Page 103 of Notorious

They rode in silence, Drusilla far too emotional to speak for some moments. When she’d gathered the reins of her feelings, she turned to Eva. “I’ll miss you greatly. When are you leaving?”

“Not too early—perhaps a week before Mama and Papa.”

“But surely you are staying for the Richland ball? I know how much you love masquerades.” Indeed, Eva’s childish enjoyment of costumes had always made Drusilla fear she might run off and join a troupe of actors.

“I shall hate to miss it, but I keep putting Mel off. Besides, I want to be out of the house before the packing madness starts.”

“Well, I wish you were not leaving, but I certainly understand.” Drusilla wasn’t lying. She’d been hoping to persuade Eva to come and stay with her and Gabriel. And Samir. But she didn’t know when Gabriel would tell his family about the boy.

“Don’t look so sad, Dru—I’m not leaving yet. Tell me, what is your costume this year?”

“Nell Gwynn.”

Eva laughed. “You’re so lazy—you’re always Nell.”

“I know. But the costume is so easy. And I can always eat the oranges if nobody asks me to dance.”

“You’ll have at least one partner.” Her eyes slid to Gabriel, who was laughing at something Byer had just said. Drusilla’s cheeks heated as she recalled last night.

“I’m so glad you two seem happy.”

“We do?”

Eva shook her head. “Lord! Love really is blind. If you two were any more lovey-dovey this morning . . . Well, suffice it to say, it will soon be plain to the entire ton this marriage of convenience has turned into a love match.” She reached across and squeezed Drusilla’s hands. “I am so glad for you.”

It always had been love on Drusilla’s side. Was Eva saying she believed Gabriel might feel the same way?

She smiled at her friend. “Thank you, Eva. So am I.”

* * *

“There he is.” Gabriel took her hand and led her toward The Serpentine, to where a little dark-haired boy in short pants was throwing crumbs to ducks and laughing as they squabbled. Beside him stood a woman dressed in a domestic’s clothing. The nurse saw them first and leaned down to the little boy.

He dropped his bag of crumbs and ran at full speed toward them. Gabriel released her hand to bend down and pick up Samir, swinging him around in circles while he shrieked.

Other nurses and children looked on. At this time of day—long before the fashionable hour—they were the only people in the park.

“Jibril! Jibril!” he shouted when he’d stopped spinning enough to speak. “There is a duck who keeps climbing on top of another duck and being mean to him.” The boy spoke rapid, fluent French, and it was all Drusilla could do to keep up with him. She’d learned it in school but had never spoken the language with a native speaker.

Gabriel looked over the boy’s head at Drusilla, his eyebrows raised, his expression one of barely suppressed glee. “A mean duck beating up on other ducks, eh,” he said in the same language. “Well, let’s make sure he stops his wickedness, or there will be no bread.” He planted a smacking kiss on the boy’s cheek and lowered him to the ground. “Now, you little savage, turn and give this lady your best leg.”

The boy turned to Drusilla, suddenly shy, stepping closer to Gabriel and blinking up at her with huge hazel eyes. He had the same warm skin tone as Gabriel and she detected some reddish glints in his hair although it was considerably darker. They bore a certain resemblance to each other, although she did not believe they were enough alike to make their relationship a certainty.

He dropped a courtly bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.”

“It is a pleasure, Samir. I am Drusilla,” she replied in less than fluid French.

Gabriel laid a hand on Samir’s shoulder. “This is my lady, Samir—my wife.”

The boy’s brow wrinkled. “Like Gigi and Maria?”

Gabriel laughed, his face flushing. I’m sorry, he mouthed at Drusilla. She arched one brow, trying to suppress the stew of jealousy. After all, that was in his past and she was in his future. Or so she would have to keep telling herself whenever jealousy threatened to get the better of her common sense.

Gabriel dropped onto his haunches, at eye level with the little boy. “Gigi and Maria are my friends, Samir. Drusilla is special—she is my one and only wife.”

She felt a thrill at his words, even though they were just meant to reassure a child.

Samir cocked his head, and she realized he would have lived the bulk of his life in the harem, among many wives. “Your favored wife, Jibril?”