Page 101 of Notorious

“From her. Fatima sent them a letter when it was clear Assad would lose control of Oran. And in it she confessed the truth.”

“But why—after so much time?”

“I daresay she believed it would make Samir safer if he was not believed to be Assad’s. The political situation had become dangerous for my brother over the past few years and she must have known he could not hold onto power for long.” He shrugged. “It is my belief she hoped her parents would send the boy to me if anything ever happened. I daresay they would have if I’d not been there to take Samir.”

“But he is their grandson. No matter who his father is, Fatima is still his mother—still their daughter. Wouldn’t they have wanted him?”

“Samir is now a political liability. If he is Assad’s, then he will always be viewed as a threat by the new sultan. If he is mine, then he is a bastard and his mother has brought shame on her family.” He stared grimly. “I’m sure you can see how difficult this is. If I give him the protection of my name, I am dooming him to bastardy. If I don’t? If I tell him that he is Assad’s son am I dooming him to war—making him believe it is his duty fight for control of the sultanate—as both Assad and I did?” He shrugged. “If I tell him he is my son, then he will live knowing his father is a man who abandoned his own people to become English and helped in the attack on his very home—might have been responsible for the death of Assad and Fatima. Also, if I keep him with me, I will deprive him of his heritage.” He grimaced. “And nobody knows better than I just how unwelcome a man of mixed race often feels in this country. Even if he wishes to return to Oran one day, being raised in England will ensure he is a stranger in his homeland.” Gabriel shook his head at the tangle of problems. “No matter what I tell him or what I do, I will hurt him. You tell me, Drusilla—what should I do?”

Gabriel could see by her expression she understood the magnitude of his quandary. He also knew she would have no simple answer—because there wasn’t one.

* * *

Gabriel stayed in her bed all night, making love to her again just before dawn.

Afterward, he pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at her. “I want you to meet Samir today. Perhaps we can then make plans to bring him home.”

Drusilla was glad her face was still flushed from their vigorous lovemaking so he could not see how foolishly pleased she felt at his words.

“I would like that.”

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and she hated to think what a crow’s nest her hair must resemble.

“Thank you for that, Drusilla.” He cocked his head. “But I need to ask more of you.”

She stared into his serious green eyes, her heart pounding. What now? What . . . now?

“Samir came to Maria and Giselle not long after his mother died, and he has developed an attachment to them.”

Drusilla clenched her jaws.

“I will bring him to live with us, but it would be cruel to deprive him of their company—or they of his—when he has lost most of his family so recently.”

She could only stare. Good Lord, what was he saying? Did he expect to bring these women to live with them? Was he going to—

His beautiful lips pulled into a rueful smile, and he leaned close to kiss the tip of her nose.

“I can see by your expression that you are imagining the worst. I know this cannot be easy—nor is it the accepted or normal way of doing things. But this situation is not normal. There is bound to be discomfort and unhappiness, but I would prefer Samir not suffer any more than we can help.” He cupped her jaw, his warm hand holding her lightly. “Giselle and Maria are not my mistresses anymore, Drusilla, but they are friends to me. You are my only lover and have been since our betrothal.”

Joy, jealousy, anger, fear, and a dozen other emotions swirled within her at his words. Logically she knew these women had been a part of his life long before she was. But logic played little part in the feelings she had for him.

But he had called her his lover.

He cocked his head. “You need never see them, but I do not wish to end his contact with them. It is best he stay with them for the last few weeks we are in London. And I will see to it that—”

She forced herself to smile. “I’m not so fragile as that, Gabriel.” Her lips trembled a little. “We can take matters as they come—can we not? The most important thing is to make Samir feel loved after what he has endured.”

“Thank you, Drusilla. I know most wives would not be so understanding.”

Most wives? She wanted to yell—she doubted any wife would understand. Drusilla burned to tell him that she was boiling with jealousy about his bloody mistresses. Instead she told herself to remember that he was no longer a lover to either of these women—that everything between him and the two Frenchwomen had happened before they’d become betrothed.

She met his concerned gaze and told herself that she could do this; she could master her jealousy for Gabriel and for Samir. She nodded.

“Thank you.”

The words were simple but Drusilla heard the sincerity beneath them.

“Now,” he said, his manner brisk. “I am to meet Byer and Eva this morning.”