Page 5 of Alone with a Scarred Earl
Gabriel stepped nearer. The image she showed him had nothing to do with the orchids he had mentioned, except in comparison to their beauty, but he did not mind. She spoke with such abandonment, as though she had never had anyone to listen to her, that he felt compelled to listen.
Her hand rested gently beside the drawing. Her skin appeared pale and almost translucent at the wrist. She spoke with calm authority, without hesitation or boast, and she seemed surprised at doing so. He listened with an intensity he had not experienced for many months.
“Are you a botanist?” he asked.
Her blush sent a thrill up his spine as she averted her gaze, seeming surprised that he had a genuine interest in what she was saying. It was a feeling to which he could relate, which made her company all the more compelling.
“I am merely an amateur,” she said. “I remain entirely unrecognized, and it is unlikely that any work of mine shall ever be published. I derive pleasure only from the pursuit itself.”
Her gentle manner did not diminish the clarity of her mind. She turned another page, and Gabriel found himself standing much too near, yet making no move to withdraw. The warmth from the fire did not account for the heat rising beneath his collar as he smelled lavender soap radiating from her skin. It was strange that a lady had such an effect on him. It is strange that a lady would allow me so close as to have such an effect, he thought, realizing again that she had not so much as flinched with his proximity.
Before he could speak again, the door to the library burst open. A collection of gentlemen entered, led by a young, blond-haired, blue-eyed gentleman of evident refinement. Their laughter filled the room as they soon engaged in discussions of politics and brandy. The atmosphere changed at once. Miss Barrett turned abruptly at the intrusion and clutched her folio. Her balance wavered, and she stumbled.
Gabriel advanced without hesitation. Years of instinct refined in war directed his movement. He extended his arms and caught her before she could hit the floor, placing one arm about her waist and the other around her shoulders. Her form pressed against his chest. She emitted a gasp and grasped his coat for support. Their faces came exceedingly near, the closeness impossible to ignore.
The brief silence that followed told Gabriel they were not the only ones who noticed. Gentlemen halted their conversation. The fire crackled as a log split in its burning mass. Miss Barrett remained still in his arms. He perceived her breath near his neck and observed her lashes fluttering. His own breathing became shallow, and the thrill he felt earlier returned with ferocity. She filled him with an unfamiliar awareness, yet it was not one he found unpleasant. The moment lasted only seconds, yet they were both aware of its significance.
Lady Hastings entered at once with impeccable timing, followed by a flurry of maids and one startled footman. Her eyes swiftly focused on the pair, a scene that would later be recounted as beyond all questions of innocence.
“Genevieve, come,” she said brusquely. Without turning her head, she spoke to someone behind her. “Richard, I trust you know how to handle this.”
While her aunt spoke, Genevieve staggered to an upright position, and with reluctance, Gabriel released her. Her hands fell to her sides, and she kept her head bowed.
“Yes, Aunt,” the blond-haired man said. His eyes appeared dull, but his mouth twitched with something that resembled either agitation or amusement.
Gabriel opened his mouth to explain, but Lady Hastings swept her niece away with decisive purpose, allowing no protest. She placed a protective hand on the young lady’s back as she led her through a side door and closed it firmly behind them.
Gabriel turned to follow, but the blond gentleman blocked his path.
“I believe you have done quite enough,” he said softly. “It is best that you depart at once. You have provided them with a matter that they shall recount throughout the season.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw as his hands flinched at his sides.
“Move aside,” he said, glowering at the man.
The smug man tilted his head.
“They are already speaking of it,” he said, the odd expression which Gabriel now knew as mocking returning. “The Earl of Mountwood, alone in a library with an unwed woman. Caught in so delicate a position, and yet you would make demands in my aunt’s and my home. And where my cousin was living as a guest with certain expectations, no less.”
Gabriel looked at him, barely concealing his irritation.
“No matter in whose home I am, one would consider it appropriate to address an earl with more respect,” he said. “Especially when the earl does not even know who you are.”
The young man smirked, giving Gabriel a taunting bow, as if he had just won some imaginary game.
“My name is Richard Hastings,” he said. “Lord Hastings, to be proper, though I suppose you have little regard for propriety. As I previously mentioned, this is my aunt’s and my home, where my cousin resides, and where you are surely no longer welcome. Who does that make disrespectful?”
Gabriel glanced at the men behind Lord Hastings, finding nothing but averted gazes and muted expressions of judgment and disgust. At last, he turned and left.
Outside, the night air pricked his skin. The streetlamps shone dimly amid the mist rising from the cobblestones. He paced, his fists clenched and his breath rising in sharp clouds. The taste of fury soured in his mouth. He had had no business at that ball, and he certainly should not have gone wandering around someone else’s home. Now, he had soiled a young lady, the first person to not recoil in horror from him since his disfigurement. What had he done?
He heard his name and turned to see James approaching. Behind him, Sophia emerged, her expression marked by distress.
“We heard,” James said simply.
Sophia clasped her brother’s arm, her expression wrinkled with worry.
“Gabriel, you cannot allow this to happen to her,” she said.
