by Ava March
Gabriel turned from the door, turned to face Anthony who stood in the empty foyer, bag still in hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I had intended to, but I was ashamed and embarrassed and—”
“You don’t need to explain.”
“Yes, I do. It was unforgiveable the way I treated you.”
Anthony gave him a small smile. “I wouldn’t necessarily say unforgiveable.”
Relief coursed through him. Perhaps there was hope for them. He ached to take Anthony in his arms. To simply hold him, to feel the heat and strength of his body. To have that reassurance. Yet he could feel the distance between them. A distance that held a veritable mountain of words that needed to be said.
Gabriel’s grip tightened on the candlestick, its pool of golden light trembling at its edges. “You received my letter?”
“Yes.” Well, obviously. Anthony was here.
Gabriel nodded. “Did I send it to the wrong address?”
A hint of confusion touched Anthony’s brow. “No.”
“I should have thought to send it express, but I held more stock in the speed of the post than I should have.” Christ, he should just come right out and ask, yet he wasn’t certain whether he wanted to hear the answer. What mattered was that Anthony was in Derbyshire, not the cause of the weeks that had passed since Gabriel had written him.
“I don’t pay much mind to the post. It was some time until I came across your letter. But once found, I immediately left London.”
“Oh.” So Anthony hadn’t sat on his letter, debating for weeks if he should send a reply or pay Gabriel a call. The delay had simply been because Anthony didn’t tend to his mail on a daily basis...which meant Anthony hadn’t expected a letter from him. “My apologies for not paying you a call, for using a letter and not speaking to you directly, but—”
“You needed to remove yourself from London.”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Shall we stand in the foyer all night?” Anthony asked.
“Oh. No. Apologies.” Where had his manners gone?
His manners had gone out the door at the same moment Anthony had walked through his door, scrambling Gabriel’s wits.
“You don’t need to keep apologizing.”
“Yes. I do.” Gabriel held Anthony’s gaze. He had so much to apologize for, and he was determined to give Anthony every apology the man deserved. “The study’s over there.” He motioned to the open door on his right. “One of only two rooms with furniture.”
For which he received a questioning glance.
“I...” Gabriel’s plans would be clear enough once Anthony walked into the study. “My debts are more than the value of my home and property combined. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks commissioning merchants in the surrounding area to come to the house and give me offers. Sold all the books, general household pieces, farming equipment, the best trees for timber in the forest that borders the property, the gig and plow and harnesses and the furniture, except for a few pieces in the study and my bedchamber. It’s why I couldn’t offer anything more than the barn to Mr. Drake and Mr. Morgan. Only have one bed left in the house.”
“Well, that’s convenient.”
“Why is it convenient? I feel horrid for forcing them to share a tiny pallet.”
“I doubt the sharing will pose any issue. In fact, I’m certain they prefer it.”
It took Gabriel a second to fully process what Anthony had said.
Drake and Morgan were lovers?
Gabriel didn’t quite know what to think about that. Now that he knew the two were lovers, given how comfortable Drake and Morgan were together, operating as a single unit, he would guess they were more than just casual bedfellows. That the two were in a relationship, and Gabriel had never met another male couple before.
“And it’s convenient,” Anthony continued, “because we’ll have the house to ourselves and will only need one bed.”
A jolt of lust backed by a heavy note of relief shot through him. Anthony meant for them to share a bed tonight. The contents of Gabriel’s letter hadn’t caused Anthony to doubt him or the viability of a relationship between them. Anthony had arrived on his doorstep knowing exactly what he wanted.
Not that Gabriel should be surprised. Anthony owned his own desires. Embraced them. Had always been forthright about what he wanted with and from Gabriel. It had been Gabriel who had tried—not very successfully—to keep him at arm’s length.
“The study?” Anthony prompted, yanking Gabriel back to the fact they both still stood in the empty foyer.
“Yes. This way.”
As they entered the study, the candlelight fell on the paintings propped against the couch, the silver serving pieces and flatware littered across the desk, the porcelain vases and figurines on the console table, the barren bookshelves and the open steel door of the small safe in the wall behind his desk.
“I’m taking all of this to London. Figure I can get a better price if I deal directly with shops that specialize in such items. And I need every shilling the goods can bring to pay off my debts.” Gabriel set the candlestick on the end table and moved a small tapestry from the back of an armchair to the floor. “Please.” He motioned Anthony to the chair, then Gabriel took the one opposite.
“You’d mentioned your debts were considerable,” Anthony said, without a trace of disgust or disdain, as he put his bag down next to his chair.
“Twelve thousand pounds’ worth of considerable. The loans themselves can be easily covered by the property, but the interest on those loans...” He shook his head, ashamed of the hole he had landed himself into. At the sheer desperation and utter foolishness that had built his damned mountain of debt. “I agreed to 200 percent interest. Well, not at first. But with each loan I took on, the rate increased. I wasn’t thinking of the consequences. I just needed the money. Needed to get back to the tables. I was convinced the tables would surely look kindly on me again, if I just had a bit more to throw down. But I had no money left. Had already lost everything in my bank account. So I needed loan after loan so I could have a chance to win and pay off the loans. A terribly vicious cycle, but I’ve broken it. As I wrote to you, I am determined to right my debts. And I believe I can do that. Once I’ve sold everything in this room, coupled with the property and house and the proceeds from all I’ve already sold, it should be enough to cover the debts.”
“When do you plan to return to London?”
“In the next day or two. I want to put the debts behind me once and for all.”
Anthony nodded. “I want to go with you. Morgan and Drake can convey us there.”
“All right.” It would save him the inconvenience of hiring a carriage to take him to London. “I’ll admit, I wouldn’t object to Morgan’s presence once we reach London. I’ve had one run-in with Carter’s men—Carter being the man who holds my debts. I’d rather not have another run-in.” A bit cowardly of him, but it was the truth. In any case, now was not the time for pride. Now was the time for practical. “And I would definitely welcome having you with me on the journey.”
“Perhaps we can devise some ways to make the hours slip by faster,” Anthony said, with a familiar wicked spark in his gray eyes.
A chuckle shook Gabriel’s chest before he could stop it. Leave it to Anthony to suggest illicit activities on their way to meet an unscrupulous creditor. “By God, I’ve missed you. Only you, Anthony, could make me laugh right now.”
The edges of Anthony’s mouth kicked up in a smile. “Thought you could use a laugh. And I’ve missed you too.” Then that beautiful smile dimmed, concern once again touching his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You said you’ve broken the cycle. Are you certain you won’t be tempted back to the tables?”
“Quite certain. I
never want to be in this situation again.”
“I don’t mean to imply you don’t know your own mind, but I’m concerned. That’s all. Do you still feel the guilt?”
Gabriel didn’t need to ask Anthony to clarify. He knew exactly to what Anthony referred, as he had written it in the letter.
His first instinct was to answer in the negative. But he needed to be honest. Had vowed to himself he would no longer hide behind lies and omissions.
He could not, however, look Anthony in the eye when he replied, “Yes.”
“Do you believe you were responsible for her death?”
“She had a fever that went to her lungs and she never recovered.”
“I didn’t ask what caused her death, but whether you felt in some way responsible.”
Did he feel responsible? “No. I don’t think there was anything I could have done to save her, and the doctor said sometimes things like that happen. And I didn’t wish her gone. But she hadn’t been of a sickly constitution or prone to illness. She’d been the picture of health until the fever. But the unexpectedness of her death...” The unexpectedness of his freedom. “I had this immense sense of relief, like I’d been granted a pardon. And it was wrong—I shouldn’t have felt that way.”
“Did you love her? Because if you did, you can tell me, Gabriel. It’s all right. I won’t hold it against you.”
“That’s not it, Anthony.” Gabriel shot to his feet, irritation suddenly rubbing harshly against his skin. “Why are you asking me so many questions? I explained it all in my letter.”
Yet Anthony obviously wasn’t going to back down. He remained seated in the chair—calm and composed and concerned. “You explained why you came to London, why you started gambling, why you hid it from me. You explained the circumstances that led to your marriage, how you’ve stopped fighting your desires for men, and how you are determined to right your debts. But nowhere in your letter did you mention that you’ve moved past your feelings of relief and guilt. And you just admitted you still feel the guilt. Therefore, I’m worried you may find yourself in this very situation again, and I’m trying to figure out if there is perhaps more to those feelings than you revealed in your letter.”
Gabriel gave a frustrated shake of the head. “To answer your question, I didn’t love her, and she didn’t expect me to. It wasn’t a love match by any means. And I don’t feel this—” he slammed a fist against his chest “—out of some belief that I should have loved her. It’s because I was relieved. Relived she was gone. Relieved I wasn’t tied to her anymore. Relieved, because it meant I was finally free.” He turned on his heel, took a few long strides across the room then stopped short. For a long moment, he stood there, that ugly mass churning inside. Then he dropped his head, stopped fighting it. “And I hated myself for that.”
“Do you still hate yourself?”
“Yes, and no wonder.” He turned back to Anthony and gestured to his possessions scattered about the study. “Look around you. What man wouldn’t hate himself if they were me?”
“Everyone stumbles. Everyone has their faults. But you’re working to settle your debts. You’re doing the right thing, the admirable thing. I’m sure it isn’t easy, and a weaker man would have crumpled whereas you are on your feet.”
“I am finally taking charge of my responsibilities. There isn’t much admirable in that,” he spat, the self-loathing so thick it practically clogged his throat. “It’s what any man should do.”
Anthony dropped his gaze, ran a hand through his hair. “But not every man does.” With a sigh, he pushed to his feet. “You weren’t happy in your marriage, but you made the best of it. Gabriel, you prefer men. You’re too honorable to have indulged your desires while married. Hell, by your own admission, you rarely even took yourself in hand. You denied your innate desires for seven years. Had sentenced yourself to a life of misery. It’s little wonder you felt relieved to have your freedom.”
“But I shouldn’t have this freedom.”
“Why ever not? You weren’t responsible for her death. There was nothing you could have done to save her. As the doctor told you, sometimes these things happen. Life granted you another chance at happiness.”
“But I don’t deserve it.” The truth was out of his mouth before he could yank it back.
The sound of his own voice echoed in his ears, filling the study. And then the sound faded away, leaving only silence.
Anthony opened his mouth, closed it, then asked in a careful tone, like one would use with someone a hairsbreadth from being sent to Bedlam, “Why don’t you deserve it, Gabriel?”
With another shake of his head, he crossed to a window and pulled back the drapes. Clouds obscured most of the moon’s silvery light, casting the grounds in front of his home in dark shadows. Resistance and fear welled up within. He had touched upon it in his letter, yet Anthony was here, had come to Derbyshire in spite of everything that had happened between them. Perhaps Anthony had moved past the incident. Perhaps Anthony did not look upon it as significant at all. But Gabriel did not want to take the risk of scaring Anthony away for good. He did not want to dredge up their past, did not want to remind Anthony of what he had once done to him.
The old guilt washed over him, like the strongest of tidal waves. A thick, searing mass of regret and pain. He closed his eyes against the force of it, bowed his head.
Yet deep down he knew if he held back, this noxious mass would never go away. It would be with him always. Then again, maybe that was his fate. He hadn’t deserved his freedom from his marriage. And he certainly hadn’t deserved the time he’d had with Anthony in London.
He swallowed hard. Swallowed down the urge to skirt the past. He felt his hands begin to tremble, and try as he might, he couldn’t will the trembles away. “I hurt you,” he said, voice low. “And having to marry, having to play the part of a good husband, that was my penance.”
“I don’t understand.” Floorboards creaked. Once, twice, then silence once again fell over the room. “When did you hurt me?”
“When I kissed her, after you and I had...” After he had kissed Anthony. After they had shared that wonderful, perfect night together at the pond. “I followed you out onto the terrace that night. I asked you to go with me to the pond. I knew you were attracted to me.” The way he’d catch Anthony watching him. Those brief glimpses of intense longing before Anthony would avert his gaze. The way Anthony would seek him out at Eton under some pretense or another. It had seemed anytime Pearce wasn’t in view was an excuse for Anthony to ask Gabriel about his brother’s whereabouts. “I made the decision that night. I wanted to be brave. I wanted to be alone with you. I held you in my arms and I kissed you, knowing full well that it would be important to you. That it would mean a lot to you...because it meant a lot to me.”
The strength of his desire for Anthony, the way it had felt so very right to hold him close. The way Anthony had leaned in to him, rested his head against Gabriel’s shoulder, as if he belonged there. Gabriel had wanted Anthony to belong there for the rest of their days, yet men weren’t supposed to want other men like that. And instead of protecting Anthony, instead of holding their night as a sacred secret to be cherished between them, he had panicked.
“Yet the next day, I turned into a coward. I let her seek me out. I knew she was merely trying to incite Stephan’s jealousy, that I meant nothing to her. Yet I damned well encouraged her. And I held her and kissed her, when I should have been holding you and kissing you. I knew what I was doing was wrong. Yet still, I betrayed you. I deserved to have her uncle come upon us. I deserved to be condemned to an unhappy marriage.” Opening his eyes, he released the drapes and turned from the window to find Anthony standing but two paces from him. And Gabriel lifted his chin, finally voiced the true source of the guilt that had been gnawing away at him since he’d felt the burst of sweet relief upon learning he had become a wid
ower. “I did not deserve to be freed from it.”
* * *
For the longest moment, Anthony was completely without words. Even though Gabriel had told him in his letter that he hadn’t loved his wife, that he had wanted to be with Anthony all those years ago, Anthony hadn’t been able to help but begin to worry on the long ride to Derbyshire that Gabriel had felt something more for her. After all, her death had affected him so profoundly he had started gambling, and gambling quite heavily to the point of accumulating massive debts.
Never once would Anthony have predicted that their night seven years ago was at the root of the guilt that had driven Gabriel to the tables. He should have at least suspected—there had been hints in Gabriel’s letter. Still...
“Gabriel...”
“And I don’t deserve you,” Gabriel added, voice stronger. “I didn’t back then, and I certainly don’t now. Why do you—did you—want to be with me again after what I’ve done to you? And I never once apologized. I avoided you for the rest of the house party. I didn’t say another word to you for seven years. Even after we met in London, I didn’t take any of the opportunities you gave me to apologize.”
“I’ve always wanted to be with you,” Anthony said simply, because sometimes the truth was just that simple. “That afternoon didn’t change that. I won’t deny I was hurt.” His sixteen-year-old heart had wept in pain and at the sorrow of crushed hopes. His older self, however, had seen the folly of all of that pain. “But we’d made no promises to each other.”
A wince slashed across Gabriel’s handsome face.
“Did you believe we’d made a promise to each other?” Anthony racked his brain, thinking back on that night, but could recall nothing that would indicate such. And if Gabriel had said something to even hint at a promise, Anthony certainly would have remembered.
“I kissed you,” Gabriel said, as if that alone provided all the proof necessary.
“But you never said anything.”
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want a promise,” Anthony added, at the hurt beginning to fill Gabriel’s eyes. “I did. I was infatuated with you and would have thanked God above if you’d have asked for a promise. Would have eagerly given it. But...” He gestured to fill in the void, reluctant to say it was only a kiss because it had been far more than just a kiss. “It wasn’t that I didn’t feel anything from you that night, because I did. It was special to me. Very special. And I’d hoped...” He shook his head. “But it was only one night and those were just the hopes of a foolish boy.”
