Verity had encouraged her to place her gifts under the tree, and Primrose went and got the small brown package she’d gotten weeks ago for Gabriel. She handed it to him.
“Oh Miss Markham got Gabriel a gift as well,” Annabelle cried, clapping her hands. “How fortunate you made it home to receive it,” she said with a charming smile, blue eyes very much like her brother’s glittering with happiness.
Primrose flushed as all attention turned to her. Gabriel seemed quite unruffled by it all and lowered himself onto a sofa and unwrapped his gift. George made his way over, unabashedly peering over his brother’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Annabelle cried.
“A filigreed fountain pen and an inkwell,” Gabriel murmured softly. His eyes shone with rich pleasure and love when he stared at her.
“A pen,” the countess said with mild surprise. “An odd gift to be certain. The library has numerous quills and ink. But I suppose it is what Miss Markham can afford.”
"Miss Markham gifted me these because she knows of my dream to become a writer. Thank you, I will put them to excellent use."
The family threw a surprised glance at each other, and Primrose had the uncomfortable awareness that he'd not shared his ambitions with his family before now.
He too handed her a gift, and she unwrapped it with trembling fingers. The family appeared too interested to Primrose's mind. Parting the delicate tissue, she gasped softly at the most exquisite pair of gloves she'd ever seen. Verity shot a quick glance at George, before smiling at them. Primrose’s heart started to race when she saw that there was more. Surely it was too much, and his family would think it odd. But of course, he planned to reveal their tendre, and this was the first step of his declaration.
Next, she lifted a most elegant light blue with swirls of green Kashmir shawl. A flush of pleasure went through Primrose. The countess gasped.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. “I shall treasure them.”
He turned to his family who peered at them with undisguised interest.
Nerves erupted in her stomach as Gabriel asked his mother, father, George, and Verity for an audience in the smaller sitting room. They threw him puzzled frowns when he escorted her with him behind their small procession. They were, however, too polite to protest her involvement if they were of a mind to. They withdrew from the drawing room and the raucous fun and made their way down to the hall.
She clenched her hands in front her, trying to calm her nerves. Thunder sounded in her ears, drowning out the merriment all about her. Her vision tunneled as she stared at the door to sitting room, getting ever closer with each step. It felt like the longest journey she’d ever made. An exodus to a life-altering moment.
Everyone entered, and the door was closed firmly. The hearth roared, and several gas lamps were lit, bathing the room in an intimate glow. Yet Primrose felt cold…and uncertain.
“Mother, Father, George, Verity,” Gabriel began. “I’ve asked Miss Markham to marry me, and she has done me the great honor of accepting,” he said with quiet intensity. “It would please me if we should have your support.”
The countess jerked as if she’d been slapped.
An awkward silence fell and spread. Primrose felt the heavy, accusatory gaze of his family as if she had committed a grave sin in daring to accept his proposal.
“You are engaged to Miss Markham?” his father demanded, his eyes snapping between them.
Gabriel held out his hand to Primrose, and it took an inordinate amount of courage to slip her hand in his and move closer to his side. “Yes, Father.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice, and some of the tension eased from her.
“Gabriel your conduct goes beyond the line of what may be tolerated by this family,” his mother said indignantly.
The earl’s face was a mask of studied indifference as he stared at Primrose. Once she’d thought him handsome and kind, a most attentive husband and father. Now a cold distaste curved his lips.
Bile rose to the back of her throat, and the air felt thick and heavy. She tried to tug her fingers from Gabriel's, but he would not allow it. She peered up at him, and almost gasped at the tender amusement glowing in his eyes.
How could he be so unconcerned with their judgment glaring at them?
“I love Miss Markham,” he said with a small smile. Then he shifted his regard once more to his family. “Mother, I’ve only heard you sing her praises and—”
"As a governess!" The countess's hand fluttered to her chest. She sniffed and waved her hand to encompass the family. “This…whatever this is Gabriel is in poor taste. We have quite different expectations for you, and you'll not disappoint this family!”
Primrose felt the tension creep through him, and shifted closer, lending her warmth even as she drew strength from his unflinching stance.
His mother swayed as if she’d finally given the matter the serious consideration it deserved. “This is beyond the pale,” she whispered. “What of Lady Beatrice?”
“I do not love Lady Beatrice, nor have I indicated an attachment on my part.”
His father stepped forward. “Has Miss Markham compromised you?”