If Gabriel couldn’t make Olivia happy, the least he would do was encourage his friend to remain in her sister’s good graces.
Crawford glanced over his shoulder, almost as though contemplating returning to Ashton Acres. They were an hour away by now.
“She’ll be there when you return,” Gabriel reminded him.
His old friend rolled his shoulders. “Of course, she will.” And then he added, “Hell and damnation.”
Gabriel half hoped Crawford wished to go back. He’d take it as a sign that he needed to go to Olivia. But what would he say?
There was nothing more to say. It was done.
And so they continued toward London.
Gabriel did not see the lovely scenery as he rode away from Ashton Acres. He did not notice the bonny weather or birds singing. It was as though all the color in his life had drained away.
He had written to Victoria last week. They would discuss the tenuous date set nearly a year ago. They’d vaguely determined to marry at the end of the Season. It was only a few weeks away.
The poor girl had been forced to shroud herself in black for so long now that he’d likely not recognize her dressed in colorful or even lavender gowns.
And just as he’d experienced at other odd moments of the day, a pang of loss stole his breath away.
Olivia had welcomed him into her bed.
She’d been so trusting of him, so open and giving. Since the moment he’d stumbled on her at Crawford’s Ball, he’d known her to be naïve and innocent.
Crawford had warned him. Gabriel hated that he’d betrayed one of his best friend’s trust.
Perhaps Olivia would tell her sister, who would, in turn, tell Crawford. Crawford could demand Gabriel meet him on the field of honor, and then Gabriel would delope.
None of the answers to his own questions were acceptable.
He grimaced, feeling empty inside.
Chapter 19
London
“Horrible, nasty, dangerous business. That mine.”Gabriel’s mother ridiculed the task that had kept him from London these past months. “And what foolishness for you to have put yourself at risk, even for Crawford. God rest his father’s beastly departed soul.”
His mother hadn’t ever been one to mince words. Although his family had, of course, had an acquaintance with Crawford’s, they’d never professed to hold the old duke in very high regard.
Gabriel’s father had once confided to him that the late duke had essentially killed his own wife. The man had been greedy beyond comprehension. Tight-fisted with his land, his money, his heir. Of course, Gabriel’s own mother would not mourn the man’s demise.
“I’m vexed with you for taking it on.”
“It was a simple favor for a friend. And look here. See?” He turned in a full circle before sitting down in his mother’s favorite parlor. “Not a single broken bone.”
He’d not tell her of his hands, which had mended slowly but were now mostly healed. Nor of the greenish bruises that had taken weeks to fade from his chest and abdomen.
He rejected memories of delicate hands cleaning and soothing those very same bruises. It seemed he missed her more as each day passed, when it was supposed to work the other way around.
Damned Olivia and her cursed violet eyes.
“You could have been killed. Don’t try to keep any of this from me, young man. You may be Kingsley, but I’m still your mother. What would Victoria have done if something had happened to you? Aside from her aunt, you’re practically all she has left in this world.”
“But she will not lose me, Mother. And she has you and Prissy. Not to mention Gilbert and Nathaniel. Our family will always be hers. She is in town, is she not?” He’d only sent that one initial note from Misty Brooke. Since he’d only just returned to London two days ago, he’d not yet made an attempt to visit her at her aunt’s.
“She attended the Houghton garden party last weekend. Mrs. Beasley allows her to socialize on occasion. Poor dear. I cannot imagine what her life would be like if she did not have marriage to you to look forward to. Too many tragedies for one so young.”
