Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,58
was not pretty in the traditional sense, but the colors, cuts, and designs she chose for her clothing, along with her short, almost boyish dark brown curls, made her a delectable combination. Both women had that panache Frenchwomen possessed when it came to knowing how to dress and turn themselves out.
Today she was wearing an exceptionally plain and simple white muslin day dress, which perfectly set off her velvety olive skin and rich brown hair. She smoothed her small hands over her skirt and cut him a curious look, her dark eyes twinkling.
“Gigi told me some rather surprising news when Samir and I came home from our journey—and then I heard even more surprising news last night when I stopped briefly at Mr. Kipling’s house.”
Gabriel cocked his head. “I didn’t know you were in his latest production at the Drury. I thought you were still at the Little?” The Little Drury Lane was a theater that was far less prestigious than its namesake but offered more regular parts for Maria’s range.
“Last night I stepped in for Mary Clemens, who swelled up like a balloon after some bad oysters.”
“Ahh, so you played alongside Giselle?”
She nodded, a big smile stealing across her usually serious features.
“I’m sorry I missed it.” He loved to see both Giselle and Maria onstage together, which happened only rarely.
She eyed him slyly. “I understand you were participating in some rather grand theater yourself last night.”
He groaned, but recounted the bizarre episode for the third time. Just as he was finishing, there was a knock on the door, and Samir came charging into the room, flinging himself onto Gabriel.
“Jibril, Jibril!” His voice was muffled because he’d shoved his head into Gabriel’s armpit.
Gabriel laughed and looked up at the waiting nurse, who was smiling indulgently from the doorway. “Thank you, Mrs. Banks; we’ll ring when we need you.”
She nodded and quietly closed the door.
Gabriel held the squirming little body at arm’s length. His hair, curly and dark brown with glints of gold and red, was ruffled up as if he had rolled down the stairs on his head.
“You are burrowing like a desert owl, Samir.”
That made the little boy giggle, his hazel eyes pushed into crescents by his plump cheeks.
“I think you have missed me,” Gabriel said in English.
“I went to see the namur,” he said, using the Arabic word for tiger. He spoke in a charming blend of Arabic and French, but very little English. Gabriel spent a part of each visit teaching him English words, and Maria and Giselle did the same.
“What sound does a tiger make?” he asked.
Samir bared his teeth and gave a creditable imitation of a roar.
Maria cowered back on the settee. “You are so fierce that you are frightening me, Sami.”
The boy laughed.
“It is naughty to scare ladies and then laugh,” Gabriel chided him—and then commenced to engage in a roaring contest, until Maria put an end to it.
“You are two boisterous tigers,” she said. “I think perhaps you need to take a walk and expend some of your ferocious energy.” This second part was for Gabriel, who grinned and took the hint.
“Come, Samir. We are being banished. Go fetch your coat and hat from Mrs. Banks and meet me in the entry hall.”
The little boy hooted and sprinted for the door.
“No running,” Gabriel called after him.
He and Maria listened to the thunder of small feet, shaking their heads.
Gabriel picked up the cushions they’d scattered during their play and pushed back his hair, which was no doubt as mussed as Samir’s.
“He is such a wonderful boy, Gabriel. How could you bear to let him go?”
He’d been hoping to get out of here today without anyone asking such questions. He shook his head and flopped down onto the settee.
“It is not about what I want, Maria, but what will be best for him. Right now I don’t know what that is.”
She brushed his jaw with the back of her hand. “Poor Gabriel. You’ve had a rather trying year, haven’t you?”
Gabriel thought about the wreckage that was now his father’s palace and shook his head. “I’ve had a much easier time than many others.”
Maria and of course Giselle were two of the very few people who knew about his last trip to Oran and why he’d gone. She kissed his cheek and changed the subject.
“And now you are a married man.”
He sighed; this topic wasn’t much better. But to avoid it was cowardly, not to mention an injustice to his new wife.