Chapter Fourteen
Honesty. The word lingered in his mind, sharp as a blade, cutting through the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart.
She’d said the one word that had been what shattered his own family.
Gabriel’s eyes were on the stage, but his mind was elsewhere.
How would things have been different if his mother had been honest with him, with his father?
Intentions be damned, it was all smoke and mirrors, and he knew that, lived by that.
But when she’d looked him square in the eye and called out the one truth that he couldn’t deny—that honesty fixed most moral issues—he wasn’t sure how one recovered from that sort of blatant truth, and if he were honest, which, ironically, he was loath to be, he wasn’t sure he wanted to recover.
No. He wanted that in his life. To be told the truth, even if it hurt … he’d rather have the truth than the beautiful lie that manipulated the circumstance. And, as God laughed, she was the only woman he’d ever met who understood that fact. Who lived by it.
She’d been painfully honest with him.
With her brother.
And he’d … not.
He sat rigid in his chair as the lights dimmed for the next act.
The swell of the orchestra and the colors of the Ottoman set were lost on him, and his world narrowed to hold only the lady beside him.
He was playing a dangerous game, yet he couldn’t resist the siren call she presented with her frank words and unabashed courage.
She didn’t hide behind a facade of socially acceptable words and actions; she unapologetically spoke with honesty, and it was as refreshing as a spring rain and as threatening as a flash flood.
Her presence was a storm, upending his carefully ordered world, and he found himself craving the chaos she brought.
Lady Peregrine’s gasp pulled him from his thoughts, and his attention flashed to her awed expression, the light from the stage dancing in her eyes. Her features were alight with wonder, a childlike delight that softened her sharp edges and made her all the more impossible to resist.
Her cheek curved with a smile as she leaned forward, her delicate hands resting on her gown, then curving and clutching the material as the orchestra crescendoed into a minor chord, anticipation building in the air.
Gabriel’s eyes were fixated on her fingers, the way she grasped her dress, how similar it would be for her to be grasping the sheets of his bed in the same way, only an entirely different sort of pleasure being the catalyst. The thought was a forbidden spark, igniting a heat he struggled to contain, his rakish instincts warring with the vulnerability she stirred.
Gabriel closed his eyes, needing to compose himself. The thought was quick, but its effect lasting, and he knew that night, when he sank into his bed, he’d remember it with all too much clarity.
What was this madness? Never had something so innocent threatened to so fully undo him.
“Are you well?” Lady Peregrine’s voice gently asked, and he forced a smile to his lips as he glanced to her.
“Quite.”
“You looked … in pain?” she asked, her tone a mix between curiosity and concern.
Her eyes reflected the dim light of the stage, illuminating their depths. Her gaze was soft, searching, a mirror to the honesty she championed, and it pierced him more deeply than any flirtation ever could.
His tone was low, a caress.
He couldn’t help it. “I am quite well.” His gaze darted between her eyes and then rested on her lips.
The urge to close the distance was overwhelming, a reckless impulse he barely restrained.
Her pink tongue darted out and moistened them, and he flickered his eyes to study hers, drowning in the warmth he saw there. Her small gesture, unconscious yet intimate, pulling him toward a precipice he wasn’t ready to face.
He wanted to touch her, hell, he wanted to kiss her …
but no. A kiss would be too much, too damning; it could be misunderstood in far too many ways by far too many eyes.
But a touch, so much could be said without words.
He leaned closer to her, calculating how his shoulder near hers would block the view of the movement of his hand.
He watched her brow pinch with a slight furrow, and she leaned in slightly, as if expecting him to speak.
The fragrance of rosewater filtered through the air, and with a tentativeness he rarely experienced, Gabriel slowly reached over and laid his hand over hers.
His gloved fingers were warm against her silk gloves, a silent confession of the desire he could not voice, a risk that set his heart pounding.
He watched as her small hand slowly relaxed its grip on her dress, and he hazarded a glance to her face, watching as emotions flickered across her expression, finally resting on a pleased smile.
He released the breath he’d been holding and risked his heart further by deftly lacing his gloved fingers through her own. The gesture was bold, scandalous in its intimacy, yet hidden from Henley’s watchful eyes by the angle of their seats.
“This … was not what I was expecting.” Lady Peregrine’s voice was soft, invitingly vulnerable.
Gabriel gave a soft chuckle. “I am full of surprises, my lady.”
“Clearly. And I do like surprises,” she replied, then quickly lowered her gaze to their laced fingers and then back to his, a slight wary edge to her eyes.
Her caution was a mirror to his own, a reminder that they both treaded a dangerous path, yet her willingness to linger in the moment sent a thrill through him.
“Then you’ll love what happens next in the play.” He gestured to the stage with his chin. “I’ll not distract you further, since, if my memory serves correctly, I was threatened with bodily harm.”
“You were.” She arched a brow, the wary edge softening in her expression to one of pure amusement.
Her teasing was a spark, reigniting the playful dance they’d begun, and he relished the challenge of matching her wit.
Gabriel was acutely aware of every gasp, every shift of Lady Peregrine’s delightful form, of every smile that touched her lips through that next act.
She’d glance to him occasionally, when the play had a twist she hadn’t expected, and her expression would be alight with a pleased allure that held him captivated.
Her delight was infectious, drawing him into her world, where honesty and passion intertwined in a way he’d never known.
As the act ended, he reluctantly released her hand, knowing the lights would illuminate their private moment and wanting to protect her from any scrutiny …
or scandal. Yet the memory of her hand in his lingered, a promise of something unspoken, something he dared not name.
Her gaze flickered to his, understanding washing over her face as she gave a quick nod, then smiled as the theater lit up.
Gabriel’s gaze dropped to her lips, and he gave a teasing smile, one he hoped reminded her of his rather scandalous actions.
The smile was a dare, a silent invitation to continue their game, and the spark in her eyes told him she was not unwilling.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed slightly.
Unable to resist teasing her, he leaned slightly forward.
Her eyes widened once again, but she didn’t move.
Henley’s voice interrupted Gabriel’s study of his sister, and he quickly schooled his features and belatedly leaned away, hoping their little game wasn’t obvious. The interruption was a cold splash of reality, a reminder of the eyes watching, waiting for a misstep that could bind them in scandal.
“Pere? We’re going to take some air in the foyer, join us?”
Gabriel shifted to look at Henley, noting with relief that his friend’s attention was solely on his wife as he helped her to stand. He turned an expectant gaze to his sister a moment later.
“Of course,” Lady Peregrine replied, almost stumbling over her words to say them quickly.
“Allow me.” Gabriel stood and offered his hand to Lady Peregrine, assisting her to stand.
Even though he’d just released that same hand only a few moments ago, his body reacted to her touch.
His body warmed, his senses sharpened, and his worldview narrowed to simply include her.
Her touch was a spark, reigniting the fire he’d tried to douse, and he wondered how long he could resist its pull.
“Thank you. Will you join us?” Lady Peregrine asked, her eyes searching his as if asking more than what was actually said.
“Of course. May I escort you?” he asked, offering his arm as she stepped into the aisle.
“If I must,” she replied, her tone dripping with mock reluctance, but the slight pressure of her hand on his arm betrayed her eagerness to continue their dance of words and glances.
“It was a question, not a demand,” Gabriel whispered softly as he led her from the room, her hand resting on his arm.
Lady Peregrine merely shrugged. Her nonchalance was a challenge, urging him to push further, to see how far her wit would carry them.
The stairs were thick with people having the same idea to escape the theater for a few moments’ reprieve.
The foyer buzzed with the ton’s chatter, the clink of glasses mingling with the rustle of silk and the scent of pomade, a glittering chaos that mirrored the turmoil in his heart.
As they came to the wide expanse of the stairs’ landing, Gabriel turned to Lady Peregrine.
“Care for a refreshment? They have orgeat, Madeira, and, I think, lemonade.”
“That would be lovely,” Lady Peregrine replied, a grateful smile on her lips. Her smile was a beacon, drawing him closer, and he wondered if she knew the power she held over him.
He nodded and, after a quick word to Henley, made his way over toward the table.
“It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen you at the theater, my lord.”