Wasn’t that what he’d told Olivia? He’d hire a valet when he finally married?
His mother had invited forty-eight people for her house party, she’d informed him this morning, and forty-two of them had accepted. The massive wooden dining table that had stretched empty for a decade would be filled nearly to capacity. From what he remembered; the table normally sat fifty. If he knew his mother at all, the numbers of male and female guests would be exactly the same.
Gabriel had asked his mother to seat Lord Lockley at his side. If he kept the man nearby, where Gabriel could keep an eye on him, the bounder was less likely to take advantage of Priss.
“That should suffice, My Lord.” Fritz stepped back and nodded, leaving Gabriel to examine his appearance in the large looking glass on the wall.
His valet had not only insisted upon dressing him properly but also shaved him for a second time that day, trimmed his hair and even slicked it back with pomade. Same dark eyes. Same black hair. With the labor he’d participated in over the past months, his shoulders seemed larger, his physique harder. Gabriel felt shaken to realize how much he had grown to resemble his father.
The man had been larger than life, it seemed, and had been Gabriel’s hero for as long as he could remember. But that he would be half the man his father had been. He swallowed hard.
Fritz stepped forward and adjusted Gabriel’s jacket, smoothing off some non-existent lint.
“Thank you.” Gabriel figured he’d better make his way to the drawing room where his mother’s guests would be congregating before the meal, lest Fritz decided to make another attempt at his cravat. With a nod, he exited his chamber and although the corridors could be confusing at times, made his way without thought toward the large stairway.
Only… Surely, his imagination was getting the better of him.
“Olivia?” The woman wore an emerald-colored gown that draped elegantly to the floor, revealing just a hint of her familiar curves. Golden blond hair had been curled and pinned into an impeccable coiffure; a few tendrils allowed to caress the back of her neck. So graceful, so refined looking. So very different than he’d ever seen her.
She spun around in surprise, eyes opening wide.
Contrasted with the green of her gown, they appeared even more brilliantly violet then normal. Gabriel could do nothing to tamp down the burst of exhilaration that hit him at that moment. “My God.” He swallowed hard. “You look beautiful.”
She lowered her gaze to the floor and then dipped into a curtsey. “Thank you, My Lord.”
He wanted none of this from her. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been clothed in nothing but a sheet. Her lips had been swollen from his kisses. His eyes settled on her creamy white exposed décolletage.
The last morning they’d been together, the tops of her breasts had been red from the scruff of his beard.
“What are you doing here?” The words left him before taking a moment to think that of course, if Crawford’s wife had been invited, she might bring her beloved sister along.
Delightful pink flushed that décolletage now. He’d not meant to embarrass her. “My sister required my company.” And then she lifted her chin and met his eyes. “I am a guest.”
He’d not meant to slight her. “Of course, you are, Olivia. My apologies.”
“Miss Redfield, My Lord,” she corrected him.
For the moment, all he could do was drink her in. He’d fooled himself that she could be pushed out of his affections so easily. All the emotions he’d known at Misty Brooke assaulted him again with no mercy. How many days had he wished for her smile? Her wit? Her unique perspective on the world around her?
“I’m afraid I’ve gotten turned around.” She bit her lip.
“Turned around?” His mind wasn’t functioning properly. Ah… of course. “It’s not difficult to become lost in these corridors.” But his eyes continued drinking her in.
A short laugh was her response. “I’ve been wandering in circles for the past ten minutes.” Her sheepish smile seemed a little brittle.
“You did not return my letter.” He’d wondered, feared, and hoped on a number of levels. Now, with her standing before him, it was obvious why she had not.
Her gaze dropped to her hands, which clutched one another anxiously. “There was no reason.”
Ah.
Of course. He’d known that.
“So, you are well?” he confirmed.
She nodded. He nearly succumbed to the desire to reach out and touch her as he had so many times before, to lift her chin so that he could read her thoughts.
“Your mother is lovely, as is your sister,” Olivia commented.
