Page 163 of The Wallflower Takes All

“Georgie said if I allowed you to arrange the marriage of the woman you love to another man without at least attempting to stop you, she would make my life unbearable.”

Vanover removed his gloves with unhurried precision. “Bea used fewer words. They were more alarming.”

Gabriel leaned back, the breath leaving him in one sharp, silent rush.

So even Poppy’s friends understood what he had tried so hard to disguise beneath prudence and duty.

Of course he loved Poppy. That truth no longer surprised him.

What unsettled him was the possibility that, in attempting to spare her regret, he had done nothing but stand aside while another man offered her a future. He had called it honor because that sounded better than fear.

But the two gentlemen remained standing across from him, waiting for a response. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate your concern,” he said. “However, it is misplaced.”

“No,” Pembroke said simply. “It’s not.”

Gabriel’s brows snapped together. “Poppy may accept Caldermere.”

“She may,” Vanover agreed. “The question is whether you intend to give her any reason not to.”

Gabriel blinked at them. Were all aristocrats so obtuse? “I have no title, no estate, and no fortune that can compete with his.” Did he truly have to explain these things to them?

Pembroke made a short, derisive sound. “God preserve us from men who decide rank matters above everything precisely when it should matter least.”

“You are an earl,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Yes, and it has been useful. It has not made me kind, clever, loyal, or worthy of my wife, however. Those deficiencies had to be addressed through other means.”

Vanover’s mouth twitched. “With varying success.”

Pembroke spared him a glance. “Rank has value. No sensible person denies it. But if rank alone made a woman happy, half of London would not spend every Season pretending not to despise the occupants of their own dining tables.”

Gabriel rose. “You both speak from the safety of having rank.”

“Yes,” Vanover said evenly. “Which is why you ought to listen when we tell you what it can and cannot do. A title is an instrument. Useful in decent hands, empty in selfish ones, dangerous in careless ones.”

Gabriel tugged at his coat. “Caldermere is not careless.”

“No,” Vanover agreed. “He is deliberate. That may be worse for a woman who wants to be loved.”

Gabriel’s hands braced on the desk. “Love does not pay creditors.”

“Neither does martyrdom,” Pembroke pointed out.

“No,” Gabriel replied, his voice sharpening. “Love does not restore a woman’s place in Society. It does not return the friends she leaves behind. It does not keep sacrifice from becoming regret.”

Pembroke exchanged a glance with Vanover.

“You speak with remarkable certainty,” Vanover observed, “about what Miss Montfort will one day regret.”

“I am capable of counting the cost.”

“Her cost,” Pembroke corrected. “Without allowing her to count it herself.”

Gabriel looked away. “You do not understand.”

“Then explain it,” Vanover drawled.

Gabriel drew a slow breath.