Page 66 of Things We Do for Love and Science
He squeezed his eyes shut. One sentence from her was enough to set him alight with yearning.
“I...know I have no right to...ask this of you, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to go. But Brady-Greene has invited us to a charity ball—as husband and wife.” There, he’d said it, and now his future was in her hands.
“Absolutely, I’ll come with you,” she rushed out. “I want to support you with this. You know that.”
“Thank you so much. I mean it, Delia.” His voice broke on her name.
Her exhale was shaky. “You’re more than welcome.”
“The silk dress is here for you if you want it.” He didn’t dwell on the fact that he’d held it back out of sentimentality. The other dresses from the collection had been sold long ago.
“Very good.” She gave a faint chuckle. “Glad I don’t have to rush out to buy a ballgown.”
“No need for that. I wouldn’t...ever presume...” He had to end the call before he became incoherent with emotion. “Well, thanks again. I’ll text you the date and time.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Shall we meet at the gatehouse so I can change?”
“Great, yes. Renoir will be ecstatic to have you back.” His casual remark sounded so much like a plea that he winced.
“I suppose I’ll see you then,” she said.
“Yes, and thanks again.” He hung up and pressed the phone to his chest.
In the three weeks following the receipt of the invitation, Renwood Hall kept Gabriel busy with a thousand-and-one tasks. Before he had time to properly contemplate the absurdity of his situation or ponder the emotional impact of seeing Delia again, the day of the charity ball was upon him.
Dressed in a tux and wearing his father’s wedding ring, he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom and adjusted his bowtie. He frowned at his reflection. Who was he but an overdressed earl without money and, more importantly, without a countess. He was merely pretending to be happily married and in full control of his finances.
Soon, Delia would be there, change into the pomegranate dress and, once more, take on the role of Lady Renwood—for his sake, for the sake of Renwood Hall. He wasn’t sure how to get through this night, putting on a show for the Brady-Greenes while at the same time trying to protect his heart from Delia.
A gentle knock on the gatehouse door sent a spike of adrenaline through him. Renoir barked and raced ahead while Gabriel took a few steadying breaths before letting Delia in. The wolfhound jumped at her, ready to receive some affection, and she crouched to pet him. When his dog had calmed, Gabriel sent him into the living room and stepped toward the woman who would act his wife for the evening.
“Delia.” He kissed her cheek, pleased with the steadiness of his voice. “It’s kind of you to help me out.” The scent of rose and bergamot enveloped him, and the intense memory of their past love affair hit him like a blow to the stomach.
“No problem at all.” Her voice was low, barely audible, and her gaze fixed on the lapels of his suit. She touched his shoulders with fluttering hands then dropped them.
His limbs tingled, and his mind went blank. He’d expected barely concealed pity, compassion maybe, but not jittery nervousness as if she was on her guard, afraid of her feelings. The tiny flicker of hope he’d held onto against better judgment licked into a flame. He took a step back to let her pass into the living room where he’d laid out the silk dress.
“Oh, yes, the dress,” she whispered.
“And the ring.” He took his mother’s wedding band from his pocket, then slipped it onto her finger. She was shivering so he opened his arms and enfolded her. “I promise, this is the last time.”
“I...er,” she broke off and freed herself from his embrace. “I’d better change.”
“Yes, of course. Shout if you need me.” Softly, he closed the living room door behind him and went into the kitchen.
He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in small, considered gulps, trying his best not to visualize her undressing in the room next to him. The rustling of silk didn’t make it any easier. He couldn’t be around her. Tonight was going to be the last time, like he’d said, because it would take years before he could meet her with equanimity.
“Gabriel,” she called. “I’m ready.”
~ * ~
Delia had never beento the Renwood Grand Hotel. The place was way too expensive for Sunday dinner or even for tea. She entered through the glass double doors and almost expected the receptionist to usher her out again, even though she was dressed head to toe in shiny, red-and-green silk.
Gabriel beside her, stunning in a black tux, appeared to be in his element. He mightn’t have any money, but he sure looked the part. She had to be careful with him tonight; he was kind and irresistibly handsome. It would be easy to fall into old habits. But that was all in the past now. He’d broken their agreement, and she would have to keep her distance.
She glanced at the massive chandelier dangling from the lofty ceiling and tried not to imagine it crashing down and burying the lot of them underneath its crystalline splendor.
“Lord and Lady Renwood. There you are.”
