woman always pays for her husband’s indiscretions one way or another.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do know what you mean—and I also happen to agree with you.”
She snorted in disbelief.
Gabriel continued, undaunted by her scorn. “I do know, but I would enjoy hearing you elaborate on the subject.”
“That is not going to happen.”
He shrugged. “Well, perhaps some other time. But for right now, you may rest assured you shan’t pay for my indiscretions, my dear.”
Her heart leaped at his words. Did he mean he’d stop taking lovers? Her lips parted. “What—”
“You see,” he said, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “I have always worn a sheath when I am uncertain of a lover.” She stiffened at the word lover and the sensual way it rolled off his tongue. But that other word?
He noticed her hesitation and gave her a superior smile. “I’m not shocking you, am I? You gave me cause to believe you are a sophisticate.”
“Of course I am,” she snapped.
“Really? Because I thought you looked confused. Was it the word lover or the word sheath?”
She clenched her teeth hard enough to crack walnuts. “I know what the word lover means, Mr. Marlington.”
“Ah, so it is the word sheath that is in doubt. Let me educate you: a sheath is a supple, impervious tube which a man places over his—” He glanced down at his lap, his eyebrows raised. “Well, I shouldn’t like to be vulgar—which word do you prefer? Breeding organ? Membrum virile?”
Drusilla sucked in a noisy breath, and his smile grew.
“Yes, I see you understand. In any event, Englishmen call them French letters.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “But the French call them English hats. Amusing, don’t you think—that such national animosity would carry even into the area of bed sport?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I use them so that I neither leave any little surprises behind nor take any away with me when engaging in my numerous indiscretions.”
A sound of muffled fury slipped out of her before she could stop it.
He cocked his head. “What was that?”
“You . . . you . . .” Drusilla could find no words. How dare he speak to her about such things?
“Oh dear, it would seem I overestimated your sophistication.”
Anger, mortification, and something else—jealousy?—pounded her like waves hitting the shore. She shot to her feet. “You have certainly overestimated my tolerance for vulgarity.”
He stood. “Leaving so soon, my dear?” he called after her as she stormed toward their connecting door. “By the way,” she heard him say as she went through, “we are expected at Lady Renwick’s ball tonight. Make sure you wear your prettiest gown.”
She slammed the door with all her might, but the sound of his laughter—though muffled—was still audible through the thick wooden door.
* * *
Gabriel shook his head at the still-vibrating door, poured himself more wine, and then returned to his bedchamber and stretched out on his bed, balancing his half-full glass on his chest. Lord, but he was tired. He closed his eyes, his body heavy yet tense, willing himself to rest. For a moment the velvety blackness was all he could see, but then visions of his wife’s furious face thrust aside the curtains of darkness.
He opened his eyes and groaned.
He should not have provoked her. Or let her provoke him, more accurately. And certainly not regarding such unseemly topics as mistresses, diseases of the sexual organs, and sheaths. He should have told her that he had already parted ways with his mistresses—even though he’d seen her holding hands and reading missives from her mooncalf of a lover on their wedding day.
Gabriel could tell her that he’d stopped bedding Giselle and Maria, but she’d never believe it when he continued to visit their house, and he knew word of that would circulate. He could move Samir, but that was hardly fair to the boy. No, he refused to take Samir from the comfort and security of their home only to put him—where? Here? In this house of discontent and dissension? No. Samir would stay with Giselle and Maria until it was time to remove to the country.
His jaws ached and his tired brain reeled from the oddly invigorating encounter. As to the rest of his behavior—his inability to resist taunting her—yes, it was wrong of him to shock her sensibilities. In reality, he’d been rather surprised she’d not heard of a sheath. Didn’t she spend her time with charities for impoverished women? What