Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,22

She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her expression lofty and martyrish: like a Christian about to be sacrificed to the lions.

Gabriel took a good look at his wife-to-be and tried not to shiver. Oh, she wasn’t unpleasant to look at—at least not her features.While it was true she wasn’t pretty, she had a desirable body—lush and womanly—and he already knew he would enjoy touching her. But she was a cold, judgmental woman, and he came away from all their encounters feeling as if he’d been weighed and found wanting. In short, she was not the sort of wife he would have chosen for himself, but then he was not the man she wanted, either.

A fleeting picture of Lucinda Kittridge flickered through his mind, but he banished it. That was over.

He dropped to one knee and reached for her hand. She started but did not pull away.

Something about looking up at her from this unusual angle made his actions feel more real. “I know you don’t want me to do the pretty, but I would like to demonstrate my regard for you by proposing properly. You would do me a great honor by becoming my wife, and I give you my word that I will always strive to deserve your trust and regard.”

Her jaws worked, as if she were testing and discarding responses. “Thank you, Mr. Marlington. I accept your offer.”

He raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it even though he knew such things were not done. Her fingers tightened for a moment, and then she drew away, as if even his smallest touch disgusted her.

Gabriel stood, swallowing his dread; he’d better become accustomed to her disdain and loathing. He knew reserved English ladies did not seek passion in their husbands’ arms, and Miss Drusilla Clare was even more reserved than most. He pushed the disturbing thought aside.

“The marquess will assist me in procuring a special license. If you do not object, we can be wed the day after tomorrow.” Gabriel did not bother to spell it out for her: that by marrying before the duel, she would have the protection of his name if he were not to walk away from his meeting with Visel.

Her expression softened slightly. “That will be acceptable to me. Will we live here, at Exley House . . . after?”

“My stepfather has already offered us a small but well-appointed house on Upper Brooks Street.” The marquess had actually insisted on giving Gabriel the house as a wedding gift. As much as he’d wanted to reject such a generous gift, one did not say no to the Marquess of Exley.

Gabriel realized she’d asked a question. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

“I said I am not without means.”

“Means?”

“My aunt and I live in the house my father built here in London.”

Gabriel had seen the house in question, a gothic monstrosity. While that didn’t bother him so much, it did bother him to think of living on her bounty.

“Are you fond of the house? Do you wish to live there?”

“No. My father built it while I was away at school, so I only stayed there during the holidays and, of course, since leaving school.” She hesitated. “If you don’t care for it, we will have plenty of money to acquire or construct our own lodging.”

Gabriel’s face heated. “I am no fortune-hunting fop below the hatches, Miss Clare. I can house my own wife.” Even without the marquess’s generous gift, he had ample means. The Duke of Carlisle was a wealthy man and Gabriel was his only grandson; the duke had been most generous.

She opened her mouth—no doubt to utter some emasculating pronouncement, but he made an abrupt chopping motion with one hand, surprised and pleased when the gesture worked.

“Your money is your own—I will take none of it.”

“But—”

“There is one thing you should know about me right now, Miss Clare. I do not argue once I have made up my mind.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. And, by God, Gabriel felt a slight chill. “Neither do I.”

He barked a laugh. “Excellent, then we shall rub along famously—and with very few arguments. Now, after the wedding we shall stay for the remainder of the Season to dispel any residual scandal. We can attend balls, be seen at the theater—” He shrugged. “Whatever is necessary.”

She remained quiet, her gaze serious and steady, which made him uneasy. And feeling uneasy made him irritated. What the devil was it about this woman—hardly more than a girl really—that