Page 99 of The Wallflower Takes All

“What?” Gabriel remained frowning.

“You have become a little less grim. Miss Montfort is good for you.” He rose, adjusted his coat, and reached for the cake parcel.

At the door, his father paused. “Gabriel.”

He looked up.

“Do not mistake fear for principle.”

Then the elder Mr. Ashby departed, leaving Gabriel alone with a desk full of papers and a conviction that no longer fitted as neatly as it once had.

For several minutes, Gabriel sat motionless.

Then he sat, drew his notebook toward him, and turned to a clean page.

Montfort affairs

Call upon Lord Montague’s man of business.

Review Lady Montague’s jointure for temporary accommodation.

Complete Miss Montfort’s marriage contract when required.

He paused. The quill hovered above the paper. Then, with more force than the words deserved, he added: Maintain a proper distance.

Gabriel looked at the line. It seemed perfectly clear. Entirely sensible.

It also looked ridiculous.

Distance had not kept him from kissing her. Professional caution had not kept him from wanting her. Every rule he had trusted now seemed to exist for one purpose: to give him respectable language for retreat.

He closed the notebook.

First, he would find whatever delay, refuge, or practical relief the law could secure before Algernon Montfort arrived at the week’s end.

Then he would determine whether he was capable of helping Poppy search for a titled husband without despising every man who considered her a bargain with complications.

A man capable of offering her the security she required.

A man willing to take Lady Viva, Freddie, the poets, the bills, the laughter, and every disorderly, inconvenient, vivid part of Poppy’s life.

A man who would cherish all of it.

Gabriel had no idea whether such a man existed.

He only knew that if such a man did exist, Gabriel would envy him past all reason.

Chapter Sixteen

Poppy had spent the better part of the afternoon attempting not to think about Gabriel Ashby—or, more specifically, his mouth.

It was not going well.

She had tried to be sensible. She had returned home from Hyde Park, surrendered Freddie to Jenkins for a thorough cleaning, changed her soggy shoes, answered two notes, soothed one tradesman, and reminded Mama that Lord Crampton’s interest in Hampshire did not require her to order curtains for a house she had not been invited to occupy.

None of it helped.

Gabriel had kissed her in the foyer.