‘Rash!’ She was serious again in a moment. ‘Promise never to lie to me. I won’t probe your secrets, I won’t expect you to open your heart to me. But do not lie to me, Gabriel. Not about how you feel. You told me you do not obey vows, but you do, don’t you?’
‘I do when they are to you. Yes, I promise.’ It felt very serious, very heavy, that promise, but her smile was suddenly light and gay.
He insisted on walking her upstairs. ‘Call Harriet, lie down and rest.’
‘I will.’ Caroline stood in the bedchamber, her hand on the edge of the half-open door. ‘I love you, Gabriel.’ Then, softly, she closed it, leaving him on the far side. Alone.
* * *
Half an hour later Gabriel was sitting in the drawing room nursing a glass of brandy he was not drinking and trying to remember what his life had been like on the first day of June at eleven in the morning. He had been single, heart-free and with no responsibilities in the world other than three brothers who were either independent of him or on the verge of being so. He owned estates that were run efficiently by excellent employees, a house full of memories that he could close the door on and walk away from and three close friends whose own lives had recently been turned upside down in a way that he had been certain would change their relationship with him for ever.
He’d been comfortable, self-indulgent, vaguely uneasy and...bored.
Now those locked doors had been flung wide open and it had been his brothers who had come to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. His friends had rallied to guard his back just as they always had. He had a wife, a child on the way and a secret lifted off his neck.
He had a wife who loved him. That promise she had extracted from him made sense now. She was afraid that he would take pity on her and mouth the words in response, pretend a depth of emotion he did not truly feel. Clever Caroline. She knew he would lie for her, but now, not to her.
There was a bang on the door and Gabriel put down the untouched brandy, cursing under his breath and got to his feet. What now? His brothers came in, filling the room with their energy and their excitement.
‘It is all over town.’ Louis, grinning like an idiot, threw his arms around Gabriel and hugged him fiercely. Startled, he found himself hugging back, then both Ben and George piled in to.
When they finally broke apart Ben picked up the brandy glass and knocked it back in one gulp. ‘The gossip mill is in full swing and your father-in-law’s name is mud. The ladies are swooning with the romantic delights of the elopement and you rescuing Caroline from what was some sort of Gothic house of horrors and the gentlemen are assuring each other that they always knew Knighton was queer in the attic and that you are as good a man as our grandfather.’
‘And they got all this from the statement that witnesses had been examined and the fact of an accident has been confirmed?’ Gabriel asked, suspicious.
‘We have been elucidating the situation,’ George pronounced, looking pious. ‘Naturally we did not want anyone to retain the wrong impression.’
‘And we’ve done a damn good job,’ Louis said, straightening his spectacles. ‘Ben stuck his chest out, rattled his sabre and looked manful while commending your honourable reluctance to call out your father-in-law. George has been murmuring about the chivalrous rescue of a lady in terms which, frankly, were fairly sickening when he got round to comparing you to Lancelot, although it did make Lady Hesslethwaite weep. And I’ve been muttering about having my advice about suing for slander turned down. In fact, Brother, you are probably not safe to go out alone or you’ll be mobbed by the ladies and have your hand shaken off by the men.’
Gabriel stared round at them. Ben was smirking, George was smug and Louis was grinning and suddenly they were all laughing and he was, too, and they were just his brothers. Not responsibilities to sacrifice himself for, not a constant aching worry. Simply his brothers whom he loved and, startlingly, appeared to love him. Not that a gentleman talked about such things, so, still gasping with laughter, Gabriel filled four glasses and raised his own in a toast.
‘The Brothers Stone.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The bed dipped and warm lips began to kiss their way down the back of her neck. It was a dream...but did dream lovers rasp their stubbled chins on your more delicate areas of skin and did they smell of brandy?
‘Gabriel?’ Carolyn wriggled back and there was a moment of tugging and flapping before there was a male body under the covers for her to snuggle into. Definitely not a dream. Dream lovers did not have to fight the bedding.
‘No, the Archbishop of Canterbury. Who were you expecting?’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘Surprisingly not.’ He wrapped an arm firmly around her waist and Caroline realised that he was as naked as she was. ‘Did we sound as though we were carousing downstairs? I’m sorry if we disturbed you.’
‘You sounded happy. That was good to go to sleep hearing.’ She twisted round until she could burrow her head under his chin and pressed her lips to his collarbone.
‘I sincerely hope I usually sound happy when we finally do go to sleep,’ Gabriel grumbled into her hair.
‘You don’t laugh then. I have never heard you laugh before.’
‘Never?’ He bent back and pushed up her chin so he could frown at her, their noses almost touching.
‘Never. Not a proper, letting-everything-go laugh because you are happy rather than because something amuses you.’
Gabriel tucked her head down against his shoulder again. ‘I must be a misery to live with.’
‘No, merely rather intense sometimes.’