And now Ryan felt the first stirrings of real alarm. They endeavored to... towhat? Ridicule her? Menace her? Trap her here and openly shame her while she gasped like a fish on dry land? She had too little experience with men to understand their motives, but she knew that drunkenness and boredom could rapidly lead to a situation that was unsafe.
Blocked from pressing forward, Ryan backed away. She bumped against the terrace railing and began to strategize how she might lower herself down the side and climb into the garden. Or perhaps she could try again to push past them. Would they actively restrain her? She could also cry out.
“Did you know,” Mr. Stanhope was saying, “I actuallyhavevisited the Channel Islands. Jersey, I think it was. And you know whatIfound unforgettable? Not the ocean views, I assure you.” His teeth flashed in the moonlight. “It was thegirls. There’s something about being confined to an island, I think, that makes Channel Islands girls so very accommodating—”
“Step away from the lady.”
A new voice broke into the night. It was low, and calm, and lethal.
Gabriel.
Ryan spun toward his voice, eyes wildly searching the darkness.
“Who’s there?” clipped Mr. Stanhope, head snapping around.
“Step away,” Gabriel repeated.
Ryan saw him now—or she saw half of him. He came up the steps from the garden path in a slow, heavy ascent. With every step, more of his broad shoulders and muscled arms came into view. He wore no jacket or waistcoat, simply his shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick arms. His hands were balled into fists.
“But is it thegardenercoming to your aid, Lady Ryan?” scoffed Mr. Stanhope. To Gabriel he said, “Sod off. This doesn’t concern you.”
“I’ll not ask you again,” said Gabriel. He’d reached the top step and his full height towered four inches above the heads of the Oxford men. He wore buckskins and tall boots and looked to Ryan like a giant, bearded avenging angel.
“There’sa true statement if ever I’ve heard one,” mocked Stanhope. “Last I knew, servants don’t make requests of gentlemen. Nor do they concern themselves with ladies. If you value your job, man,piss off.”
Stanhope glanced at Ryan, looked away, and then looked back again. “Hold on,” he drawled. “Perhaps I’m mistaken. Perhaps Lady Ryanisyour concern. My lady—you little minx. Is it possible we’ve disrupted somehidden arrangementyou have with this... this... What are you, mate? Gardener? Groom? Stable boy?”
Stanhope looked back and forth between Ryan and Gabriel.
His friend Mr. Fielding had begun to back away. “Leave it, Stanhope. It’s not worth upsetting your father.”
Stanhope held up a hand to his friend and leered at Ryan. “Please, my lady, I beg you, do the first interesting thing anyone has done all night: Tell me you’ve some understanding with the gardener?”
“He is no servant,” Ryan whispered, her voice unheard over the pounding of her own heart. And here was another challenge of their sham marriage. She wanted to proclaim to everyone that he was her husband. She wanted to tell skinny-necked Nevil Stanhope that she was a married woman—in fact, she was aprincess—that she belonged to someone, and he belonged to her, and he should not address her if he couldn’t show the most base modicum of respect. But of course she’d asked the Creweses to keep introductions simple, to not complicate the night by explaining her absent husband. In this, Nevil Stanhope had been correct. She and Gabrieldidhave a “hidden arrangement.”
She looked to Gabriel. He did not meet her gaze. He stared at Stanhope with a narrow-eyed expression of simmering fury.
“I beg your pardon?” Stanhope asked her. Heleaned and slid a hand to the small of her back. Ryan jumped. “You’ll have to speak u—”
Gabriel moved so quickly, Ryan felt the rush of air before she registered his lunge. One moment he was standing on the top step, watching Stanhope with a glacial stare, the next he had the man pinned against the side of the house with a forearm across his throat.
“You will apologize to the lady,” Gabriel said.
Stanhope made a gurgling noise. Mr. Fielding inched farther away, following the railing toward the larger terrace.
“Here is what will happen,” Gabriel told Stanhope. “I’ll release your neck, and you will apologize tomy wife.”
Gabriel levered his arm to a slant.
“Who?” choked Stanhope, coughing and wheezing.
“Wrong answer,” said Gabriel. He removed his arm altogether, and Stanhope slid down the wall to the ground.
“Get up,” Gabriel said. “Apologize.”
“Your wife?” wheezed Stanhope, turning to the wall for support, climbing his way to standing.
With no warning, Stanhope shoved off the wall and threw himself at Gabriel. Ryan let out a little scream. Gabriel dodged left, easily avoiding the lunge. Half a second later, Gabriel swung, landing his right fist in Stanhope’s gut. The man grunted, doubled over, and fell to his knees.
