one side of the foyer, and Drusilla preceded him up the stairs.
On the second floor were a pretty blue sitting room, a small library already partially stocked with books, a dining room with an adjacent drawing room, a retiring room, and a study. The third floor held bedrooms.
Gabriel opened the door at the end of the hall. “This is the mistress’s quarters.” The rooms beyond were smaller than those at her father’s house, but they were beautifully decorated in shades of fawn, gold, and chocolate brown.
“And through here”—he went into her dressing room, which was already full of her possessions, and opened another door—“are my rooms.”
Drusilla peered into the room, but didn’t enter. It looked like a mirror image of hers, but decorated with dark green and antique gold. His valet was busy filling the drawers of a tallboy, but stopped and bowed.
“This is Drake, my valet. Drake, this is Mrs. Marlington.”
The valet uttered the correct pleasantries, and Gabriel shut the door, leading her back to her sitting room.
“You must be very tired,” he said, his own eyes shadowed.
Drusilla pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the nearby table. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
He came to stand before her, close enough to put his hands on her shoulders. Drusilla started at his touch, and he immediately removed them.
“I wanted—”
“I didn’t—”
They both spoke at the same time, and then stopped, cutting each other embarrassed smiles.
“Please,” Drusilla said, feeling like a fool for jumping at the mere touch of his hands on the fabric of her dress. “What were you going to say?”
“I wanted to say that I hope we can both find happiness in our marriage. I’ll do everything in my power to make certain you do not regret your decision.” The look that accompanied this declaration was almost shy, and Drusilla recognized nothing of the arrogant young man in his hopeful expression.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“I interrupted what you were going to say.”
“It wasn’t important.”
He hesitated, as if he were going to inquire more deeply, but then seemed to think better of it.
“There’s ample time for you to rest before dinner. Is there anything you need? Shall I send up Mrs. Parker?”
“No, Fletcher will see to my needs. Thank you.”
“Excellent. Then I’ll see you in a few hours.” He bowed and turned to leave.
“Mr.—ah, Gabriel.”
“Yes?” He stopped and turned.
“About tomorrow. I was—”
His pleasant expression hardened. “I’d hoped I’d made it clear that I don’t wish to speak about this again, Drusilla.”
Her name on his tongue sent a shock of surprise through her. His accent seemed more pronounced when he said her name. Foolishly, she wanted to hear him say it again. And again. That desire was overborne by the irritation she felt at being silenced by him.
“And I do not appreciate being quieted like a child, Gabriel.”
His lips—those full, shapely lips she saw in her dreams—curved into a smile that was without amusement. “I’m not treating you like a child; I’m treating you like a wife.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t lord your status of husband over me.”
“You believe this is an example of me lording something over you?” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Oh, you’re sorely mistaken, my dear Mrs. Marlington.” He shook his head while Drusilla tried to ignore the sudden awareness that flooded her body at the sound of her married name.
Drusilla crossed her arms. “Why am I not surprised that you won’t live up to your word of not even two days ago?”
She’d hoped to anger him, but he just smiled. “I promised I wouldn’t beat or confine you. But I did not promise that I would permit you to interrogate me or run roughshod over me, or turn me into some kind of squeaking worm of a man who—”
“Worms don’t squeak.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said you wouldn’t permit me to turn you into a squeaking worm of a man. Worms don’t squeak. Perhaps mouse is the word you were searching for?”
He stared, arrested. And then he took a step toward her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose up, but she refused to step away.
“I stand by my word that I shall never cause you physical harm.” His voice was soft, but that just made the words sound menacing.
Drusilla wanted to yell at him, to tell him that he’d been causing her emotional agony that was almost physical in nature from the first moment she’d met him.
But he could never, ever know such a thing. She could never disclose how