Chapter 12
Gabriel watched Eleanor disappear into the set with Julian, every instinct urging him to cross the ballroom and put an end to it.
But he remained where he was. Creating a public scene would serve no one but Julian.
The orchestra carried the dancers into the opening figures, silk skirts sweeping across the polished floor while conversation gradually resumed around the edges of the room. To anyone watching, it was another pleasant evening among Bath society.
Gabriel saw only Eleanor. She held herself with the same dignity she had shown ever since arriving at Ravenscourt, her back straight and her chin lifted, refusing to let Julian see the unease he was certain the man intended to provoke. Even from across the ballroom, Gabriel recognized it.
He hated that she had to endure it at all.
“You look ready to challenge him.”
Gabriel glanced toward Cassandra as she came to stand beside him. “I have considered it.”
“I do not doubt it.”
She followed his gaze toward the dancers.
“You would only give him exactly what he wants,” she sighed. “But I must say, she is handling herself remarkably well, especially given the circumstances. I think we have underestimated her.”
“We?”
He looked at her, and a faint smile touched her face.
“I certainly did,” she admitted as she folded her hands before her, watching Eleanor complete another turn through the set. “I have spent years remembering only the girl who disappeared without a word. Now I see a woman trying very hard not to fall apart.”
Gabriel looked back toward the dance floor. Eleanor smiled politely at something Julian said, but it never reached her eyes.
“She is exhausted,” Gabriel said quietly. “She hardly sleeps. Every morning she looks as though she has spent the night preparing for another battle.”
“Perhaps she has.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly.
“I thought bringing her to Ravenscourt would make things easier, and perhaps it has, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
“No,” Cassandra agreed gently. “Because now she has somewhere safe enough to stop pretending she’s unafraid.”
He had not thought of it that way. His eyes drifted toward Eleanor again.
“I only wish—”
He stopped himself.
“What?”
He shook his head. “It does not matter.”
“It matters if you were about to say it.”
A small, weary smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “I only wish she knew she did not have to face all of this alone.”
Cassandra looked at him for a long moment. “I think she will learn that for herself.”
“I hope so.”
A servant approached quietly.
“My lady, there is a young woman asking for you. A Miss Jane Bradbury.”
Concern immediately replaced every other expression on her face.
“I will come at once.” She looked back at Gabriel. “Forgive me, a friend of mine has been forced into some hideous gowns of late, and it is upsetting her. I shall only be a moment. Try not to start a duel before I return.”
“I shall do my best.”
She laughed softly. “I know you will.”
With that, she followed the servant. She was a good and kind lady, and it did not surprise him at all that she was the one that was sent for when another lady needed to feel better.
Gabriel remained where Cassandra had left him, though his attention never truly wandered from Eleanor.
The dance carried her across the ballroom in careful figures, Julian’s polished smile never once slipping as he guided her through each movement.
To anyone watching, it might have appeared like nothing more than a perfectly ordinary exchange between two members of society, but Gabriel knew better.
He knew the difference between Eleanor’s genuine happiness and the careful mask she wore whenever she was forcing herself to endure something unpleasant.
Her shoulders held slightly too rigidly, and when the figures separated them, he noticed the way her fingers tightened around her fan before she forced herself to relax.
Julian was provoking her, and Gabriel had no doubt of it.
He had spent enough years studying the man to recognize the same quiet arrogance that had always been present.
Julian had a way of making cruelty appear like conversation, of delivering wounds beneath a pleasant smile and leaving others uncertain whether they had any right to object.
Gabriel turned away from the dance floor before his temper could betray him. He crossed toward the refreshment table, where several gentlemen had gathered, and attempted to direct his thoughts elsewhere. The effort lasted only a few moments before a careless remark reached him.
“I suppose Hartley has always fancied himself a hero.”
The words came from a gentleman standing near the window, his tone carrying just enough for those nearby to hear.
His companion gave a quiet laugh. “One must admire his courage.”
“Courage?” the first gentleman asked as he accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant. “Well, I suppose marrying a woman half of London believes poisoned her first husband requires either courage or foolishness.”
The laughter that followed was quiet but cutting. Gabriel stopped and turned toward them.
“That is the measure of your wit?”
The two gentlemen looked over, and the amusement vanished from their faces when they realized who stood behind them.
“Mr. Hartley, I—”
“You were speaking of my wife.”
The conversation around them softened as nearby guests became aware of the exchange. The gentleman attempted a careless smile.
“I meant no particular harm.”
Gabriel looked at him steadily. “You repeated an accusation that has not been proven, then found amusement in the damage it causes.”
“I merely repeated what everyone has heard.”
“Then everyone has shown remarkably poor judgment.”
The gentleman shifted. Gabriel did not raise his voice, but the certainty in his words carried farther than anger ever could.
“My wife has been accused. She has not been found guilty. Until the law determines otherwise, she is entitled to the same respect as any other innocent lady.”
The gentleman lowered his gaze. “I apologize if I offended you.”
“Your apology belongs to my wife.”
The man swallowed. “You are correct.”
Gabriel nodded before walking away. He did not wait for another apology or attempt at an explanation.
Some people would continue whispering, and some would continue believing whatever story entertained them most, but he would not allow Eleanor to stand in a room full of people willing to condemn her while he remained silent.
When he returned, he noticed several guests watching Eleanor differently.
The scandal had not disappeared, but open mockery had seemingly ceased altogether.
A few ladies who had previously avoided her now looked uncertain, as though they were reconsidering how quickly they had accepted every rumor placed before them.
Julian returned Eleanor moments later, handing her back to him as though she were incapable of finding Gabriel herself.
“My thanks for the dance, Mrs. Hartley.”
“The pleasure was mine.”
Gabriel heard the steel beneath Eleanor’s polite answer. Whatever Julian had said to her, whatever attempt he had made to unsettle her, she had endured it without giving him the satisfaction of seeing her shaken.
Julian straightened and looked toward him. “Mr. Hartley.”
“Lord Marbury.”
The exchange was perfectly civil. Neither man mistook it for friendliness.
“If you have a moment,” Gabriel said.
“For you?” Julian replied as his mouth curved slightly. “Always.”
Gabriel led him toward the adjoining card room, away from the majority of the guests. The room was quieter than the ballroom, with only a few gentlemen absorbed in their games at the far end. Once the door closed behind them, Julian glanced around with amusement.
“How private.”
“I have no desire to create a scene.”
“What a pity.” Julian moved toward one of the card tables, resting his fingertips against the polished wood. “I had hoped you might finally lose your temper.”
Gabriel remained standing. “Why are you doing this?”
Julian tilted his head. “Doing what?”
“You know exactly what. You have followed Eleanor to Bath. You have spread rumors about her. You have attempted to remove Sophie from her care.”
Julian gave a small shrug. “I have merely exercised my legal rights and spoken with people who are interested in the truth.”
“You always did enjoy hiding behind technicalities.”
“And you always did enjoy believing you were better than everyone else.”
The accusation carried the weight of years. Gabriel studied him carefully.
“This began long before Lord Marbury died,” he sighed. “Is that what you mean?”
Julian’s smile thinned.
“You may not remember university, but I do. I remember a man who never had to fight for anything. A man who walked into every room and was welcomed before he even spoke. I remember watching people admire you simply because you were you. You have always had everything handed to you.”
“That is what you believe.”
“It is what I know.”
The bitterness beneath Julian’s words was no longer hidden.
Gabriel looked at him and understood that it was not only about inheritance, Sophie, or even Eleanor anymore.
Julian’s anger had roots far deeper than the present conflict.
He wanted Gabriel to feel powerless because, in his mind, Gabriel had always represented everything he believed had been denied to him.
“Besides,” Julian smirked, “you should concern yourself less with me and more with your own household.”
“My household?”
“Your new wife. Your new daughter.”
“Be careful, Lord Marbury.”
Julian’s eyes flickered briefly before his pleasant expression returned.
“I do not believe that I have said anything wrong. I hear the little girl has settled in well. She must have been so pleased when those little pink roses were placed in her room.”
The words struck harder than Julian could have known. The roses. They had only been a small kindness, something Gabriel had done because Sophie had already lost too much and he wanted her to feel welcome in a house that was still unfamiliar to her.
Very few people knew about it.