“What then, Raphe?” he asked himself.
The only response was the sloshing sound of water as he stood up. He knew the answer of course. He’d bloody murder the blighter, that’s what.
And yet . . . Christ, the way she made him feel. It was as if the air came alive around him whenever she was near. And that hint of pain in her eyes when she’d explained that she had no friends. It had made him want to take her in his arms, soothe away the hurt and reassure her of her worth. Instead he’d let her go, watching as she’d beat a hasty retreat, like a mistreated kitten who no longer trusted the world around it. He hated thinking of her like that, hated whoever had made her feel that way.
Drying off, he considered his options. There were two: leave her the hell alone, or pursue her until he got what he wanted. If he picked the first, he could go out and sate his desires elsewhere. It wouldn’t be the same, granted, but it would rid him of the itch that had been building since . . . well, since the first time he’d laid his eyes on her.
Or, he could try and convince her that he was better than Fielding. He’d certainly give her greater pleasure. Of that much he was certain. Smiling wickedly in response to that thought, he started to dress, making use of the clothes that Humphreys had laid out on the bed. But bedding a lady like her would require marriage.
Could he do that? Marry a woman he barely knew just to satisfy a craving? It seemed like an awfully high price to pay. He flung his shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the sleeves. Forget her then? He could not. The very idea of it seemed more impossible somehow than pledging his life to an institution he didn’t believe in. There was also his responsibility toward his title to consider. He’d dismissed the notion at first on account of his aversion to marriage, but perhaps he ought to re-think this position if it involved Lady Gabriella. He put on his smalls, acutely aware of the frustrated fool he’d turned into because of a woman. Not just any woman though but the most intriguing one he’d ever met.
Making his decision, he finished dressing and went downstairs. “I need you to find an excuse to leave me alone with her,” he told his sisters without preamble as soon as he’d located them in the music room. Amelia was banging away at the piano while Juliette danced along to the arrhythmic tune.
Both went completely still. The music ceased. They stared at him as though his head had fallen off on his way in. Perhaps it had. He certainly wasn’t using it.
“What?” Amelia asked.
“Lady Gabriella,” he clarified. “I want to be able to talk to her without the two of you there.”
“She’s a lady, Raphe,” Juliette said as though he might not have realized that much.
Amelia narrowed her gaze on him and stood up. She crossed her arms, standing as though she were blocking his path. “Don’t think we haven’t seen the way you look at her—the way you’re always trying to be close to her. It unnerves her, you know.”
“I just . . .” He looked at each of them in turn. Was he really having this discussion with his sisters? “I like her, all right?”
“No,” Amelia told him sharply. “It’s not all right.” She shook her head. “We know you, Raphe, you’re a good man, a kind man, but you’ve never been with a woman for anything other than a bit of sport.”
“Amelia . . .” He put a hard edge into his tone, hoping to stop her right there.
She didn’t listen. “Lady Gabriella is not a plaything, Raphe. She’s a gently bred woman—a lamb to your wolf. I won’t allow you to chase after her just because it’s been a while since you—”
“Stop!” He gave Juliette a hasty glance. Bringing the subject to his sisters’ attention had been a colossal mistake. Jesus. He was practically blushing because of it.
Except Amelia had set her mind on having her say. “You’ll leave Lady Gabriella alone. She deserves better.”
Raphe gaped at her. He tried not to feel offended by that. It was no use. “What if I marry her?”
That seemed to silence Amelia. She opened her mouth as if to say something, except nothing came out. She was mute. Dumbfounded even, judging by her expression.
“I’d be in favor of that idea,” Juliette said after a bit of hesitation. “She’d be a wonderful sister-in-law.”
Amelia’s mouth opened and closed a few more times before she finally managed to ask the one thing Raphe had wanted to ignore. “Isn’t she supposed to marry Fielding?”
“She’s not engaged to him yet,” Raphe told her, “which means that there’s still a chance I might win her.”
“Do you care for her then?” Juliette asked.
“I . . .” He wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Eventually he said, “Having seen her with Fielding, I think it’s fair to say that he certainly doesn’t.” Whatever that meant to any of them.
“Well,” Amelia said. She uncrossed her arms.
“Lady Gabriella has arrived,” Pierson said, materializing in the doorway. “Shall I show her in?”
Raphe glanced at his sisters, raising his eyebrows in question. Amelia looked to Juliette, a silent exchange appearing to pass between the two. Eventually they nodded. “But if you hurt her in any way,” Amelia said as soon as Pierson was gone, “I’ll make you regret your decision.”
He knew she meant it as he watched her go, hurrying away to another part of the house with Juliette trailing behind. It was touching, how fond his sisters had become of Lady Gabriella—how much they liked her. Juliette was right. She’d make a fine addition to their family, and in the meantime, he’d enjoy getting better acquainted with her.
Following Pierson toward the music room, Gabriella did her best to rid her mind of her earlier encounter with Huntley. Naked. The word had been taunting her for the past two hours. Not completely, but enough to make her wonder about the rest. She hadn’t wanted to contemplate it, but it was as if she’d lost control, unable to halt the assault of unbidden images—images that made her all fidgety and stupid. So inappropriate, she chastised herself as she and Pierson arrived at their destination. So unladylike.
