Page 39 of Notorious

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“I interrupted what you were going to say.”

“It wasn’t important.”

He hesitated, as if he were going to inquire more deeply, but then seemed to think better of it.

“There’s ample time for you to rest before dinner. Is there anything you need? Shall I send up Mrs. Parker?”

“No, Fletcher will see to my needs. Thank you.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll see you in a few hours.” He bowed and turned to leave.

“Mr.—ah, Gabriel.”

“Yes?” He stopped and turned.

“About tomorrow. I was—”

His pleasant expression hardened. “I’d hoped I’d made it clear that I don’t wish to speak about this again, Drusilla.”

Her name on his tongue sent a shock of surprise through her. His accent seemed more pronounced when he said her name. Foolishly, she wanted to hear him say it again. And again. That desire was overborne by the irritation she felt at being silenced by him.

“And I do not appreciate being quieted like a child, Gabriel.”

His lips—those full, shapely lips she saw in her dreams—curved into a smile that was without amusement. “I’m not treating you like a child; I’m treating you like a wife.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t lord your status of husband over me.”

“You believe this is an example of me lording something over you?” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Oh, you’re sorely mistaken, my dear Mrs. Marlington.” He shook his head while Drusilla tried to ignore the sudden awareness that flooded her body at the sound of her married name.

Drusilla crossed her arms. “Why am I not surprised that you won’t live up to your word of not even two days ago?”

She’d hoped to anger him, but he just smiled. “I promised I wouldn’t beat or confine you. But I did not promise that I would permit you to interrogate me or run roughshod over me, or turn me into some kind of squeaking worm of a man who—”

“Worms don’t squeak.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You said you wouldn’t permit me to turn you into a squeaking worm of a man. Worms don’t squeak. Perhaps mouse is the word you were searching for?”

He stared, arrested. And then he took a step toward her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose up, but she refused to step away.

“I stand by my word that I shall never cause you physical harm.” His voice was soft, but that just made the words sound menacing.

Drusilla wanted to yell at him, to tell him that he’d been causing her emotional agony that was almost physical in nature from the first moment she’d met him.

But he could never, ever know such a thing. She could never disclose how it would tear her apart be married to a man she loved, but who would never love her. And she could never tell him how it would kill her by inches to watch in silence while he took lovers. It would be agony; if it did not actually kill her, it would make her wish she were dead.

No, she could never say those things.

Drusilla realized he was waiting for some response. She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, a silent challenge to his bid for authority.

He frowned, the skin over his high, sharp cheekbones darkening with displeasure. “I will protect you and treat you with respect, but you will not rule me, Drusilla. This business of the duel is no concern of yours, this—”

“You’re fighting because of me. How can it not be my concern?”

He muttered something in another language beneath his breath and released the door handle before striding back to her. “I’m fighting this duel because Visel challenged me. Me. If he had not been such a drunken fool, he would have waited until there were no women about—he would have confronted me in private. But he is an idiot, so now the entire world—including you, my sister, my mother, and every other female in England—is privy to my business.” One of his eyebrows cocked, and he stepped close enough that she could feel the heat of his body through their combined clothing. His shockingly green eyes narrowed. “That still does not mean I will discuss the matter. That means—”