Page 14 of Never Love a Duke

“We will not discuss this later,” she hissed back. “We will discuss this never.”

He stood up and walked toward her where she was now standing in the middle of the room. Disheveled but gorgeous. “Not if I have anything to do about it.”

“You have nothing to do about it.”

“I do—”

“You do not—”

And only because this banter appeared to have no end, Gabriel pulled her into his body, waited a moment to see if she’d fight him, and when she didn’t, he kissed her.

Best way to quiet her. For now.

Chapter 9

“Iris, please take me to that woman,” Mirabelle requested out in the corridor after straightening her skirts and smoothing her hair back. Her heart ached, though she had no idea how it could considering it was shattered into tiny pieces. Gabriel had thought the worst of her. Thought her uncompassionate, uncaring, shallow, petty. Everything she strove not to be. Worst of all, he thought she was the kind of person to throw someone to the wolves when her entire life had been spent protecting those around her. To top it off, he’d held it against her without an explanation. The obstinate tyrant that he was had taken her heart and shredded it, torn it, cut it up in so many different ways, she wasn’t sure how she’d piece it back together this time.

And now to find out he was the owner of Greene House. Moreover, he knew her plans for the house and he still wouldn’t sell it to her. As if he were lording it over her. It was deuced annoying. His plans, his power, his stubbornness had the potential to undermine her entire future.

But right now, she had a job to do. A woman needed her, and she was going to help.

“Of course,” Iris replied, leading her down the hallway. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What?”

“The argument?”

“I do not.”

“Later, perhaps.” And before Mirabelle could deter her friend, Iris opened the door of a small study.

“This is Lady Lydia. I’ll let her tell you her story. You definitely want to hear this.”

Lydia shuffled in her seat and discreetly touched her belly before letting out a slew of words. “I’d heard about Greene House from a friend several months ago. I thought it was still a place,” her hand rested on her stomach, “for women. Like me.”

It struck her. Sharply. Everywhere. At every angle. The woman. The house. Gabriel. “You’re with child,” Mirabelle stated flatly. Unprepared for this news and its ramifications, she stared blankly at the table, letting it sink in.

Lydia continued, unaware of the havoc her words wreaked upon Mirabelle. “It’s supposed to be a safe house, but when I showed up, I learned that it was a house for spinsters. That’s all right for me. I can be discreet. I’ll be invisible. You won’t know I’m there. I just need a safe place for a while. My sister, Diana, and I have a plan.” On the brink of tears, but doing her very best to stay strong, Lydia blinked hard, giving Mirabelle her most determined look. “Please.”

It all made sense. The secret owner of Greene House. His disdain toward her for her actions. Other ways to save a woman. Who he was and what it was all for, it all came together.

Even the safety she felt with Gabriel. He was her figurative safe house.

Mirabelle dropped her head into her hands. The two of them were fighting injustices in their own rights, both against societal expectations and pressure on women. How had she been so wrong to think him bullheaded? Controlling? Contemptuous? She’d had it all wrong. All wrong.

She must have said those words aloud because Lydia’s skirts rustled as she rose. “I’m sorry I came here. You’re right. It was a mistake. I’ll be on my wa—”

Quickly, Mirabelle cut her off. “No,” she said raising her hand, “you must stay. Please. We’ll figure this out, but right now I have to go.” She turned to Iris, “Please take care of Lydia for now. We’ll make this work. I promise you.” And then she fled in search of safety.

***

“Is it a safe house for unwed mothers?” The door burst open before the question was hardly complete, and then it was slammed shut in her wake.

At the start, Gabriel sat upright on the bed.

“What?”

“Greene House,” a woman on a mission, she marched toward him, “is it a safe house for unwed mothers?”