Of course, he’d not exactly enjoyed spending the following years almost entirely celibate, but he couldn’t risk infecting the mother of his child with bloody syphilis. His Naval career would have been finished. Caroline’s father would have seen to that.
And the occasional doxies he’d tupped since? Well seeing as it was one of their ilk who gave him the pox in the first place, he could argue that they deserved it.
He gave a weary sigh. Might even have gotten away with that piss poor excuse at the pearly gates, but he wouldn’t get away with cold blooded murder.
Not even if he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger.
And whatever plaudits he’d received in the past meant nothing in the face of that.
Chapter Eight
The next morning the grounds of Ravenstone resembled something out of a fairy tale. Everywhere was white over and the snow sparkled and shone as the sun rose into the clearest of blue skies. Naturally the younger Shacklefords could hardly wait until after breakfast before charging outside to throw snowballs and build snowmen. Their shrieks and screams under the watchful eye of a couple of stable hands provided a cheery backdrop to the more leisurely breakfast enjoyed by the adults in the party.
The problems of last night were not broached as everybody helped themselves to the delightful repast laid on the sideboard by the Earl’s housekeeper Mrs Donnell. Indeed, the tone was determinedly light-hearted and if it was a trifle forced, well Gabriel at least was glad of it.
For the first time in months the Viscount felt able to truly relax. Having unburdened himself the night before he’d slept like the dead and the awareness that he was no longer alone lifted his spirits more than he thought possible.
Seating himself at the table, he eyed his new acquaintances with interest. Most especially Hope. The sun shining in through the large breakfast room window turned her red hair into molten copper. She was dressed simply, certainly not in the same league as her two older sisters whose attire reflected their husbands’ status. But her dress, though simple, complemented her colouring and clung to her ample curves in a most distracting fashion. She had elected to tie her hair back with a simple ribbon, but the addition of a Christmas rose pinned behind her ear gave her ensemble a cheerful festive air. Gabriel wanted nothing more than to remove the flower, pull out the ribbon, and shove his hands into the resulting auburn waterfall.
‘I have to say Lord Northwood, you’re looking decidedly spoony. Did you happen to contract malaria during your time on the continent?’
Brought back to earth with a bump, Gabriel turned to regard Reverend Shackleford’s wife as she enthusiastically seated herself next to him, all the while eyinghim with an almost eager expression. ‘I was most fortunate madam not to have suffered from such a horrifying malady,’ he responded politely.
‘What about cholera?’
‘Err… no, I was indeed fortunate not to have acquired cholera either.’
‘Yellow fever? Dengy?’ Gabriel shook his head mutely.
‘Well, it’s certain you haven’t developed Leprosy,’ she accused with a sniff, glaring reproachfully at his rudely healthy fingers, almost causing the Viscount to put down his toast on the off chance a digit might be about to drop off.
‘Agnes, how is your gout this morning?’ interjected Miss Beaumont. Clearly deciding her reticent breakfast companion’s enduring health was not worth her continued interest, Mrs Shackleford happily turned away and engaged his dinner companion from the night before with an enthusiastic account of her latest ailments. Gabriel flashed Miss Beaumont a grateful look from behind the elderly matron’s head and her lips twitched in response. Clearly the lady had the patience of a saint.
He looked back over at Hope and found her eyes twinkling back at him in amusement as she attempted to cover her mirth with her hand. He was ridiculously glad to see that despite her down to earth attitude, she obviously did have a sense of humour. Raising his eyebrows at her, he wondered why it was so important to him.
‘Tell me Lord Northwood, we know nothing of you outside of your recent exploits, mayhap you would be kind enough to favour us with some anecdotes from your earlier and one hopes less hazardous adventures.’ The speaker this time was the Duchess of Blackmore. Her warm smile took any implied criticism out of her request.
Before Gabriel could come up with something suitable however, her husband gave a shout of laughter. ‘I’m not sure accounts of Gabe’s younger days are entirely suitable for either tender ears, or indeed the breakfast table,’ he chuckled.
Against his will, Gabriel’s lips twitched. ‘I am entirely certain that I must have at least some interesting anecdotes to tell that would be acceptable to the gentle company present,’ he drawled.
‘Oh, we are most certainly not interested in how you fell out of a tree at five my lord,’ Temperance interrupted mischievously. ‘I am entirely certain you have far more interesting things to share. Are you married perchance?’
‘My love, your penchant for slinging mud simply to see where it sticks does not appear to have abated since you’ve become a wife.’ Adam’s reproof was mild, and he was clearly trying not to laugh.
‘Poof,my love,’ his wife responded with a wave of her hand. ‘If you’d wanted a boring life, you should not have married me.’
‘Indeed,’ grinned Adam. ‘I tell myself that daily.’
‘I pray for you both every night,’ added the Reverend, only half joking. After all, he’d lived with his two eldest daughters far longer than their husbands.
Gabriel stared at the laughing couples nonplussed.Tonmarriages in his experience were nothing like this. By all accounts his own parents’ certainly wasn’t.
‘How are you feeling Percy?’ asked Hope hurriedly. She did not wish Gabriel to know of her own contributions to the unruly antics of her siblings.
The curate looked up, startled, unused to being included in such banter. ‘I…I am feeling perfectly well my lady, thank you for asking.’
‘I am no lady,’ scoffed Hope, ‘as well you know Percy.’
