AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He led flawlessly, and she followed with equal grace. Their bodies swayed together in perfect, sensual synchrony—one that surprised him.
“You are remarkably talented with the waltz,” she blinked as he spun her. “Do you dance it much?”
Without thought, he gazed over her face; her sable locks, coiffured up high on her head, brought out her large, green eyes and her full, pouty lips of the softest pink. Gabriel inwardly wondered what delectable flesh lay beneath the gown.
“I do,” he replied. “I have hours of practicing, not in this matter though.”
“Mostly horizontally, I take it,” Anastasia replied.
“Your words, not mine.”
She snorted softly. “Spoken like a true rake.”
“My earlier indiscretion aside, dancing with you,”—he slanted her a meaningful look— “is enough to tempt a saint, and I am no saint.”
Even as his member throbbed with interest, he reminded himself that she was innocent and far more vulnerable than he’d first realized. He would not take advantage of her.
“How much longer do you want to stay?”
“Until the end of the ball,” he replied, “but I shall not dance with anyone else.”
Her lids fluttered. “Why?”
“Let’s say I have no desire to do so,” he replied twirling them again. “I’m satisfied.”
When the dance ended, he bowed and kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll be at the card rooms, Ana.”
He left to the stairs while she went off to another lady with rich auburn hair. Gritting his teeth, Gabriel left for the rooms, less interested in a hand of whist and more drawn to the strong liquor the footmen would be pouring. After getting a glass, he barely made it to a lone table before David dropped into the other chair.
“You’re still going with it?” David murmured. “I’d thought you’d have found a way to loosen yourself from the lie I told. Is that another of your many talents?”
“I decided to let it go on,” Gabriel replied after a bracing mouthful of brandy. “Miss Porter is not as hardened as some of our misses, and she wouldn’t do with such shame upon her back. I’ve born worst scandals; I have been dragged over the newspapers, splashed across headlines, and been the prime topic of conversation over breakfasts for years. I’m immune to gossip;plowmen have plowedmy back and made theirfurrows longand all that.”
“You know theBible?”
“I sat through the tedious sermons at Eton just like you,” Gabriel shrugged.
“So, what is your plan here?” David asked, “For I must tell you, word downstairs, which will beon-dottomorrow, is that a simple country miss will be the Duchess of Clovervale. You know about the tales of great men who have married very young women who were not prepared for such a station; it will not go well.”
“It will be a catastrophe to rock the nation,” Gabriel drawled. “As it should, but no rocking will happen, Gladhame. This courtship will be extended a few weeks, and then, we will part ways amicably as other have done. Or even better, I will let her break the bond. I guarantee you, she’ll have no lack of suitors after I am gone.”
“You’ll make your way back to others’ beds, I suppose,” David smirked.
Lifting his glass, Gabriel grinned, “Many, many more.”
Much later that night—or truly, in the morning hours—Gabriel relaxed into his soft wingback in his private parlor, jacketless and bootless, leaning toward the fireplace, gazing at the flames with a bottle of brandy on the end-table beside him.
The chandelier above reflected the firelight into a prism on the marble floor, and he lifted his tumbler, the brandy doing a calming glide down his throat. Tonight had been odd; he had gone to the ball seeking a companion that night only to end into a courtship.
“Ana…stasia,” he drawled, rolling her name over his tongue. “My new bride to be; well, they think so.”
From the moment he had known his destiny to be a Duke, Gabriel had never entered a relationship of any kind—friend, investor, or lover—without knowing what he was to do, how long to do it for, and how to leave before the situation would change against his favor.
He knew from the beginning what everyone thought of him, what they wanted, what they hated, and what they desired, and he planned for it. It was an unfair fight for them as the gamble was entirely and always in his favor. It was how he won…but now, Anastasia had thrown a rod in his wheels.
“Your Grace, the missive has been sent to the florist regarding your bouquet for Miss Porter,” his butler, Severus Richards called from the doorway. “Would you like anything before I retire?”
“No,” Gabriel replied. “I have all I need. Good night, Richards.”
