodus to a life-altering moment.
Everyone entered, and the door was closed firmly. The hearth roared, and several gas lamps were lit, bathing the room in an intimate glow. Yet Primrose felt cold…and uncertain.
“Mother, Father, George, Verity,” Gabriel began. “I’ve asked Miss Markham to marry me, and she has done me the great honor of accepting,” he said with quiet intensity. “It would please me if we should have your support.”
The countess jerked as if she’d been slapped.
An awkward silence fell and spread. Primrose felt the heavy, accusatory gaze of his family as if she had committed a grave sin in daring to accept his proposal.
“You are engaged to Miss Markham?” his father demanded, his eyes snapping between them.
Gabriel held out his hand to Primrose, and it took an inordinate amount of courage to slip her hand in his and move closer to his side. “Yes, Father.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice, and some of the tension eased from her.
“Gabriel your conduct goes beyond the line of what may be tolerated by this family,” his mother said indignantly.
The earl’s face was a mask of studied indifference as he stared at Primrose. Once she’d thought him handsome and kind, a most attentive husband and father. Now a cold distaste curved his lips.
Bile rose to the back of her throat, and the air felt thick and heavy. She tried to tug her fingers from Gabriel's, but he would not allow it. She peered up at him, and almost gasped at the tender amusement glowing in his eyes.
How could he be so unconcerned with their judgment glaring at them?
“I love Miss Markham,” he said with a small smile. Then he shifted his regard once more to his family. “Mother, I’ve only heard you sing her praises and—”
"As a governess!" The countess's hand fluttered to her chest. She sniffed and waved her hand to encompass the family. “This…whatever this is Gabriel is in poor taste. We have quite different expectations for you, and you'll not disappoint this family!”
&nbs
p; Primrose felt the tension creep through him, and shifted closer, lending her warmth even as she drew strength from his unflinching stance.
His mother swayed as if she’d finally given the matter the serious consideration it deserved. “This is beyond the pale,” she whispered. “What of Lady Beatrice?”
“I do not love Lady Beatrice, nor have I indicated an attachment on my part.”
His father stepped forward. “Has Miss Markham compromised you?”
Primrose felt her body trembling, her chest tightening with tears.
Gabriel stiffened. “Don’t be outrageous and insulting father, ” he said bitingly, and much colder than Primrose thought he would speak to his father.
His mother appeared daze as she glanced at her husband. “Edward do something. Our son is foolish in allowing this…this…social climbing leech to grab onto him!”
“Mother!” Gabriel snapped. “I’ll not have you disrespect, Miss Markham.”
Primrose pulled her strength around her quickly, the pride and pain and the determination that had helped her survive the years settled over her shoulder like a warm coat. “I do not love Gabriel for his money or connections. He…he’s everything.” My everything. So inadequate to express the depths of feelings she had for him, but there it was.
“You will not marry a lady who does not elevate your standing within society,” the earl said firmly, tugging his countess close. “If you do not wish to marry Lady Beatrice that is fine, but you’ll find a suitable bride.”
“No. I’ll marry the woman I love or not marry at all,” Gabriel snapped, perhaps more sharply than he had meant to.
“Then you will leave this house immediately with her.”
The cold, harsh words felt like a blow to Primrose’s chest. Love and family were fundamental to Gabriel, it was one of the things she'd most admired and loved about him. This denial from his family would shred him. A sharp tremor of uncertainty quivered through her.
Gabriel stepped forward. “Father—”
His father's face was a grimace of offended fury. "You'll not get a penny from me if you marry her. Your allowance and the family connections will be cut off until you come to your damn senses."
Though said in smooth even tones, the earl's edict fell in the drawing room like the rumble of a thunderclap. Sympathy plastered Verity’s face, while George’s expression was unbending. The earl made toward the door, leading his countess as he turned. Then George and Verity followed. Gabriel’s family left the small sitting room together, not sparing them another glance.
