“Gabriella—”
“I will marry him,” she said, cutting off her aunt’s insistent voice. Her hands balled in her lap, her nails digging against her palms. “With or without your blessing.”
“Though I do believe we’d both prefer to have it,” a deep voice spoke from the doorway.
Elation shot to the surface as Gabriella’s head whipped around to face the man who’d stolen her heart. He was standing behind the butler, about to be announced. “Huntley!” Her smile was immediate as she rose to her feet and went to greet him, dismissing the butler as she did so. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought it might be time for your father and I to have a little chat,” he said, eyes shining with adoration as he smiled back down at her. His hair was a little disorderly, but it was one of the things she loved about him—his departure from the social norm. “And there is something else,” he murmured. “Your sister wishes to make an attempt at reconciliation. For Lucy’s sake.”
Gabriella stared at him. “How can she be so forgiving?”
The edge of his mouth lifted. “Because the love she feels for her daughter is greater than her pride.” He held her gaze. “Would you like to share the news or—”
She shook her head. “I think you should do it, since you’re the one who saved her, and since my parents would never have had this second chance with her if it hadn’t been for you.” When he nodded his agreement, she turned to face her father. “Papa, the Duke of Huntley would like a word with you.”
Warwick looked somewhat uncertain. Lady Warwick scowled in an ugly manner that made Gabriella cringe. Her aunt, on the other hand, looked as though she were wishing she was twenty years younger, and available to receive Huntley’s ministrations. Gabriella couldn’t help but smile. She was well acquainted with his irresistible charm.
“Very well,” Warwick finally said. “Let us adjourn to my study.”
Chapter 29
“Have a seat,” Warwick said as he ushered Raphe into his study and closed the door behind them. Doing so, Raphe watched him go to a narrow table that stood against one wall with a tray full of carafes on it. “I’m guessing this conversation will require fortification?”
“It might,” Raphe agreed. “I’ll have a brandy, please.”
Crossing to his own chair a minute later, Warwick set a tumbler in front of Raphe before sitting down as well. “Are you aware that Gabriella is no longer engaged to Fielding?”
“Yes,” Raphe said. He chose not to elaborate, since doing so was unlikely to help his cause. Instead, he said, “With that in mind, I would like to ask you to reconsider your position regarding my request to court her myself.”
Leaning back in his chair until the leather squeaked, Warwick regarded Raphe with an assessing look. “I don’t trust you,” he said after a long drawn-out moment of silence. “According to the man I hired to investigate your circumstances, your last place of residence was somewhere in St. Giles. He also tells me that you have ties to Carlton Guthrie—a man suspected of being behind all manner of crime. Which tells me that you cannot possibly be who you claim to be. No heir to a dukedom could ever have fallen so low.”
Unperturbed by Warwick’s insistence on finding the truth since he’d been expecting it, Raphe slowly nodded. “I might be equally mistrusting if I were in your position. However, I would ask that you hear me out before making erroneous assumptions.”
Warwick’s eyebrows flattened themselves as he puckered his forehead. “I’ve always prided myself on being fair, though I must confess that my daughter has recently cast some doubt in my mind where that is concerned. It appears that she’s taken quite a liking to you.” Folding his fingers across his stomach, he tilted his head back and pursed his lips. “I’ll allow it. For her sake.”
Steeling himself, Raphe squared his shoulders and straightened his back. “The information that you’ve uncovered about me so far is true. I’ve spent the last fifteen years in the slums, just trying to get by while supporting my sisters.”
“Go on,” Warwick said, narrowing his gaze.
“My father took his own life when I was eight, leaving behind a massive debt.” He went on to tell him how his mother had abandoned them all, how he and his sisters had been forced out of their home, about Guthrie’s willingness to help them as long as Raphe paid off his father’s debt, and about his sister’s untimely death. “I know that my past will always leave a door open to scandal, which is why I concocted the story about growing up secluded in the North. I hoped it would explain our lack of finesse when my sisters and I first arrived at Huntley House. They both deserve to claim the lives they were born into.” Expelling a heavy sigh, he added, “I want you to know that I did the best that I could, under the circumstances.”
Warwick’s face remained impassive throughout the entirety of Raphe’s explanation, except for the occasional twitch at the corner of his mouth. His hard eyes held either admiration or condemnation. Raphe wasn’t entirely certain which, until the earl eventually spoke with surprising modesty. “I daresay, I owe you an apology, Your Grace.”
“There’s no need,” Raphe said. “I understand your mistrust of me completely. Especially once I realized that it wasn’t just a matter of securing an excellent match for your daughter, but that you were genuinely trying to protect her from harm.”
A shadow settled upon Warwick’s face, accentuating his age and a weariness brought on by worry and responsibility. “Her sister made an unfortunate match for herself. I wanted to make certain that the same did not happen to Gabriella.”
“I understand.”
The sympathy with which he spoke seemed to alert Warwick. He gave a snort. “You cannot possibly.”
“Which brings us to the second matter that I wish to discuss with you. Your other daughter, Victoria, has suffered a great deal at the hands of the man she married—more than you can possibly imagine.”
“How do you—”
“Gabriella received word from her recently.”
“I wasn’t aware.” Warwick’s eyes filled with emotion. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
