“It will be hours before the guests arise.”
“But...”
“Don’t protest. You need to rest.”
He urged her to lie down, then removed her sturdy walking shoes and stockings, revealing her dainty pink toes and once slim ankles. They were now swollen and looked painful.
“Oh, sweetheart. Look at your poor little feet,” he crooned as he used his hands to massage and soothe her feet and legs.
“Hmmm, that feels amazing.” She sighed.
“It would be a privilege to do this for you every day.”
“I wish you could,” she whispered.
By the time he had reduced her to the pliancy of soft dough with his massage, her eyelids were drooping with exhaustion. He leaned back amongst the cushions, embracing her, holding her while she slumbered. Only one thought was on his mind.
Here on this bed was everything that mattered in his life.
THAT NIGHT, GABRIELwas playing billiards with a few other men after dinner. More like he sprawled on a chair in the corner of the billiards room, waiting for his turn to play while watching two young fools knock the balls around. They were abysmal players, but then, they were well into their cups, which may account for their inability to play. He was considering the merits of inebriation himself.
At this rate, they would be here until the sun came out. He didn’t mind. Most of the company was congenial. A few gentlemen played cards, while others talked, smoked cigars, and drank brandy. He had sought refuge in this masculine haven because he had not realized how difficult it would be to interact with Hannah while pretending to be only an acquaintance. Not in the mood to play cards or make conversation, he allowed the muted tones of the voices to wash over him.
Until a sentence snagged his attention with the piercing quality of a grappling hook.
“Have you heard that the duchess’s pregnancy is not the duke’s doing?” one of the young fools said in a loud whisper.
“It wouldn’t surprise me.” His partner sniggered. “The duke is old. A man his age wouldn’t be up to the task, if you get my meaning. The only surprise is that it took her this long to, hmm... take matters into her own hands.”
They both laughed at their lame wit, no doubt considering themselves clever in the extreme.
Gabriel saw red. In his mind’s eye, he visualized himself wielding the billiards cue stick and smashing it against their foul mouths. His fists clenched, and his blood pounded with the willpower it took to restrain himself. He couldn’t cause a scene. Especially not after the thrashing he had given Blackwell this morning. If he started acting as the duchess’s champion, he would surely set even more tongues wagging.
Taking a deep breath, summoning all his years of practice in the art of looking impassive, he joined the conversation.
“I say, those are some nasty rumors to repeat under the duke’s own roof. Where did you hear such a thing?”
The two young bucks looked at him. Color spread through their faces, but the one who had first spoken jutted his chin out and said in a defensive tone, “T’is no rumor. I heard it from someone close to the duke and duchess.” He lowered his voice to add in a stage whisper, “He said everyone in the duke’s close circles, including the servants, knew about it.”
Gabriel could make a very good guess who had started such rumors, but he wanted confirmation, so he pressed them.
“I very much doubt it. If that were the case, the duke wouldn’t be hosting half the ton to celebrate his impending fatherhood.”
“Ah, but you see, Mr. Blackwell says it was done on purpose. The duke is so desperate for an heir, and so embarrassed by his inability to produce one, that he is willing to claim the duchess’s bastard as his own.”
Blackwell. Of course, it was him. Gabriel made sure he had departed the house this morning. But apparently not without first introducing some venom.
“Isn’t Mr. Blackwell the duke’s heir presumptive?” he asked, feigning boredom.
The second youngster frowned. “Well, yes. I believe he is.”
“In which case, if the duchess has a son, Mr. Blackwell would be displaced as the heir. That could make a man bitter to the point of spreading malicious rumors. Don’t you think so?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” the young man replied, his hands fiddling with the cue stick in a sign of nervousness as he saw his argument crumble in front of him. “Nevertheless, you have to admit it’s deucedly suspicious the duchess conceived now when she had not in many years of marriage.”
“Perhaps. Then again, what do you know about women’s reproduction?” Gabriel asked with a sardonic twist of his mouth. Eliciting a low rumble of laughter around the room. “Miracles happen every day. I would be hesitant to repeat spiteful gossip from a decidedly biased source. You wouldn’t want to find yourself on the wrong side of the duke’s favor.”
There was a murmur of assent throughout the room. The two young men blanched, chastened and humiliated. Maybe they would make a last-ditch effort to save face. But before they could open their mouths again, a suave voice intoned.
