“I thought you said you were likely to win. Isn’t that the whole reason why Guthrie insisted on making you fight?”
Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips and placed a tender kiss against the top of it. “Yes. But it’s as Fullton said. There are no guarantees.” Disliking the angst he saw in her eyes, he forced a smile and said, “Come, let’s go and rejoin the festivities.”
She held him back, though. “Have you spoken to Coventry and Richardson about escorting me tomorrow?”
“Gabriella—”
“Do not tell me to stay away, Raphe! Not now, after what we’ve just learned.”
The fierceness with which she spoke was soul-shattering. His heart ached, both with emotion and concern for her well-being. Still, he could not deny her request. Not when it was made with such forcefulness. “They will accompany you there as long as you agree to stay where they tell you to stay, and to leave if they feel that being there poses a threat to you in any way.”
She frowned, just as he’d thought she would, but he refused to budge. Her safety was simply too important to risk on account of anything. “Fine,” she said. She accentuated her compliance with a curt nod.
Raphe breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I hear the waltz starting. Shall we go back inside?” The lightness with which he spoke was deliberately meant to soothe her. There was no doubt that the conversation they’d overheard had put them both on edge, but unlike Gabriella, Raphe knew his own skill. He wasn’t too worried. It wouldn’t be the first time he met an opponent much larger than himself.
Still, the pleasure of finally holding Gabriella in his arms as they twirled about the dance floor calmed his nerves, distracting him from any concerns he might have for the coming day. Her hand clasped his, warm and certain, her eyes never leaving his until it felt as though it was just the two of them. His heart clenched and he drew her closer, loving the way her lips parted on an airy breath. The way he felt about her . . . it was both wonderful and terrifying, this business of letting another person govern your heart. So he chose not to put too much thought into it, and to simply feel. The ring still lay in his pocket, waiting for just the right moment.
“Gabriella.”
He didn’t even realize he’d spoken her name until she answered him.
The music slowed, drawing them to a halt and forcing him to release her. Except he found that he did not want to—he would never want to. So he stayed where he was, holding her in place, his eyes trained on hers. A second passed and then another, until he became keenly aware that they were now the center of attention. Everything had gone completely still, save for the whispered murmurs that shifted the air around them. “Gabriella,” he said again. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out the ring he’d found amidst the Huntley family heirlooms—a brilliant sapphire, surrounded by diamonds. “It would be my greatest honor if—”
“Madam! You mustn’t. Not now,” several voices spoke in a rush. The whispered murmur increased, accompanied by the rustling of fabric as guests shifted to see what was happening. Raphe stiffened, aware that one of the voices belonged to Pierson, and that he’d spoken in an uncharacteristic state of panic.
And then there was another voice, a voice Raphe had hoped never to hear again. “Darling, it’s so good to see you again after all of these years. I’m terribly sorry for my late arrival.”
Turning with rigidity, his jaw clenched until he swore his teeth might shatter from the pressure of it. He glared at the woman as she made her approach. She was dressed in a bright red gown that swooshed behind her as she walked, and about her neck she wore the pearls his father had once given her on a whim. Raphe felt his heart begin to pound and his fingers twitch with a sudden urge to tear the necklace away from her. The honorable Delilah Matthews had not just ruined his childhood, but what would have been a brilliant proposal, if she’d allowed him to finish it.
“Mother,” he said, deliberately infusing that one singular word with as much loathing as possible. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 31
It took Gabriella a moment to comprehend what was happening—the enormity of the situation. One second she’d known with certainty that she was about to become engaged to Raphe. There had been no doubt in her mind. After all, she was no longer attached to Fielding, her parents had given their approval, and the ton even seemed to be somewhat accepting of Raphe as the new Duke of Huntley—at least enough to keep any lingering biases to themselves.
But then Raphe’s mother had walked back into his life and ruined the moment with the same degree of selfishness she’d shown when she’d walked out of it. Gabriella’s spine stiffened. The mood in the room, so festive and positive just a second before, now leaned in a negative direction, the stares no longer supportive, but rather judging. She had to do something, especially since Raphe seemed incapable of acting with any decorum. Not that she blamed him. She understood the fury now emanating from his entire person. But it wouldn’t do his family or hers an ounce of good if he chose to act on it in the middle of the ballroom. Which he might, judging from his clenched fists and his obvious hostility toward the woman who stood before him, her pleasant demeanor displaying not the least bit of remorse for the way in which she’d mistreated him and his sisters.
Unsure of what to say or do, but knowing she had to act quickly, Gabriella stepped forward. A hand on her shoulder drew her back—Coventry’s, she realized—and she watched instead as her father presented himself to Mrs. Matthews. “What a delightful surprise,” he said as he bowed before her. “I daresay we all feared we’d lost you.”
“Lord Warwick,” Mrs. Matthews said, looking somewhat perplexed. “I—”
“Need a drink?” he supplied. “By all means, let us adjourn to one of the parlors. This way.”
Before Mrs. Matthews could manage a retort, he’d grabbed her by the arm and begun leading her away. She looked ready to protest quite vehemently at first, but then Warwick leaned closer, whispered something in her ear and escorted her toward the nearest exit without further signs of complaint.
Raphe marched after them with his sisters and Gabriella bringing up the rear. “Please do something,” she hastily begged of her mother in passing. “Ask the musicians to play something lively—tell Pierson to bring more champagne.” This evening would have been perfect! It should have been.
Quickening her stride, she hurried after the others. Raphe did not deserve this. Nobody did.
Would his troubles have no end? Feeling every sinew of his body stretch to the point of snapping, Raphe faced the woman who’d abandoned her family in search of a better life. “He killed himself because of you.” It was the first thought that struck him as she stood there, audaciously smiling back at him.
The smile slipped, but only for a second. “He mismanaged his money until there was nothing left, and then he borrowed—enormous amounts that I knew he’d never be able to pay back. What was I supposed to do? Follow him to debtors’ prison?”
“You had children, for God’s sake.” He could feel himself losing control, the rage rapidly building inside him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d do something rash. So he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “He did it for you, you know. You were the one who drove him to it with your demand for a lifestyle he couldn’t afford. All he ever wanted was to make you happy.”
Snorting, she raised her chin in a regal pose of superiority. “He was always such an optimist.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.” It was Gabriella who spoke as she stepped closer to Raphe and took him by the hand in a gesture of indisputable solidarity. “And you’re a terrible person.”
