Page 43 of The Lady's Forbidden Marquess
“I thought a public show of friendship might suffice,” he said, his voice teasing but careful.“Unless you have… other ideas?”He watched her closely, searching for a sign she felt the pull he did, the memory of her hand in his at Drury Lane a constant echo.
She laughed softly, a sound that warmed him to his core.“Oh, I’m full of ideas, but none the ton would approve of.”Her boldness, that defiant spark, was more pronounced tonight, and it fueled his suspicion she was testing the waters, drawing him closer.
He grinned, unable to resist.“Careful, my lady, or I might think you’re trying to scandalize me.”His tone was playful, but his heart raced at the possibility she was flirting, that she saw the man beneath the rake.
“Ah, yes, of the two of us, I’m the dangerous one,” she teased.
Gabriel swallowed his immediate response ofYou are, and held his tongue.“Be that as it may…” he said instead.“I am not sorry that the situation requires us to be together a little more often.”His words were daring, and when he risked a glance to her, green eyes speared through him, that same deep searching that undid him at Drury Lane, where she seemed to lift his thoughts from his mind.He looked away, calling himself a coward.
They returned to Henley and Anna, and Gabriel reluctantly released her arm, his fingers lingering a moment too long.As she stepped away, he felt the loss acutely, a reminder of the tightrope he walked.His gaze followed her as Lord Woodbury approached, claiming her for a dance.Jealousy surged, sharp and unwelcome, as Woodbury’s hand rested on her waist, his smile too familiar.Gabriel clenched his fists, his charm faltering as he watched her laugh at something Woodbury said.Did she enjoy his company?The thought was a knife, twisting in his chest, and he hated how it exposed his vulnerability.
He forced his attention away from her, entering into conversation with a nearby group of gentlemen, nodding when appropriate but contributing nothing of note.His attention lingered behind him, and when the music ended and shifted to a waltz, he released the tense breath he’d been holding captive.He turned, and with each step Lady Peregrine took toward him, his body both relaxed and caught fire like dry tinder and sparks.She nodded to Woodbury as he took his leave, and her eyes found Gabriel’s.Unable to completely mask his emotions, he wondered just how deeply she could read into his thoughts, his intentions.
“My turn, I believe.”He took her hand, guiding her into the dance, their steps fluid despite the tension coiling within him.
The music swirled around them, a lilting melody that mirrored the rhythm of his heart, urging him to close the distance between them.
“You looked rather green watching me with Woodbury, Lord Hawthorne,” she baited, her eyes sparkling with mischief.“Jealous, perhaps?”
He retorted too quickly, “Jealousy implies I have a claim, my lady, which I don’t.”The words were sharp, a reflex to shield himself, but her eyes widened, catching the truth he hadn’t meant to reveal.
“Indeed, which begs the question why you’re so prickly now, when you earlier admitted to actually enjoying my company.Should I prepare for any more whiplash in your opinions?”Her teasing was a blade, cutting through his defenses, and he wondered if she knew how close she was to unraveling him.
He recovered, his charm resurfacing.“It is rather annoying when you’re correct, I see Henley’s point,” he teased, seeing the accuracy in her words.“Forgive my behavior, after all, we are friends, or so I’ve been told.”His gaze caressed her face, lingering on her lips, a deliberate act to draw her in, to test her reaction.
She flushed, her voice soft but firm.“Friends.”She whispered the words, yet her eyes held his, a challenge mingled with something softer, something that made his pulse race.
He caressed her face with his gaze, lingering on her lips and pulling her into the frame of the dance a little too close, but not so scandalous that it would be easily recognized.“What if I’m not pretending?”he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them, raw and unguarded.
The confession hung between them, a risk he hadn’t planned, and he watched her breath catch, her lips parting slightly.The waltz ended, and they stood still for a moment, the world narrowing to just them.
Then she stepped back, breaking the spell, her smile wry but her eyes alight with a promise he dared to hope was real.“You’re dangerous, Lord Hawthorne,” she said, turning to rejoin her brother.
And as he watched her go, Gabriel knew he was the one in danger—of losing his heart entirely.
Her periwinkle skirts whispered against the parquet as she walked away, each step a tether pulling him forward.The chandeliers’ light fractured across her curls, a halo for the woman who had stormed his defenses without a single weapon but her truth.He pressed a fist to his chest, as if to still the frantic beat.Henley’s plan had given him permission to court her in plain sight—but the real battle was within.One more confession, one more touch, and the rake would be reformed… or ruined.And for the first time, ruin sounded like redemption.
Chapter Seventeen
Pere tugged herwhite kidskin gloves, the soft leather snagging on her trembling fingers as she watched Lord Hawthorne stride through the Smythe ballroom.His broad shoulders carved a path through the candlelit crowd, his confident gait stirring memories of their waltz.She twisted her lips, willing his thoughts to reveal themselves, her heart traitorously quickening.
“You’re staring, my dear,” Anna whispered, her eyes glinting with mischief over the rim of her fan.“You may fool Henley, but not me.I saw Hawthorne linger over your hand at Drury Lane, and that waltz tonight?Positively scandalous.”
Pere’s cheeks burned, a flush creeping up her neck.“What are you implying?”she asked, her tone sharper than intended, betraying her nerves.
Anna grinned wider, undeterred.“Only that you’ve snared the one rake worth reforming.He’s no Ramsford, darling.But how do we nudge this romance along before Henley’s right hook finds him?”She arched a brow, her playful challenge echoing their banter at the Devertan ball.
A smile tugged at Pere’s lips, unstoppable as she considered just how observant her sister-in-law truly was.“You’re incorrigible,” she murmured, but her heart danced at Anna’s approval.
“And that’s answer enough,” Anna said, patting her hand.“Now, shall we get this cart moving, hmm?Or are you still plotting to charm Lord Woodbury?”Her tone baited, but her eyes flicked toward the dance floor, where Woodbury stood, laughing with a group of dandies.
Pere shook her head, her curls dancing against her cheeks.“Perhaps,” she said, dodging Anna’s probe, though her gaze strayed back to Lord Hawthorne.
“Don’tperhapsme.I know you too well,” Anna replied, nodding ahead.
A gentleman—Lord Merligh, Pere recalled—approached, requesting a dance.She smiled, offered her hand, and followed him to the dance floor.The reel’s lively steps allowed little talk, but her mind wandered, her eyes searching with every turn.There, by Henley’s side, Lord Hawthorne stood, his gaze locking on to hers, intense and unspoken.Boldness surged, reckless and thrilling.She’d let him pursue, but oh, how easily she’d be caught.
The reel ended, and Merligh escorted her back to Henley.Pere turned to Lord Hawthorne, raising a brow, daring him to act.Say something.Her thoughts were so loud she wondered if he heard her.
