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“It is a most pleasant intrusion, Miss Markham, please, no apologies are necessary.”
She fought the blush rising to her cheeks. “I did not know you were to return today or I would have been at the manor to welcome you with everyone.” The last letter received from him two months ago had stated his intention to be with her and his family for Christmas, but she hadn't been sure he would have made it in time. Only now that he was here, she felt terribly unsure of what to do or even expect.
He placed one of his hands across his chest, his fingers positioned directly over his heart. Then he tapped two fingers twice, the secret code they’d used to communicate their longing for each other. Then he winked. Heat and joy exploded through her in equal measure. He was the devil himself. How he tempted her to be unrestrained and reveal their attachment. Primrose hadn't been sure his regard had remained with her. But now…her mouth went dry at the heated flash of longing and admiration in his dark blue gaze. She had always dressed neatly, never in the first style of fashion for it was beyond her economy, but whenever Gabriel glanced at her, he made her feel like the most beautiful woman in a room.
The moment seemed to last forever, and yet it was over much too soon.
“My presence today was entirely a surprise,” he said glancing back at his mother fondly. “I believe I can still hear my mother's scream ringing in my ear.” His gaze leveled on Primrose once more. “I wasn’t sure I’d make it home for Christmas, but it was most important for me to do so.”
There was a hidden message in his soft, contemplative answer, and she responded with a faint smile. The tension seeped from his shoulders, and he mouthed, I missed you so. How she wished she could respond in kind, but unlike him, everyone in the room could see every nuance of her expression. And there was a decidedly thoughtful frown on the countess's face.
His sister, Primrose’s ward, Lady Annabelle jumped to her feet and hurried over, her soft golden curls bouncing on her shoulders, her green eyes glittering with amusement. “I daresay, Brother, Miss Markham misses you as much as I did. Many a day I've spotted her staring through the windows, and I swear I’ve heard the sigh of your name whispered from her lips.”
“Annabelle!” The countess said, clearly appalled at the very suggestion of the governess pining after her son. “You will excuse my daughter’s preposterous suggestions, Miss Markham.”
She flushed. “Of course, I’m quite aware of Lady Annabelle’s fondness for teasing.”
It wasn’t that the countess had been unkind or treated Primrose with disregard. In truth, the countess had been very welcoming and pleasant to her. However, she knew of the countess's plan to marry her second son to the ravishing Lady Beatrice. The daughter of an earl. A lady who had all the right lineage and spotless reputation. And a rumored dowry of fifty thousand pounds. The most disturbing thing for Primrose was that she had no notion of how Gabriel felt about the alliance. As the second son without property and fortune of his own, surely, he would prefer to marry an heiress instead of an impoverished country baronet’s daughter.
Do not doubt, she whispered fiercely to herself. Gabriel loved her, and he had wanted to declare his intention to his family before he left for the war, but she had asked him to wait until his return. There had been a part of her that wanted him to be sure of their attachment, for it had flared so brief and passionate. Nor had she wanted to be left alone with his family if they had disapproved.
“Will you join us, Miss Markham?” Though he asked politely, she felt the silent command for her to stay.
“Yes, of course,” the countess said, slightly flustered, throwing her son a bemused frown. “Please join us, Miss Markham.”
“You must be chilled, please sit close to the fire,” said the viscountess with a slight smile, her eyes glowing with merriment. She was the wife of Gabriel’s brother, George, Viscount Weatherton, and Primrose found her to be lovely.
“Our Miss Markham has a frightful habit of taking long walks even when the weather is dreadful, and you look positively frozen,” the viscountess said, waving her hand toward the chaise lounge closest to the merrily crackling fire.
Though she wanted to flee to compose herself, perhaps change from the gown with its sodden hems and unlace her stiff corset, she made her way over to the chaise lounge and lowered herself into its plush comfort, grateful to be a bit away from everyone else. She needed time to calm the furious pounding in her heart and the joy burning through her fevered soul. She struggled to keep the smile from her lips and the heat from her cheeks. No doubt she appeared flushed, and the countess kept throwing her narrowed glances heavy with suspicion.
Gabriel shifted on the sofa, the move causal and unassuming, but it was to keep her in his line of sight. For he stared at Primrose, far longer than was polite. The dratted man. Still, she smiled, so desperately wanting to hug herself. Determined not to look his way, she directed her gaze to the wide windows on the open lawns.
Gabriel conversed with his family, patiently answering all their questions of the places he’d been in the last year. His voice was more vibrant and deeper, more confident than she remembered. Soon she became fascinated by his tales, and she shifted ever so slightly, so she could discreetly peek at him. Gabriel was so incredibly lovely to look upon.
Her gaze roved over him, drinking in every detail. His mannerism was different, subtle…compelling even, and vastly appealing. Primrose sensed he had grown accustomed to giving orders. Very different from the young man who'd seemed to reside in his older brother’s shadow as the spare to the heir. Gabriel had lost weight, his length more corded with muscles, and held a power to it which had been absent before. His hair was longer, his cheekbones more pronounced….but his eyes, they were the same —lively, curious, intelligent, and self-assured. She saw no darkness there, and she almost cried her relief that the war had not indelibly changed the charming, amiable, and good-natured gentleman she fell in love with.
Taking a risk, she winked, and he smiled.
The countess glanced around then leveled her gaze back on her son. “I’ve sent word to Lady Caldwell and her daughter, Lady Beatrice, that you’ve returned.”
“You have?” Gabriel said with mild surprise.
“Yes. I instructed Mabry to send a note.”
And Primrose knew the butler had already responded to his mistress’s orders.
“I’m certain Lady Caldwell will be happy to hear you are well. She’s enquired much after your wellbeing. You know how expectant your father and I are about an alliance with Earl Caldwell’s family.”
There was a tense, almost expectant pause. Primrose stared outside the windows, almost too afraid to glance around. White flakes dropped from the sky, blanketing the grass in pristine white.
“I’ve just returned Mother. I only want to see my family and help with the preparations for Christmas,” he murmured.
“Nonsense, Gabriel, Lady Beatrice has enquired after your return home several times. Such a thoughtful and well-mannered young lady, I’m sure you’d be delighted to partner with her for our annual New Year’s carriage ride to Derbyshire. I’ve invited them to our table tomorrow, for they are quite alone in that monstrosity of their country home since the Earl passed away, and their son is in India and shows no inclination to return to England and assume his responsibilities to his family and title. A dreadful state of affairs.”
Primrose stood, unable to bear hearing anymore. For she knew the countess would soon begin to extol Lady Beatrice’s charm and grace, and should Gabriel agree Primrose would likely pluck his eyes out. And that insipid thought was enough to make her realize it had not been wise to miss her afternoon nap after being awake most of the night, reading over his old letters.
“If you will excuse me, I’ve some presents to wrap for the servants.”
