To Love a Lord (16 page)

The muscles of Chloe’s throat worked and she gave a nod.

“Do you know what I believe?”

Chloe gave her an encouraging look. “What is that?”

“You can spend your life avoiding all dogs because you’d been bitten in the past, and yet to do so wouldn’t truly be to live and then, he…,” she amended. “That dog,”
whoever the nameless, faceless monster is who so scarred you
. “Would win.” Did Gabriel know his sister had experienced this pain? The powerful, unbending man he was would likely have taken apart that fiend if he did. “You mustn’t allow your fears of the past to control your future. After all, the beginning is always today.” Even as the familiar words left her mouth, the absolute hypocrisy of simply uttering them stuck at the corner of her mind.

The young woman widened her eyes. “That is lovely, Jane.”

She managed a sheepish grin. “Alas, the credit belongs to our Mrs. Wollstonecraft.” Who, God help her, if Gabriel learned was being taught of in his household, would unhesitantly turn her out
sans
reference.

“You mustn’t worry,” Chloe said, giving her a pat on the knee. “I daresay Gabriel will not mind.” The mischievous glint lit her eyes. “As long as he doesn’t know of it.”

“As long as I don’t know of what?” A familiar voice drawled from the doorway.

Jane and Chloe jumped in unison. Jane scrambled to her feet and hurriedly set down the book in her hands. Alas, Chloe had far more years of prevaricating around the astute nobleman. She trilled a laugh. “Do not be a boor, Gabriel.” The slight scowl gave hint of a man who chafed at his sister and Society’s opinion of him. She sailed over to her brother and wrapped him on the knuckles. “Nor should you go sneaking on ladies. It is not at all polite.”

“I’m here at your bequest,” he said, his voice dryer than autumn leaves. He slid his gaze over his sister’s shoulder and settled it on Jane.

She warmed under his intense scrutiny but retained his direct stare. In a handful of meetings, he’d become more than her employer. He’d become a man with similar fears and thoughts on love. And a man whose kiss she craved and…She suppressed a groan. What manner of madness had befallen her? His hot, assessing stare indicated he knew very well the path her thoughts had traversed.

“Regardless,” Chloe said, as though instructing a small child. “You should have, at the very least, announced yourself. Isn’t that right, Jane?” They both jumped guiltily. “I thought a walk was in order. The sun is shining and I have tired of shopping.” At last. Though in the lady’s defense, she’d not purchased an item for herself. “I’ll return in but a moment.” With that she raced over to the door. Gabriel stepped aside to allow Chloe her exit and then strolled deeper into the room. All the while his gaze remained trained on her.

A wild fluttering danced in her belly and she wanted to attribute the sensation to discomfort from their previous meeting, and yet she could not. Not without lying to herself. “My lord,” she greeted when he came to a stop several feet away. She backed up a step and his intelligent eyes took in that hasty movement.

“I expected you’d be in a temper this morning, Jane.” Expected or hoped?

She folded her arms across her chest in a protective manner to shield herself from any further weakening. “Is that why you were boorishly rude last evening, my lord?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he confessed.

“Apologize?” She furrowed her brow. Noblemen did not apologize. They took their pleasure where they willed it and hurt without thinking.

“It was wrong of me to call you bitter.”

Yet, this man, regardless of his lofty title, took ownership of his words and actions. And she preferred him as the safe, predictable lord with his censorious eyes and clipped commands. That man she could relegate alongside the other nobles she’d known before. This man she knew not what to do with.

“Will you not accept my apology?”

Yes, she supposed some response on her part was in order. Jane’s breath caught as he brushed the back of his hand along the curve of her cheek. Under the power and heat of his touch, her lashes fluttered closed. “Y-you needn’t apologize, my lord.” His had been a protective measure, and more, there had been truth to his charge. She was bitter and she detested that she’d become so consumed by her own regrets and resentments. “I a-assure you,” she whispered when he continued to run his hand along her cheek. “I would never i-impose my own thoughts or beliefs upon your sister.”

No, she’d only steal from him and lie her way into his household. God forgive her.

*

What maddening hold did Mrs. Jane Munroe have upon him?

When he’d arisen this morning and gone through his morning’s ablutions, he’d reconciled himself to reestablishing order between him and the young woman in his employ. There would be no more private meetings or talks of their families and pasts. He would be the cool, proper marquess his father had beat him into becoming.

And his life could resume its normal course.

He let his hand fall to his side. Jane blinked as though bereft over the loss of his touch. “Before my sister returns, we should speak.” He took several steps away and then clasped his hands behind him.

A panicky fear lit her eyes. “D-do you intend to send me away?”

Again, with her almost desperate question. He frowned. He might have kissed her and violated all manner of appropriate and honorable behaviors where his staff was concerned, but he wasn’t a total bastard. “I have no intention of sending you away, Jane. You are effectively stuck with my family until Chloe is wed. At which point you will be free to return to your post at Mrs. Belden’s.” Her eyes darkened. “Or whatever other post you desire.” The muscles in his stomach went taut at that imagined, but inevitable parting.

She gave a little nod. “Thank you.”

How very polite and deferential she was. It was as though nothing else had transpired between them. He started. Which was, of course, for the best. It was the very reason he now spoke to her. Gabriel began to pace. “It occurs to me that I’ve been wholly inappropriate and improper where you are concerned.” Why was that one kiss not enough?

“Gabriel?” she cocked her head at an endearing little angle.

“We’ve spoken on matters that have little bearing on my sister,” he paused mid-stride and looked at her. “Matters that have nothing to do with your tenure here. For that I make my most humble apologies. Going forward, I pledge to honor your role on my staff.” She winced. He silently cursed at the pomposity of such a statement. His lips pulled in a grimace, as he wished not for the first time that he possessed the effortless ability to speak to and with a lady. He pressed ahead. “The kiss,”
has haunted my waking and sleeping thoughts
, “was a mistake,” he finished lamely as he yanked his gaze away from the hurt expression stamped on the delicate lines of her face. Except, there was nothing in her reaction that conveyed regret.

“It was but one kiss, my lord,” she said in flat tones. “Nor was it forced upon me.” She clasped her hands before her and studied the interlocked digits.

Forced upon me.
The second hint that there had been others before him who’d taken advantage of her. He balled his hands into tight fists so that his nails left marks upon his palm.
It is not my place. It is not my place.
He’d already reestablished the boundaries between them. Or at the very least, he hastily constructed them now. To ask questions about her past had no bearing on her future here, or those barriers he sought to cast up. “Who?”

She did not pretend to misunderstand that lethal whisper. “It matters not.”

He’d shred the man apart with his bare hands were he to discover his identity. “It matters to me.”

“Why?” Jane raised her gaze to his. “You are correct, my lord,” My lord. His chest throbbed with regret as he longed to hear the three syllables of his name once more on her lips. Except, he’d resurrected the walls of the station between them. “I am here in your household with a very defined role. There is little need for you to know anything of my past.” She tossed her head back. “Unless you’d turn me out for those pieces, in which case you are deserving.”

He blanched. “I would never.” Did she believe he’d be so callous as to set her from his employ for actions that were no fault of her own? Did everyone truly have such a low opinion of him? He thought back to heated exchanges he’d had with his younger brother, Alex, who with his disgust of Gabriel, would have readily concurred with Mrs. Jane Munroe. Then, had he truly given anyone reason to believe better of him?

Jane’s chest rose and fell with a slow, steadying breath “Very well.” She dropped a polite, deferential curtsy. “Then, if there is nothing else you’d wish to speak with me on, I should fetch my cloak before your sister returns.” She took several steps toward the door and his mind raced, filled with a desire to stay her retreat.

“Mrs. Munroe?”

She stilled and wheeled slowly back to face him.

“We are to attend a ball this evening.” A flash of panic lit the blues of her eyes. What was it she feared? Entering polite Society? Or something else? Something more? She gave a nod and then made her escape. Gabriel stared after her. With a curse, he raked a hand through his hair.

“Did you just curse?”

“Bloody hell.”

“Again?” His sister stood framed in the doorway, her hands planted on her hips and a displeased frown on her lips.

“No.”

“And lie?”

Lying, cursing, kissing lovely members of his staff? With each day he descended deeper and deeper into his father’s vile ways. Perhaps he’d been wrong and he could not purge the evil running through his veins from the blood he shared with that old monster. “Let it rest, Chloe,” he said tiredly.

Alas, she stalked across the room a blazing ball of fury. “Whatever did you say to Jane?”

His heart kicked up a beat. “I said nothing—”

“Oh, come. She was running through the house in a bid to be free of this room.”

“I reminded her that we would be attending a ball this evening.” That much was at least true. Guilt flared.

“Well, that would be enough to frighten any young woman,” Chloe muttered. He grunted as she jabbed a finger in his chest. “I like her a good deal, Gabriel, and you are not,” he winced as she stuck her gloved fingertip at his person once more. “I repeat, are not to drive her away.” What was it with young ladies and their tiny but impressively powerful digits?

“It is not my intention to drive her away but rather—”

“Good.” A final thrust of her finger. “Then do not.” She gave a toss of her blonde ringlets. “Now, if you are quite through here.” If
he
were quite through? “It is time for our walk at Hyde Park.” With that she spun on her heel and marched from the room.

Gabriel swiped a hand over his face. An afternoon with an angry, putout Chloe and a hurt, annoyed Jane Munroe? It was fitting punishment he supposed for his outrageous behavior since Jane had entered his household and upended his world.

S
tanding in the corner of the ballroom alongside two other companions, Jane kept a careful eye on Chloe, never more grateful for her modest Sunday dress and spectacles that offered a modicum of protection. Though what she’d expected in taking on the position as companion to a lady, other than attending lavish
ton
events, she did not know.

Just then, Lady Chloe, entirely too forgiving, by half, and in that way, naively trusting, stood beside Gabriel and a tall, slender gentleman. While she conversed with the two men, Chloe darted her gaze about the room and then her stare collided with Jane’s. Gabriel’s sister pointed her eyes to the ceiling, letting Jane know precisely what she thought of the marquess’ matchmaking.

An unexpected bark of laughter escaped Jane, and she promptly clamped her lips together. Alas, she’d already earned censorious stares from the companions beside her and curious stares from nearby lords and ladies.

Blend in. Meld with the walls.

Blast and double blast. How many years had she attempted to perfect that very feat? And how many years had she failed? Every single one of them. Jane smoothed her palms over her satin skirts, the smooth, cool fabric luxuriantly soft against her hands. She’d long ago committed herself to remaining unseen, and yet with her sharp tongue, and bothersome golden curls, she’d never quite successfully managed to do so. No, she’d not wanted the attentions of those self-serving nobleman with their wandering stares. Until Gabriel. Unbidden, her gaze found him once more. His sister, now gone, escorted onto the dance floor by the gentleman whom she’d previously spoken with, he stood off to the side, skimming his hard gaze over the heads of the twirling dancers.

Her breath caught. With his midnight black coat and stark white cravat, he really was quite magnificent. So very different than the fops and swains in their vibrant, satin knee breeches and slick oiled hair. What was it about Gabriel, the Marquess of Waverly, that so commanded her notice? She continued to study him. He sipped from the crystal flute in his hands. With her eyes, she took in those hard, firm lips once pressed against hers, touched to the rim of his glass. Oh, of course with his chiseled cheeks and thick, midnight black hair, he possessed a remarkable beauty lauded about by artists. But there was more. His solemnity, his devotion to his sister plucked at the strings of her heart. For he’d proven that not all men were, in fact, self-serving and living only for their own pleasures. He lived for his sister. Jane’s throat worked. And in a world where no one had ever lived for her, there was something potently addictive about a man capable of that regard and love for a person other than himself.