Why hadn’t he simply returned to England with his wife? Even now they would be tucked in his narrow bunk, Talia’s lush body wrapped around him and his dark thoughts lost in the drowning pleasure of her touch.
He could have left Harry to travel his path to hell and concentrated on his own future.
Unfortunately, he was not naïve enough to believe that ignoring his brother would be an end to the matter. How could he build a future with Talia when he was always waiting for the looming disaster to strike?
Besides, his conscience would never allow him to forget the damage Harry had caused, and the danger he posed so long as he remained a secret traitor to England.
He continued his pacing until at last he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and his brother’s familiar chuckle echoing through the hallway.
“Come, wench, just a taste.”
“Enough, monsieur,” Monique protested, “wait until we have reached my room.”
“A modest whore?” Harry mocked.
“Intimacy is always best savored in privacy.”
“Not always. I do not mind a public performance with a beautiful woman.” There was another chuckle. “Or two.”
Gabriel heard what sounded like Monique slapping away his brother’s hand, then the door to the bedchamber was being shoved open
.
“Just through here, monsieur.”
“I hope you have more than an hour, I—”
Strolling into the room, Harry came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Gabriel. For one timeless moment, the two brothers stared at one another, Harry flushing with guilt in the same manner he’d exhibited when Gabriel had caught him in some misdemeanor as a child.
It lasted less than a heartbeat before Harry was retreating behind a brittle pretense of indifference.
“Well, well. I did not expect you to join in our fun, Gabriel.”
Gabriel’s gaze shifted to Monique, stupidly disappointed by his brother’s response to his sudden appearance. But then, what had he expected?
Overwhelming shame? A plea for forgiveness?
“That will be all, my dear,” he assured the female.
The woman sent him a lingering smile. “I shall be in the private salon at the end of the hall if you wish to find me when you have concluded your business.”
Gabriel dipped his head. “Merci.”
They waited in silence for Monique to leave the room closing the door behind her. Then, with a derisive snort, Harry crossed to the side table to grasp a bottle of whiskey, yanking out the cork and taking a deep drink.
“Yet another victim of the irresistible Ashcombe charm?” he rasped.
“Merely a female seeking to earn a living,” Gabriel countered, his eyes narrowing as the light from the candles played over his brother’s face, revealing his sallow complexion and lines of dissipation beside his pale eyes.
Christ, he appeared twice his age.
“You have no need to remind me you are not only blessed with overwhelming attraction, but with bottomless coffers, as well,” Harry muttered.
“Hardly bottomless and you have had more than your fair share of my coffers,” Gabriel reminded him. “All of which you have tossed away on selfish pursuits of pleasure.”
“And what else is the purpose of a younger son other than to pursue his pleasure?” he demanded. “It is not as if I was ever wanted or needed as more than a spare in the ghastly event something should happen to the glorious heir.”
“Very poetic.” Gabriel’s lips thinned. “Did you rehearse this little speech?”