Page 13 of Notorious

“Blame does not matter now, Mother.”

She smiled at Gabriel but the expression was sad and strained. “You are correct, Jibril. It does not matter.” His mother was the only person who still used the Arab form of Gabriel, and the sound of his once-familiar name left an ache in his chest.

Lord Exley cleared his throat. “I understand the rumor is that you were meeting Miss Clare, and Visel interrupted you?”

Gabriel had to laugh; the ton was bloody amazing. Even before they’d made it to the foyer at Abingdon House, Gabriel had heard the rumors flying.

“While we know that is not the truth, it does not signify—the truth never matters.” The marquess’s wry tone reminded Gabriel that Lord Exley knew about the power of rumors from personal experience. “You understand what must be done, Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s mother took one of his hands before he could answer. “I know your heart was elsewhere, but when something like this happens, you must do the correct thing.”

He smiled down at her and squeezed her hand, not in the mood to disabuse her of the belief that he’d fallen in love with the Kitten, and then turned back to the marquess. “Yes, I understand what has to be done.”

“You’ll make your offer kindly, my son?” Lady Exley asked, gripping his hand.

“I shall be as kind as I am able.”

Gabriel didn’t bother mentioning that he somehow doubted Miss Clare would receive his offer well, no matter how kindly he put it.

* * *

Drusilla stared out the window, even though there was nothing to see other than the winking of streetlamps and the occasional carriage.

“It’s all my fault,” Eva said for at least the fiftieth time.

Drusilla had stopped arguing an hour ago.

“What if he dies?” Eva wailed.

Drusilla turned to her friend. “Eva, come sit by me. Please?” she added when the other woman did not cease her relentless pacing.

Eva slumped down beside her, her hands twisting and twisting the royal blue silk of her dressing gown. Just looking at her friend was enough to rob Drusilla of breath. She was achingly gorgeous and yet utterly unaware—or uncaring—of her beauty.

Drusilla put an arm around her and drew her close, resting her cheek on her soft almost-black hair. Something about Eva de Courtney brought out the mothering instinct in her—even though they were close in age. Eva had a family who obviously loved her, but she always seemed so . . . waifish, so alone. It was ironic that Drusilla, the one with only one aunt, was the more secure of the two.

“What if he dies, Dru?”

Drusilla squeezed her harder. “Your brother was a warrior before he turned seventeen, Eva.”

“Yes, but Lord Visel was a soldier for years and has only returned from the War recently. We don’t know what kind of man he is.” She paused. “Well, other than an atrocious libertine And the Duke of Tyndale’s new heir.”

Drusilla absently stroked Eva’s hair as she considered the new earl, a relative newcomer to London society. Godric Fleming, the current Earl Visel, was often intoxicated, madly reckless, and exceptionally mysterious.

He’d surfaced when the Duke of Tyndale’s son died last November in a freak carriage accident. All of London had been curious to meet the duke’s new heir, his eldest grandson, a man who’d been away at war for over a decade.

“We don’t even know if it will be pistols or swords,” Eva said. She grabbed Dru’s hand and squeezed hard enough to make her wince. “Oh God, Dru. What if Gabe is so angry he chooses pistols? What if Visel is a crack shot? What if Gabe kills Visel and has to leave England? What if—”

Drusilla gave Eva’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Stop borrowing trouble, Eva. We don’t know anything yet. It’s possible one of them will apologize and—”

“Never! And what did Gabe do that he needs to apologize?” she demanded, not waiting for Drusilla to answer. “And Visel? He challenged my brother—he would hardly apologize for that. Besides, I think this is exactly what Visel wanted. I think he’s been trying to goad Gabe into a fight since they met. You know what I mean, Dru—you’ve seen it yourself. He’s been needling Gabe since he first saw him two months ago.”

Drusilla had noticed Visel’s behavior but had chalked it up to yet another oddity of male aggression. After all, the recently arrived rake was not the only man who appeared to enjoy digging at Gabriel Marlington. Men seemed to dislike him as much as women found him captivating.

Eva shook her head. “I don’t understand it.”

“Understand what?” Drusilla asked.

“Why Visel hates him so much.”