He had witnessed for himself the numerous members of the ton who had laughed behind Beatrice’s back at her eccentric notions and unpolished manners. Certainly no more than a handful of notorious fortune hunters ever sought her company.
A sharp, nearly unbearable ache filled his heart.
How alone she must have felt among the glittering society. As alone as he had felt after his mother’s death.
His features twisted with a rueful regret. “And I only ensured her belief that she is unworthy,” he said roughly.
Humbly smiled sadly. “I fear so.”
“Bloody hell.” Gabriel banged his hand on the table with enough force to make the vicar nearly tumble from his chair in surprise. “Forgive me, Humbly. What a tangle this all is. I truly did not mean to bring her harm.”
“I believe you, my son,” the older man said gently.
“But will Beatrice?”
“That is in your hands.”
“So you say.” Gabriel grimaced, thinking of his wife’s icy composure. It was a wonder he did not go about with a permanent case of frostbite. “I would rather face an entire French regiment than my own wife. They were much less terrifying.”
“It is not Beatrice that terrifies you,” Humbly corrected Gabriel in firm tones.
For a moment Gabriel thought he must have misunderstood the vicar. “What?”
He gave a lift of his plump hands. “I fear it is your own sense of guilt that troubles you. When you look upon Beatrice, you worry you have sacrificed her happiness to save your estate.”
Gabriel’s hands clenched at the accusation. He did not have the luxury of possessing a guilty conscience. His heavy duty ensured that.
“I did what I had to do,” he said harshly.
“What you believed you must do,” Humbly corrected him.
Gabriel gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“And you have no regrets?”
“Of course I do,” he rasped, feeling unbearably harassed. What did this man want from him? “As I said, I never wished to hurt Beatrice. When I wed her, it was with every intention of being a kind and devoted husband.”
“And there was no guilt for having deceived her in the first place?”
Gabriel slowly narrowed his gaze. He sensed the vicar was attempting to force him to examine the complex emotions he had determinedly kept hidden deep in his heart. Emotions he was uncertain that he wanted examined.
“I believe you are a rather dangerous opponent, Vicar.”
Humbly gave a flustered wave of his hands. “No, no. Merely an old and rather foolish man.”
Gabriel smiled with wry amusement, not deceived for a moment.
“You are correct, of course,” he admitted reluctantly. “I did sacrifice Beatrice for my own selfish purposes. And I did so in a cold-blooded, methodical manner. Like the villain she has named me, I chose her deliberately because she was vulnerable and appeared to possess the qualities necessary for my countess, most important her very large dowry.”
Humbly raised his shaggy brows. “You found nothing to attract you to her beyond her money?”
Gabriel gave a restless shrug, not wishing to discuss the odd sense of awareness he had experienced when he had first been introduced to Beatrice. The vicar would think he was daft if he revealed that he had felt as if he and Beatrice were destined to be together by some mystical fate.
“I admire her intelligence, of course,” he said in carefully controlled tones. “And she has proven to be very good with the tenants and villagers. I cannot walk out the door without being told of her generosity and concern for the people of Falcon Park.” An unwittingly fond smile curved his lips. “You claim that she possesses no charm, but she has won the hearts and loyalty of the neighborhood with astonishing swiftness.”
“This pleases you?” Humbly demanded.
“Of course.” Gabriel regarded his guest with a faint frown. “It is very important that the Countess of Faulconer be respected by those who are vital to the future of our estate.”
“So, you have a beginning,” Humbly announced with a complacent smile. “You have Falcon Park between you.”
Gabriel was unimpressed with the man’s logic. “She is not likely to offer more.”
“Not without a measure of proper wooing.”
An exasperated sigh was wrenched from Gabriel’s throat. “We are back to that, eh? Gads, I feel like a raw recruit again, bumbling about with no notion of how to go on.”
The round countenance abruptly hardened. “You thought of your needs when you wed Beatrice. Now it is time to consider her needs. I believe you to be a good man, my lord. Look into your heart and you will find a means of reaching your wife.”
Gabriel silently considered the chastising words.
Could it be possible?
Could Beatrice’s distant heart be won?
He drew in a deep, fortifying breath. He had hoped time would heal Beatrice’s wounds. That eventually, with enough patience, she would be able to put the past behind her and she would come to accept her role as his wife.
But perhaps Humbly was correct. It could be that beneath Beatrice’s practical nature was the heart of a romantic. Maybe she desired to be swept off her feet rather than being left to brood upon her ill treatment.
One thing was for certain, he wryly conceded, he could not make more of a hash of his marriage than he already had.
* * *
Rising early, Gabriel made his daily tour of his lands and spoke with his tenants before returning to the house and making his way to the busy kitchen. Less than a quarter of an hour later he had a large tray that he carefully carried toward Beatrice’s chambers.
He hesitated more than once as he made his way through the vast corridors. He was far from certain that he was not making a complete ass of himself. Beatrice had never indicated a desire to be wooed by her husband. Indeed, she had been wretchedly clear that she wished to be left in peace.
Still, he continued his march to her distant chambers.
He had to at least know that he had tried his best to make Beatrice happy. She deserved that much.
And besides, what was the worst that could happen?
A plate of eggs dumped upon his head?
A blackened eye?
He had survived worse indignities before.
Almost reassured, Gabriel halted in front of the door to Beatrice’s rooms and with as much luck as skill managed to push it open without spilling the tray onto the floor.
Relieved to have passed the first barrier, Gabriel angled his way toward the vast canopy bed that dominated the room.
He perched on the edge of the mattress, watching his wife as she stirred beneath the covers.
A smile curved his lips at her flushed features and tumble of honey curls. She looked softly feminine in her sleep. Almost vulnerable without the driving energy that crackled about her when she was awake.
The urge to lean down and kiss the satin softness of her lips was halted as her thick lashes fluttered upward and the amber eyes regarded him in a dazed fashion.
“Good morning, my dear,” he said softly.
With awkward motions she struggled to a seated position, careful to keep the covers tucked to her chin.
“Gabriel, what are you doing?”
“Since you are not feeling well, I thought I would bring you your breakfast in bed.”
With a flourish he placed the tray across her knees. Glancing at the numerous plates, she possessed the grace to blush.
“Oh. I—I am much improved this morning.”
“I am happy to hear that, but there is no reason to waste a perfectly good breakfast. I have brought your favorites. Fresh strawberries, eggs, a bit of ham, and plenty of buttered toast.”
Obviously flustered and caught off guard by his unexpected appearance, she struggled to hide her unease.
“Thank you.”
“Here.” Scooting until his hip pressed intimately against the curve of her thigh, Gabriel reached out to pluc
k the napkin from the tray and carefully tucked it beneath her chin.
Her tongue peeked out to dampen her lips. Gabriel caught his breath as sweet heat spread through him.
“Are you not needed in the fields?” she demanded warily.
“I have already been to ensure the hay is being properly turned and the dykes cleared. I believe they are capable of surviving a few hours without me.” He smiled gently. “Are you not going to eat?”
“Of course.” With jerky motions she reached for a strawberry and stuffed it into her mouth. Gabriel hid a smile. At least she had not tossed the tray at his head or toppled him off the bed.
It was a start.
“I presume that you managed to halt Chalfrey from creating a mutiny in our garden?”
“Barely.” She absently toyed with a slice of toast. “He is quite adamant that the least amount of change is near sacrilege.”
Gabriel regarded her steadily. “He could easily be replaced.”
As expected, Beatrice shook her head firmly. For all her brisk competency, she possessed a surprisingly tender heart.
At least for all but him, he acknowledged wryly.
“No. For all his grumbling, I believe he is a good gardener, and no one could possibly devote themselves to Falcon Park more fiercely than he does.”
“True enough.” He gave an approving nod. “And I do not doubt that he will soon be as loyal to you as he was to my mother.” He paused as he studied her bluntly carved features. “You remind me a great deal of her, you know.”
“Your mother?” She gave a sudden frown. “Impossible.”
He lifted his brows at her adamant tone. “Why?”
“I have seen her portrait. She was very lovely and very elegant. Not at all like me.”
He smiled wryly at her stiff tone. Had her parents never forced her to realize the beauty of those amazing amber eyes? Or the temptation of her lush curves?
“You are lovely as well, Beatrice,” he insisted. “But I was speaking more of her concern for the staff and tenants. Unlike my father, she devoted herself to improving the lives of those who depended upon my family. I still recall how the children in the village would gather about her the moment she stepped down from the carriage. They quite simply adored her. It made me very proud that she was my mother.”
Although Beatrice made a valiant effort, she could not entirely hide her pleasure at his words.
“I should have liked to have met her,” she at last murmured.
Gabriel felt the familiar pang of loss at the thought of his mother. He too wished she were alive to meet Beatrice. He did not doubt for a moment that the two would have gotten along famously.
“You would have loved her.” He slowly smiled. “And she would have considered you a very fine countess.”
A faint hint of color bloomed beneath her fair skin. “How old were you when she died?”
“Nine.” He thought back to that horrible time. “It was quite unexpected. She had gone to help a tenant, when she was caught in a sudden storm. Two days later she was dead.”
The amber eyes softened with sympathy. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
“It took me a long time to realize she was never coming back.” His lips twisted. “I would creep into this room in the middle of the night and sleep in her bed just in case she suddenly came home. I wanted to be the first to greet her. At last my father began locking the door so I could not enter.”
An odd expression rippled over her countenance. “This is her room?”
“Of course. And the door still stays locked. Rather ironic, is it not?”
He instantly regretted the unthinking words as Beatrice stiffened.
“Gabriel.”
“No, forgive me, Beatrice.” He reached out to gently brush a honey curl from her cheek. “I was only teasing you.”
For a moment he thought he had ruined what measure of progress he had made, then much to his relief, her tension eased.
“Does it bother you that I have had the chambers refurbished?”
“Gads, no.” He glanced about the cheerful room that was so very different from the gloomy squalor that had dominated it for far too long. “I loved my mother, not these chambers. Besides, even as a child I found this room drafty and the furnishings shabby. Now it is a room fit for a countess. My countess.”
Their gazes tangled and Gabriel was suddenly aware that they were very much alone and very conveniently situated upon a comfortable bed.
He wanted to lean forward and claim those lips that haunted his dreams. He wanted to cover her body with his own and lose himself in the passion he knew smoldered within her. He wanted to hear her cry out in pleasure as he made her his own.
His body stirred to aching life, but as if sensing the quicksilver heat in the air, Beatrice shifted uneasily upon the pillows.
“I should be rising. I have an appointment soon,” she abruptly announced.
Gabriel reluctantly reined in his straining desire.
At least Beatrice was speaking to him again, he attempted to ease his frustration. And they had managed a conversation that did not include the usual bickering and bitter accusations.
It was progress, even if his body did protest at being denied the full pleasure of possessing a wife.
Perhaps this business of wooing his bride was not so noddy after all.
“Of course.” Rising to his feet, he offered her a gentle smile. “I shall see you later.”
Six
Beatrice had a dozen tasks awaiting her attention.
There were pattern books to be examined.
An artist demanding her opinion on the painting he was restoring.
The cook requesting she review the day’s menu.
Several letters that remained upon her desk.
And the household accounts that she had not so much as glanced through.
But while a corner of her mind chastised her for falling behind on her duties, the larger part of her thoughts were in a rare muddle.
It was absurd.
For weeks she had managed to live at Falcon Park without being disturbed by Gabriel. Oh, certainly there were the occasional spats that ended in sharp words. And she could not in all honesty deny that her dreams were far too often consumed with thoughts of her husband.
But with sheer willpower she had managed to establish an existence as Lady Faulconer that was as comfortable as she could hope for under the circumstances.
She had her duty to the tenants, the all-consuming passion for restoring Falcon Park, and her inventions. It was not the life she had envisioned. It was, however, preferable to the sudden unpredictability of the past few days.
Pacing across the small room she had claimed as her study, Beatrice attempted to soothe her tangled nerves.
Perhaps she was merely overreacting, she told herself.
After all, what had actually occurred to make her so uneasy?
Granted, Gabriel was behaving in a peculiar fashion. He had begun to seek her out with unnerving regularity. He readily discussed his most intimate emotions. And there was a new determination in his countenance that she did not entirely trust. But he had not precisely forced his attentions upon her.
Instead, he had been utterly charming and startlingly vulnerable.
And that was precisely the problem, she reluctantly conceded.
Since arriving in Derbyshire, Gabriel had rarely attempted to push past her icy wall of disdain. Rather, he had allowed her to establish a sense of independence. Only on rare occasions had his patience snapped and he had revealed the frustration that simmered at their strained relationship.
This sudden return to the persistent, tantalizing gentleman who had stolen her heart was, to say the least, disconcerting.
How was she to remain indifferent to him when he shared the loneliness of his childhood? Or his deep regret he had somehow failed those who depended upon him? Or when he pulled her in his arms and kissed her as if he truly desired her?
Remem
bering the sharp, poignant awareness that had rushed through her as Gabriel had sat upon her bed that morning, Beatrice pressed a hand to her erratic heart.
Yesterday she had fled from his kiss with every intention of ensuring she never reveal such weakness again.
But while she had devoted a goodly portion of the night to sternly lecturing herself, she had been no more prepared for Gabriel’s appearance in her bedchamber than if she had never bothered.
And that, of course, was what was forcing her to pace the floor rather than concentrating upon her waiting duties.
Telling herself that she was being all sorts of a fool, Beatrice turned about to force her reluctant feet to carry her to her desk. She would not waste her entire day.
Unfortunately, she had just made her decision, when the object of her turmoil abruptly strolled through the open door.
Beatrice froze, her gaze drinking in the sight of his lean frame exquisitely revealed by the tailored blue coat and buff breeches. The plain, almost severe style suited his innate elegance that had no need for wadding or corsets. He was far too handsome and compelling for the fripperies of dandies.
It was little wonder she always felt a frump in his presence, she ruefully acknowledged, painfully aware that her gown was already streaked with dust and her hair escaping from the knot atop her head.
If Gabriel found her appearance less than flattering, however, he was careful to keep his distaste well hidden as he moved to stand before her with a potent smile.
“Beatrice, may I have a moment?” he murmured.
Ignoring the rather giddy pleasure that raced through her at his unexpected appearance, Beatrice summoned a composed expression.
“There is not another battle in the gardens, I trust?”
He chuckled. “Not to my knowledge.”
“What is it?”
“I have something I wish you to see.”
She regarded him with a hint of wariness. What the devil was he up to now?
“Very well,” she slowly agreed.
Allowing him to take her hand and place it upon his arm, they left the study and headed down the stairs. She could not deny a burning curiosity at what he could possibly wish her to see.
Love and Marriage Page 26
