Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,87
joined me.”
His eyebrows shot up, but he entered the room. “Very well. A pot of coffee, Thomas,” he told the footman hovering beside the door.
The servant left, and Gabriel went to the buffet. When he turned back to the table, she saw he had a full plate.
He spread a napkin over his lap, his expression distant, reserved. Gone was the affectionate, teasing, and amorous man of yesterday. He must have noticed her eyes on his mountain of food. “Riding always works up an appetite.”
“Do you ride every morning?” she asked, latching on to the innocuous topic.
He cut into a slab of ham. “Most mornings.”
The breakfast room was silent but for the sound of cutlery on crockery.
He met her eyes, his own unreadable, while he commenced to methodically consume the contents of his plate.
Drusilla’s face was hot, and she knew she must be red and splotchy. She took a sip of tea, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I accepted an invitation to dine at Exley House.”
He swallowed, took a drink of coffee, and wiped his mouth with his linen before saying, “Very well,” and resuming his meal.
She could tolerate it no longer. “I wanted—”
Parker entered with his pot of coffee and cast a look at Drusilla’s empty plate. “May I bring you anything else, ma’am? Perhaps another pot of tea?”
“Thank you, no. I shall float away if I drink a second pot.”
Parker looked ready to hover, but Gabriel said, “You may leave us, Parker. Thomas, we shan’t need anything else.”
Drusilla looked from Parker’s receding back to Gabriel. What was going on?
He laid down his silverware and pushed away his unfinished plate. “I was going to wait until later today to speak to you, but I would rather do so now if you have a few minutes to spare?”
“Yes, of course.” A chill shot up her spine at his cold, polite tone.
“What I am about to say will no doubt surprise and displease you. However, it cannot be helped.”
Drusilla stirred a bit of milk into her final cup of tea and waited, her body becoming tenser by the second.
“I have a son.”
Her spoon clattered against the porcelain teacup and her head whipped up. He was looking at her with that haughty, distant expression she was beginning to hate.
“I b-beg your pardon?” The words came out a croak. She cleared her throat. “Did you say you had a son?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him, looking for signs of... anything. But he was as readable as a brick wall.
“He is not yet six and his name is Samir.” He watched her closely, and she couldn’t help wondering what her face looked like; what was he seeing? “When we move to the country at the end of the Season, I intend that he will go with us—that he will live with us at Sizemore.”
Drusilla suddenly recalled Visel—and his sly questions about Gabriel’s family—did he know about this? He must; that must have been what he meant.
Dear God—was the child one of the French actresses’?
The room was quiet but for the ticking of the longcase clock behind her and the faint sounds of street noises. He took another sip of coffee. She had to ask—had to.
“And his mother?” Her voice broke on the last word, and she felt her face heat. “Will she be living with us, too?” She hadn’t meant to say that.
His high, sharp cheekbones flushed. “His mother is dead.” His grim expression told her that was all she’d get out of him on that subject.
She swallowed—something she seemed to be doing constantly—her mind beginning to function again, beginning to whir, in fact. No, the child could not belong to one of his mistresses. She had been foolish. If the boy was almost six, Gabriel could not have been much more than a boy himself when his son was conceived. In fact, he must have been in Oran and—
“He is only recently arrived in England and he does not speak English very well. He is, however, conversant in French.”
“He is in London?”
“Yes.”
“But . . . where is he?”
His nostrils flared slightly. “He is with friends for now.”
She looked down at the table, to where her hand was turning her unused fork over and over and over in place. If the boy wasn’t at Exley House or here—where was he? Drusilla could not bring herself to ask.
“He has a nurse he is fond of and she will come with him. The schoolroom and nursery at Sizemore are both remote from