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“And what would those be?” the Dowager pressed.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “May we speak in private? I’d rather not have my private affairs blazoned on theMorning Post.”
Her aunt gave her another long look that promised an uncomfortable talk later on. “Let’s take the drawing room,” Aunt Elizabeth replied while adjusting her turban. “Please.”
As familiar as Gabriel was with scalding stares, this time, the gazes were not the same—they felt heavier, some were relieved, others satisfied, and a few distraught.
The Dowager, Gabriel, and Anastasia entered the drawing room, and Anastasia sat on the cream couch while Gabriel stood. He was not used to meeting vengeful mamas or aunts in this fashion—matter of fact, he was not used to meeting them at all.
“So,” Aunt Elizabeth asked, “would either of you care to tell me why this incident will be in the Times tomorrow, or why I might be forced to call the parson?”
“No need, Aunt,” Anastasia replied. “Nothing untoward happened; Lord Gladhame will tell you, we only talked.”
“I highly doubt the word of another rakehell will be a promising defense in a scandal,” her aunt said dryly, “but do go on.”
“His Grace has promised me time for us to get to know each other before any formal commitment is made,” she said. “I am new to this, after all.”
“I offered to give her the choice to break it off whenever she felt the desire to do so,” Gabriel explained, making sure the Dowager did not get the wrong impression. They were not madly in love or running to Gretna Green by moonlight. “It is my first courtship as well.”
Anastasia’s eyes were wide and liquid with astonishment as she looked at him. Yes, it was his first courtship, and if God helped him to navigate this kerfuffle right—it would be his last.
He wouldnevermarry.
He would never have children.
He would never domesticate himself like some poor sods who chained themselves to another for the sake of marriage only to live unhappily, miserably, and at constant odds with each other… He would not go the way of his parents.
No.
“He knows about father’s debacle,” Anastasia said.
“And I gave her a promise that, even if we part, I will help the family,” Gabriel added unprompted. In truth, he felt touched by her willingness to sacrifice herself for her family, and when they parted—as they would part— it was the least he could do for her. “I was moved by how she spoke of her father and mother during our short walk.”
“I see,” Aunt Elizabeth nodded. “So, I am to believe that London’s perpetual bachelor is going to give up his freedom, hang up his coat as the rakehell, a rogue, a wild man, and domesticate himself, something he had sworn never to do? I wonder what could cause such a change?”
“Divine intervention perhaps,” Gabriel replied dryly.
“It would have to be,” the Dowager replied. “Are you aware of how many broken hearts this declaration will make?”
It will only be for a time.
“They will mend, I am sure,” Gabriel added. “Now, I would like to rejoin the ball if you please.”
“You’re going back?” the Dowager asked.
“Why not?” Gabriel asked, lowering his brows convincingly. “I’ve—we have done nothing wrong.”
“And bear the whispers and stares?” Dowager Crescentwood asked while wiping a monocle and fitting it to her eye.
“It is nothing I have not born before,” Gabriel replied while reaching for Anastasia, “and I think I would like one last dance before I leave. Please.”
A voice in the back of his head told him he was insane for going back when he should be leaving, but Gabriel ignored it. He would bear the brunt of any upset that came their way; after all, his negligence was responsible for this whole thing.
They got back to the main room as a waltz was called, and he swept Anastasia to the floor. When she felt his hands on her back, she shifted her gaze to his.
“I know things went from bad to worse,” he murmured, “but did you at least see the stars?”
“I did see the stars,” she remarked, smiling wryly, “They gave me the most curiously warm feeling.”
