It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Scandal

“Good God man, let me help you.”

Gabriel lowered himself onto the cushions and pinned his older brother with a glare. “Did you deliver my messages to Miss Markham?”

“I told you I went by the cottage.”

Gabriel stared at his brother, and slowly said, “Yes, but did you actually deliver my messages as you promised?”

George grimaced and looked away briefly before returning his regard. “It appears as if she packed her belongings and left a week ago. That is why I doubted the woman you saw now was her.”

A week? A peculiar hollowness formed in his gut. Had Primrose left him? While he lay abed recovering? Dear God, why? With what money?

“Tell me again,” Gabriel said softly. “From the moment she dropped me off here. What did she say, what was her countenance?”

George scrubbed a hand over his face with a wary smile. “Gabriel, let her go. She bloody well dumped you here, feverish and rambling, walked away and never looked back. I did as you bid and visited and she was no longer living at the cottage.”

“Surely there must be some mistake,” he rasped, his heart hammering sickly.

“There is more,” George said, regret and some other elusive emotion in his gaze. “Mother informed me she offered her money and Miss Markham took it and negotiated for a larger sum.”

Sharp edges of pain, confusion, and denial darted through him. The agony tearing through his soul was shaper than the bullet which had ripped through his side and almost taken his life twice. And in the midst of the loss tearing through his heart, her eyes bright with love and trust floated through his memories.

It centered him, muting the terrible doubts and fear. Gabriel struggled to his feet and made his way from the sitting room toward the dining hall. With a muttered curse, George followed. His mother sat at the table beside the earl who read a freshly pressed morning paper the village boy had delivered. His mother slathered jam on toast, and her eyes lit up with pleasure when she saw him.

“Gabriel! How wonderful you look today. I detect a certain spring in your steps. Will you join us?”

He paused at the head of the table, waiting until George entered the room. Then he looked at his family whom he loved and had always trusted. Until now. “Upon rousing from the bed and that damn laudanum-induced sleep, I asked George to deliver several messages to Miss Markham for me. She did not reply to any, nor did she visit. He informed me just now that she has moved away from the cottage I rented to be our home, and that she has taken the money you offered her."

The countess lowered the knife and lifted her chin. “It was crass of me to offer it, but I did.”

“And she took it?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “That should tell you the sort of woman you were foolhardy to think might be fit to be your wife.”

An ache of loss settled heavy on his heart. “I will never forgive the shame and pain you must have made her feel to drive her to such an action,” he said with calm sincerity. “I have lost all good opinion and respect I once held for this family.”

His mother paled, and his father frowned, lowering the paper. George went down to his mother and stopped at her side, resting a comforting hand on her shoulders.

“Gabriel—” he began.

"No," Gabriel said with a slash of his hand. "I do not care to hear your excuses or lies. I know my Primrose. I know of her honor and her love for me. And now I know of your lack of love and faith in me. I'm not a feckless wastrel, a rake, or a libertine. You all must think so little of me that you could not respect the woman I love more than life itself. I'll probably scold her for losing her faith in me and the promises I made to her when I find her. But I'll also do my most damned best to heal the wounds you must have dealt her to make her run from me." He pierced them with his cold regard. "While I would forgive any thoughtless words thrown at me, I will not forget or forgive the manner in which you’ve treated her. When I leave this house today, even if I have to crawl, I shall never return.”

Then he turned and walked away, ignoring his mother's harsh gasp, and George's call to wait. Out in the hallway, he was startled to see the butler hovering. Gabriel passed him and then faltered when the man cleared his throat.

He faced him. "What is it, Mabry?”

“Miss Markham visited several times and was denied entry. Nor was she allowed to stay with you after you were brought here.”

The words were a brutal punch to his gut, and he wanted to howl at the pain she must have endured. He also saw what the admission cost his butler, who was fiercely loyal to his mother.

"I believe her ladyship's intention was well—"

“Thank you, Mabry,” Gabriel said, not wanting to hear any defense of his mother’s actions.

Every step he took lanced pain in his side, but he would not stay another night in this house. Sometime in the future, he was confident he would forgive them, for he loved his family. And that love required Gabriel to forgive them for the cruel, stupid things they did, especially foolishly misguided ones where they believed they acted in his best interest. And despite that awareness, his forgiveness would only come after they'd earned Primrose's—if they earned it. Until then, his family could go hang.

I’m coming my love…wait for me.

Chapter 10