“You seem preoccupied tonight,” she said, determined to uphold their oath and be honest. “I’m surprised we’re dining here, and not in your private chambers.”
His gaze flicked to the footmen, and they left without a whisper. Then he took a long drink of his claret. “Do youknow why the gossips think I keep a secret harem in a hidden cellar?”
The question caught her off guard, though the answer came easily. “Because you’re an exceptionally handsome man who avoids female company, especially the ladies of theton?”
He seemed to find that amusing.
“Because my parents held wild parties here. They spent their whole married life breaking their vows, degrading their union, disappointing one another.”
She wondered why he was telling her now.
“Is that why you don’t believe in love?”
He stared at his plate, wincing as though the sight of food sickened him. “Love is a weapon. A means to inflict pain. I learnt that long before Miss Bourne took my father’s bribe. She was the final lesson.”
What does it have to do with me?she wanted to say.
“You’re not your father, and I’m not Miss Bourne.”
“No. You’re not.” He met her gaze, his fingers tightening around the glass, the corners of his eyes creasing. “But I’ve broken my vow to you, and you cannot know how much that pains me.”
She was quick to correct him. “Forgive me. I’m struggling to see how. You promised friendship, and you’ve proven you’re the person I can trust most. You swore to protect me and have saved my life twice.”
“I think you know what I’m referring to.”
“If it’s theexperiment, then I fail to see the problem.”
“It’s not the experiment.”
“What then?”
“It’s how easily you undo me.”
The words stole her breath.
This strong, self-possessed man, undone by her lips? Perhaps it wasn’t her, but the years spent denying himself affection.
She reached for her wine and took a fortifying sip. “And so you’re rebuilding your fortress and scouring the kingdom for the strongest armour, in a bid to lock me out?”
“That’s all I know,” he confessed.
Her heart softened, though she battled two instincts: one to reach out and take his hand, the other to protect herself, for she feared Gabriel would be all too easy to love.
“It doesn’t help that we’re working so closely on the case,” she said. He made her feel like his equal, and she would always admire him for that. Yet for all his talk of restraint, he touched her as often as she touched him. Perhaps she should be the one wearing a chest plate of steel. “We might need to limit the time we spend together at home. See each other less.”
Would that appease him?
Ease his guilt for passionately kissing a friend?
The furrows between his brow said not.
Still, he needed to draw his own conclusions. Solitude, not sympathy, was the best course. A man skilled at deciphering poetry would, in time, make sense of his own tangled emotions.
She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and rose. “It’s been a long day, and I’ve no appetite. A little time apart might help you see you’ve done nothing wrong other than test the natural boundaries.” Before he could reply, she added, “Goodnight, Gabriel.”
He murmured her name, a plea, an apology, who knew? But she pretended not to hear and left the room. She didn’tlinger but hurried upstairs and dressed for bed. Still, she paced, wondering if he’d drink until he drowned in regret.
Mrs Boswell came to turn down the bed, explaining that the maids always took supper when the master dined, but word had already reached below stairs that Olivia had left before finishing her meal.
