up against the wall. He hit the plaster hard, the framed paintings rattling.
It was only as the gasps rang through the ballroom that I remembered where I stood. What had I been thinking? The bastard had antagonized me on purpose. I glanced over my shoulder. Miranda, Marks, Landcaster, Chris, and a handful of other guests stood there watching.
“Gabe.” Chris moved forward hesitantly. “Let him go.”
“Hell,” McKinnon said quietly enough that only I could hear. “You really do care about her.”
I released my hold and stepped back. My entire body was shaking. I had a room full of people, watching, waiting for explanation. An explanation I couldn’t give. I should have been mingling, dancing, seeing to my guests, but suddenly nothing mattered. Nothing but seeing Ginny. Making sure she was well, even after realizing that she had gone to McKinnon instead of me.
Christ, I was lost. I could resist her no more than I could resist food or water. We had become connected in some inexplicable way, and I had a feeling it would be the downfall of both of us.
Without another word, I turned and left the ballroom.
Chapter Three
Ginny
“It’s just started to rain,” I said, as I swept inside, bringing with the sweet, earthy scent of autumn. “Nothing in the mail?”
Although I kept my voice cheerful, I didn’t miss Mrs. Lamier’s sympathetic smile. “Not today, dear.” She sat at the table, Izzy curled in her arms. “Perhaps tomorrow, oui?”
I nodded in return as I hung my cloak on the hook by the back door.
I’d written to Violet two weeks ago to tell her I’d moved in with Mrs. Lamier and her daughter. I still hadn’t received a response. Three letters altogether, two when I’d been at the dowager’s home and one here. Perhaps she’d moved. Perhaps my sins were so unforgiveable, even someone as kind as Violet could not forgive me.
Even Mr. McKinnon had washed his hands of my person. The day after our meeting in his study, he’d sent a letter to pack my meager clothing, that the carriage was waiting. He hadn’t even said goodbye, and for some reason it saddened me.
I closed the door behind me and placed the parcels on the table. Pathetic. I was utterly pathetic, hoping for a snippet of attention from anyone. I’d thought…I didn’t know what I’d thought. That Vi would forgive me no matter what sin I committed? That perhaps McKinnon and I could be friends after I’d so thoroughly rejected him?
I’d said as much to Mrs. Lamier one night when I’d had too many cups of wine. She’d laughed her seductive, French chuckle, called me a silly English girl, and explained that men and women could not possibly be just friends. Mayhap she was right.
Certainly, I couldn’t be angry at him. After all, he’d done more for me than anyone else. Working for the Mrs. and Miss Lamier was more than I could have hoped for. It was a blessing, and I would always be grateful.
Mrs. Lamier had a lovely little shop on the outskirts of Regent Street, tucked away, almost hidden, in an alley. She might not be the most famous modiste in London, however she was slowly gaining attention. She’d made enough money to afford a flat in a respectable part of town, leaving me and Izzy to the small garret room above the shop. She claimed I was doing her a favor by watching over the place. But I knew better.
I smoothed my hand over Izzy’s downy head. She sucked on her fist as she gazed up at me with those blue eyes that were becoming greener by the day. Familiar green eyes. Familiar, intense stare. She was a mere month old, yet she already reminded me so much of him. Surprisingly, it didn’t upset me. How could it when she was so beautiful?
“Oh, she is darling,” Mrs. Lamier cooed. “An absolute beauty.”
I grinned, feeling oddly proud. She might have Gabe’s eyes, but that tuff of dark hair upon her head belonged to my lineage. Sudden tears stung my eyes. A family. I finally had a family. I turned away, pretending to busy myself with the tea. “Where is Miss Lamier?”
“My daughter is preparing the shop for her next appointment.”
And reluctantly, it was Gabe I could thank for my new family. I poured myself tea, then turned to refresh Mrs. Lamier’s cup. I’d forever be haunted by the man. At night I found myself waking, erotic dreams whispering along the edges of my memory. I’d imagined him