“What about your sisters?” she asked again, her voice trembling with the desperate need to make him see reason. “They’ll be ruined by association. People will surely discover that you are one of the opponents, even if you try to prevent them from doing so. Gossip will follow, and Amelia and Juliette will lose the good chance they have to make suitable matches for themselves.”
For a second, she thought she might have reached him, but then he shook his head. “My sisters’ well-being has always been my first priority, but I will not ignore my moral compass, not even for them.”
“Then there really is no hope for us. Is there?” Because once word got out about the fight, it would probably just be a matter of time before everyone discovered that the Duke of Huntley had not only risen from the slums of London to the elegance of Mayfair, but that he was also involved with Carlton Guthrie. Questions would be asked and rumors would spread before dawn the next day. Raphe’s character would be called into question to such a degree that he and everyone associated with him would become social outcasts. “I don’t know,” he said. His hand found her cheek, his calloused fingers scraping against her soft skin until heat began to bloom there.
Stepping forward, she touched her lips to his, kissing him with the fear of finality, with the need to imprint the feeling of him on her mind. She knew he would do what he could to find a way for them to be together, but she didn’t know how—could not see a clear way forward. There were simply too many obstacles in their path, and since his title wouldn’t even be enough to persuade her father to let her marry him, Gabriella wasn’t sure what would. If anything even could.
“You told your maid that you would just be a moment,” Raphe told her gruffly, drawing her attention back to the present. “It is late. Your parents will be expecting you and I would like to return to Juliette’s bedside.”
All excellent reasons to stop what they were doing and part ways, however much Gabriella regretted having to do so. “I will call on you tomorrow, to see how Juliette is doing.”
He nodded in response. “Please do.” And then, in a whisper that brushed the edge of her ear to produce a soft shiver, “I’ll look forward to it with great anticipation.”
Chapter 23
“A letter, from the Duke of Coventry, has just arrived,” Richardson said as he strode into Raphe’s study a week later. Juliette had made a full recovery from her bout with measles, and was now busily preparing herself for her presentation at court, which was set to take place in just a couple of hours.
Accepting the missive that Richardson handed him, Raphe tore open the seal and read quickly. “He’s inviting me to join him at his club this evening.”
“Excellent,” Richardson said as he lowered himself to a vacant chair. “It’s about time you make friends with other high-ranking members of Society.”
“As amiable as the duke seems, I’m sure there’s another reason for why he wants to meet.”
“Must you be so cynical?”
“Considering the fine reception I received when I first arrived, I find cynicism difficult to avoid.”
Richardson’s face remained blank. “Point taken,” he said as he reached for one of the ledgers. “Shall we discuss the repairs required at your estate in Gloucester?”
“Absolutely.”
Discussing her was out of the question. Richardson, Humphreys and Pierson all knew this. She’d visited Juliette and Amelia every day as promised, even though her visits had resulted in a few angry letters from her father. Apparently, Lord Warwick was under the impression that Raphe had more authority over his daughter than he did. A touching thought since the truth of the matter was that Gabriella was proving to be the most stubborn woman that Raphe had ever encountered in his life. She simply refused to listen to reason, so unless Warwick meant to lock her in her room, Raphe wasn’t sure of what to do with her.
Not entirely true.
He knew what to do with her, he just knew better than to act on those baser urges. Which only denied him the kisses he longed for, leading to restless nights that were, more often than not, haunted by dreams of her skin against his in an intimate tangle of limbs that left him aching for more.
Pushing her from his mind as best as he could, he focused on what Richardson was saying about drafty windows and rotted fencing. “There’s also a need for a new caretaker. Mr. Elliot is getting on in years—the work required of him is too taxing.”
“Perhaps we can find a way to reward him for his years of service,” Raphe suggested. “Ensure that he’s able to enjoy his dotage.”
Richardson agreed, and a little over an hour later, they’d decided how much money to allocate toward the repairs and drawn up a plan to help Mr. Elliot afford a comfortable retirement. They had also agreed that Raphe would soon have to visit his other estates so he could become properly acquainted with them. “Getting out of the city will be a welcome change,” he told Richardson. “Will you join me?”
“If you wish it,” Richardson replied.
“I think I’d enjoy the company.” A knock sounded at the door. “Enter!”
Amelia peeked inside. “Lady Gabriella has arrived. We are almost ready to depart.”
Rising, Raphe followed his sister out into the hallway, where Gabriella was busily admiring Juliette’s gown. Hearing him approach, she turned to face him, a pretty blush rising to her cheeks the moment their eyes met. Raphe’s chest tightened. “My lady. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
A timid smile captured her lips, and he was instantly reminded of what it had felt like to kiss her there. Lord, what he wouldn’t give to kiss her there again. But he mustn’t. Not if he cared for her. Not until he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that they stood a real chance of being together. So he schooled his features and refrained from showing any sign of emotion.
“Likewise,” she said, her smile slipping in response to his cool detachment. She gave her attention to Amelia and Juliette. “Your sisters look lovely. I have every confidence that they will make a fine impression today.”
“I don’t understand the need for such—voluminous gowns,” Raphe muttered as he regarded the wide-hooped skirts that seemed more of an impairment than a benefit of any kind.
“It is the queen’s preference,” Gabriella replied. “It is what is worn at court.”
A silly fancy so typical of the elite in its utter lack of practicality. But Raphe couldn’t deny that his sisters did look rather fetching. “Good luck to you both,” he said. “I’ll expect a full report upon your return.”
They left without further ado, piling into the carriage while Gabriella and one of the footmen helped arrange their massive skirts. Raphe watched from the doorway. “Do you suppose they will be all right?” he asked Richardson, who stood by his side.
“Of course. Lady Gabriella is with them. She will make sure that everything turns out well for them.” They waved as the carriage pulled away, and then went back inside the house. “May I say something, Your Grace? As your friend?”
“Only if you cease with all the ‘Your Grace’ business and start calling me Raphe or Huntley.”
Richardson grinned. “Very well then, Huntley.” They strolled toward the back of the house. “I think Lady Gabriella would make a fine match for you.”
Raphe almost tripped as his foot came down a touch too quickly behind the other. “She deserves better.”
“I see. And you think Fielding would be better? Because, let’s face it, that is who she will marry unless you decide to offer her another option.”
They arrived at the French doors overlooking the terrace. “If she and I were to become attached, she would suffer social suicide. My reputation is questionable enough already. Just think of what will happen once I fight the Bull. And Warwick knows that I lied about where I was living before moving into this house. It will only be a matter of time before someone finds out that the Duke of Huntley is nothing more than a fraud—possibly a criminal—and completely unworthy of the title and of Lady G
abriella’s hand.”
“I think you are treating yourself unfairly. You are an honorable man, Huntley. It isn’t your fault that you ended up indebted to Guthrie. Considering all that you have done for your sisters, the sacrifices you have made on their behalf . . .”
“Circumstance demanded it of me. Anyone else would have done the same.”
Richardson laughed. “If you truly believe that, then you’re not very familiar with human nature, or how the world works.”
“It doesn’t matter. I still won’t be able to win the ton’s approval, and without that, Lady Gabriella will remain as unattainable as a star in the night sky.”
“Does she share your opinion?”
“What?”
Facing Raphe, Richardson eyed him sharply. “From what I gather, Lady Gabriella has few friends among the aristocracy. Her sister and closest confidant left England to marry an American entrepreneur. She isn’t close with either of her parents, though she will do her duty if that is all that is left for her to do, simply because that is what she has been taught to do. But, if you ask me, I think she’ll be horribly unhappy with such an outcome—more unhappy than she would be with you, scandal or no.”
“You don’t know that for certain,” Raphe muttered. “And you weren’t there when I told her of my decision to honor my agreement with Guthrie. She pleaded with me to find a way out of it.”
Richardson shook his head. “Your stubbornness in this—and I don’t just mean yours, but hers as well—will see you living unhappy lives, apart from each other.” He sighed heavily before turning more fully toward Raphe. “Look, nobody can know anything for certain, but I will wager that if you don’t fight for her, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
“You may very well be right. I just don’t see how I’ll ever convince her father to agree, and without his approval, we stand no chance at all. I will not ask her to elope with me.”
“No. That would be a terrible idea. But I’ve seen the way you look at each other. There’s real emotion there. Perhaps, if you let yourself explore your feelings for her a bit more, you’ll find the answer you seek.”
“How did it go?” Raphe asked as he and Richardson rose from their chess game to greet the women a couple of hours later.
“It was easier than expected,” Amelia said, “though I did almost knock down a vase with my skirt.”
With a grimace, Raphe hid the smile that threatened. “The queen didn’t notice?”
“I caught it just in time,” Gabriella said. “No damage done.”
“So you are now officially out,” Richardson said, directing a courteous bow at Amelia and Juliette. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” They spoke in unison before displaying the perfect curtsies they’d been practicing for so long.
“We couldn’t have done this without you,” Raphe told Gabriella. “Your assistance has truly been invaluable.”
“Think nothing of it.”
The lightness with which she spoke held a dismissive tone that seemed to add distance between them. Raphe felt his heart begin to ache. “Will you stay for a celebratory glass of champagne?” he asked.
“I should probably return home,” she said. She turned toward Juliette and Amelia. “Please let me know when you receive your first invitations. I would love to help you prepare for your debut.”
No mention of seeing him again then, Raphe mused. He knew he shouldn’t envy his sisters, but he just couldn’t help it. Feeling irritable, he offered to escort Gabriella to the front door—a gesture she could not refuse without being rude, and one that he therefore decided to take advantage of. “My dancing is progressing,” he said as he guided her along the corridor that led to the entryway. “Perhaps you’ll do me the honor of adding me to your dance card at the next ball?”
“I think doing so would be unwise.” She didn’t look at him, which only made Raphe’s heart hurt so much more.
“Why?”
“You know why, Your Grace.” She was silent for a moment before saying stiffly, “Marrying Fielding will be difficult enough after what happened between us, so unless you can guarantee a shared future for you and me, then there cannot possibly be anything more. It would simply kill me.”
Resisting the urge to pull her closer, to dip his head and kiss her, Raphe led her to the front door where Pierson stood waiting, and released her arm. “If there’s a way, then I will find it,” he told her.
A flicker of hope shimmered in her eyes, fading as quickly as it had formed. “Good day, Your Grace.” A politely trained smile was all she gave him before turning away and exiting his house.
Returning home, Gabriella paused in the hallway before turning to Simmons. “Is my aunt at home?”
“Yes, my lady. I believe she is on the terrace.”
Thanking him, Gabriella went in search of her and found her sitting in a folding chair with a canvas in her lap, her hair concealed by a lime green silk turban. A low table stood at her side with paints and brushes spread out upon it. Registering Gabriella’s approach, Aunt Caroline looked up from her painting, a slim brush elegantly poised between her fingers. “I was trying to capture a swallow earlier, but the dratted bird refused to stay still and finally flew away before I could finish it. So I’ve decided to punish him by covering him up with hydrangeas.” She returned her attention to her artwork.
“May I join you for a bit?” Gabriella asked as she came to stand beside her. Looking down, she studied the painting in progress.
“That depends on what you think about my masterpiece.”
Gabriella’s mouth twitched. “Well, I—opinions are rather subjective, don’t you think?”
Her aunt laughed. “How diplomatic of you. Don’t worry, I know how blotchy it looks.”
“Oh. I was going to say innovative.”
Aunt Caroline looked up once more. Her eyes were dancing. “I like that, Gabriella. Thank you.” She waved toward another chair that stood a few paces away. “Why don’t you have a seat? There’s clearly something you wish to discuss.”
“Is there?”
Her aunt’s expression turned skeptical. “Would you have sought me out otherwise?”
“Perhaps I just want company.”
Shaking her head, Aunt Caroline dipped her paintbrush into a blob of purple paint and began applying the color to a blotch that was meant to depict a flower. “This will be so much easier if you tell me what’s troubling you.”
Unnerved by her aunt’s uncanny ability to see inside her head, Gabriella fetched the vacant chair and sat down next to her. “It’s Huntley,” she said after a lengthy stretch of time. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about marrying for the right reasons—for love, that is.”
“And?” Setting her paintbrush aside, Aunt Caroline turned her head toward Gabriella. “Do you love him?”
“I—” She considered the man she’d gotten to know in recent weeks. Raphe. He was everything a man should be: protective of those he cared about, willing to make the necessary sacrifices on their behalf, kind but unwavering in his principles. Considerate. Thoughtful. Honest.
Yes, he’d initially lied to her about where he’d grown up, but he hadn’t owed her the truth back then. As soon as that had changed, he’d volunteered everything, holding nothing back about who he really was. More than that, he’d shown a real interest in her. With his support, she now felt more comfortable with who she was than she ever had before.
She stared at her aunt. “I—” Dear God. She loved him. Quite desperately, really. How could she not have realized this sooner? It was as if she’d been walking around with blinders on, and now they had finally been removed, allowing her to see.
“You?” her aunt prompted with a curious twinkle in her eyes.
“Yes. I do. I love Huntley, Aunt Caroline. I love him so very much I think my heart might explode with it.” A grin slipped past her lips. “Oh dear. What do I do? I think I should probably tell him, don’t you? But then of course I run the
risk of him not reciprocating my feelings and then—Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I think I might be sick.”
Aunt Caroline placed one hand over Gabriella’s. “Calm yourself, my dear. Take a deep breath.” When Gabriella did so, her aunt met her gaze with a kind smile. “Yes, I think you should tell him, and then I think you should do whatever it takes to get yourself disengaged from Fielding so you and Huntley can be happy together. You deserve happiness, Gabriella.”
“Mama and Papa will be furious.”
“Yes. They will be, which leaves you with a choice. You can either run from conflict and live a passive life, married to Fielding, or you can fight for more.”
“They’ll never forgive me.”
“They will eventually, Gabriella, I’m sure of it, but even if they don’t . . .” Her aunt drew a breath and raised her gaze to the sky. “They would kill me if they heard me encouraging you like this, but the time has come for you to think of your future. Who do you want to live your life for, Gabriella? Your parents, or yourself?”
The question had only one answer. “Myself.”
“So then?”
“I want to marry Huntley more than anything else in the world.” Saying the words out loud felt empowering. It filled her with immense satisfaction, a feeling that followed Gabriella upstairs as she went to find some paper and a quill. She would send Raphe a note and ask him to meet her that evening in the garden. And then she would tell him. She would open her heart and reveal the depth of her feelings for him.
A smile played upon her lips as she entered her bedroom, where Eleanor had been laboring over an intricate web inside her glass case. She would set her free again soon she decided as she carefully lifted the lid and dropped a couple of flies inside. No insect ever stayed with her too long—just enough for her to study their behavior and make a few sketches. Crossing to the windowsill, she tore a few leaves from a potted mint she’d recently acquired and dropped the greenery into the box where the beetle Raphe had given her now lived.
A Most Unlikely Duke Page 22
