“I’ll ask your father for permission to court you. This thing between you and Fielding, it cannot continue.”
Her heart gave a happy bounce. The possessiveness with which he spoke was thrilling. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t solve all their problems. “My father will never allow it. He doesn’t approve of you, Raphe, and with Victoria’s mistake in mind, I’m afraid he’ll see my attachment to you as a repetition of the past.”
“There has to be a solution.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as if to say, We’re in this together, you and I. We’ll find a way. Out loud, he said, “One thing is for certain—I will not stand idly by and watch Fielding make you his wife.”
Chapter 18
He needed time. They needed time. Time in which to explore this relentless pull between them—time for them to fall in love. It was the only way any of this would ever work, he realized. Because in spite of his protestations, Amelia had been right: he would never marry for anything less. “Tell me what I need to do,” he told Gabriella, almost desperately.
Sighing heavily, she said, “You must prove yourself worthy—a superior match to Fielding.”
“He may be an earl, but I am a duke.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but it’s more than that. Your reputation needs to be impeccable.” She was silent a moment before saying, “The ball will be your best opportunity to alter my parents’ opinion of you. If you can gain the high regard of other respectable members of Society, perhaps then you will stand a chance. And—”
“Yes?” He held his breath.
“One whisper of scandal attached to your name and we’ll lose our chance. They cannot discover your past.”
Reminded of St. Giles and of his recent encounter with MacNeil, Raphe felt his lungs constrict. His heart thudded painfully against his chest. To win her hand would be impossible. He’d known it since the moment the notion had entered his head. Stubborn fool that he was, he would try, anyway—he would turn his back on his deep-rooted fear of marital misery, on the knowledge that he came not only from gentry, but from the shameful slums of London, and on the fact that he was as undeserving of her as a beggar would be of a princess.
“And there’s something else,” she added. “Something that might work in our favor.”
“What is it?”
Lifting her chin, Gabriella glanced up at him, meeting his stormy expression. “My father has a particular fondness for Rubens. He’s been especially interested in acquiring The Three Graces—a painting that you just happen to have in your library.” She’d noticed it the first time she’d come to call.
He was silent for a moment, lips firmly set in contemplation. “I don’t like the idea of trying to buy you with a painting, Gabriella, and I doubt your father will either.” Drawing her away from the window, he led her further about the room at a moderate pace.
“You wouldn’t be trying to buy me. Just permission to court me. There’s a difference.”
“None that I can see.”
“And besides,” she added, trying to make him see reason, “it’s not so terrible a thing when I’m the one suggesting it and we’re both in agreement.”
“Your father won’t know about that. He’ll just see me as a mercenary, and frankly, I don’t blame him.”
It was true. She knew he was probably right, but she also knew that if there was one thing that might tempt her father to comply with their wishes, it was that painting. “I can think of no other way—not if we’re going to stop sneaking around. For that to happen, we’ll need my father’s permission.”
“And you’ll need to stop seeing Fielding.”
Yes, she would. But doing so would not be easy, and her parents’ reactions . . . Her stomach was already rolling over, agitated by the thought of what was to come. But if it meant having Huntley instead, then it would surely be worth every struggle she’d have to endure.
Over the course of the next few days, Gabriella continued tutoring Amelia and Juliette in preparation for their debuts. Her encounters with Raphe became fleeting, but she knew that he was keeping busy with his own lessons—a necessity if they were to have any chance of ever being together.
“I am completely devoted to this endeavor,” he told her one day in passing when she told him how much she missed him. “I am completely devoted to you.”
Her heart swam with joy and the possibility of a brighter future filled her vision.
When she returned home on Saturday, Gabriella was met by her aunt. “You look as though you had a healthy walk,” Aunt Caroline said. “I can’t recall ever seeing you so flushed before. Mind that your dear mama doesn’t see you like that, or she will reprimand you for overexerting yourself.”
Rolling her eyes, Gabriella untied the bow of her bonnet and set it on a nearby table. “Mama puts too much weight on appearances.”
Aunt Caroline’s eyebrows went up. “Does she really?”
“Yes,” Gabriella told her decisively.
“You sound rather mutinous,” Aunt Caroline said. A smile slid into place. “I quite like it. Might I ask about the cause of this startling transformation?”
