Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,59
Samir, Maria—but what do I tell her when even I do not know the truth?”
“I cannot answer that—I do not know her. But I do know well-bred English ladies do not usually accept their husband’s offspring by their former lovers.”
Gabriel knew that, too. It would be an insult to Drusilla to expect her to live with his by-blow. But it would be an insult to Samir to make him live anywhere else. Regardless of their actual relationship, they were still family. He groaned. All of this would not have been a problem but for blasted Visel goading him into this marriage. He kept such thoughts to himself.
“Tell me,” he said, “how does one broach such a conversation with one’s new spouse? Over tea and toast? Dinner?”
Maria laid her head on his shoulder, her small body a comfort beside him. “Perhaps after you’ve made love to her and she is sated and sleepy and malleable?”
Gabriel tried to imagine such a sight as a sated Drusilla Clare—well, Drusilla Marlington now—but could bring to mind only her furious face from this morning. Still, if he couldn’t imagine her sated, that was entirely his fault, wasn’t it? He should have gone to her last night instead of storming off like a child. But he would go to her tonight. This could not drag on.
He took Maria’s hand in both of his. “What would you want—if you were my wife? Would living with a child who was not your own be unbearable? Would you find it a crushing stigma?”
She turned her head, until her chin was resting on his arm. “I am not the right person to ask, my love.” Her dark eyes were soft and caressing. “Stigma? Embarrassment?” She gave a throaty chuckle. “You know I care nothing for such things. Life is fleeting and precious; wasting time worrying about pleasing strangers is foolish.As to my feelings on such a matter? Well, I do not seem to feel jealousy like other women or men.” She lifted one shoulder in a gesture that was ineffably French. “I have always believed I have enough love to share. I don’t need to ration it among the people I care for or hold it close.” She gave him an arch look. “If I could share my beloved Giselle with you, I certainly would not begrudge the child of a lover or spouse their own parent—especially when the child was conceived long before we even met.”
He kissed her forehead; she was correct. Both she and Giselle had more self-assurance than almost anyone he’d ever met, male or female. Gabriel knew the number three was a difficult number when it came to lovers: a dangerous triangle. But not once in the years they’d been together had there been any jealousy or hurt feelings or competitiveness among the three of them. Was that unnatural? He smiled to himself at the question—there was no denying the rest of the ton viewed the arrangement as unnatural.
Perhaps the word he was searching for was unusual. Lovers did not usually like to share. He knew his mother and Exley would never share each other. Gabriel had been raised with the expectation that he would eventually have several wives and that they would need to learn to share him, but never the other way around. He knew relations in his father’s harem had never been easy. Some of the women had waged war against one another—a few even resorting to murder to get what they wanted. But he did not think any of his father’s wives had been jealous of his father’s affection, only jealous of his favor and on whom he bestowed it.
To be truthful, Gabriel knew he could not share a woman he loved with another man; Samir’s mother had been an excellent case in point. Perhaps that was wrong of him—especially since he had expected females to accept such behavior from him. It might be wrong, but it was a simple truth.
“We would be overjoyed to keep him, Gabriel.”
Maria’s voice pulled him out of his memories, and he smiled at her. “I know you would, and this is a loving household. But if he can’t be with his mother’s family, then he should be with me: I am his family.”
“So you will tell her?”
Yes, he would tell Drusilla, and the sooner, the better.
The sound of little feet followed by a slower pair roused him from his reverie, and he disentangled himself from his erstwhile lover and stood.