Sophia had already ordered the servants not to provide the Dowager Countess with more alcohol. She was glad to see their loyalty remained with her and didn’t shift back to their former mistress on Teresa’s reappearance. Fortunately, most of the footmen were unfamiliar with the Dowager Countess, but a few remained from her time, notably the butler, Finch.
“Mrs. Belmont had some good advice for me.” Sophia didn’t much care for Alva but the enemy of her enemy was her friend. “She’s the one who suggested bringing guests to fill the Dower House and is responsible for bringing us such dear new acquaintances. Plus, what would I do without my Mr. Grant?” Warmly, she reached out to squeeze Louise Walden’s hand, while flashing a smile in Grant’s direction.
Gabriel, who had been leaning against the mantel and sipping his whiskey, stepped forward and clapped Mr. Grant on the back with a tad too much enthusiasm. Sophia wondered what had gotten into him. As a host, Gabriel had almost always been top-notch, but suddenly Sophia found his manners jarring.
“Grant, you’re not drinking. Finch, fetch Mr. Grant a whiskey.”
“No thank you, my lord. I never drink while on duty.”
“Duty? This is dinner. Among friends! Walden has a whiskey in his hand, as does Markham. Or do you prefer claret? Some men can’t handle their whiskey.”
Ah, Sophia saw what Gabriel was about then. The last time she’d seen him like this was just over a year ago with Lord Ralston. Her husband was jealous. Of Mr. Grant.
“I prefer not to drink,” Grant said simply, holding his ground.
Sophia wished she could take Mr. Grant aside and tell him to let Finch bring him a watered-down whiskey to sip and placate Gabriel, but there was no opportunity.
Gabriel didn’t say another word, but he exchanged a telling glance with Mr. Walden, who clearly enjoyed and could handle his whiskey. Lord Markham looked a little less sure of himself with a half-drained glass in his hand.
To Sophia’s surprise, she heard Mr. Grant change his mind. “Very well, Mr. Finch. One whiskey, please. Straight up.”
“There’s a man for you,” Walden said. “Didn’t want to put your employer to shame, eh? I’ll wager you could drink Lord Averford here under the table. No offense, Averford. We ’mericans stick together, and you Brits are too tea and toast to make a good show of proper drinking.”
“No offense taken.” Gabriel flashed the wide, predatory grin that Sophia remembered all too well. Her stomach tightened. The evening had taken a turn for the worse. “Proper drinking? Now keep in mind that we Brits invented proper. Didn’t we, Markham? Speaking of wagers, perhaps we should play some billiards. If Markham and I beat you, you will give up the Dower House and remain here in the main house for the rest of your stay.”
“Delightful!” Louise Walden jumped up and began to clap, then covered her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I would like to stay in your beautiful house, Sophia. You’ve been so kind. But I suppose I shouldn’t hope for my husband to lose.”
Walden shook his head at his wife’s show of enthusiasm. “And if we win?”
“Your stay is free of charge. I’ll refund the money you paid to stay in the Dower House.”
Sophia felt her anger rising. He would undo all her arrangements so easily? Not only that, but after a year away from her, he would run off to manly pursuits and leave her with his mother, who he’d never even mentioned was on the way? It was all she could do to hold her tongue, but she flashed him a glare. He was already looking at her, waiting for a reaction, his eyes filled with such tenderness that she suddenly realized he was doing it for her. To free up the Dower House so that he could move his mother back where she belonged, away from them. Even if it was only a short distance…
Walden nodded, agreeable until something suddenly seemed to occur to him. “But this fellow Grant works for you. How can I be certain he’ll play fair and not throw it in your favor?”
“My honor and integrity, sir,” Grant defended himself.
“You’re fired, Grant.” Gabriel turned his eyes from Sophia to Grant.
She wasn’t sure if he was unable to face her reaction or simply giving Grant his due. Under the circumstances, Grant deserved direct eye contact. But Gabriel had to know how sacking Grant was a slight to her and all the work she had done to maintain the estate in his absence. How could he? And so flippantly? Perhaps he’d never been thinking of her at all.
“If you win, you get your job back. I’m not a monster. There, Walden, you see? The man will be fighting for his position. You have an honest chance.”
Sophia no longer knew what to think. If Gabriel won, his mother would be out of her way, at least most of the time, but Mr. Grant would be out of work. If Gabriel lost, he would be losing profit that Sophia had worked hard to gain. It seemed she would be the loser in any event. And when she finally got Gabriel all to herself, he was going to hear about it.
Six
It was well past midnight when the knock at her door roused her. She clicked on the light, reached for her silk wrapper, then changed her mind and left it. She knew Gabriel was knocking, and she had no intention of letting him in.
“Go away,” she said through the door after crossing the room. “We can talk in the morning.”
“It can’t wait. Let me in.”
“Trust me. You’re better off waiting.” The more she’d had a chance to toss and turn in the dark, thinking about his abandonment of her to go off and play billiards on a wager, the angrier she’d become.
“Sophia, please.” His fingers scratched lightly at the wood, and she imagined he leaned his head against the door on the other side.
“Good night, Gabriel.” She turned on her heel and started back to bed. The creak of the hinge made her look back to see Gabriel closing the door quietly behind him. “Gabriel! Get. Out.”
“Not until you’ve heard what I have to say.” He crossed the room, placed his hands on her shoulders, and locked his gaze on the rosy nipples standing to attention under her thin gown. “Uh.”
She blushed and crossed her arms over her chest. “They’re breasts, Gabriel. All women have them.”
“But not all of them are so extraordinary,” he mused, his eyes wide as he stared. “I imagine.”
“You imagine other women’s breasts?”
“No, I mean, I wouldn’t know from looking at them anyway. I—” He ran his hand through his fair hair, ruffling it all out of place, then met her gaze. “God, Sophia, I’ve missed you. And your perfect breasts.”
“You’ve been drinking, and now at last you’ve remembered that I live here too.” Under her gown, she tapped her foot on the wood floor.
“I haven’t had much to drink. Not really.” He walked to the sitting area in the corner of her room and perched on an ottoman, tugging at his undone necktie. Perhaps his jacket lay abandoned in a corner of the billiard room. He wore only his white shirt, untucked, over his trousers. And the tie that he removed and tossed on one of her chairs. “And you’ve been on my mind all night. I’ve really made a mess of things.”
She raised a brow. “I would say so.”
“I wanted to be alone with you. Only you. So we could talk and work things out.”
“You think a single conversation will fix all that we have wrong between us?”
“Of course not. Well, maybe. I could hope. But suddenly there were my mother and Lord Markham, and it all went downhill from there.”
“You should have told me about your mother.”
He arched a golden brow. “You might have mentioned inviting Charles.”
She tipped her head. “I didn’t invite him. Not exactly. He spoke of missing Yorkshire, and I said that he was welcome to visit. I hardly thought he would travel up immediately. At any rate, failing to mention an evening’s candid conversation with Lord Markham is hardly as large an omission as you not telling me about
the imminent arrival of your mother.”
“Isn’t it?” He stood. “You told him about us, Sophia. Personal things. And how was I to know that Mother’s arrival was imminent? She was shopping in Paris. It usually takes her weeks.”
She gasped. “Did Charles say as much? That I revealed personal details? Over billiards with a stranger in the room?”
Gabriel closed the distance between them and held two fingers in front of her nose. “Two. Two strangers. I don’t know your Mr. Grant any better than I know Hugh Walden. Charles said that you confided in him. That’s all. But he said it with the kind of sympathetic glance that made it seem to be coming from one divorced man to another, as if we now share some sort of unfortunate brotherhood.”
“You’re reading into it.” She reached out to him, forgetting her intention to keep her distance. “It’s not as bad as all that between us, certainly.”
Had he ever considered divorce, if he believed her guilty of doing the same? Her stomach tensed, uneasy. She wished he would take her in his arms and hold her as tightly as he could and never let go. She couldn’t just throw herself at him. Not without knowing how he felt.
He didn’t reach for her. “I don’t want to believe it is, but you were shooting daggers at me with your eyes. I was only trying to find a way to get my mother out of your house.”
Her house. It sounded good to hear him say it. It was indeed her house, more than it had ever been before he’d run off. She’d made it truly her own, and she never meant to part with it again, at least not for long.
“Did you win?” She looked up at him, half hopeful, half afraid. She could write Grant a stellar recommendation and insist they fire Kenner too and take on the hiring of new people together. A new beginning.
“Of course not.” He waved an arm. “I had to lose. As soon as I set the terms, I knew I had to lose. We’ve met the Waldens. We’re friends now. It wouldn’t be right to charge our friends money to visit us.”
“No, you’re right.” She realized he had been thinking more clearly than she’d imagined all along. “I do like Louise. And Hugh. He’s got a sense of humor. Once I met them, it felt odd to think of them paying to be our guests.”
He smiled and reached for her again, running his palms over the thin silk of the sleeves of her nightdress. “There. We’ve made a decision together. It feels right, doesn’t it? Working together instead of alone—or worse, against each other.”
“What decision? You decided the outcome over billiards.”
“Not really.” He hazarded a step closer. “I did lose. But we’ve agreed that it doesn’t feel right to charge people to stay in the Dower House.”
“It doesn’t feel right to charge the Waldens.” Allowing people to stay at the Dower House in exchange for money wasn’t a bad plan in general. It had brought in some necessary income. She simply had to make it a point not to meet the people staying there.
“If we cancel the remaining reservations, we can send Mother back to where she belongs. Don’t we both want to be rid of Mother?” He stepped even closer so that she could feel his warm length against her.
“Of course, but—”
He placed a finger to her lips. “Hush, love. I think we’ve done enough talking for the night.”
Oh, so he was the one who got to decide when the conversation was over? Just like that? She shook her head. “No. I’m not done. I wouldn’t feel right charging the Waldens, but Mr. Grant and I went to a lot of trouble to set up the rest of the reservations and—”
“Don’t fret. He’ll be here to cancel them all. I’ve given Mr. Grant his job back. I never really meant to take it away from him. I’ll explain it all in depth to him tomorrow. But now, the night is for us.”
Dazed, she looked up at him. He hadn’t changed entirely, but there was a hint of the exotic about him now, perhaps a trace of sandalwood in his cologne. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he studied her face, focusing on her lips. His breathing slowed. A hand strayed from her arm to her breast, where he brushed a rose-tipped peak through her gown.
She felt an urgent tightening between her legs. “Gabriel, it’s probably not a good idea to lose ourselves in—”
“So perfect,” he said. “I’ve been waiting so long to be with you again. I don’t think I can bear one more night apart from you. Please, Sophia. Let me sleep here with you.”
“Sleep. Here?” she repeated, as if falling into a haze, drawn through his golden fringe of lashes to drown in his brown velvet gaze. Her whole body seemed to have come to life, blood thrumming, sweeping away from her brain to more sensitive areas…areas begging to be touched. His mouth met hers in slow, tender exploration.
She could barely control her own response to him, the overwhelming need. Her knees nearly buckled. Her hips swayed, arching toward his solidity. It was madness, this. Delicious, intoxicating madness. And for a moment, she’d been ready to let it take over.
The moment passed. Some little bit of sense that remained with her bubbled to the surface, breaking the spell. She placed a hand to his chest. “No. It’s too soon. There’s too much between us, too much that we need to work out.”
“We will. But for now…” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, mouth hovering all too near.
His lower lip quivered, tempting her to kiss him again. But she would not surrender. She took his hands for no other reason than to keep them off her. One touch and she would be lost. “We can’t expect physical gratification to obliterate all the problems between us.”
He sighed, but hope still lit his eyes with a golden spark. “You enjoyed making love with me. Once.”
She blushed. “I enjoyed it more than once. I enjoyed it every time, to be honest, but—”
“Then, why? Why push me away and pretend not to care for it? Why go to bed sobbing, alone, aching for love when I wanted so badly to give it to you? All those years, Sophia.”
“You knew about the sobbing?”
“I could hear you. I’m right next door.”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, unable to look at him while confessing. “Grief, certainly later on. Before that, following bad advice. I was a fool. I was young. I-I can’t even imagine what I was thinking sometimes. But that’s all behind us now, isn’t it?” They had a whole new set of issues, or so it seemed. New obstacles to climb. Possibly insurmountable.
“I hope it is. I want us to have this.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “But I can respect your wishes. I’ll wait. Whatever it takes. We can undo all the damage we’ve done, and we can be stronger for it.”
A delicate curl of heat smoldered from the glowing ember of hope within her, even as an icy snake of fear coiled in her belly ready to extinguish all possibilities. “What if it can’t be undone, the damage? What if we find that we’ve never really been suited for each other?”
“Darling, how could you doubt it? Remember our first time?”
She nodded, her heart hammering against her rib cage. “Of course, but we’ve both changed so much. Everything has changed.”
“And yet, so much remains the same. Let me show you.” He did not wait for an answer but urged her up against the wall between the windows at the side of her bed, stretching her arms up over her head and pinning them there with one hand, while the other hand stroked the length of her body and his mouth claimed hers with a fiery intensity. His palm scorched her flesh through her gown, his fingers pausing at her navel before dipping lower to her mound, where they teased at her cleft.
Her breath caught in her throat, her approval trapped there with it. “Yes,” she was about to cry. “Yes and yes and yes!” But he stopped abruptly, ending the kiss and drawing his hand from her. She shifted her hips, seeking his return.
Without a word, he began to back away, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. At the door, he paused. “Good night, sweet wife. And pleasant
dreams.”
* * *
Gabriel’s new motto, dreamed up as he walked away from Sophia, was “actions over words.” Clearly, he had far greater success when he allowed his actions to do the talking for him. With words, she always managed to gain the upper hand. But with actions? She was powerless to resist him.
Actions spoke louder than words after all, didn’t they? He couldn’t remember who first said it, but he found himself in full agreement. Every argument he had to work his way into her bed could be met by a counterpoint, but that kiss? The kiss had her on the verge of saying yes. He could practically taste it on her tongue. But the risk was too great that she would regret it in the morning and all progress would be lost.
No, better to let her simmer, remembering the sensations that only he could give her, even if it was extraordinary torture for himself. In the throes of the raging need that gripped him, he would never be able to sleep without resorting to drastic measures. All too well, he had come to know the feel of his own hand. He wanted more. He wanted his wife’s touch. Soon.
“Confidence,” his father had always told him, “is the key to getting anything you want in life. A confident man always wins the day.”
“A rich man wins the day,” Marcus had always scoffed behind Father’s back. “A man with full pockets and a title can afford to be confident.” That was his younger brother, one to question everything he didn’t read in books. Marcus had always possessed a natural ability to know how to act and what to say in most circumstances. Gabriel lacked such charm.
But he found that Father’s advice worked to make up for what he lacked. No matter how self-conscious he’d felt at his core, he’d taken to putting on an air of superiority and carrying himself as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d been the Baron of Travers, heir apparent to the Earl of Averford, too important to be overlooked. And now that he was the earl, pity to the man or woman who dared to cross him.
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