Page 11 of Scoundrel for Sale
But she didn’t want to get into all of that with Gabe, at least not right now. He would probably leap at any chance to change the topic of conversation, whereas she was determined not to let it veer off course. So she added, “Although he was not obliged to do so, George left me a small inheritance.”
That much, at least, was true. George had been more than generous. Although Abbie had brought nothing to the marriage, when her husband’s will was read, she found that he had left her the dower house, a charmingly situated building with a dozen rooms on the edge of the Dulson estate, and enough money to live out her life in a modest-but-respectable sort of way.
But then, at loose ends during her year of mourning, Abbie had undertaken to sort through the centuries of odds and ends left behind by the Dowager Ladies Dulson who had occupied the little stone house before her. And she had found more than rusted hairpins and chipped teacups.
She had found a secret.
A dark, terrible secret, one Nigel would stop at nothing to bury.
And so Abbie found herself caught in the crossfire, torn between decency and survival.
She cleared her throat. “Although I am not destitute, there is a possibility that I will have to marry a man I would rather not have.”
“I won’t allow it,” Gabe said hotly. “I won’t let anyone force you to marry against your will.”
Abbie’s voice was brittle as she replied, “Would that you had expressed such a sentiment six years ago.”
Misery flooded his eyes, and she felt a pang of guilt. They had hashed all of this out in their letters, after all. Abbie had enough pages of Gabe’s apologies for pressing her to marry George to fill… perhaps not a proper book.
But a penny dreadful? Most probably.
“You’re right,” Gabe said in a rush. “You’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry I—”
“Wait, Gabe. Stop. I shouldn’t have said that. I—”
“No, I’m glad you said it. An apology by letter can never contain the proper depth of feeling.” His green eyes were earnest. “I would gladly kneel at your feet. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to earn your forgiveness.”
“I know that.” She reached for his hand. “I know you are sincerely sorry. It was churlish of me to say such a thing.”
He shook his head. “You are more generous than I—gah!”
Gabe recoiled at the brush of Abbie’s fingers against the back of his hand, curling halfway into a ball and pressing himself against the wall.
Abbie sighed. So this was how it was to be.
She cleared her throat. “It happens that I do not want to discuss my marital prospects. Nor do I wish to hear another apology. You may rest assured that I have every confidence in your sincerity and that I have forgiven you. What I wish to discuss is this,” she said, gesturing to the three feet of space that separated them.
“This?” Gabe asked, eyes slightly wild as if he were searching for a route of escape. “This is nothing.”
She took a step forward, and he recoiled into the wall. She repressed the urge to stomp her foot. “This is hardly nothing if we are to make love!”
He wouldn’t meet her eye. “Why do you want to do that with me, anyway?”
This did not seem like a promising moment to inform Gabe that she was fairly certain he was the love of her life. So instead, Abbie said, “We have already established that my marriage bed was unsatisfactory. And, to make matters worse, I may soon be wed to a man who isn’t one whit better.” She heard her voice break at the thought of marrying Nigel, who shared all of her former husband’s failings but lacked George’s great compensatory quality: kindness.
Lifting her chin, she soldiered on. “But before I do, I want to do something for myself. I want to experience pleasure, the kind that can exist between a man and a woman. And I refuse to feel ashamed for wanting that.”
Gabe’s eyes were tender as he stepped forward. “God, Abbie, I would never judge you for that.” He raised a hand to brush an errant lock of hair back from her forehead. “You deserve a competent lover not just for one night, but every—gah!” He jerked back, staring at his hand in horror. “God damn it! I mustn’t do that!”
“Mustn’t do what? Touch me?” She laughed incredulously. “I should like to know how we’re going to make love without touching one another!”
He slashed a hand in front of him. “We’re not going to make love.”
“You were the one who just said I deserved a competent lover!”
“You do. But it will have to be someone else.”
She crossed her arms. “Then you intend to return my thousand pounds?”
