Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,54
expression haughty. “I see. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the two chairs in front of the dormant fireplace.
Drusilla sat while he went to the narrow console table that held a single decanter. When he turned to her, she saw that he’d tied his robe shut.
He lifted the bottle. “Would you like a glass?”
“Isn’t it a bit early?” She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit it, wishing she could take back the judgmental words and tone.
He smiled. “For me it is late.” He poured a glass.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It is a wine that comes from the region where I was born. I have an associate who brings several cases for me whenever he comes to England.”
“Oh. But—”
“But?” he prodded.
“I thought alcohol was prohibited by your religion.”
He looked arrested. “You know about Islam?”
“A little.”
“And how is that?”
Drusilla swallowed, wishing like mad she’d not opened her mouth to begin with. If she told him why she—
But it was too late and understanding dawned on his handsome features, his stern mouth flexing into a smile. “Ah, I see.”
“You see what?”
“You have been researching me, have you?”
Yes, but she was hardly going to admit that. “Perhaps not all English people are as ignorant of other religions and cultures as you suppose.”
He laughed. “What an unexpected sense of humor you possess.”
Drusilla reminded herself that she hadn’t come here to argue. “I would have a glass of your wine,” she said, hoping to move past the uncomfortable moment. “Just a little.”
He nodded and poured a second. “You are correct about the prohibition against alcohol. But there are some Muslims who . . .” He turned to her. “Well, shall we say who bend the rules.” He handed her a glass and took the seat across from her.
“And you are one of them?”
He swirled his glass, an undecipherable expression on his face as he considered the garnet liquid. His words, when they finally came, were not what she expected.
“Visel has apologized. There will be no duel.”
“What?” Her hand shook badly enough to slosh wine over the rim. It landed on the rich wool of the carpet and lay beaded on top.
They both stared at the spill without speaking.
Drusilla set her glass on the end table with a shaky hand and pulled her handkerchief from the sleeve of her dressing gown, using it to clean the wine from her hand.
“Visel came into White’s—he and the duke, both. He made a rather, er, public apology. Not only for his behavior, but for the untrue rumor that spread directly after the altercation.” He sounded bemused.
Drusilla was torn between amazement at Visel’s behavior and joy that Gabriel had been at White’s, not with another woman. But, of course, he would not have been at White’s until now, would he? He could have gone to those women after, or before, or—
“I can see you are astonished, Drusilla.”
Drusilla could have told him he did not know the half of what she was thinking. “Weren’t you?”
His lips twisted. “Yes, very much so.”
“So you were not expecting it?”
He gazed into space and shook his head slowly. “No.”
“But—but you accepted his apology?” Good God, please say yes.
His eyes flickered back to hers, and he smiled—this time with genuine amusement. “Yes, Drusilla, I accepted his apology.”
She could listen to him say her name all day—and all night—long. She kept that mortifying observation to herself.
“Was his apology, er, unusual behavior?”
“Very—especially in a place as public as White’s. Which was packed to the teeth, by the way. As if the ton was expecting something like this to happen,” he added musingly.
Her eyes darted to his pantaloons, and quickly back up. “Are you going to tell your mother?”
“I’ve already paid a call on my mother and stepfather.”
“Lady Exley must have been frantic.”
“She’d calmed down by the time I saw her.” He saw Drusilla’s questioning look. “I sent a message to Exley House last night, directly from White’s. I did not wish her to worry herself into a state all night. A woman in her condition needs rest—sleep.”
But he hadn’t bothered to send a message here—to Drusilla. Did he not think she would worry? Probably not after their argument over Theo. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but he must have noticed something in her face.
“I would have sent you a message as well, but I assumed you would already be catching up on much-needed sleep.”
“Yes, that is true. I fell asleep almost before my head hit my pillow,” she lied, forcing down the hurt.