To Love a Lord (34 page)

“I am trying,” she said tightly. It was just particularly hard with her husband glowering in that menacing fashion at the dance master. What had poor Mr. Wallace done to merit—“Oomph.” The aggrieved instructor steadied her again, tightening his grip upon her waist.

“That will be all,” Gabriel barked. His loud baritone thundered from the marble floors and echoed throughout the cavernous space.

Mr. Wallace came to a stop as though he’d been granted the Queen’s pardon.

“Chloe, Mr. Wallace,” Gabriel snapped. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?”

Chloe smiled widely and inclined her head. “Of course.” Jane stared after her as unease warred with excitement at the prospect of being alone with her husband. Or bridegroom. She still couldn’t quite sort out whether or not he was a blasted husband.

She fisted her skirts as being with this man, the same man who’d abandoned her on their wedding night, alone now, when they’d been alone before, became altogether different. Not that either of them had entered into the union believing it would be a marriage in truth. She released her grip upon her fabric. “Gabriel. You wished to speak to me?”

*

Gabriel wished to kill the bloody dance instructor with edacious hands is what he
wished
to do. The sight of the other man touching Jane had unleashed something primitive and primal from deep inside—a fierce, ugly part of himself he’d never known existed.

He clasped his hands behind his back as his sister and Mr. Wallace and the diminutive violin master he’d hired took their leave. Except, now that he’d gotten rid of the bloody instructor, he hadn’t a blasted idea what to say to Jane—whom he’d studiously avoided for the better part of the week, torturing himself through meals with a glimpse of her, and then separating. He’d spent these past seven days trying to rebuild the walls he’d built about him for thirty long years. He needed distance from Jane and the longings she’d stirred within him. Yet, a week later, he’d only found he didn’t need distance—he needed to see her.

“Gabriel?” she prodded once more.

He tried to put his disordered thoughts to right. Gabriel rocked on his heels. “Are you getting on all right?” Never more than this instance did he wish he possessed a modicum of Alex’s affability. His brother always knew precisely what to say.

A smile twitched at her lips. “Er…did you perchance see the dance skills I’ve acquired?”

No, all he’d seen was another man with his hands on her, touching her waist, holding her flush to his frame. The body that he longed to take and make his in every way a man could mark a woman. He growled and quickly closed the distance between them.

“Are you all right—eep” Her words ended on a squeak as he settled his arms about her. “What are you—?”

Gabriel guided her hands to his shoulder and settled his upon her waist. “Teaching you to dance.”
Holding you. Holding you when it makes it all the more impossible to extricate myself from your hold.
Then, with the invisible strands of the orchestra he guided her through the motions of the waltz.

Jane stomped on his foot. “I’m sorry.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

He shifted her, angling her body closer to his and effectively shrinking the space between them. She tripped over his foot.

His lips twitched. She really was as horrid as his sister had indicated.

“Oh, do hush,” she scolded and then stomped on his foot.

He winced.

“That was deliberate.”

Gabriel wouldn’t feel comfortable placing any such wager on that particular—

Jane jammed the heel of her slipper into his instep.

He arched an eyebrow. “And what was that for?”

“For doubting the previous misstep was not deliberate.”

A chuckle rumbled up from his chest. The sound was rusty from ill-use these years and he stumbled.

“That was not my fault,” she said tartly.

Yes, it was. “No.”
You upended my world, so that I laugh and smile and tease
. He drew to a stop. His pulse pounded so loudly, it filled his ears with a dull humming. He released her with such alacrity she slipped, but then adroitly righted herself.

She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve given up a good deal before Mr. Wallace.”

How could she be so casual, unaware or uncaring of the tumult she’d thrown his world into? “You need to be presented to Society.”

“I know that,” she said tentatively. “There is the matter of serving as Chloe’s companion.”

He fixed upon that. That was her role. That was why he’d wed her. That and to save her. “The sooner Chloe makes a match—”

“The sooner I can begin my school.”

What was once honorable, now grated. He hated her damned school. He gave a nod.

Jane tipped her chin up at a mutinous angle. “I’ll not be welcomed by the
ton
, if that is what you are hoping,” she said with the same fire and strength he recalled from that day she’d refused to leave his townhouse.

His frown deepened. “Do not be preposterous. You are my wife.” He’d ruin anyone who gave her the cut direct.

“Am I?”

He looked at her.

“A bride, yes. A wife, no,” she took a step toward him. “Not as long as our union is…” Her cheeks turned red. “Unconsummated.”

Gabriel choked at the boldness of her words as a sea of images flooded his mind. Of him taking her. Laying claim to her. Spilling his seed inside her. At that, he lurched backward.

“Gabriel?” She held out a tentative hand.

He gave his head a shake and her delicate fingers fluttered to her side. “I should not have left you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “On our wedding night.”
Any night.
Gabriel raked a hand through his hair. “I would—”

Several lines creased her brow. “What is it, Gabriel?”

“I would have you understand.” He stared above the crown of her golden curls. Shame knotted his belly. “My father, as you know, beat me. He beat all of us with a staggering frequency. My sisters, my brother and me.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “I was a bloody coward. I hid when I could, more concerned with my own survival than that of my siblings.” He could not however, be a coward in this. He looked to her and held her gaze. Agony, regret, and some other host of emotions he could not identify filled her eyes. He held up his hands. “As their older brother, I had a responsibility to care for them, to see them unhurt. Do you know who put a stop to the years of abuse?”

She gave her head a jerky shake.

“My younger brother.” He dragged a hand over his face as the memories of that long ago day flooded to the surface. “My brother stepped in when I was too cowardly. But the damage was done by then, Jane. Philippa, Chloe, Alex, they were all scarred. At that moment in my life, I knew I never wanted the care and responsibility of another to fall to me. I failed them.”
And I will not fail you now.

A single teardrop rolled down her cheek, followed by another and another. “Oh, Gabriel, you think yourself undeserving of love.” Her words lanced through him with a shocking accuracy. “That is why you push everyone away.”
That is why I push you away. I’ve never wanted another.
She took a step toward him and claimed his hand. “Don’t you see?” He stiffened at her touch, wanting it and wanting himself free of all hint of her. “You didn’t fail them. Your father failed them.” Just as her father had failed her.

He went taut as she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. His hands hovered involuntarily about the air, and then he slid his eyes closed and folded his arms about her and began to believe, for the first time, that perhaps, just perhaps, he could turn himself over to the power of caring.

F
ive hours.

Or 300 minutes.

And if one wanted to be even
more
precise, 18000 seconds.

As the carriage rattled along the cobbled London streets, Jane worked through the amount of time she’d be forced to smile and dance and well, mayhap not dance, but be present at the Duke and Duchess of Crawford’s ball.

She drew back the curtain and stared out at the passing carriages. That was how long Jane had resolved she’d have to spend on the fringe of the glittering world of London Society that terrified her; a people whose world she didn’t belong to.

From the opposite bench, Chloe gave her a sunny smile. “Alex and Imogen will be there, as will Lord Waterson. Imogen braved a scandal herself in a like manner. When you show Society you are unaffected by them, they move their attentions elsewhere. It’s true. Isn’t it, Gabriel?”

Jane looked to her husband. He gave a succinct nod but otherwise contributed nothing further to the discourse. She sighed. She would feel a good deal better if that lie was coming from the somber, stoic gentleman at her side. Their conveyance rocked to a halt in the long line of carriages and Jane’s stomach plummeted to her toes.

They’d arrived.

The crush of carriages before the duke’s townhouse delayed their arrival and with each painfully slow-moving moment, panic pounded away at her breast. It climbed up her throat and threatened to choke her.

A servant drew open their door and Gabriel stepped down first. He then turned back to her. She’d braved censure and disapproval throughout the course of her life. What was one more night? In front of hundreds of guests. Nearly all strangers. She drew in a steadying breath and climbed out of the carriage then paused to stare up at the pink façade of the impressive Mayfair townhouse. Her first event. She swallowed hard. She’d rather sit down to tea with Mrs. Belden after revealing she’d taken the woman’s missive sent by the Marquess of Waverly.

A small hand settled on her back and she started.

Gabriel gave her a look. “It will be fine,” he said with a stoic calm she resented from him in this moment. Of course he should be calm. This was his world. He’d been born and bred to live amongst these people. She had been scuttled away, a dirty secret kept, and by Lord Montclair’s words at the theatre one week earlier—a poor secret, at that.

“It really will be fine, Jane,” Chloe said quietly. She gave her a winning smile. “You have friends.”

Friends. After a life alone, she had friends who cared for her and about her. She stared at Chloe’s retreating back hating the blasted lump of emotion swelling in her throat. She didn’t want to turn into a watering pot. Not now. Not ever. Showing emotion was dangerous. Particularly on this night.

He returned his attention to her. “I will not allow you to be ill-treated.”

Poor Gabriel. She shook her head sadly. “You still do not know.”

He gave her a look.

“You cannot prevent others from hurt just because you wish it. I have been given the cut direct before and do not doubt my status as your wife, given my circumstances, will not result in the same unkindness shown me by Society.”

He passed a searching gaze over her face and appeared as though he wished to say more, but then glanced over at Chloe who stood at the entrance of the duke’s townhouse. Gabriel proffered his arm and Jane slid her fingertips onto his sleeve.

A tall, frowning butler admitted them. Servants rushed forward to help them from their cloaks and then they were escorted through the lavish townhouse done in white Italian marble to the swell of noise from within the ballroom. From the top of the stairs, Jane surveyed the crush of bodies.

“You will do splendidly,” Gabriel whispered against her ear. His breath stirred her ear and shivers of warmth ran along her spine.

The butler cleared his throat and announced them before the collection of guests. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Waverly and Lady Chloe Edgerton.”

All conversation came to a stop. All eyes within the ballroom turned to them. Jane’s heart fell into her stomach. Grateful for at least her boldly confident husband’s presence at her side, she allowed Gabriel to guide them down the stairs to their host and hostess.

The chestnut haired, towering gentleman exhibited an austere power that marked him a duke before even introductions were made. The woman at his side, a wide-smiling, plump young lady, however, melted some of her tension. Jane dropped a curtsy as Gabriel performed the necessary introductions.

Jane greeted the powerful couple with the same deferential courtesy instilled in her from early on. “Your Graces.”

“It is a pleasure,” the duchess murmured and something in her kind eyes indicated that she did, in fact, believe it to be a pleasure, which was, of course, madness. Every other person present now eyed her like the sludge dragged in on the bottoms of their slippers.

Then the introduction was concluded and Lord Alex and Imogen rushed forward to greet them. The Edgertons set themselves up as a kind of sentry beside her. An unfamiliar gentleman stopped before their small collection of family. Tall, blonde, and lean there was nothing immediately remarkable about the man.

“Primly,” Lord Alex exclaimed and slapped the gentleman on the back. “A pleasure as always. May I introduce you to my sister-in-law, Lady Waverly? Jane, the Earl of Primly.”

She stiffened and tipped her chin up, braced for his rejection.

Then the earl smiled at Jane and someone who’d been unordinary a moment ago became someone quite remarkable. A friend. She dropped a curtsy. “My lord.”