Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,97

see Samir today or tomorrow as Giselle and Maria had taken him out of the city to visit one of their many friends from France. The friend in question had a little boy who was Samir’s age. They’d invited Gabriel, but he knew they would rather reminisce and gossip without a man in attendance.

“I’m at liberty today and would join you.” He hesitated at her wide-eyed reaction. “That is, if you do not mind?”

“Oh,” she said faintly, glancing down at her hands, which were gripping her reticule in a death hold. “That would be very . . . nice.”

* * *

Drusilla sneaked a look over the top of the book she was considering purchasing. Gabriel sat in one of the chairs reading, his hat balanced elegantly on one knee, his cane propped against the chair. Why had he decided to join her? He’d been treating her like a stranger—a polite stranger—ever since the night she’d told him the truth about Rowland.

Every night she’d wondered if he’d come to her, and every night she’d been hurt and disappointed. Why? Why was he avoiding her? Was this the way it would be from now on? Had he gone back to his mistresses? She’d heard him return near dawn several mornings and had been seized with a mad, furious desire to burst into his rooms and demand where he’d been.

But then she’d wondered if she really wanted to know. Or was her imagination even worse? A man and two women . . . The thought was enough to drive her mad with jealousy. And something else: a tingling sensation between her thighs, a heaviness in her hips, a low, insistent pulsing inside her. In that place he had woken and now ignored.

She had gone so far as to leap out of bed and storm toward his door a few times, but then she’d stopped, her body throbbing. No. She could not demean herself so—she refused to beg.

And now here he was: Drusilla allowed her eyes to wander from his highly polished Hessians over his pantaloons and come to a rest on his magnificent torso. Why was he accompanying her on her daily errands as if it were the most natural thing in the world? Just what did he want from her?

He looked up and caught her staring. His gorgeous face creased into a smile, and he closed his book and stood. Drusilla took control of her rampaging thoughts and assumed a cool expression.

He held up Waverley. “Have you read this?”

“I do not read much fiction.”

“Ah, only improving tracts?”

She shut her book and showed him the spine, a biography of Leonardo. “No, not only improving tracts.”

He grinned. “I stand corrected.” He reached out, and she handed him her book. “Here, let me buy this for you, to make up for my ignorant comment.”

“Oh, you needn’t.”

“Oh, I need,” he teased.

He paid not only for that book, but for the two she’d ordered. They went out to the waiting barouche, and he handed the parcel to her footman.

“How far is your dressmaker? It is a lovely day—perhaps we might walk?”

A thrill of pleasure rippled through her. “You were not jesting then?” she blurted. “You really wish to come to my dressmaker with me?”

“I never jest about ladies’ garments.” He glanced down. “Do you have proper shoes for walking?”

“I am wearing my half boots.” Drusilla couldn’t help wondering what he thought she’d be wearing. And then she recalled the type of woman he normally consorted with.

He turned to John Coachman. “I shall see Mrs. Marlington gets back safely. Fletcher, you may go with him.” He turned to Drusilla. “That is, if you do not need her?”

Drusilla’s face heated at her maid’s curious look. “No. I shan’t need you, Fletcher.”

The streets were busy and they passed more than a few people one or both of them knew.

“What are you collecting from the dressmaker’s?” he asked her.

“Two new gowns.”

“You have a riding habit, I trust?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It is my hope we will get the chance to ride together when we are in the country.”

She glanced up at him, ridiculously pleased by his words.

“You would like that?” he asked, cutting her a quick look before leading her around a steaming pile of animal manure.

“I’ve always wanted to ride more, but the only times I seemed to get around to it were those visits to Exham every summer.”

“Those visits will not cease. We are not even a day’s ride from Exham.”

“I am glad.”

“Are you? You and Eva have patched up your disagreement?”

Had

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