Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,114

her, his lips settling over one hard nipple.

She groaned. “Gabriel . . .”

“Mmm?” His mouth was full of her breast.

“I will not be distracted,” she said, far less emphatically.

And then he raised himself up over her and demonstrated—once again—his exceptional skills when it came to distraction.

Chapter 23

The last ball of the Season—and it hadn’t come soon enough in Gabriel’s opinion. He felt an almost childish excitement when he thought about taking Drusilla and Samir to the country.

“Your costume will be delivered today at noon, sir.”

Gabriel glanced up from the mirror at the sound of his valet’s voice, surprised to see that his hands had managed to tie his cravat into a respectable knot without any direction from his brain.

“Costume?” he said as Drake handed him a stickpin in the shape of a plain gold bar.

“Er, yes, sir. The Duchess of Richland’s ball tonight is a masquerade.”

“Damn! I’d forgotten all about that.” He ran a hand through the hair Drake had just carefully coiffed, the action causing his valet to wince.

“I thought you might have, sir, so I took the liberty of ordering three costumes for you to choose from.”

“Ah, excellent.”

“It is my understanding Mrs. Marlington will be going as Nell Gwynn, sir.”

Gabriel laughed. Could there be a better costume for her than the allegedly sharp-tongued and quick-witted mistress of Charles II?

“You know far more than I do, Drake,” he said. “Just select one of the costumes and have it ready for me.”

His dour valet gifted Gabriel with one of his rare smiles. “Very well, sir. It will take an extra half hour to dress you.”

“That sounds ominous.” Drake held out his coat, and Gabriel struggled into the navy superfine.

The other man just smiled as Gabriel buttoned up his coat and checked his reflection one last time.

Drake handed him his hat and cane, and he descended to the foyer. It was a remarkably clear, sunny day: perfect for walking.

Also perfect for delaying the inevitable, his conscience mocked.

Gabriel ignored the voice; he would not engage in any further internal arguments with himself. He had made up his mind: today was the day he would tell his mother and stepfather about Samir.

He would do so alone, even though he had invited Drusilla to join him last night.

“I don’t know, Gabriel.” She’d been lying atop him at the time, their bodies joined from shoulders to toes. “I believe this should be a private conversation between you and Lady Exley.”

“You do not need to come with me.” Gabriel ran his fingers through her heavy dark hair, which was so shiny and fragrant and soft he could not keep his hands out of it.

“Does it disappoint you that I don’t think I should be there?”

“No, you must do what you feel best. Although I daresay you will get a visit from my mother soon afterward. She will want to speak to you—to see if you are truly as sanguine about the decision as I say you are.” He ran both his hands up her arms and then down her sides, letting them rest on her waist. “Are you as sanguine as you say?” He stretched up and kissed her chin before lying back down.

Her eyes were grave. “Never more so—I look forward to moving to the country more than you can imagine.”

So here he was, strolling toward a confrontation he could not look forward to, even though he very much looked forward to the aftermath. His mother would be disappointed in him for behaving recklessly, of course, but she would welcome Samir with all the affection she showed to everyone who belonged to her. And she would immediately set about spoiling her grandchild with a vengeance. Certainly, Samir was a little boy who needed a great deal of spoiling after all he’d been through.

Whether Samir was Assad’s or his own, he was still Gabriel’s flesh and blood, not to mention a delightful child.

When Sami was of age, Gabriel would tell him everything, and he could seek out his mother’s family and make what connections he desired. Gabriel would see to it that he was raised with knowledge of and respect for his Berber connections.

He nodded at a passing acquaintance, his heart lighter than it had been for months—perhaps even years; most certainly since the British navy had approached him.

Life, he decided, giving his cane an extra flourish as he crossed the street, was turning out to be very good, indeed.

* * *

Drusilla was ready to leave the moment she heard Gabriel depart. She knew Lady Exley