‘I have every intention of doing so.’
‘I am sure you have. But is your definition of a good husband the same as mine, I wonder?’
Gabriel had told himself he was not going to be riled by her, that her wariness of him was more than understandable, so it was a surprise to find himself snapping back. ‘As we all know Cris is a paragon of all the virtues, so I doubt anyone else can reach his level of perfection as a husband.’
He deserved a snub for that remark, he knew, not to provoke Tamsyn into laughter. He assumed an expression of mild enquiry, accompanied by one of his better sardonic smiles, as Cris said, ‘Now what is amusing you, my love?’
‘Gabriel considers that you are a paragon of all the virtues and must be making me an absolutely perfect husband.’ Tamsyn was mopping her eyes with her napkin.
‘And am I not?’ Gabriel had never seen that tender look in the ice-blue eyes before.
‘You are coming along very nicely, my lord,’ Tamsyn said primly. ‘Constant practice is, of course, required.’
‘As with everything,’ Cris observed. ‘I must confess myself deeply flattered by your opinion, Gabriel. On the other hand, if I was certain you would know a virtue when you saw one, I might be more complacent.’
‘Gabriel has many virtues,’ Caroline said hotly. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Avenmore, but I will not sit by and have him abused.’
‘He is teasing me,’ Gabriel said, and then, when she still looked unconvinced, added, ‘Male friends do, you know.’
‘It is true,’ Tamsyn put in. ‘You must have observed it. The fonder they are of each other, the more objectionable they become. Men are not good at showing their emotions. Look at them—they both look thoroughly uncomfortable now.’
‘As Gabriel appears to have finished his breakfast he and I can go and be uncomfortable together and leave you two to the full and frank exchange of your emotional states while you discuss arrangements for the wedding.’ Cris got to his feet. ‘Bring the coffee pot, Gabe, and we will retreat to the library to lick our wounds.’
* * *
‘I have known you for years, yet when you look like that I still cannot read you,’ Cris observed as they settled into the chairs facing each other on either side of the library fireplace. ‘I have no idea whether you are delighted that your hand has been forced or appalled that you have to do the honourable thing.’ He took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Which is why I never play cards with you except for coppers.’
‘I am neither,’ Gabriel said. Strange that he did not resent Cris’s probing, but then he and his three friends had never had secrets, not about the things that really mattered. Certainly not about the wounds they all carried from long ago. Except the one thing that he never, ever, talked about. ‘I am simply content with the arrangement. I should marry because of the title and Caroline is perfectly eligible if one discounts her appalling father. I like and admire her. There is a certain basic mutual attraction.’
‘Yes, one can see that.’ Cris’s lips twitched.
‘I believe her reluctance is because she knows my hand is being forced. I made the mistake of attempting moral blackmail when I was desperate for her to agree. However, she is now resigned because I am, apparently, considerably better than the alternatives on offer.’
The twitch became one of his friend’s rare grins. ‘The more I see of Lady Caroline the more I approve of her.’ He filled his cup and watched Gabriel over the rim. ‘So why are you merely content, given that you are definitely attracted?’
‘You think I will make any kind of a decent husband? Leaving aside this scandal, my reputation is not going to be any help to her. If we’re received I’ll squire her about, of course, but I’m hoping she’ll be happier in the country bringing up the children.’
‘This is not really about your reputation, is it?’
‘I always thought you were a loss to the legal profession. You should be making some poor soul’s life hell on the witness stand, not interrogating me.’ Gabriel leaned across to take the coffee pot and stayed silent until he had drunk the fresh cupful. ‘But, yes, you are right, of course. Damn it, Cris, I have no idea how to be a decent husband. I’ll be kind to her, look after her—that goes without saying. But neither of us were brought up to know what a happy family looks like. Her father is a self-centred obsessive, you know that. And then he hit her.’
‘Does she realise how much you have in common?’ Cris asked.
Gabriel shook his head. ‘And she won’t.’
‘She will when she sees your back. Or has she already?’
‘Not yet.’ He moved uneasily as though the pressure of the chair back might chafe the old scars into active life again and shifted the subject. ‘How do you do it, you and Alex and Grant? You all make your wives happy.’
‘Love,’ Cris said simply. ‘It is a novelty for men raised as we were. For most aristocrats, I suppose. But we married women who understood about love and family and warmth, I suppose. Do you love Caroline?’
‘No.’ Gabriel was certain about that. He had no idea what loving a woman in the emotional sense would feel like, but he was very certain he would know it if it happened to him. It had changed his friends and he was the same man that he had been before Caroline had erupted into his life. Absolutely the same.
‘Does she love you?’
Lord, I hope not. The thought of hurting Caroline appalled him. He would try his best, but he felt he was embarking on a journey with no road maps, no compass. ‘I told you. She’s resigned to marrying me, but that is all.’
‘If you want my advice, and you probably do not, tell her about your family.’