The Lady Forfeits

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘You—’

  ‘Now,’ he demanded.

  With a flounce of her skirt the young beauty turned and preceded them into a room decorated in browns and golds, the fire burning in the hearth doing little to alleviate the chill in the atmosphere, however.

  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed to glittering slits. ‘I believe I asked after my mother’s health.’

  The woman’s mouth thinned. ‘Felicity is as well as can be expected.’

  ‘What exactly does that mean?’ he asked.

  She shrugged creamy shoulders. ‘Felicity has become fragile since your father died. In fact, she retired to her rooms following his funeral. She now rarely, if ever, leaves them.’

  ‘No doubt giving you leave to take over as mistress here?’ Gabriel said contemptuously.

  ‘How exactly like you to blame others for what we all know to be the results of your own misdeeds!’ she came back waspishly.

  Gabriel did not react by so much as a twitch of an eyebrow at the mention of his father’s death, or of how his mother’s grief at that death had been so extreme that she had retired completely from all society, although both pieces of information managed to pierce the shield he had placed so firmly about his emotions. His father had always been something of a strict adherent of the rules of society, and his mother more of a social butterfly, but it had been an attraction of opposites, their deep and abiding love for each other obvious to all around them.

  Was Gabriel to blame? If he had not allowed himself to be banished eight years ago, would things be different now? Would his father still be alive and his mother’s joy of life still touch everyone and everything around her?

  ‘Would you care to make the introductions, Gabriel?’

  He dragged himself back from those thoughts of the past with effort at this gentle reminder of his manners from Diana, looking first at the woman who eyed him so hostilely from across the room, and then down at his bride-to-be as her hand rested lightly upon his arm.

  ‘Diana, this is Mrs Jennifer Prescott, the wife of my Uncle Charles. Mrs Prescott, I present my betrothed, Lady Diana Copeland.’ He made the introductions brief and to the point.

  Diana stared at him blankly for several long seconds, before turning to look at the other woman, unable to hide the incredulity in her gaze at the realisation that the young, incredibly beautiful woman standing beside the fireplace was married to his uncle. A woman Gabriel had wished never to see or hear of ever again…

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Mrs Prescott.’ Diana’s curtsy was perfunctory at best as she tried to dismiss her previously formed opinion that Mrs Charles Prescott would be a plump and matronly woman. Had Gabriel not told her that his uncle was his mother’s brother; surely implying that he would be a gentleman in his forties at the very least? The beautiful woman who had now been introduced to her as that gentleman’s wife was aged only in her mid to late twenties.

  ‘Lady Diana.’ Mrs Prescott gave a terse inclination of her head rather than returning her curtsy.

  Diana was very aware of Gabriel’s tension as her hand rested in the crook of his arm, like that of a wild beast prepared to spring in defence should the need arise. Did he fear that it might? She felt the return of those misgivings she had experienced when first entering this house, knowing she had been wrong to dismiss them; there was something seriously amiss in this household, something that lay quiet and patiently waiting in its darkest corners.

  She longed to escape, if only briefly. ‘Gabriel, I believe I would prefer to freshen up after our journey rather than take refreshment.’

  He appeared not to hear her for several long seconds, his gaze locked in silent battle with that of his beautiful aunt by marriage, then slowly Diana felt some of the tension ease from his arm as he turned to look down at her between hooded lids.

  Even so, his jaw remained tightly clenched as he answered her. ‘I am sure that Mrs Prescott will be only too happy to excuse us both.’

  Irritation flickered across that beautiful face even as she rang for the butler. ‘I would be happier if you had never come here at all,’ she spat.

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he allowed. ‘I take it my mother still occupies the same suite of rooms?’

  ‘Of course.’ Mrs Prescott frowned. ‘But I do not advise that you attempt to visit her this evening, Gabriel. Felicity always dines early and she has already been settled for the night—’

  ‘I believe it is for me to decide if and when it is advisable that I visit my mother this evening and not the empty-headed woman married to my uncle,’ he said savagely.

  ‘You are insolent, sir!’ she said in outrage.

  He quirked challenging brows. ‘How clever of you to realise that I am not the same idealistic young man you knew so long ago who was forced to have to leave.’

  She glared at him. ‘It was by your own choice, sir.’

  ‘I found the alternative contemptible,’ Gabriel said silkily.

  Jennifer Prescott released a hissing breath. ‘You—’

  ‘Where is my dear Uncle Charles this evening?’ Gabriel interrupted, aware of how unfair it was to Diana to continue this conversation in which she had no part.

  Mrs Prescott’s chin tilted. ‘My husband departed for London yesterday with the intention of spending several days there.’

  ‘For business or pleasure?’

  ‘Business, of course.’

  There was no ‘of course’ about it in Gabriel’s eyes; his uncle had always been an inveterate gambler. ‘I had not realised that my uncle still had any business interests in town.’ Having no interest in accidentally meeting his uncle or his young wife at some tonnish affair, Gabriel had made discreet enquiries about Charles since returning to England, unsurprised to learn that he spent most of his time in Cambridgeshire and ventured to town only occasionally. Occasions when he invariably lost at the gambling tables.

  ‘He does not.’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘Charles and I gave up our own home after your father died and your mother took to her rooms; we moved here so that I might take over the running of the house and Charles could manage Felicity’s estates and business interests,’ Jennifer Prescott informed him haughtily.

  Gabriel continued to view her with scorn. There was no doubting that she was more beautiful than ever or that her youthfully slender curves had matured into those of a voluptuous and desirable woman. But it was a beauty that held no appeal for him, however, distrusting as he did every word and gesture the woman made. Yet having made the mistake of underestimating her once, he had no intention of doing so a second time.

  ‘No doubt Charles has taken every opportunity in which to line his own pockets,’ Gabriel said drily. It seemed that Alice Britton’s politely worded letters concerning the state of affairs at Faulkner Manor had perhaps underestimated the situation, after all.

  The colour faded from Jennifer Prescott’s cheeks as she gasped. ‘You go too far!’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Do I?’ Dark blue eyes warred silently with those liquid brown ones until Reeve’s entrance, in answer to her earlier summons, abruptly broke that tension as she was forced to turn away and issue the instruction to take Gabriel and Diana to their bedchambers.

  The brief respite allowed Gabriel several seconds in which to regain his now habitual remoteness. He had not wanted to come here. Would not have come here if it were not for Diana’s interference.

  A fact she no doubt now regretted almost as much as he!

  ‘There must be a vast number of years between your Uncle Charles and his wife.’ It was a statement rather than a question. Diana looked on in concern as Gabriel paced the bedchamber with restless energy.

  It had been something of a surprise to Diana to learn that the green-and-gold bedchambers Gabriel had requested be made ready for them were actually adjoining rooms, the door between the two rooms standing open, a fact that he had taken advantage of the moment the
butler departed.

  There was no doubting that the arrangement was slightly improper, implying as it did an intimacy between them that did not exist. But at the same time, still disturbed by the undercurrents in this household, Diana felt comfortable with the knowledge that Gabriel was but a room’s width away if she should need him.

  Neither of them had as yet taken advantage of the warm water that had already been brought up to the bedchambers along with their luggage; instead, Diana had dismissed her maid before sitting down heavily upon the bed to watch Gabriel begin that silent pacing.

  He glanced at her now. ‘Almost thirty, I believe.’

  ‘You do not seem particularly fond of your aunt…’

  ‘How very astute of you to notice!’

  She frowned at the sarcasm in Gabriel’s tone. ‘Why did you not simply explain to me, when we received Miss Britton’s first letter, the complexity of the situation here?’

  He became suddenly still. ‘What situation?’

  ‘To begin with, that your uncle’s wife was not the contemporary of your mother that I had thought her to be?’ Diana grimaced. She knew it was not so unusual to find elderly men of the ton married to much younger women, but even so…

  ‘As I have already stated—to you, to Caroline and to Mrs Prescott—I believe I am not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone.’

  Diana could only imagine the circumstances under which he had told the outspoken Caroline that! ‘Surely you must have known I would be surprised to find Mrs Prescott so young in years?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  There was no ‘perhaps’ about it in Diana’s eyes. ‘And she and your uncle have resided here with your mother since your father died?’

  ‘So it would seem.’ His mouth twisted with distaste.

  ‘But surely it was kind of your aunt and uncle to give up their own home in order to live here and care for your mother?’ she said uneasily.

  ‘A word of advice, Diana—do not believe everything that you hear here.’ Gabriel looked down at her intently. ‘Most especially do not believe anything that Mrs Prescott has to say.’

  Diana’s eyes widened. ‘I do not understand…’

  ‘Then permit me to explain,’ he said. ‘Mr and Mrs Prescott did not give up their home and move here out of concern for my mother. I made it my business to know that their house, along with everything else of value, was reclaimed by the bailiffs in order to pay off Charles’s considerable gambling debts.’

  Diana blinked. ‘And now you believe him to be lining his own pockets with your mother’s inheritance?’

  ‘Let us hope not too deeply.’ He frowned. ‘I believe my father knew his brother-in-law well enough to have left his will in such a way as to make it impossible for anyone but my mother to touch the capital.’

  ‘I realise this situation is not ideal, Gabriel, but perhaps, now that we have come here,’ Diana ventured softly, ‘we should try to make the best of it.’

  ‘Is there a best of it?’ Gabriel came to an abrupt halt in front of her. ‘If there is, then I wish you would tell me what it is.’

  Diana gave an inward wince, knowing she fully deserved his displeasure when she had flouted his wishes and succeeded in bringing them both to this cold and inhospitable household to which he had once belonged.

  Indeed, she could see only one positive aspect to this mess.

  ‘Hopefully, you will be able to make your peace with your mother, at last.’

  He sighed. ‘How youthfully naïve you are, Diana.’

  She looked at him searchingly, sensing a wealth of pain beneath his words. ‘May I…would you like me to come with you when you visit with your mother?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘Gabriel—’

  ‘Diana?’

  She frowned at the unmistakable mockery in his rebuke. ‘If I am to become your wife, then surely my place is at your side?’

  He looked down at her between narrowed lids. ‘When you are my wife your place will not be at my side, but beneath me in my bed!’

  Diana felt the warmth of the colour that darkened her cheeks at his deliberate crudeness. ‘I understand the reason for your anger, my lord—’

  ‘Anger?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘I assure you, what I feel at this moment is far too fierce to be called anything as lukewarm as anger!’

  Once again she was aware of a rivulet of sensation down the length of her spine as she looked up into the burning intensity of those indigo-coloured eyes. But it was not just that icy shiver of apprehension she had experienced earlier. She and Malcolm had been friends and then sweethearts for years. Her acquaintance with this man had been only a matter of days, and yet in that brief time Diana had felt more of a sexual awakening than she had ever known in Malcolm’s youthfully inexperienced arms. In years Gabriel was not so much older than Malcolm, yet he far outstripped him in sophistication and experience; he had kissed Diana more deeply, touched her more intimately, than anyone else had ever dared to do.

  As she gazed at him beneath lowered lashes, Diana knew they were kisses and caresses that she had secretly longed would be repeated and his comment just now about being in bed together had only intensified that longing…

  Instead of retreating from his anger, she instead raised her hand to lay her fingers lightly against his clenched cheek. He felt warm to the touch, his cheekbones rapier sharp beneath the skin, his eyes now so dark they appeared an inky liquid black.

  ‘I am not a cat or a dog you might tame into docility with a stroke of your fingertips, Diana!’ His voice sounded harsh in the sudden stillness that surrounded them, a nerve now pulsing in that clenched jaw.

  Her gaze softened. ‘I am not so foolish as to believe anyone could ever tame you, Gabriel,’ she said huskily.

  That nerve continued to pulse. ‘Then what is it you are attempting to do to me?’

  What was she doing? Diana questioned herself silently. She had forced him to follow here against his will. They were in a household with an unpleasant atmosphere, she was uneasy in the brittle company of the young and beautiful Mrs Prescott and she had yet to meet Gabriel’s reclusive mother. And yet at this moment, here and now, only his obvious pain seemed of any relevance to her.

  ‘I believe I am attempting to show you, no matter what you may think to the contrary, that I am not your enemy,’ she said.

  ‘I am aware of exactly what you are, Diana.’

  ‘Which is…?’

  He snorted. ‘A naïve and idealistic young lady who, despite her own experiences to the contrary, still somehow believes the situation that exists in this house could have a happy ending.’

  Gabriel had set out to wound with his harshness and knew he had succeeded as she gave a pained flinch and her fingers left his cheek to slowly drop back to her side. At the same time, he realised with a frown, removing the warmth he had briefly experienced beneath the concerned compassion of her touch.

  Damn it, he did not need anyone’s pity, least of all hers.

  Sexual passion, however, he knew from experience, allowed for very little thought other than the satisfaction of aroused desire. And he was aroused, Gabriel realised wryly; all of his recent anger and frustration was suddenly channelled into sexual awareness as he looked down at Diana beneath hooded lids. As he admired the slight dishevelment of the red-gold curls that threatened to escape their pins, the paleness of her cheeks, her neck a delicate arch above the light flush that coloured the swell of her breasts, which were visible above the low neckline of the rose-coloured gown she wore. Gabriel could easily imagine her graceful neckline adorned with pearls that bore the same delicate rosy hue as the full and tempting swell of her breasts.

  ‘Gabriel?’ Diana asked uncertainly as she obviously sensed, if not completely understood, the sudden sexual tension that had sprung up between them.

  He raised a languid gaze, noting there was now a flush to her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes, her tongue moist and pink as it swept nerv
ously across the sensual swell of her bottom lip. ‘Are you afraid of me, Diana?’ he voiced softly—aware, at this moment, that his raw emotions had stripped away his previous caution in regard to making love to her.

  Her breasts quickly rose and fell, her throat moving above them as she swallowed before speaking. ‘Should I be?’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘Undoubtedly.’

  She shook her head, unwittingly releasing several of her curls from the pins keeping them precariously in place. ‘I do not believe you would ever hurt me, Gabriel.’

  His smile became wolfish. ‘I assure you, at this moment, I am more than capable of causing someone harm.’

  Her gaze remained unwaveringly on his. ‘I did not say you were not capable of harming me, Gabriel, only that I do not believe you would ever choose to do so.’

  Then she knew more than he did himself—because at this moment he could envisage nothing he would enjoy more than to pick her up in his arms, throw her down upon the bed and rip the clothes from her body before ravishing her where she lay.

  Or, alternatively, laying her down upon the bed before releasing her hair completely and then leisurely removing every item of clothing that she wore before slowly exploring with his lips, tongue and hands every perfect, delectable inch of her.

  His hands clenched at his sides as he could almost taste her pleasure. ‘You are awakening the beast that exists in myself and every other man,’ he warned her, knowing he was seriously in danger of casting all sense aside and kissing her passionately.

  For once in her well-ordered life she did not want to behave cautiously, only wished to banish the coldness that existed between herself and Gabriel even as she hungered for the promise of passion she saw in those piercing blue-black eyes as he looked down at her so intensely.

  Many years ago her father had shown her a picture in one of the books he kept in his study of a sleek black panther; at this moment Gabriel reminded her of that big cat. Feral and sleek. Predatory. Dangerous.