Which explained his earlier relief when he realized she could not be his sister’s child.
The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, Victory gasping softly when Gabriel pulled back slightly and one of his large hands cupped her breast. That gasp turned to a throaty groan when the nipple was squeezed between his finger and thumb, sending hot waves of pleasure surging through her. Between her thighs plumped and grew damp with an unaccustomed hot slickness.
Victory clung to the broad width of Gabriel’s shoulders when her knees threatened to buckle. She had never been kissed before, and this was so intense and overwhelming, she could hardly draw breath—
Gabriel pulled back suddenly, pushing her away to hold her at arm’s length, his face a harsh mask, eyes cold and hooded, his cheeks pale and his jaw clenched. “Go to your bedchamber,” he bit out harshly. “For once, do not argue with me,” he warned when she opened her mouth to speak. “Just go!”
Victory blinked up at him for several seconds before turning on her heel and hurrying from the room.
She waited until she was in the sanctuary of the blue bedchamber before she allowed the hot, humiliating tears to fall.
Chapter Eight
“I cannot express how grateful I am for your kindness in doing this for both my mother and me, Your Grace.”
Gabriel glanced down at the diminutive woman standing beside him in the snow-covered graveyard as they listened to the vicar saying the appropriate words over the open grave of Victory’s mother.
“Here.” Gabriel held out a clean linen handkerchief. Victory was being very brave but there was a telltale track of moisture down her pallid cheeks.
“Thank you.” She accepted the handkerchief and patted it against the dampness.
It had taken a day for Gabriel to locate the body of Victory’s mother, but he had only been able to do so with the help of Jimmy from St Giles. That young man had also identified the body. Once that was done, Gabriel had lost no time in immediately having Rachel Jones’s body delivered to an undertakers and a proper burial arranged for the courageous widow.
Those same two days had ensured Victory was now recognizable as being a beautiful woman. Something Winter had complimented her on when he called at Blackborne House the day after Gabriel had rescued her from St Giles. Gabriel had wanted to tell the other man what he could do with his compliments!
He was already far too aware of how beautiful and alluring Victory was.
Today she was dressed in a dark-green bonnet that covered her curls and a lined cloak over a mourning gown of gray silk. She wore tiny black leather boots against the chill of the several inches of snow that had fallen overnight.
Jimmy, standing farther back from the grave, was making no attempt to hide his surprise in her changed appearance as he stared at her. It was the first time he had seen Victory as anything other than a young male street urchin. The admiration in his gaze said he approved of the change.
Gabriel gave the young man a narrow-eyed glare before answering Victory. Would he have to fight off the whole of the male population of London, including himself, in order to protect Victory? “The stonemason is awaiting your input into the wording on your mother’s headstone.”
“Thank you.” Currently, she did not seem to be able to articulate any other words.
Gabriel considered giving Victory’s mother a decent burial as the least he could do. Not because he had overstepped the boundaries of their relationship three evenings ago—although he certainly had!—but because no one’s loved one should ever be consigned to a pauper’s grave. He could only hope that someone had shown that same generosity of spirit toward his sister and her child.
Gabriel inwardly admitted to having been grateful for being kept so busy these past two days.
Evesham was doing a marvelous job hosting Club Venus in the evenings in Gabriel’s stead, but Gabriel had still needed to call there during the day to check on the ladies and remove any monies from the premises. That, along with finding the body of Victory’s mother and the arranging of the funeral, had kept him from dwelling too much on other things. It had also meant Gabriel was able to spend a minimum amount of time in Victory’s company.
The relief he felt over that was most definitely because of his feelings of guilt regarding the liberties he had taken with Victory after their dinner together three evenings ago.
He closed his eyes briefly at the memory of how soft her lips had felt against his own, how sweet they had tasted, and how the heat of her mouth had wrapped itself about his questing tongue.
None of which should ever have happened!
“Ya scrubs up nice, Vic.”
Gabriel opened his eyes to see that the prayers over the coffin were at an end and Jimmy was now standing in front of Victory, his admiring gaze sweeping over her female curves with obvious approval.
“Or should I calls ya Victory now?” the boy teased.
Her face was very pale beneath the green bonnet, her eyes a dark emerald. Even the rose of her lips seeming dimmer in her grief. But she nevertheless managed to find a smile as she answered Jimmy. “Vic will do,” she assured him pertly. “Thank you for helping His Grace with my mother’s funeral.”
His eyes widened. “Cor, ya can talk posh too when ya wants to.”
Victory laughed at his teasing, and Gabriel realized it was the first time he had seen her so much as smile since the evening he had kissed her. Damn it, he hadn’t just kissed her. He had touched her breasts.
Jimmy might seem like a boy to Gabriel, but he was probably in his early twenties and so was much closer in age to Victory’s nineteen. He was also a damn sight more suitable for her than a cynical duke who owned and ran a club that provided ladies to have sex with any gentleman who put forward the coin to pay for it.
Gabriel straightened. “I have somewhere else I need to be.” Somewhere, anywhere, away from the agony of being with Victory but not in the way his body and heart ached to be. “Perhaps Jimmy would like to accompany you in the carriage back to Blackborne House so that the two of you might continue your conversation?” He turned the screw on his own, unacceptable, jealousy.
“I can’t jist now,” Jimmy refused regretfully. “The lads is expectin’ me back at St Giles.”
“Of course they are.” Victory did not appreciate the duke’s effort to foist her off on poor Jimmy. “I appreciate your having spared the time to come here today at all.”
“’Is Grace invited me,” Jimmy revealed almost shyly.
Victory glanced up at Blackborne from beneath the brim of her bonnet. Despite the circumstances of them being in this graveyard, the duke continued to hold himself aloof from her, his appearance and manner every bit as cold and distant as it had been these past two days.
Since he kissed her.
Victory hadn’t slept well at all the night after that kiss. Not because her bed wasn’t the softest and most comfortable one she had ever slept in, but because she had been unable to stop thinking about Gabriel, that kiss, and her heated reaction to it.
She had not been best pleased the following day when, having been medically examined by a courteous Lord Benedict Winter and declared healthy, the duke had left the house with the other man after tersely informing her he would not be back until late afternoon.
Nor had her mood improved when a dressmaker arrived shortly afterward. The middle-aged woman then proceeded to measure every inch of Victory before altering several gowns she had brought with her so they fit Victory’s slender figure. The dark green cloak, lined with the softest silk, had not needed to be altered.
The seamstress had been followed by a bootmaker.
Then came a milliner with several hats and ornate pins to adorn her short curls.
When the duke did eventually arrive home, he had retired straight to his study. He had not so much as mentioned the change in Victory’s appearance in her new dress when they later ate dinner together. Instead, his mood had been both cold and taciturn before he once again retired to the privacy of hi
s study.
He had been out again all day yesterday, but had once again arrived home late in the afternoon. Victory had been struck dumb when he told her of the arrangements for her mother’s funeral today. By the time she came out of her surprised stupor, Gabriel had left the house again and that night had not returned in time for dinner.
The duke’s obvious avoidance of her company these past two days made it apparent how deeply he regretted having kissed her.
Or inviting her into his home at all.
Nor had he made an effort to follow through on training her in the duties she would take up as his secretary.
Confirming he had only suggested it out of pity in the first place?
Victory believed so.
Indeed, she now wondered if it would not be better for both of them if she removed herself from Gabriel’s life altogether and returned to St Giles with Jimmy. Spending any more time at Blackborne House was only delaying the inevitable.
“That was very kind of him.” Victory avoided looking at “’Is Grace” when she answered Jimmy. Instead, she stepped forward to link one of her arms through the younger man’s. “Ride in the carriage with me, and I shall drop you off at St Giles on my way ho—back to the duke’s residence.” She smiled warmly at Jimmy.
He gave a happy grin. “Now yer talking!”
“I shall not be home late,” Gabriel put in abruptly.
Victory’s expression cooled when she turned to look at him. “Do not hurry back on my account, Your Grace. I am grateful for all that you have done today, but no doubt you have much to keep you occupied for the rest of the afternoon and evening,” she dismissed before turning to walk to the waiting carriage, an excited Jimmy bouncing on his toes at her side.
* * *
“You seem a little morose this evening, Your Grace.”
Gabriel looked up from behind the desk in his office at Club Venus to see Evesham leaning against the doorframe. “I attended a funeral this afternoon,” he said to excuse his dour mood.
Because it was an excuse. He had felt sad for Victory today, of course, but it had been her dismissal of him after the funeral, along with the way she and Jimmy had happily gone off together, which now accounted for his taciturn mood.
“Oh dear.” Evesham stepped farther into the room. “Anyone I know?”
Gabriel smiled slightly. “I doubt it.” He determinedly shook off his despondency. “And please do away with the formality and call me Gabriel.”
The other man nodded. “Peregrine.”
“Do not take offence at the question, Peregrine, but I was wondering, when you were thinking of moving back to Evesham House?” Gabriel knew that the younger man preferred to live in his own London residence rather than Newnham House, the official residence of his father, the long-absent-from-London Earl of Newnham. “To my knowledge, you have barely left the four walls of Club Venus this past week.”
Evesham grinned. “No offense taken,” he assured. “And the answer is, what single gentleman in his right mind would have given any thought as to when he was going to leave here?” He perched a lean hip against Gabriel’s desk. “I have everything I could possibly want: amiable ladies, a good brandy, warmth, and congenial male company.” He gave Gabriel an acknowledging nod of his head on the last statement.
Gabriel could still see the lingering discoloration of the bruising Evesham had received during the beating the previous week. Nor could he exactly blame the younger man for his reluctance to leave here. Outside of Club Venus were the dangerous London streets and, for Evesham, only an empty house to look forward to.
Gabriel’s own house was no longer empty, but the temptation waiting for him there was more dire than his previous loneliness.
“You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish,” Gabriel invited, knowing that the ladies were as partial to Evesham’s company as he was to theirs. But there had been no further bothersome incidents these past few days, and Evesham had a life outside of this club. “I was merely asking because, grateful as I am for your assistance these past three nights, I did not wish to keep you from your own responsibilities.”
The younger man raised fair brows. “What kept you away so long?”
“I believe I am to blame for that.”
Gabriel stood abruptly at the sound of Victory’s voice, a dark scowl creasing his brow when he saw her standing in the still-open doorway of his office. The green cloak was wrapped around her, but Gabriel could clearly see the man’s white linen shirt and pantaloons she wore beneath it. She wore no bonnet, but the dark curls surrounding her face announced her femininity, despite the male attire.
He crossed the room quickly. “What the hell are you doing here, and dressed like that?” he demanded as she stepped into the room. “Who is responsible for letting you in here?” He looked out into the empty hallway as if he would find the answer to his question there. When none was forthcoming, he reached out to slam the door closed before his furious gaze returned to Victory. “When I find out who it was, I will have his or her guts for garters!” he promised.
Victory wrinkled her nose at the gruesome image his words presented. Nor was she in the least cowed by his threats. “I let myself in, Your Grace, and no one seemed inclined to stop me,” she added with triumphant satisfaction.
The duke glowered down at her. “What do you mean by coming here wearing those clothes?” he pressed.
Her chin rose. “I am come to inform you that, grateful as I was for your assistance these past few days, it is time I returned from whence I came. As for the new clothes you acquired for me… I am only taking the things I am wearing. If you wish for those to be returned to you too, then I shall see to it as soon as I am able to obtain—”
“Keep the damned clothes!” he dismissed harshly. “You should not have come here.”
“Why is that?” she scorned.
“Because—” The duke broke off his tirade to turn and look at the other gentleman in the room. “I could do with some privacy to speak to…to Miss Jones, if you please, Evesham.”
The man called Evesham nodded. “In that case, I shall join the ladies for a time and then perhaps take your advice, Blackborne, and return home for the night.” The other man straightened from leaning against the desk, obviously having been enjoying listening to their exchange. He was younger than the duke by some years, his features pleasantly attractive. His hair shone golden in the candlelight, his blue gaze warm as he stopped to bow formally to Victory on his way to the door. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Jones.”
Victory, aware of the mischief gleaming in those bright eyes, was not fooled for a moment that this courtesy was meant as any more than a tease at the older man. “Likewise,” she drawled knowingly, waiting only long enough for Evesham to have strolled from the study and closed the door behind him before she turned back to the scowling Gabriel. “He seems like a pleasant young man.”
“Many ladies think so, yes,” Gabriel dismissed harshly. “But at the moment, I am more interested in receiving an answer from you to my question.”
Victory raised a dark brow. “Which question would that be? If it is who let me in or what am I doing here, then I believe I have already answered both those questions.”
“Not to my satisfaction,” he assured her coldly. “If, as you stated, you have decided to leave Blackborne House, then surely whatever you have to say on the matter could have waited until I returned home.”
She shrugged. “Considering your long absences these past two days, I could not be sure when that would be. Or if”—she raised her chin—“you would be returning at all this evening.”
“So you decided not to wait, but to seek me out here instead!”
“I am aware from our many conversations, when I was still only the urchin Vic, that this is where you spend most of your evenings and the early hours of the morning.”
Gabriel’s scowl deepened. “Did seeing Jimmy again earlier today prompt this sudden desire to return to St Giles?”
She snorted. “His informing me that you had told him to allow someone else to move into my room in St Giles certainly contributed to it.” Victory’s chest quickly rose and fell in her agitation. “I told you from the first day that it is the only home I have.”
“So your wanting to leave Blackborne House has nothing to do with seeing Jimmy again?”
She gave a puzzled shake of her head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
The duke’s brow cleared. “Blackborne House is now your home.”
She grimaced. “I don’t think so.”
“What is wrong with living there?” he demanded sharply.
“It would take far too long for me to answer that question, Your Grace.”
“Try!”
Her nostrils flared. “The most obvious answer is that it is your home and not mine.”
“I invited you to stay—”
“Did you?” She unfastened the cloak and threw it onto the chair in front of his desk. “Or did you act with your usual arrogance and just carry me off to Blackborne House, and then proceed to hire a seamstress, bootmaker, and milliner to clothe me, without so much as asking or considering what I thought was best for me?”
“Staying at Blackborne House and being suitably clothed as a female is what’s best for you!”
“In your opinion.”
“Why are you suddenly being so bloody unreasonably?”
Her eyes widened in accusation. “If I am behaving unreasonably, then you have behaved in as arrogantly high-handed fashion as seems to be your usual manner.”
“And how did I do that?”
Her chin set mulishly. “In all the ways I have already stated. You certainly had no right to instruct Jimmy to give my room in St Giles to someone else without consulting me.”
Gabriel’s nostrils flared and he was breathing deeply through his nose as the two of them glared at each other. “I had already informed you that you would not be returning there.”
Gabriel's Torment (Regency Club Venus 2) Page 7