George exhaled on a harsh breath. “She is a nice girl, but she is not fit for your wife. I’ll not apologize for thinking it.”
Gabriel glanced toward the figure in the distance. “I spoke to you before making an announcement, because your support is important to me, George.”
He wrinkled his nose, but his eyes were sympathetic. “Do not ask me to back you in this.”
"You are my brother, of course I shall ask it of you. When you offered for Verity, you asked for my support, and I gladly gave it."
“She’s the daughter of a viscount! It is hardly the same.”
“Yes, but you were expected to marry her older cousin who is the daughter of an earl. You were being forced to marry against your heart. I supported your decision to elope with Verity. I daresay I expected a similar loyalty, George.”
His brother made no reply, simply turned, and walked away to the Manor. Trudging through the snow, Gabriel made his way over to Primrose. Her cheeks and the tip of her elegant nose were red from the biting cold, but her lovely eyes sparkled with joy and a bit of shyness.
“Good morning, Miss Markham,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Gabriel,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes searching his. Vulnerability glimmered deep in those exquisite eyes of hers.
The quick flash of hesitation, of doubt, had him stepping scandalously close to her. “I slipped away before the household woke. I did not want to explain what I was about in your room before marriage.”
Her sharp cheekbones lifted as her face lit with the radiance of her smile. “I understand. Though I wish you’d woke me. I…I had a present for you.”
“I shall gladly receive it tonight. How are you feeling, Primrose?” he asked her, tenderness, and love, welling inside him so deep, so strong it nearly strangled him.
A becoming flush crept up her slender neck, pinkening her fair cheeks. “It is frightfully cold out,” she said with a gasping laugh. “But I feel glorious.”
He reached out and tugged the muffed hat firmer over her ears. He did not like that her coat and gloves seemed so worn. How little she had, no family to call her own, no wealth, and worked very hard for the little she had, yet she possessed such good cheer.
“I’m glad there are no discomforts from my enthusiasm last night…and early this morning.” He could still smell the heady and decadent fragrance of her passion on the air, taste the tart sweetness of her sex, and hear her lovely cries of fulfillment.
Her eyes widened, and her cheeks blushed apple red. “I’m quite fine, thank you,” she said primly.
He laughed, and she grinned. Her small teeth bit nervously at her lip, drawing his attention to the fullness of her soft mouth, with soft curving lines bordering its pale-pink, pouting skin.
“I could not hear the conversation between you and Lord Weatherton, but I thought he appeared out of sorts.”
Gabriel cupped her jaw and lifted her anxious gaze to his. “I promise you it shall be well.”
She searched his face, and then the tension seeped from her. “I believe you.” Then she pressed against him in a surprising hug.
Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. He cursed the clothes separating them, desperate to stroke his fingers across her soft, delicate skin. How he’d missed her. He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her to the conservatory. He wanted to do all the things he shouldn’t. Last night he had been weak and had taken her without the benefit of marriage. Gabriel would not be foolish in his temptation again. He would wait until they were married before making love with her again and again and again.
Chapter 5
The sound of clinking glasses and laughter filtered on the air. Taking a deep breath and clasping above her stomach to stop the wild flutters, Primrose stepped through the ajar door into the spacious drawing room. It seemed like everyone but the lord and lady of the manor were present. All the cousins and the aunts and the close friends who’d been invited had arrived sometime throughout the night and earlier throughout the day.
After her walk with Gabriel this morning, they’d gone to the church in the village where several carriages had arrived, rumbling and crunching through the snow. The sermon of charity and love had been inspiring, and the pews had been overfull, with several people standing.
They’d returned to the manor a few hours ago, and the festive feel had continued with parlor games, with some guests braving the steadily falling snow to skate. Now about twenty people were in the drawing room, laughing and chattering, drinking champagne and mulled wine, while Lady Beatrice, a most charming young lady, played a jaunty carol at the grand pianoforte close to the roaring fire. Gabriel held the sheet for her, and they seemed to be having quite a lovely time. Primrose looked away, wondering if he enjoyed Lady Beatrice’s company or merely tolerated it at his mother’s insistence.
Refusing to dwell on that small kernel of doubt, Primrose moved further into the room, smiling warmly at those who favored her with small greetings. Pinecones, evergreens, and mistletoes decorated every room in the forty-room manor, and the drawing room was possibly the most tastefully and cheerfully designed. A large evergreen spruce tree had been cut and placed in the corner. It had been decorated with large bows of bright scarlet ribbon, precious glass baubles that had come all the way from Bohemia and silver candleholders with white candles. The candles had not been lit yet but would be when the night lengthened.
And beside it, a table laden with wrapped gifts. Gift giving and entertainment was planned for later in this drawing room. There would be singing, parlor games, and stories by the fire.
“Miss Markham, how delightful of you to join us, come, come, let me get you a glass of champagne,” Mr. Andrew Netherby, a cousin, greeted quite loudly.
This had Gabriel’s head snapping around and looking up. Lady Beatrice missed a few notes, ire firing in her eyes at losing Gabriel’s attention.
But pleasure permeated Primrose because she felt quite presentable in her dark green gown with the palest green satin underskirt, wide ruffled sleeves, and lace collar. It exquisitely molded to her frame, the front lined with twenty buttons curving the material to her shapely corseted frame. It had taken a great deal of her savings to pay the local modiste for this creation. Her dark curly hair had been coiffed in an elegant chignon with a few loose curls caressing her cheeks. But she had wanted to be beautiful today, and from the shocked inhalation of Gabriel, the money had been well spent.