She took the box in her long, elegant fingers, carefully unwrapping the twine and then the brown paper, before carefully folding it on the desk beside her. It was as though Gabriel couldn’t bring his gaze away from those hands, as he pictured them on his neck, running down his chest, and further, down to—
“Oh, Gabriel.”
Her voice, low and throaty, brought him out of his reverie. Her gaze was in her lap, staring into the box she held, now open to reveal the contents within. Slowly, she reached inside, lifting out a writing set. She set the items upon the desk—the feather quill pen, nib pen, ink well, and blotter, arranging them just so.
She picked up the pen, running her fingers tenderly over the blue-green feather.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered almost reverently. Gabriel resisted the urge to smile in satisfaction. “Is this from a peacock?”
“It is,” he nodded, steepling his fingers together in front of his face.
Elizabeth was about to return the pen to the holder when she eyed it more carefully, turning it one way and then the next.
“Gabriel,” she said slowly, “This feather is from a right wing, is it not?”
When she turned to look at him now, he nodded.
“As much as you try to hide it, I am well aware of your tendencies to write with your left hand—a practice your parents surely attempted to change?”
“They did,” she said, her cheeks coloring. “I am perfectly able to write with my right hand but… you are correct. I do prefer the left. It is easier. How did you know?”
He shrugged. “By watching you. Whenever you think no one is looking, you write with your left hand, and then when you know others are watching, you switch to your right. You also tend to use your left hand in other actions as well, though you likely do not even know it.”
Her face turned even redder at his words, which somewhat disconcerted him.
“I apologize, Elizabeth, I didn’t mean to offend you—”
“Oh, you didn’t, not at all,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I suppose I simply wasn’t aware that you—or anyone—had actually noticed at all.”
“Of course I noticed,” he said softly. “I notice everything.”
She looked up at him then, catching his eye, and he tried to determine what her gaze was telling him. It seemed to hold partial respect for his observations, and yet some wariness as well—as though it concerned her that he kept such a diligent eye upon her.
While she stared at him, Elizabeth was absently running her fingers over the holder, and she must have felt something beneath the skin of her fingertips as she broke their gaze to inspect it further.
“What is this?” she murmured, and she turned the ink well for a better look.
“Elizabeth Moreland, Senior Partner,” she read, then, feeling a matching engraving on the other side, turned it around quickly. “Thomas Clarke, Senior Partner,” she read, followed by the years her grandfather had been senior partner of the institution.
She looked up at Gabriel once more, and now her eyes were slightly shiny with the tears within.
“Where did you find this?” she asked, her voice nearly breaking, though she was able to maintain control.
“I had it commissioned,” he said with a smile. “I thought it would be a reminder to you of the connection you had—and still do—with your grandfather. He would be very proud of you, Elizabeth.”
“You sound like my grandmother,” she said with a bit of a laugh, though he could tell she was trying to swallow the tears that threatened.
“I will consider that a compliment,” he returned, “For your grandmother is a very wise woman.”
They shared a smile at that, and then she turned to look back down at the set in front of her. As she did, her eyes must have rested on the letter below the set.
“Gabriel,” she said, her voice a bit desperate now, “What am I to do with this bank? With having to answer the questions coming my way, proving myself, protecting my family after Henry’s inquisition, and mollifying the clients who wish to leave?”
He stood and took a few steps forward before leaning overtop of her. He lifted his index finger to rest underneath her chin, tipping it up to look at him.
“You continue to do what you are doing, Elizabeth,” he said fiercely. “Be the woman you are—the strong, confident woman who has this in hand. Prove your worth. Meet with clients. And demonstrate that people like your cousin are wrong. Clients will remain with this bank. If they choose not to, it is their loss, and then more will come in their place. Whatever you do, do not let rats like Henry Clarke destroy your confidence.”
“If this bank fails,” she said slowly. “Then we will all lose, more than just the bank, but our very livelihoods outside of it. You have the most to lose.”
“I know that,” he said, keeping his gaze intent upon her. “I knew that when I accepted the partnership, and I am aware of it still. However, I am not at risk of losing everything, not with the small size of my share. You, however, could very well lose all.”
“Until a few months ago, I had nothing,” she said. “Now it seems everything is at risk.”
He paused for a moment, unsure of whether she meant anything further than what her grandfather had bestowed upon her. She couldn’t have meant anything to do with him—could she?
She smiled at him now, the smile of a woman who had lost some of the tension of the worries she held. Whether or not she completely believed in what he had said to her, he had no idea, but he hoped so.
“Thank you, Gabriel,” she said. “For everything.”
He withdrew his finger, though only to slowly stroke her cheek with it, and while she didn’t lean into his caress, neither did she turn away, offering him a bit of hope. He was falling for this woman all over again, which both excited and scared him in equal measure.
He knew she didn’t trust him, and he was worried that if he pushed too hard to win her hand, she would push back in equal measure, creating a chasm he would never be able to cross again. He would have to win her back slowly, a little at a time. First, however, he had to determine if that was his goal at all. Did he truly want her again? Could he, after all they had been through together? For if he did, it would be forever. He would have to forsake all others, and there would be no turning back.
Before he did anything further in the here and now that either of them might regret, he carefully extricated his hand, nodded his head, and wished her good day before he strode to the door. He paused with his hand upon the handle, took one final, long look back at the confusion now reigning upon her face, and then strode out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel became a frequent visitor over the next few weeks—and Elizabeth was as confused as ever. She waited for him to attempt to steal another kiss or to vocalize his intentions toward her, but he did nothing of the sort, which disconcerted her more than any actions actually could. For she didn’t know what to expect, nor how to respond. So, she did what she always had—responded with the politeness with which she was raised.
Quite often she accepted his calls with her grandmother, who welcomed Gabriel’s visits. Justine, along with her husband, had been aware that Elizabeth’s past relationship with Gabriel had ended abruptly, though they had never questioned why, for which Elizabeth was glad. As much as she had wanted nothing to do with the man she considered to have betrayed her, she had no wish to end the friendship he had developed with the two of them.
Now her grandmother had welcomed him back excitedly, though Elizabeth didn’t miss the looks she sent her way, in both question and encouragement.
At the parties Elizabeth chose to attend, Gabriel was always there. He would request his two dances, one always a waltz—nothing improper, and yet Elizabeth was well aware of the many questioning gazes upon her at his continued attention. Some of them were curious, yet there were many others laced with jealousy as well as undisguised ire and dislike bordering upon hatred. She knew Gabriel was a prize
which many women were clamoring to win—for themselves or for their daughters—but really, it was not as though she was stealing him from under their noses. He was the one who, as far as she could tell, seemed to be pursuing her. The issue was, she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it all.
Which was precisely the question being posed to her at this very moment by Sarah, who had arrived for an early tea before Elizabeth planned to visit the bank to take care of the day’s business.
Justine was out of the house having tea with an acquaintance, leaving Elizabeth and Sarah alone and free to converse of whatever they wished.
“I am not entirely sure what to think of his advances, for I’m not even certain I could call them that,” Elizabeth said truthfully. “He visits now and again, and we dance, we see one another at the bank on occasion, but since the day he gifted me with the pen set, it has all been quite… cordial.”
Sarah laughed lightly at that and raised an eyebrow.
“Is that not what you prefer—cordial relationships?”
Elizabeth was well aware of what Sarah was doing, and she smiled at her friend’s tone, for she knew Sarah was attempting to draw out Elizabeth’s true emotions.
“Perhaps I do,” she said with a slight shrug. “But I find myself in a state of quandary as to how to react when I am not entirely sure of what the path forward would be. If he would make a statement of courtship, then I would have the ability to rebuke him. But as it is, I cannot simply ask him to remove himself from my doorstep or refuse his arm when he offers it, now can I?”
Sarah leaned forward, her deep brown eyes as perceptive to Elizabeth’s emotions as always.
“Why would you choose to take such action?” she asked. “Do you not want Gabriel Lockridge, Duke of Clarence, to court you?”
Elizabeth sighed as she stared at the sandwich platter in front of her, which she had barely touched since she and Sarah had begun to speak of this subject.
“I cannot deny how much I am inexplicably attracted to him,” she said, biting her lip. “That enchantment, I have never been able to lose, no matter what he says or what he does. He is a handsome man, and every time I look at him all I can think of is… well…” she felt her cheeks warm. “I have rather improper thoughts. If we hadn’t the past that we do, I would not be afraid to follow through to determine if there are still emotions lurking there, but as it is, I cannot trust him, nor myself. For it would be too easy to fall for him, to allow myself to forget everything that happened before and be right back in his arms. And then where would I be? Once again, I would be with a man who had eyes for not only me but for other women as well. I could very well lose my heart, but even more than that—I could, perhaps, lose all my grandfather has built, for would a duke truly want a wife who was also the senior partner of a bank?”
Sarah smiled softly and tilted her head to the side as she studied Elizabeth.
“I understand your dilemma, truly I do,” she said. “Once trust is broken, it is a very difficult thing to regain. It can only come with time, and with proof that it should be reinstated. As for what the Duke would want, well… that is a question that only he can answer. And I don’t recall saying anything about marriage.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, realizing her blunder. She shouldn’t be thinking about marriage to Gabriel, for she was not the type of woman willing to stand idly by while her husband took lovers or mistresses. And yet, she could not deny that the thought of forever with him had crept in once more.
“I only mentioned it because courting typically leads to marriage, does it not?”
“It does,” agreed Sarah. “And while I am happy to discuss all of this with you, I must say, I think there is someone else with whom you must speak.”
“You’re right,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I hate to admit it, but you are.”
“Come, now, Elizabeth, you are the senior partner of a bank. How difficult can it be to have one small conversation with a man?”
Elizabeth chuckled ruefully.
“You have no idea,” she said as the image of Gabriel came to mind. “No idea at all.”
*
When she saw him the following night at a small party of about thirty people, Elizabeth knew it was not the time for such a discussion. No, she would save it for another day, when there were far fewer people about and she had time to collect her wits.
Though it would have to be soon, for she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take questioning what she was to say, nor how he would respond. How many times had she rehearsed the words over and over within her mind? And then there was the longing… the longing she wished she could ignore, but lingered there, tempting her, taunting her as though it were alive and whispering in her ear.
This was why she had decided to keep her distance. And why she had determined that if he wasn’t going to make his intentions clear, then she would just have to take the initiative to tell him that his attentions were, unfortunately, not required, nor were they wanted.
She just wouldn’t explain that it was only her mind that had decided such things, while the rest of her was yearning for him and all that he could offer her.
But her mind was strong, she reminded herself—and it was determined.
She set her chin resolutely, lifting an invisible shield before her as she perused the attendees at tonight’s party. She noted one or two clients, with whom she would be sure to converse. There were a few who could potentially become clients as well, ones she was determined to bring to the bank to prove her worth to the rest of the partners.
Not that it was required.
Here thoughts were arrested, however, when Gabriel walked through the door. Once her eyes came to rest upon him, it was beyond her to tear them away, for it was as though they belonged upon his person—as did the rest of her.
Elizabeth remained rooted on the spot despite the fact she knew she looked a fool. She was sure she wasn’t the only woman to note Gabriel’s arrival, nor his dark chestnut locks, or the way his breeches and deep navy jacket fitted so perfectly to the planes of his body. A sculptor would so love to have him as a model, she thought, before her thoughts wandered to him as a model in the nude—a sight she hadn’t seen with her eyes in the dark of the gardens that night, but had felt underneath her fingertips.
When Gabriel caught her eye now, his own widened just a touch, and then, accompanied by his slow, seductive smile, he winked at her. Heat rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks as she realized just how obvious she had been in her perusal of him, how she was undressing him with both her eyes and her imaginings here in the middle of the receiving room. She had to get a hold of herself before she was made a fool.
She nodded at him primly before she turned, picked up a glass of lemonade from the table beside her, and fled as quickly and as she gracefully could, out the doors and into the night air of the garden for some cool, blessed relief.
*
Gabriel watched her go, pleasure coursing through him at her reaction to him. She wanted him.
It had been a slow dance, this courtship, one that was frustrating him to no end. For he, a man who had once taken pride in his ability to capture nearly any conquest he endeavored to chase, had been unable to see anyone but Elizabeth since he had come to her rescue the night of her grandfather’s funeral.
He knew she fought her own feelings toward him—he could see it in her eyes when he called upon her, when he danced with her. He could see it when she let down her guard—when she laughed at a joke he told, became entranced in a story he relayed, or widened her eyes in shock at a piece of gossip she swore she didn’t want to hear yet eagerly listened to anyway.
For then he would make the smallest motion toward her, and she would instantly tense up, as though she were remembering all of the reasons she had promised herself she would never allow him to become close again. It killed him, but he understood. Now he just had to make her forget the past and move into the future.
For as much as it pained him to admit
that one woman alone commanded his attention, it seemed he could do nothing but attempt to capture Lady Elizabeth Moreland.
Now she ran from him. He tilted his head when she contemplated her exit. Was she running from him, or wanting him to chase after her?
Gabriel sensed another gaze upon him, and he turned to find Miss Sarah Jones, Elizabeth’s friend, studying him. She could be described as plain, he thought, with her brown hair and brown eyes. But there was something interesting about her look. Her hair was soft around her face, and unlike Elizabeth’s nearly hidden freckles, those of Miss Jones were clearly speckled across her nose and over her cheeks. She didn’t look at him as most did, as though they wanted to devour him whole one way or another.
“Your grace,” she said demurely in that strange accent of hers once she saw that she had been caught, though she didn’t seem embarrassed by the fact.
“Miss Jones,” he greeted her, deciding that he could spare a moment to learn more from a friend of Elizabeth’s. “I apologize for the fact that we have not yet before met, despite the fact that we share some mutual acquaintances.”
“Primarily Elizabeth,” she said, and it seemed to Gabriel that this woman was somehow able to read beyond what a person said and into his inner thoughts—which was ridiculous, but she certainly seemed more insightful than most.
“Perhaps you can help me, Miss Jones,” he said.
“I can try.”
“As you well know, Lady Elizabeth and I have been spending time together as of late. What do you suppose she would say were we to officially court?”
Miss Jones said nothing for a moment, instead tilting her head to the side as she looked at him.
“I do not believe I am the one of whom you should be asking such a question,” she said with the slightest of smiles.
“Does she feel anything toward me?” he asked, attempting to infuse his voice with an air of nonchalance, though he knew he was opening himself up to extreme vulnerability in front of this woman, a woman he hardly knew. But he felt he could trust her, for some strange reason.
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