“Do you plan on attending this fight yourself?” Prinhurst asked.
“And trudge out into a muddy field?” Fullton sounded affronted. “I’m thinking of sending my secretary or valet.” Dropping his cheroot, he put it out with his foot. “Shall we return indoors, gentlemen? I’d like to have a go at cards in the game room, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll partner you for whist if you like,” Carmel said as he and Prinhurst followed Fullton, neither one of them so much as glancing in Raphe and Gabriella’s direction.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Gabriella said as soon as they were alone again. “What if you lose?”
“Then so be it,” he told her dimly. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I thought you said you were likely to win. Isn’t that the whole reason why Guthrie insisted on making you fight?”
Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips and placed a tender kiss against the top of it. “Yes. But it’s as Fullton said. There are no guarantees.” Disliking the angst he saw in her eyes, he forced a smile and said, “Come, let’s go and rejoin the festivities.”
She held him back, though. “Have you spoken to Coventry and Richardson about escorting me tomorrow?”
“Gabriella—”
“Do not tell me to stay away, Raphe! Not now, after what we’ve just learned.”
The fierceness with which she spoke was soul-shattering. His heart ached, both with emotion and concern for her well-being. Still, he could not deny her request. Not when it was made with such forcefulness. “They will accompany you there as long as you agree to stay where they tell you to stay, and to leave if they feel that being there poses a threat to you in any way.”
She frowned, just as he’d thought she would, but he refused to budge. Her safety was simply too important to risk on account of anything. “Fine,” she said. She accentuated her compliance with a curt nod.
Raphe breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I hear the waltz starting. Shall we go back inside?” The lightness with which he spoke was deliberately meant to soothe her. There was no doubt that the conversation they’d overheard had put them both on edge, but unlike Gabriella, Raphe knew his own skill. He wasn’t too worried. It wouldn’t be the first time he met an opponent much larger than himself.
Still, the pleasure of finally holding Gabriella in his arms as they twirled about the dance floor calmed his nerves, distracting him from any concerns he might have for the coming day. Her hand clasped his, warm and certain, her eyes never leaving his until it felt as though it was just the two of them. His heart clenched and he drew her closer, loving the way her lips parted on an airy breath. The way he felt about her . . . it was both wonderful and terrifying, this business of letting another person govern your heart. So he chose not to put too much thought into it, and to simply feel. The ring still lay in his pocket, waiting for just the right moment.
“Gabriella.”
He didn’t even realize he’d spoken her name until she answered him.
The music slowed, drawing them to a halt and forcing him to release her. Except he found that he did not want to—he would never want to. So he stayed where he was, holding her in place, his eyes trained on hers. A second passed and then another, until he became keenly aware that they were now the center of attention. Everything had gone completely still, save for the whispered murmurs that shifted the air around them. “Gabriella,” he said again. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out the ring he’d found amidst the Huntley family heirlooms—a brilliant sapphire, surrounded by diamonds. “It would be my greatest honor if—”
“Madam! You mustn’t. Not now,” several voices spoke in a rush. The whispered murmur increased, accompanied by the rustling of fabric as guests shifted to see what was happening. Raphe stiffened, aware that one of the voices belonged to Pierson, and that he’d spoken in an uncharacteristic state of panic.
And then there was another voice, a voice Raphe had hoped never to hear again. “Darling, it’s so good to see you again after all of these years. I’m terribly sorry for my late arrival.”
Turning with rigidity, his jaw clenched until he swore his teeth might shatter from the pressure of it. He glared at the woman as she made her approach. She was dressed in a bright red gown that swooshed behind her as she walked, and about her neck she wore the pearls his father had once given her on a whim. Raphe felt his heart begin to pound and his fingers twitch with a sudden urge to tear the necklace away from her. The honorable Delilah Matthews had not just ruined his childhood, but what would have been a brilliant proposal, if she’d allowed him to finish it.
“Mother,” he said, deliberately infusing that one singular word with as much loathing as possible. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 31
It took Gabriella a moment to comprehend what was happening—the enormity of the situation. One second she’d known with certainty that she was about to become engaged to Raphe. There had been no doubt in her mind. After all, she was no longer attached to Fielding, her parents had given their approval, and the ton even seemed to be somewhat accepting of Raphe as the new Duke of Huntley—at least enough to keep any lingering biases to themselves.
But then Raphe’s mother had walked back into his life and ruined the moment with the same degree of selfishness she’d shown when she’d walked out of it. Gabriella’s spine stiffened. The mood in the room, so festive and positive just a second before, now leaned in a negative direction, the stares no longer supportive, but rather judging. She had to do something, especially since Raphe seemed incapable of acting with any decorum. Not that she blamed him. She understood the fury now emanating from his entire person. But it wouldn’t do his family or hers an ounce of good if he chose to act on it in the middle of the ballroom. Which he might, judging from his clenched fists and his obvious hostility toward the woman who stood before him, her pleasant demeanor displaying not the least bit of remorse for the way in which she’d mistreated him and his sisters.
Unsure of what to say or do, but knowing she had to act quickly, Gabriella stepped forward. A hand on her shoulder drew her back—Coventry’s, she realized—and she watched instead as her father presented himself to Mrs. Matthews. “What a delightful surprise,” he said as he bowed before her. “I daresay we all feared we’d lost you.”
“Lord Warwick,” Mrs. Matthews said, looking somewhat perplexed. “I—”
“Need a drink?” he supplied. “By all means, let us adjourn to one of the parlors. This way.”
Before Mrs. Matthews could manage a retort, he’d grabbed her by the arm and begun leading her away. She looked ready to protest quite vehemently at first, but then Warwick leaned closer, whispered something in her ear and escorted her toward the nearest exit without further signs of complaint.
Raphe marched after them with his sisters and Gabriella bringing up the rear. “Please do something,” she hastily begged of her mother in passing. “Ask the musicians to play something lively—tell Pierson to bring more champagne.” This evening would have been perfect! It should have been.
Quickening her stride, she hurried after the others. Raphe did not deserve this. Nobody did.
Would his troubles have no end? Feeling every sinew of his body stretch to the point of snapping, Raphe faced the woman who’d abandoned her family in search of a better life. “He killed himself because of you.” It was the first thought that struck him as she stood there, audaciously smiling back at him.
The smile slipped, but only for a second. “He mismanaged his money until there was nothing left, and then he borrowed—enormous amounts that I knew he’d never be able to pay back. What was I supposed to do? Follow him to debtors’ prison?”
“You had children, for God’s sake.” He could feel himself losing control, the rage rapidly building inside him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d do something rash. So he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “He did it for you, you know. You were the one who drove him to i
t with your demand for a lifestyle he couldn’t afford. All he ever wanted was to make you happy.”
Snorting, she raised her chin in a regal pose of superiority. “He was always such an optimist.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.” It was Gabriella who spoke as she stepped closer to Raphe and took him by the hand in a gesture of indisputable solidarity. “And you’re a terrible person.”
“I assume she’s yours,” Raphe’s mother said to Warwick before addressing Raphe with a smirk. “You’ve certainly set your sights high. I do commend you for that.”
“Nobody cares about your opinion,” Raphe told her darkly.
“You might when I tell you why I’ve come.” Glancing at each of them in turn, Raphe’s mother paused before saying, “I simply couldn’t stay away when I discovered what great heights my son has risen to.”
“You’re a beast,” Amelia said, speaking for the first time.
“And I’d watch that tongue, if I were you,” her mother replied. “Gentlemen don’t appreciate opinionated women with feisty temperaments. You’ll do well to remember that if you want to marry.”
“How could you abandon us? Your own children?” Juliette asked in barely a whisper. “What sort of person does that?”
“Taking you with me would not have been possible, and besides, there was no chance of you ending up in debtors’ prison. The worst outcome might have been a workhouse for Raphe, but I was confident that someone would step in and save you all if it came to that.”
“You. Were. Confident.” Raphe stared at her while imagining what it might feel like to wring her neck. “You—” He was finding it difficult to breathe. Gabriella’s hand squeezed his. “You are a vile woman.”
She didn’t even blink. “Do try to understand the situation I was in. My husband stood to lose everything. We were in dire straits, and Captain Tremaine—”
“That’s who you ran away with?” Raphe gaped at her in shock. He hadn’t known. His father had never divulged that much, but it was clear now that the betrayal had been worse than he’d ever imagined. “He and Papa were friends.”
His mother shrugged. “He offered escape—the chance to travel the world.”
“Did you ruin him, as well?”
Her mouth twisted. “Not exactly.”
“Don’t tell me.” Raphe studied her closely. There was something about her expression—a reluctance to tell him everything. “He left you.” If there was any sort of justice in the world, this still wouldn’t be enough, but it would be a start.
“In a manner of speaking.” She made an odd little wriggling movement, straightening her posture. “The specifics don’t matter. What’s important is that I’m here now, ready to resume my motherly role.”
A hush fell over the room. Raphe became acutely aware that all eyes were on him—Warwick’s, Amelia’s, Juliette’s, and Gabriella’s—all seemingly holding their breaths with the expectation of what he might say to that. Pulling himself up to his full height, he squared his shoulders and gave his mother the most deadly glower he could manage. “Are you out of your bloody mind?” His tone would cut steel. “How dare you!”
Shockingly, she did not back down, her righteous posture and upturned nose reminding him of everything he’d ever hated about the aristocracy. But it had always been her. She’d been the source of every negative thought he’d ever had. Because really, who else had he known as a boy? He hadn’t gone out in high society, had never spoken to another peer. She’d set the standard by which he’d measured the entire ton, ingraining in him a disdain that had magnified his own negative experience on account of his preconceived certainty that no aristocrat could ever be a decent person.
“Think carefully before you decide to toss me out,” she warned. “Consider the scandal.”
“It will hardly be any worse than the one you’ve just caused with your return. Everyone thought you were dead.”
“A mistake that was never rectified.”
Raphe shook his head. “No. I won’t have it. You’re not welcome here.”
A shrewd look of determination sprang to life in his mother’s eyes. “If you prefer, you may offer me a comfortable stipend, in which case I’ll happily disappear from public view to live a quiet life in the country. I’m sure you have a lovely estate just waiting to be inhabited.”
“I’m not giving you a penny,” Raphe told her harshly. “Not after what you’ve done. You don’t deserve it.”
“You’ll regret that decision,” she warned.
“No, he won’t,” Gabriella told her firmly. “You may think you can threaten him with scandal, but you can’t, not as long as he’s unafraid to face it.”
“And not as long as he has my family’s support,” Warwick chimed in.
A deep burn clasped at Raphe’s chest. Knowing that Warwick was willing to help him in this, that Gabriella would not abandon him because of it all but rather stand by his side, was incredibly moving. “What I will offer,” he managed, speaking past the knot in his throat, “is passage to America, with enough to get by on for the next year. After that, you’ll have to manage on your own.”
“Raphe,” she pleaded. “You cannot mean that. I’m your mother, after all, and—”
“My mother left us fifteen years ago. Records show that she died at sea, so as far as I know, you’re an imposter trying to take advantage. Unless you can prove your identity without question, I suggest you take the offer and leave before I decide to call the magistrate.”
“You’re making a grave mistake,” she said.
“I don’t think so. Now, what will it be? Prison or America?”
“You’re detestable!”
“I’m sure I get that from you,” he shot back without remorse.
Their eyes held each other in an unwavering glare until she finally relented and gave a nod. “Fine. Have it your way. I never loved you, anyway.”
“That, madam, is quite apparent.” Still, he’d hoped she wouldn’t have driven the knife quite so deep, not so much for his own sake, but for Amelia and Juliette’s. Glancing in their direction, he couldn’t help but notice the wide-eyed looks of horror on their faces. They shouldn’t have been here to see this—he ought to have made certain of that. But he hadn’t been thinking clearly. “I’ll have a couple of footmen escort you to the docks. They’ll wait with you until the next ship sails.”
It was a grim parting, but once it had been taken care of and they had returned to the ballroom, where several gentlemen, including Coventry, were waiting to dance with his sisters, Raphe turned to Warwick. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I cannot possibly thank you enough for your support.”
“Think nothing of it. I was more than happy to lend my help.” He looked to Gabriella for a moment before saying, “If you’ll forgive me, I would not want my daughter to have her for a mother-in-law.”
Gabriella’s mouth dropped open. “Papa!”
Raphe forced a smile. “Your father is right. I’m glad she’s gone.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been seeing her again.”
“Do you think we can talk about something else?” he asked, hoping to return to the happy state he’d been in earlier that evening. “If I recall, I was about to ask you a very important question before we were interrupted.”
“I, err—oh!” She gave her father a hasty look.
“I think I need a drink,” Warwick said with a wink before striding away and leaving the two of them alone in a corner.
Raphe gave Gabriella his full attention. The warmth in her eyes made his heart tremble. “I love you, Gabriella.” Nothing else mattered. “Please. Tell me you’ll marry me. Make me the happiest and most fortunate man in the world.”
A nod was her first response as she swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Yes,” she whispered, and then nodded again. “I would love nothing more than to be your wife.”
The moment she gave her consent, Raphe grabbed her by the hand and led her out of
the ballroom at a rapid pace. “Where are we going?” she asked, her heart thrumming with the excitement of their engagement, his declaration of love, and the anticipation of what would come next.
“To seal our agreement,” he told her roughly as he ushered her through to the back of the house. Pulling her into the library with an urgency that made her slightly lightheaded, he shut the door behind them and drew her into his arms. “Thank God,” he murmured, his warm hands sliding along her back, hugging her to him as though she were precious, as though she mattered, as though he loved her with every fiber of his being.
“Raphe.” If only words could describe how she felt about him. But she knew they would never suffice. The only way was to show him. So she pushed her hands up into his hair and dragged his mouth to hers, kissing him as though she’d just crossed the desert and found her oasis, as though her world might fall apart if she stopped. And Lord, if he didn’t kiss her back, his arms tightly wound about her torso, crushing her to him with keen desperation.
She gasped for breath and he took advantage, deepening the kiss with a ravenous hunger that dared her to follow. And follow she did, heat surging through her veins, building and burning until she thought she might melt. Her limbs grew weak, her body started to ache. “Raphe,” she repeated, the plea for something more passing her lips on a rush of air.
He drew back slightly, kissing her cheek, her jawline, her neck . . . and then he drew back some more, his breath coming hard. “I wish we were already married.”
“Why?” she asked, the wanton within overruling the lady.
His chest, so strong and firm, rose and fell with labored movements. “Because then—” Flames burned in the depths of his eyes, heating Gabriella all the way to her soul. “I would take great pleasure in undressing you, laying you bare on that sofa over there, and worshiping your body until your thoughts were of me alone and the pleasure I long to give you.”
Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t speak. The only thing she could do was think, her mind rapidly seeking a way to make his salacious suggestion possible. Good lord. What was happening to her? He was stripping away her reservations without the slightest bit of protest on her part.
A Most Unlikely Duke Page 29