A footman materialized, trembling, with a glass.Gabriel tipped a little between Lady Devon’s lips.She coughed, fluttered, and opened bewildered eyes.
“The scandal—” she whimpered.
“There is no child,” Peregrine said firmly, glaring at each brother in turn.“There is an offer of marriage.”
Edwin surged forward.“Which I refuse.Hawthorne, you will leave this house and never darken our door again.”
“And just who has given you authority now that you’re back from your galivanting across the Continent—” Pere started.
“You don’t get a say in this.You’re clearly not a good judge of character.”Edwin pointed at Peregrine.
Gabriel rose slowly.Every eye turned to him.
He could fight.God knew he wanted to—he had faced down worse than a sunburnt cub playing head of family.But Peregrine’s face stopped him—equal parts fury and pleading.
He met Edwin’s glare with icy calm.“As you are presently master here, I will respect your command—for today.”
He turned to Peregrine.The look he gave her held everything he could not say aloud.I love you.I am not leaving you.This is not finished.
“Later,” he said softly.“We will sort this later.Stay with your family.Mad as they are, you are blessed to have them.”
He bowed—perfect, cutting, devastating—and walked out.
Behind him, Edwin began shouting again.Henley’s voice rose in answer.Lady Devon wailed about ruined reputations.
Gabriel did not look back.
He had a war to plan, and this time it would be fought with cooler weapons than raised voices.
Later, he had promised her.
He intended to keep that promise if he had to drag the entire Devon family to the altar himself.
Chapter Twenty-One
Anna paced thecrimson parlor at Henley House like a general whose battle plan had just been set on fire.
“Start from the beginning,” she commanded.“And do not leave out the part where my mother-in-law fainted under the impression your sister was increasing.”
Henley dropped into an armchair as though his legs had given up.“Edwin materialized from thin air, found Hawthorne kissing Peregrine, assumed the apocalypse had arrived early, Mama swooned, and Hawthorne walked out looking like a man who intends to burn the rulebook and write a new one in blood.”
“That,” Pere said, “is an understatement so vast it requires its own neighborhood.”Peregrine sat ramrod straight on the settee, arms folded so tightly the seams of her gloves threatened rebellion.“Edwin also forbade Gabriel from ever coming within fifty yards of me again.On pain of dismemberment, horsewhipping, and possible transportation to a godforsaken location.”
“Edwin,” Anna said loyally, “could not dismember a roast chicken without written instructions.”
“True,” Peregrine muttered, “but he is still the eldest son, and apparently that grants him divine rights.”
Henley rubbed his temples.“I accepted Hawthorne’s offer, provisionally, before Edwin turned the parlor into a bad farce.That should stand.”
“Provisionally,” Peregrine echoed.“How terribly romantic.”
Anna flopped beside her.“Did you accept before the cavalry arrived?”
“Yes,” Henley said.“And it will carry weight, unless Edwin decides to make a complete cake of himself in White’s and announce that his sister is a fallen woman.”
Peregrine closed her eyes.“I am eloping.Gretna Green.Tonight.I shall leave a polite note and take the set of grays, excellent horses, very fast.”
“You are not eloping,” Henley snapped.“At least not yet.”
