Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,91

dismissed her. The last thing she wanted was a witness to her mood.

Her mood: That was inaccurate. The truth was she was having moods. Her moods were swinging from one extreme to another every few minutes. She had been as taut as a spring since breakfast, and the day had been a miserable blur.

She could not bear it.

One minute she was making plans for escaping Gabriel. She could run away—to Europe, now that the war was over, or even to America, where nobody would know her. She certainly had enough money to do such a thing.

But there was her Aunt Vi.

The older lady was too ill to travel and Drusilla knew she wouldn’t wish to leave England even if she could. Her aunt was visibly excited about moving to Bath at the end of the Season. So that would mean Drusilla would need to leave alone. It was not ideal, but the option was available—if things became too unbearable.

Thanks to Gabriel’s generosity with their marriage contract, she was in full control of all but a portion of her money—the money set aside for any children.

Children.

Even if she remained in England, it was likely they would never have children. At least not together.

She pressed her cool hands to her hot cheeks but did not slow her pacing.

Was she jealous he had an illegitimate child? Drusilla had examined her conscience on the question at least a hundred times. The answer, she was sure, was no. That had relieved her—it would have been unbearable if she’d been petty enough to blame an innocent little boy for his situation. She was, however, angry at Gabriel and the irresponsibility of his action. His son would have to bear the stigma of illegitimacy his entire life.

Drusilla knew how Gabriel struggled with the label in England. Of course, he’d been something of a prince in his own country—surely where this child had been conceived—so probably the specter of illegitimacy had not been an issue. Besides, his father had been a sultan—the ruler of his people. No doubt it was like England, where it was prestigious to be the bastard child of a king.

She could never be happy that Gabriel had had many other lovers and had even had a child by one. But the fact that he could believe she would take out her anger on an innocent child? That she would believe the boy should be raised anywhere but with his father? What kind of monster did he think she was?

Drusilla stopped in front of her dressing room mirror and stared at her reflection, searching for whatever it was in her face that would make him believe she could act so cruelly toward a child.

All she saw was a woman with purple circles beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. Her pale skin—skin he had praised as beautiful—broadcast her exhaustion as plainly as a torch on a moonless night.

But that wasn’t all.

Nasty thoughts pushed up like weeds between cobbles: What about the rest of what he said, Drusilla? What about that? What about those two mistresses who must have the boy right now? What does a man do with two women at one time . . .

“Oh, stop!” she cried, slumping onto the padded bench in front of her dressing table and dropping her head into her hands. It ate at her that he would not introduce her to his son, that he would keep the child with . . . Drusilla could not say the words out loud even though the women were indelibly etched in her mind after the play she’d been forced to watch. Jealousy and anger surged again at the thought of being forced to watch his mistresses. She told herself it was not his fault—he’d not been the one to arrange the evening. It had been the Duke of Tyndale. The thought should have calmed her, but her anger was joined by hurt, and that was much harder to forget or ignore.

She could not live this way. If he planned on flaunting his multitudinous affairs, she would—

“Drusilla?”

She looked up to find Gabriel standing in the opening, dressed for dinner. She must have been so distracted she’d not even heard him come in.

“I knocked, but there was no answer.” He sounded as emotionless as he looked. “Are you ready?”

She stood, her legs watery. “Could we take just a moment?”

He hesitated, but then stepped back and gestured to his room. Drusilla followed him though the dressing room, bedchamber, and into his study. It