“She will be,” Gabriella said, appreciating her concern. “We can return home shortly, Anna. The duke just wishes to have a quick word with me before I leave.”
“Should I wait for you here then, or—”
Gabriella silently thanked Anna for allowing her to make her own decision. “Yes,” she said, aware of how scandalous it would be for her to be completely alone with Raphe—of what being alone with him would imply. But she’d been alone with him before, and longed to be so again. “I won’t be long.”
And then she turned away, following Raphe through to the parlor, not saying a word as he shut the door firmly behind them.
Chapter 22
A thrill of something forbidden darted its way along her nerves, producing a light tremor at the base of her neck as he strode past her, brushing her gently with the edge of his jacket. “Brandy?” he inquired, reaching for a decanter.
“I’ve never tried it,” she confessed as she lowered herself to the sofa.
He returned with two glasses and handed her one before claiming the vacant spot beside her. She took a sip, winced, then tried it again. Raphe gave her a lopsided grin before taking a sip of his own. “It’s pretty strong stuff, but it’ll do wonders in any number of situations.”
Gabriella set the glass aside. “I like the warming effect, but the taste will take some getting used to.”
A comfortable silence settled between them for a while, during which Gabriella became increasingly aware of how close he was to her. He could have taken one of the chairs, but he hadn’t. Instead, his large frame occupied most of the sofa, allowing for only a symbolic amount of space to fall between them. If he moved an inch, his thigh would come into contact with hers. Unless she moved, scooting further back against the armrest.
But she did not. Would not. Not when she craved the closeness.
“Why did you come here today?” he quietly asked, breaking through the myriad of indecent thoughts she was now having, specifically of the ways in which he might ruin her right here, right now, on this very sofa.
Unbalanced by the question, she picked up her glass and took another sip of brandy, which gave her a couple of extra seconds to ponder her response. She could take the cowardly route and say that she’d come to discuss Amelia and Juliette’s presentations at court—the work that still remained to be done. Or she could be brave and tell him the truth. “I didn’t want you to think that I agreed to marry Fielding. Especially not after you made your own intentions toward me clear and I promised to help find a way for us to be together.”
“So he forced your hand?”
She nodded. “He did.”
“I thought so.”
“You should know that he came to see me yesterday though. Before the ball.” His eyes hardened and she glanced away.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, when she failed to continue.
Her eyes flew to his. “Because I don’t want to keep anything from you.”
“Then tell me what happened, Gabriella.”
She drew a deep breath. “He proposed and I declined. But he refused to listen, and then . . .” she swallowed, forcing herself to get the words out. “He kissed me.”
Raphe’s jaw tightened. His shoulders seemed to strain as if holding back some invisible force. Bracing his elbows against his knees, he stared into the glass he held between his hands. “Will you marry him then?”
How could he possible think so? “Not if I can help it. I already told my parents that I intend to call off the engagement. They were hardly thrilled.”
Straightening, he set his glass aside and turned in the seat so he faced her. “And with good reason, I suspect. Whatever his shortcomings may be in my eyes, Fielding is a good match for a lady like you. He’s a respectable match.”
Stunned by his words, she carefully asked, “What are you saying?” She shook her head. “I thought—”
“And you thought correctly, but the fact of the matter is that however attracted I may be to you and—vice versa—you and I are an ill-suited pair.”
His gaze met hers with a smoldering heat that brought her close to melting. “You don’t believe that. Not unless—” She had to focus. She had to discover the truth. “Papa told me this morning that he’s discovered a connection between you and Carlton Guthrie.” Hating herself for not having enough faith to dismiss her father’s words completely, she asked, “Is it true?”
Reaching out, he removed her glass from between her hands and placed it next to his own. He then took her hand in his, encasing her with a warmth that swiftly stole up her arm and fanned out across her chest. Gabriella’s pulse quickened. “Partly,” he said, his unapologetic gaze holding hers. “Guthrie was one of my father’s creditors. He took me and my sisters in when we were left with nothing and had no one else to turn to.”
“So, you’re saying that everyone’s wrong about him? That he’s a kind man?” It seemed unfathomable.
“No.” He shook his head sadly. “He considers himself a businessman of sorts, and he wasn’t willing to forgive Papa’s debt when I was there to repay it on his behalf.”
