“There are two horses outside saddled and ready to travel. Simply say the word and you and I can be at Sky Manor before lunch.”
But Stanton was shaking his head. And then he smiled. “Thank you, but no. I need to marry. I promised my father, but more than that, I want to marry Louella.”
Good God, his friend was lovesick. Gabriel laughed and punched Stanton on the arm.
“I never would have imagined you’d marry that scrawny little urchin all those years ago. I had the delightful experience of becoming reacquainted with the older sister last night. Both have certainly grown into beauties.” He’d dreamed about her, surprisingly enough. He rarely dreamed of any one particular woman. Not even his fiancée.
“She is.” Stanton seemed lost in thought. But then he turned and stared at Gabriel curiously. “You met the elder Miss Redfield? Did you apologize to her? You and I were none too kind to the girl before we left all those years ago. Louella, in fact, insisted I apologize before she’d accept me.”
Gabriel scratched his chin. He had very little clear recollection of that summer. The year before Stanton took up his commission on a naval ship and Gabriel embarked upon his tear through all of England. The two of them had filled their days with recklessness and their nights with debauchery and drink. Many times, the days had been filled with drink as well.
“She didn’t mention anything about it.”
“Of course, she wouldn’t mention it.” Stanton groaned. “I’m disappointed in you, Kings. I thought you had a better grasp on the understanding of women than I did. It appears I may have been wrong.”
Gabriel frowned. “Her eye still meanders?”
“I thought you said you became reacquainted.”
“It was dark—“
“So help me, Kings, if you’ve done anything to compromise the gel—“
“Nothing like that,” Gabriel interrupted, cutting the irate groom off. “I stumbled upon her in the garden. She was… alone and, I, as a gentleman, of course, offered to escort her back to the ball.”
Stanton stared at him suspiciously. “Miss Redfield isn’t like other ladies. In addition to the fact that my fiancée dotes on her sister, keep in mind that the young woman has been isolated from Society. She’s the daughter of a viscount but has no prospects. If you dallied with her, she might build… expectations that you are unable to fill.”
“Are you warning me off, Stanton?” Gabriel grinned.
“Damn straight I am.” Stanton apparently found nothing humorous in this subject. “But I would suggest some sort of heartfelt apology. You pestered her more than I, if I remember correctly. You’ll likely have an opportunity sometime during the wedding breakfast.”
Gabriel had been hoping to see her again today. In the daylight. Properly.
He supposed he could work in an apology for… “Lazy-eyed Livvy,” he said softly.
“Dammit, Kingsley, if you so much as utter that name in my presence again, I’ll have no choice but to plant you a facer.”
Gabriel merely chuckled. Stanton had it bad for his bride.
Interesting notion...
A knock sounded on the door and then the priest peeked inside. “It’s time.”
Stanton took a deep breath and tugged at his cravat again. His poor friend needed to get past this ceremony before he strangled himself with the damn thing.
Rather unconcerned, Gabriel sauntered behind the nervous groom out to the altar and then turned with him to stand before the congregation. Once there, Gabriel searched the pews for the bride’s sister.
Left of the aisle, in the front pew, sat Stanton’s father, the Duke of Crawford, as well as the duchess, a rather handsome woman with blondish hair piled atop her head, and her three lovely daughters, younger versions of their mother. To the right, the pew was empty but for two women. The Viscountess Hallowell, an older, somewhat faded version of Stanton’s dark–haired beauty, beaming as she turned her head to watch the back of the church, and ah, yes. Miss Olivia Redfield.
She stood considerably smaller than her mother. He’d known that from holding her while they danced. But in the light of day, Gabriel drank his fill of her as the sun slanted through the windows, causing her hair to shine like molten gold. Desire shot straight to his groin. But more than that—a longing he couldn’t identify.
She must have sensed him staring at her in that moment, however, and lifted her gaze upward.
A beauty in almost every single way.
He’d never known another person with violet eyes. Brighter than blue, truly violet. Both eyes held his for an instant before her left slowly drifted off. Ah, yes, Gabriel remembered her from before. She’d been slimmer than, a girl on the threshold of womanhood.
She’d elicited confusing emotions in him back then. He’d been betrothed, not dead. But like a fool, he’d responded by lashing out at her. As though he’d been twelve instead of one and twenty.
