Chapter 10 #3
“Very well,” Gabriel said finally. “If you must know, part of my reluctance to release you immediately stems from your … reputation for indiscretion.”
Her cup rattled against its saucer as she set it down sharply. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is well-known that you cannot keep a secret,” Gabriel continued, though he regretted the words even as he spoke them. “Your tendency to share information, however innocently, could compromise sensitive matters that affect more lives than just your own.”
The color drained from her face, and Gabriel saw genuine hurt flicker across her features before anger replaced it. “I see. So in addition to being your prisoner, I am also your burden, a gossip too irresponsible to be trusted with important matters.”
Gabriel realized immediately that he had made a terrible mistake. Her pain sliced him like a dagger when he saw how his words had wounded her. “Miss Bigsby, that is not what I meant—”
“Is it not?” She was muted. Anguished. “You have made your opinion of my character quite clear, Lord Trenwith. I am a woman who cannot be trusted, who must be managed and controlled for the greater good.”
Gabriel reached across the small table, intending to take her hand. “Please, allow me to explain—”
Miss Bigsby pulled back as if his touch burned.
“Oh, I think you have explained quite enough,” she replied, rising from her chair with swift, angry movements.
“Now perhaps you would be so good as to explain something else. That sketch I was carrying when you … rescued me from Sir Alpheus’s library. What have you done with it?”
Gabriel hesitated, recognizing the shift in her demeanor. She was no longer the hurt woman seeking understanding. Rather, she had become harder, more calculating. “I have been studying it. Making some progress, actually, in deciphering its meaning.”
“How fascinating,” she declared with false brightness. “And did it occur to you to include me in this investigation? Or am I too much of a gossip to be trusted with such important work?”
The bitterness in her voice made Gabriel wince. He had wanted to share his discoveries with her, but now she was throwing his own words back at him with devastating accuracy. “Miss Bigsby, please. If you could tell me about the sketch—”
“No, you have made your position clear. I cannot keep secrets, so I cannot be trusted with information. Very well. But if that is your view of my character, then surely you can understand why I might be reluctant to share any information with you. Why I feel compelled to prove you wrong!”
Gabriel felt his temper begin to rise at her stubborn refusal to listen to reason. “This is childish, Miss Bigsby. The sketch may hold important clues that affect both our futures.”
“Then perhaps you should have thought of that before insulting my integrity,” she replied with icy composure. “If you believe I am incapable of discretion, then surely, my knowledge of that sketch’s origins would be of little value to you.”
Gabriel recognized the trap she had set for him, and he had to admire her tactical skill even as it frustrated him beyond measure.
She was using his own words against him with the precision of a seasoned diplomat.
This was not the charming, slightly scattered woman he had thought he knew. This was someone far more formidable.
“You are being deliberately difficult,” Gabriel said, his own composure beginning to fray.
“I am being consistent,” she corrected. “You have told me I cannot be trusted. Therefore, it would be irresponsible of me to cooperate or share sensitive information with someone who might use it improperly.”
Gabriel found himself in the unusual position of being outmaneuvered in a negotiation, and he did not care for the experience.
This version of her—cold, calculating, and entirely justified in her anger—was not one he knew how to handle.
He was accustomed to the vivacious woman who had always seemed pleased to welcome him at her uncle’s home.
This stranger wearing Miss Bigsby’s face was proving to be a far more challenging opponent than he had anticipated.
“Very well,” Gabriel said, forcing himself to remain calm. “Perhaps we might set aside the matter of the sketch for now and discuss more immediate concerns. Such as your future.”
“My future?” Her eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “How kind of you to consult me on the matter. I was beginning to think you intended to make all my decisions for me.”
Gabriel pressed on despite her resistance to his opinions. “Miss Bigsby, whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, your reputation has been severely compromised by these events. Marriage to me remains the most practical solution to your difficulties.”
“And I have already declined your generous offer,” she replied with cutting politeness. “Perhaps it is time you accepted that answer as final.”
“I cannot do that,” Gabriel said firmly.
“You do not fully understand the consequences of the scandal that awaits you in England. There are alternatives we might consider. Perhaps a period abroad while the worst of the gossip dies down. Mr. Wells has connections worldwide. You could start fresh in the Americas, where such matters carry less weight.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You would prefer to exile me to another continent rather than accept my refusal of your proposal?”
“I would prefer to see you safe and respected,” Gabriel replied. “If marriage to me is truly so distasteful, then yes, I would arrange for you to begin a new life elsewhere rather than watch you destroyed by gossip and scandal.”
“How noble of you,” she replied dryly. “But I fear you have misunderstood something fundamental about my character, Lord Trenwith. I love my work. I love the intellectual challenge, the sense of purpose, the ability to contribute meaningfully to important matters. Marriage, to you or anyone else, would end all of that. As would starting fresh in the Americas.”
He felt a flicker of hope and his resolve firmed.
Marriage to him would be Miss Bigsby’s closest match to what she desired.
“I would not say that. As my wife, you could serve as my political hostess, just as you have done for your uncle. Your skills and connections would be invaluable in that role.”
She shook her head firmly. “As your wife, I would be your appendage. Any influence I possessed would be derivative, dependent entirely upon your goodwill and approval. That is not the same as independence, Lord Trenwith, no matter how you might dress it up.”
Gabriel studied the set of that stubborn mouth and realized she was going to stand firm against his proposal, and as much as he wanted to point out that her influence as her great-uncle’s secretary was just as derivative, mayhap even more so than as his viscountess, he knew it was not the right tactic.
The more he pushed in this direction, the more she resisted.
Miss Bigsby did not fully comprehend the censure that a young woman was exposed to by scandal.
Her position with Reginald Wells was already lost. No man of his standing, no matter his loyalty to his great-niece, could employ a woman whose reputation had been so thoroughly compromised.
Her entire family would be tarred with the brush of controversy.
Her mother might lose clients over it, to a point that Bigsby’s Stone Manufactory could face serious trouble.
He had seen what the taint of disgrace could do.
He had seen what a loss of reputation could do to an intelligent and sensitive woman such as the delightful Miss Bigsby, and he would not allow the light in her riveting amber eyes to be extinguished.
Leaving her to the ravages of gossip was not an option, so he racked his brain for ideas of how to persuade this unusual opponent who refused to see sense.
But as the silence between them extended, he saw her eyes flutter down to his mouth, before dropping to his chest to caress along his shoulders.
It was a sign of weakness, a chink in her obstinacy.
She was aware of him as a man, which made her nervous.
Susceptible. And she had definitely responded to his kiss the night before.
A knowing smile spread across his lips as he rose from his chair and moved around the small table toward her.
If she would not willingly agree to their vows, he would make it impossible for her to walk away.
It was ruthless, but necessary, because Gabriel would never leave the vibrant Miss Bigsby to feel the brunt of society’s censure, which would kill the spark of liveliness in those fascinating eyes.
This wedding was the best method to prevent it. The two of them might have other plans, but they would have to find a way to reconcile themselves to a partnership. Meanwhile, there was no reason why they could not enjoy the benefits of such an arrangement.
He tugged her into his embrace before she could protest. His mouth closed over hers as a startled squeal was soon smothered and she yielded to his kiss.
He skimmed his tongue over the seam of her lips, coaxing her to allow him access, and when she finally relinquished, their tongues tangled together in a symphony of strawberry preserves and elegant tea.
Gabriel felt her resistance crumble as passion flared between them, just as it had the night before.
Whatever her rational mind might argue, her body responded to his touch with an honesty that could not be feigned.
This was his path forward. Not through argument or logic, but through the undeniable attraction that sparked between them whenever they touched.
Gabriel deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the sweet recesses of her mouth as her resolve melted away entirely.
A soft moan escaped her throat, the sound vibrating against his lips and sending fire racing through his veins.
Her hands, which had been pressed against his chest in token resistance, now clutched at his waistcoat as she pressed herself closer to his warmth.
Gabriel’s own hands roamed from her waist to trace the curve of her spine, then higher to tangle in the silken strands of her hair.
He could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his fingertips where they rested against her throat, could taste the lingering sweetness of strawberry on her tongue.
When she arched against him with another breathless sigh, Gabriel knew with triumphant certainty that her body had betrayed every rational argument her mind might make.
When he finally lifted his head, Miss Bigsby’s breathing was unsteady and her eyes were wide with confusion and desire. Gabriel smiled with satisfaction, knowing he had found the key to winning this particular negotiation.
“Think about it, Miss Bigsby,” he murmured against her ear. “Think about what we could have together.”
He released her then, stepping back with the confidence of a man who had just gained a significant advantage.
She might refuse his proposal with her words, but her body told a very different story.
And Gabriel intended to use every weapon at his disposal to ensure she made the right choice.
After all, this was simply another form of diplomacy.
And he had never lost a negotiation yet.