Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,48
quill, stroking the barbs first one way, and then back, as mystified as ever about Visel and his unreasoning hatred toward him.
The last thing Gabriel wanted to do was administer a thrashing tomorrow. Not only was it tedious, but the man deserved more than just a beating for what he’d said to Eva and had done—or at least for what he’d tried to do—to Drusilla. But Gabriel couldn’t let his mind roam down that particular avenue. Not unless he wanted to be on a packet to France tomorrow evening.
The truth was that he would have given in to his bloodthirsty urges in a heartbeat if it were not for his mother and sisters—and now his new wife and Samir, of course. But his half brothers were all dead, and the half sisters he’d grown up with were married and scattered across North Africa, lost to him. What remained of his family was here in England. Not only that, but he’d committed himself to Drusilla and owed her a chance at a respectable life. He had no desire to make himself a fugitive—not for a second time in his life. And it would break his mother’s heart if he were banished from England as a murderer. And what of Samir? If none of Fatima’s family claimed the boy, he would need a home and security. Dragging him back to Oran, where there was nothing for either of them, was beyond foolish.
No, he could not kill Visel. And he’d better watch out that he didn’t underestimate the man and meet his own untimely end.
Gabriel tossed the quill onto the desk and stood. He’d go and find Byer and do what he’d told Drusilla: leave her to rest. No doubt she would appreciate his absence and enjoy having the evening to herself and her dream lover.
Chapter 9
Drusilla was pretending to eat dinner—alone—in the cavernous dining room. She had rung for a servant upon hearing her husband depart. The last thing she would do was cower in her room on her wedding night. So she’d ordered dinner to be served in the dining room. And now she was regretting it.
Parker entered the dining room. “I beg your pardon, madam, but Lady Eva is here to see you”
Drusilla lowered her fork. “Right now?” she asked stupidly.
Parker ignored the foolish question and inclined his head.
“I will see her—where is she?”
“I put her in the first-floor receiving room to wait, ma’am.”
She tossed her napkin onto her almost untouched plate and stood. “I’m finished with dinner.”
Eva was waiting in the tiny parlor, examining a watercolor of a horse that hung beside the room’s only window. And she was wearing breeches, a claw hammer coat, a caped driving coat, a mangled neckcloth, and the smallest—and grubbiest—pair of top boots Drusilla had ever seen.
“Eva! Why are you dressed that way? What if somebody should see? I can’t—”
Her friend’s unusual blue-violet eyes flashed. “Gabe went out, didn’t he?”
Drusilla flushed. How mortifying. Was there some sort of town crier who went about London communicating such information? Hear ye, hear ye! Gabriel Marlington leaves his wife alone on their wedding night!
“Yes, he went to his club for dinner. How did you know?”
Eva scowled and ignored her question. “Have you two had a row?”
“No.”
“Then why is he behaving like a nocky boy and leaving you to dine alone on your wedding night?”
This was not a conversation Drusilla wanted to have. “Where do you learn such words, Eva? I can’t imagine—”
“Oh don’t, Dru. Just—” She flapped a hand in wordless irritation. “Just don’t.”
Drusilla sighed, too tired to argue. Instead she strode toward the bellpull. “Fine, Eva, I won’t. Now, why don’t you remove your hat and cloak and take a seat. I shall ring for some—”
“I know when and where the duel will be held.”
Drusilla froze, her hand outstretched but not quite reaching the pull. “What?”
“I found out an hour ago.”
“But how?”
“Drake—he’s Gabe’s valet, you know—came by to see Ellie, one of the parlor maids.” Eva gave her a quick, searching look. “That is how I knew Gabe had gone out for the evening.”
Ah yes, the silent network of servants who lived among them.
“Anyhow, Drake and Ellie are walking out together.” Eva paused, her brow wrinkling. “He is at least fifteen years older than she and so stodgy and boring. I can’t understand what Ellie sees in stuffy old Drake, can you?”
Drusilla gave up on the idea of tea and took a seat beside Eva. “Will you please finish what you were saying?”