Chapter Fourteen #2
Gabriel winced, then schooled his features into a charming but disinterested smile. Turning, he regarded the woman belonging to the voice. A seductive grin teased her lips as her eyes started at his toes and slowly drank him in.
“Always a pleasure, Lady Whitewood.” He took her hand when she offered it.
Gabriel quickly kissed the air above it, keeping a more than proper distance between them.
“What? No compliment? Do you see nothing that … tempts you, my lord?” she asked, her expression darkening slightly.
“Always tempted, but I’m unforgivably disposed, my lady. If you’ll excuse me?” He made to turn and leave, but a light touch on his elbow stayed him.
“So quick to leave…” she whispered, releasing him immediately but not stepping back.
She tipped her chin, her gaze lingering on his lips, then traveling down his chest and lower, before she offered a seductive smile.
“My carriage is ready … I find I am easily bored at the theater. If only I could find something more entertaining.” She raised her attention to his face once more, an inviting look in her eyes.
Odd, how he’d often taken the opportunity for escape in a woman’s arms, yet now all he wanted to do was escape from them. Rather, anyone else’s but the woman who wasn’t even trying to capture him.
Gabriel almost replied with Another time, but that wasn’t the truth.
It would be another pretty lie. “The theater has captivated me this evening; I apologize it hasn’t done the same for you.
I’ll bid you good evening, then.” He bowed and turned to leave once more, but Lady Whitewood stepped close again.
It was unusual for a merry widow to be so forward; he frowned and was about to be far more frank than usual when a voice speared through him, freezing his thoughts.
“My lord?”
Gabriel watched cautiously as Lady Peregrine came to stand beside him, a steel resolve in her expression. Her presence was a lifeline, her boldness a shield against the widow’s advances, and he felt a surge of gratitude mingled with desire.
“Lady Peregrine.” He bowed, his expression softening, praying she read into his gaze.
The situation could have easily been misread, and so quickly after his feeble attempts to flirt with her, it had the makings of a decided mess.
She offered a small smile that gave nothing away. “My brother wished to tell you that he is returning to the box with Lady Anna.”
“Thank you, I’ll accompany you back.” He turned to Lady Whitewood.
“Allow me to introduce Lady Peregrine; she and her family are guests in my box this evening,” he stated firmly, watching as Lady Whitewood’s gaze darted between himself and Lady Peregrine before a disinterested expression lit her eyes.
“Ah, then let me not detain you further. A pleasure, Lady Peregrine, Lord Hawthorne.” Lady Whitewood took her leave, but not before giving a once-over to Lady Peregrine, her lips curving into a sarcastic smirk.
Gabriel clenched his fists, wondering how he’d ever been tempted by such a woman.
“My lord?” Lady Peregrine asked, arching an eyebrow when he turned to her.
“That…” He offered his arm and searched for the words to explain.
“It would seem that women can be predators as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so desperate for escape.
” She gave a small chuckle. Her wit was sharp, cutting through the tension, but the softness in her eyes told him she understood more than she let on.
“We shall call it even. You saved me from Ramsford, and I saved you from … Lady Whitewood, is it?” she mused.
Gabriel paused, leading her to the side of the room and taking a deep breath. He wanted to explain more, and he frowned as he regarded her. Her expression fell, and her eyes widened.
“Oh no, I—”
“No, no, you understood perfectly,” he quickly spoke, needing to affirm her assertion of the situation. “I was very politely trying to extricate myself.”
“That’s how it seemed, so … if I overstepped, I apologize—”
“No, you didn’t overstep; I was just afraid you misunderstood…
” He let the words linger in the air, unsure how to continue, not wanting to give away too much of the inner suspicions of his heart, but not willing to let her think him so easily distracted by a pretty face harboring an opportunist’s heart.
“Ah, I see.” She blinked at him, her eyes studying him softly, as if reading everything his heart was unwilling to speak out loud.
Her gaze was a mirror, reflecting his own vulnerability, and for a moment, he felt seen in a way that both thrilled and terrified him.
“Shall we, then?” She offered her hand.
“Yes, of course.” Gabriel struggled to compose himself; it was an odd sensation, not feeling in command of oneself, especially when one was known for such a fact.
He began leading Lady Peregrine up the stairs, around the lingering gentry, till they turned down the hall leading toward his box. The lights dimmed in the theater, and the hall lights flickered dimly, shadowing their path.
Lady Peregrine’s footsteps halted, and Gabriel paused, turning to her.
Even in the soft flickering light, her expression was shocked, her brows raised and her lips still forming the shape of her gasp.
“No,” she whispered a moment later, turning to him; she gave her head a little shake.
“I … impossible.” She took a slow breath. “My apologies.”
“Are you well?” Gabriel asked cautiously, studying her expression.
Her face was a canvas of confusion and disbelief, her eyes wide with a vulnerability that tugged at his heart, urging him to protect her from whatever had caused such a reaction.
“Yes, of course, I … I just thought I saw someone.” Her voice trembled slightly, a rare crack in her usual composure, and it stirred a fierce need in him to understand her distress.
“May I ask who?” Gabriel turned his attention to the dark hall ahead and the small staircase that exited to the foyer at the end of it.
The shadows danced across the walls, the flickering gaslights casting an eerie glow that seemed to mirror the uncertainty in Pere’s eyes.
“Actually, my mother. But she hated the theater … it’s why we never attended.” Pere’s tone was confused, her brows still knit in the dim light.
Her words carried a weight of hurt, a reminder of Lady Devon’s aloofness, and Gabriel felt a pang of empathy for the pain she tried to conceal.
“Are you certain it was her?” He kept his voice gentle, sensing the depth of her shock, his own heart quickening at the thought of her mother’s unexpected presence.
“Quite. But she wasn’t alone either; it’s … just very strange.” Her eyes darted back to the staircase, as if hoping to catch another glimpse, her fingers tightening on his arm in a silent plea for reassurance.
Gabriel nodded. “Do you wish to seek her out? We can certainly find her if she is in a box—”
“No, she disappeared down the hall.” Her voice was firm now, but the tremor beneath it betrayed her turmoil, a mix of shock and longing that made Gabriel ache to ease her pain.
“To the back stairs. It’s not likely we would catch up, unless … you wish me to go ahead and determine if it was her?” Gabriel offered, an instinct telling him that it mattered to Lady Peregrine.
And if it mattered to her, it mattered to him. He watched her closely, noting the way her lips parted, as if weighing the risk of pursuing the truth against the comfort of denial.
“No, I don’t want to miss any more of the third act; I apologize for detaining us.” She offered him a smile, but it was strained, a fragile mask over the confusion that lingered in her eyes, and it struck him how deeply her mother’s neglect wounded her.
She followed his lead back to the box. Nodding to Henley and Lady Anna, Gabriel took his seat beside Lady Pere, but the magic had dissipated, and rather than rapture on Lady Peregrine’s face, it was concern and confusion.
Her gaze drifted to the stage, but her thoughts were elsewhere, lost in the shadow of her mother’s unexpected presence, and Gabriel felt a surge of protectiveness, a desire to shield her from the pain that threatened to dim her light.
As the orchestra swelled, Gabriel leaned closer, his voice a whisper meant only for her. “If you wish to speak of it later, my lady, I am at your service,” he murmured, his tone soft but earnest, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the rake.
Lady Peregrine turned to him, her eyes softening for a moment before she nodded, a silent acknowledgment that deepened the bond between them. The theater’s grandeur faded, and in that moment, it was only the two of them, bound by a shared vulnerability that neither could yet fully name.
Yet even as the curtain fell on the final act, Gabriel’s pulse thrummed with the echo of her fingers in his.
The mystery of Lady Devon’s shadow lingered like smoke, but it was Pere’s quiet Thank you as they parted that burned brightest—a fragile bridge over the chasm of his past deceptions.
He would cross it. He had to. For the first time, the truth didn’t feel like a blade—it felt like salvation.