“You’ve said nothing but lies,” Cecilia corrected him. She valiantly bit back how she knew his sordid little secret. If he did promise to stop the lies, she would call off Lady Catherine.
Gabriel walked to a cupboard behind a desk, took out a bottle of sherry and two glasses. “Would you like a drink?”
The bounder.
“No,” she muttered, forcing the burgeoning heat away from her face. “I am not here for long. Tell me you will stop this madness. There is nothing for you to gain by maligning my name. If anything, it makes you look angry and bitter. Is that the image you want displayed while looking to marry yourintended?”
His jaw flexed. “You saidintendedas if you smelled something foul.”
“This is all foul,” Cecilia snapped. “Now, did you drag me half across England for nothing?”
“Not necessarily,” Gabriel’s tone had dropped to something she could only describe as sultry. He rounded the desk and came to her. “I can still save you, Cecilia.”
Her back stiffened. “Save me fromwhat?”
“That hellborn babe you married,” he murmured derisively. “Fitzroy is not going to love you, Cecilia, and I bet my last farthing he will soon be bringing women into his bed—”
She began to bristle.
“—and I bet he will not take care of you the way you would like.Ican give you that,” he finished.
She read between the lines as easily as if he had written his meaning in block letters.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why in god’s name would I trust you to give me a glass of water, much less be your mistress. I may not have chosen this situation, but I will not embroil myself with you at all. Now, for the last time, will you stop the slander?”
He shrugged one shoulder and set the glass down. “I have no reason to do so.”
“So, youdidwaste my time,” she said. “I am warning you, Gabriel, if you do not stop this, you will be sorry. Very, very sorry.”
Scoffing, he then sneered, “I hardly think so.”
She breathed out her anger, “Goodbye, Gabriel. Come, Abigail.”
As she headed to the door, he grabbed her arm and spun her back to him, tugging her closely, his hand flashing up to grab her head. The intent to kiss her was so rife that her reaction was swift—and her palm cracked across his face with a stinging slap.
He stumbled away, and she swiftly grabbed the glass of sherry from the table and flung the alcohol into his eyes.
Gabriel shouted as he scrambled for purchase, grabbing at his table or anything to steady himself. “Cecilia!You b—”
“You’re a pig, Rutherford!” she scolded over him. “Do notevertouch me again, or you will regret it.”
She spun out the door, incensed. All that way for nothing. Well, not really, she had seen more of his despicable behavior—he had a fiancée for heaven’s sake—and had all the more reason to put Gabriel in his place in a week’s time.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Abigail whispered, terrified.
“No,” Cecilia replied as the footman helped her into the carriage. “But it will pass.”
All I know is that I am fully justified when future incidents unfold. He truly brought on his own destruction.
That evening, just after dusk, she stepped into the country-house, mentally and physically exhausted. She thanked Abigail and sent her to rest, but when asked if she could disrobe by herself, she said, “I’ll manage, thank you.”
She took the steps up to her rooms while considering what had happened earlier. She could bet a pretty penny that Gabriel would never tell Ophelia what had truly occurred and would find some way to spin the tale in his favor.
As she pushed the door to her room in, Cecilia paused while feeling… absolutely nothing. The hurt she had expected to feel was not there.
She was not paying attention and didn’t see the shadowed figure in a chair in the corner—until Cassian spoke, and she jumped a foot in the air.
“Why, Cecilia?” His tone was stiff and dark, much like the liquor he loved to drink.
