Page 51 of Dare it all for Love

“Good. Makes it easier to rip your damned head off,” Gabriel said, flashing the kind of grin any sane man would have nightmares about for years to come.

“Mama! Mama! Stop him!”

With one eye still on the raging bull that was his opponent, Henry noted the slight figure of Lady Helena hurrying towards them with a burst of relief, thank God… Ooof!

His attention divided, Henry was too slow to dodge the next blow and Gabriel’s fist snapped his head back. He staggered and went down, and Gabriel followed. He took hold of Henry’s cravat, keeping him in place and Henry watched with a sick sense of inevitability as his right fist drew back.

“Gabriel Knight, you will stop this nonsense at once, you great oaf!”

Gabriel stilled at once, breathing hard. With what appeared to be a herculean effort, he turned his head to stare at his wife. “He… He… with Florence…”

Gabriel bit the words out as if they tasted vile.

Helena however just threw up her hands and glared at her husband in exasperation. “Well, of course. The poor man is courting her. Did you think I didn’t know? Did you not read the letter I sent you?”

“What letter?” Gabriel demanded, his expression creasing into one of confusion. “I got a letter telling me this bastard was seducing my daughter. And what the devil do you mean he’s courting her? He’s my age!”

“No, I’m not!” Henry retorted at once. Damned if he’d let the bastard age him by a decade.

“You shut up!” Gabriel growled.

Henry shut up, though the urge to break his future father-in-law’s nose was beyond tempting. He supposed it wouldn’t help matters, though.

“You mean to say you knew about this?” Gabriel asked his wife. “You… You let this depraved monster—”

“Well,” Helena said, glancing from Henry to Florence, who was red-faced and mortified. “I’m not entirely certain what this is—though I could take a guess—but firstly, I doubt he’s any more depraved than you were when we were courting and, secondly, I know Florence is in love with him. She has been pursuing poor Henry mercilessly from the moment we got here. Frankly, I’m surprised he held out this long. He didn’t stand a chance, I’m afraid.”

Gabriel gaped at his wife who gave a nonchalant shrug.

“What can I say, darling? She takes after me.”

“Oh, Mama!” Florence ran to her mother who enveloped her in a hug.

“There, there, sweetheart. I ought to have known you would get poor Henry into dreadful trouble. I know I always did with your father. Didn’t I, Gabriel?” she added, a note to her voice any sensible man would heed.

Gabriel’s expression darkened, no doubt as he remembered all the trouble Helena had got him into. “I still want to kill him,” he growled, his fist still tangled in Henry’s cravat.

In fact, it was becoming a tad difficult to breathe.

“I know, darling,” Helena said, her expression full of sympathy. “You may vent your feelings to my brother, I’m sure he’ll sympathise.”

Henry snorted, remembering all too well when Bedwin had discovered Gabriel had been courting his sister in secret. The duke had wanted nothing less than to castrate Gabriel Knight and hang his bollocks over the mantelpiece as a warning to others. The fist in his cravat tightened a bit more.

“I love her,” he managed, though the pressure on his throat made the words somewhat strangled. “I wrote to you this morning, asking to speak with you. Want to marry her.”

Gabriel lent down, getting up in Henry’s face.

“You’re too old,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Gabe, my love, I know there is a significant age gap, but I ask you, how old was I when we eloped?” Helena asked him, and Henry noted she was tapping her foot impatiently now. Never a good sign.

Gabe stiffened. “That is neither—”

“I was barely nineteen,” Helena supplied for him. “Florence is almost twenty-three.”

“That doesn’t change the fact—”

“And how old were you? Is the age difference so very much greater than ours?”