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Looking over her shoulder, Gabriel sighed heavily. “That is my best friend, David Martin, Earl of Gladhame. He says he is not as bad as I am, but we know we are the same. While I believe love is a fallacy, does not exist, and is dreamed up by idealists, the reasonhedoes not stay with any lady is because he is not one for commitment.”
Staring at him, Anastasia was stunned. She was not sure what to say with his frankness. “Birds of a feather, I suppose.”
“When we met as exiles on the balcony, I was going to ask you to walk with me in the garden,” Gabriel mentioned, his tone soft and cajoling, “and I would still like that now.”
He angled his head to a side-door, quickly looking to see if her aunt was turned her way.
“All right,” she agreed despite her knees feeling shaky.
And as easily as that, Anastasia found herself going outside, knowing a scandalous rake would follow. At the mouth of another balcony that led down to the garden, she stopped to see Gabriel stride over to meet his friend, looking as nonchalant as could be.
Slipping out to the darkness beyond, Anastasia was relieved to see that posts dotted the space, topped with gas-lamps, the light only here and there giving the garden a ghostly feel.
She bowed to smell a musk-rose while hearing the tread of boots over gravel. Not turning to look at Gabriel, she said, “Common sense should tell me not to trust you, that there was no telling what a rake as you would attempt alone in the dark with a woman.”
“I give you my word; I will not do anything without your permission.” His voice made gooseflesh flutter over her skin.
“You’re a rake,” she declared boldly. “Is it not one of your charms to make me permit you without me knowing?”
“A rake with honor seems odd, I know.” He pinned her with shimmering blue eyes. “But I seem to keep breaking the mold.”
“A few years ago, there was this pamphlet going around, reaching even to the countryside. ‘Trust not those with known debauched reputations. Upon knowing an individual had sacrificed their character to depravity and vice, one should not—”’
“‘—Keep his company, otherwise you, dear lady, might fall into the clutches of a reprobate whose only intention is to add your name to a notch on his post.’” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I have read and found it unfair. Did not the Lord himself keep company with a woman of ill-repute?”
Laughing, Anastasia strolled to another bush. “’Tis true; one shall not lob stones. What do you want with me, Your Grace? If it is a dalliance, I am not the one.”
Instead of addressing her concern, he asked, “Why did you come to London, Miss Porter?”
“My family, unfortunately, has found themselves in dire straits,” she answered. “If I can marry well, our situation shall change, and that is what I aim to do. My father is a fair man, but the money he should be relying on now has all melted away like butter under a noon’s sun. My mother made do, and when times were lean for the family, she relied on cleverness and determination to see us through it.”
Pausing to look up at the moon, she smiled. “My aunt came to London with pennies in her pocket but managed to marry well, and she was more than happy to use her social cache to give me entrée into the ton.”
They came to a fountain, ironically, of Cupid, quiver full, bow strung and at the ready, when Gabriel came close and touched her face, resting three fingertips on the arch of her cheekbone.
The faint touch sent a shiver right down her spine while the flickering deepened the intensity of his gaze.
His lips, thin, firm-looking with a wicked curve to the bottom one, gave a faint twitch. The way he was looking at her—did he mean to kiss her? She’d never been kissed and feared that no one would ever want to kiss her.
He has a beautiful mouth. What would it be like to be kissed by him?
The shockingly wanton thought burst into her head, and as soon as it came, she shoved it out just as quickly; the chilling thought that her kiss—her first kiss—would be coming from a rakehell dimmed the thrill.
His hand firmed around her cheek, and his gaze held Anastasia’s captive as he leaned in. Every sense in her body doubled in acuity; even the hairs on the back of her head stood in anticipation for his lips to meet hers.
Something sharp and sizzling raced over her skin, and her eyes fluttered closed—then Gabriel paused…and stepped away.
When the moment stretched, and Anastasia looked at him, her brows met. “Your Grace? Did I—did I do something wrong?”
“Never such thing,” he replied, almost tenderly, but she heard reluctance. “And it’s Gabriel to you, Anastasia. I felt the need to kiss you a while ago, but nothing more. However, I cannot help feeling that you are too pure and virtuous for a scoundrel like me to kiss you.”
A soft laugh left her. “And I wanted to be kissed.”
“Not by me, not that way,” he said then his lips descended, gently, ever so gently, and he kissed her brow. “You are sweet and beautiful, and you deserve someone true and worthy to kiss you.”
His hand dropped and small denigrating sounds left his mouth, prompting Anastasia to ask what was wrong.
“Nothing, sweetling,” he replied. “I just realized in one night, I have broken two of my rules.”
