Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,57

better use of her funds than to promote sheaths and the concomitant reduction in disease and unwanted children? He took a sip of wine and decided he probably should not raise such a question to a well-bred English lady.

What was it about Drusilla that made him behave like such a brute? Perhaps it was the prudish expression she wore whenever her eyes landed on him? It made him wonder what stories she’d heard of him. Obviously she’d heard of Giselle and Maria. He snorted. Who hadn’t? The subject of his amours seemed to fascinate the ton.

As for the scores of married women and widows who pursued him? Those rumors seemed to take on a life of their own, regardless of the fact he had never bedded a married woman. The notion of cuckolding another man was repulsive to him. He had enjoyed liaisons with a few widows, but hardly the number he’d read about in the various betting books and none since his association with Giselle and Maria.

“You are an exotic creature, Gabriel. You might as well become accustomed to the amount of attention you attract,” his friend Byer had said when Gabriel once complained about the erroneous gossip. “Whether you are doing the things people think or not, they will still speak and wager about them.”

Byer was correct: the ton was determined to find his behavior notorious, no matter what he did. The fact that he’d been in a monogamous relationship—albeit with two women—for three years seemed to count for nothing.

He finished his wine and placed the glass on the nightstand, pressing the tips of his fingers into his temples, willing his eyes to close, his brain to slow, his body to go to sleep.

His body refused to obey.

“Damn it!” Gabriel considered ringing for Drake, but decided it was too much of a bother. He swung his feet off the bed, yanked the sash of his robe, and tossed it aside before going to the now-cool water in the ewer and pouring it into the basin. A quick, cold wash woke him but did not make his brain any less fuzzy. Well, it wasn’t as if he had to do anything mentally strenuous today. While he was up and awake, he might as well visit Samir. He would enjoy seeing what the boy made of the gift he’d left with Giselle—a brightly colored top that depicted alternating illustrations of cages and animals. When it spun, it created the optical illusion of the animal in the cage.

Gabriel had become quite skilled at choosing gifts for young children. His three half siblings were aged five and three. And of course his mother had yet another child on the way.

He pulled a fresh shirt over his head as he considered the subject of children—not that he would ever get one on his wife at the rate they were going.

He flopped onto the bed and pulled on his boots, cursing himself for acting like an ass toward her. He was tired, but that was no excuse. He would go out, see the boy, swing by the jewelers, and fetch something for his wife—a bride’s gift was what such things were called. He should have done so already, but it had seemed wrong to buy his wife and mistresses a gift at the same time.

Gabriel shook his head at the idiocy of that concern as he shrugged into a waistcoat and pushed his hair off his forehead. Tonight would be difficult, but once they’d been seen in public receiving Visel and Tyndale, the furor would die down.

With the duel out of the way, he could concentrate on making something out of this marriage they’d both been forced into. He didn’t wish to live in constant conflict with her. He would make more of an effort from now on, no matter how much she tempted him to misbehave and taunt.

Chapter 11

Today it was Maria who was home and Giselle who had gone out. Luckily, Samir was in the nursery, finishing his breakfast.

Maria was already in the gold-and-blue sitting room when the maid ushered Gabriel in.

She stood and reached out both hands for him. “Gabriel! How lovely to see you. I was so sorry I missed your visit.”

“I missed you, too,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks and then lowering himself onto the dull gold silk of the bergère settee beside her. Whereas Giselle was blonde, voluptuous, and blue-eyed, Maria was dark, slight, and possessed eyes of such a dark brown they looked black. She