Wicked Deeds on a Winter Night

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

Almost three weeks later, Gabriel could not understand how he'd failed to find his Primrose. Worry for her filled his heart and his mind constantly. Desperation had pushed him to travel to Hampshire, where he'd dragged his cousin with him across the countryside. Pernell Walker was a vicar, and at first, had been amused that Gabriel had dragged him to all the places he imagined Primrose could be so he could wed them immediately. A fire burned merrily in the stone fireplace of the inn they had stopped at, but he felt cold and empty. The simple fare of steak and roasted potatoes could not tempt him to eat, though his stomach rumbled with hunger.

Cousin Pernell stabbed at his slab of meat, chewed angrily, and glared at him for having been away from his wife and children for eight days. And the special license burned in Gabriel’s coat pocket. Cousin Pernell, though a mild-mannered man, seemed as if he would jump on the table between them and reach for Gabriel’s throat.

He'd traveled to Durham to visit her aunt and Cousin Jane and had been informed they had no knowledge of her whereabouts. He'd made the trip back to their cottage which had still lingered empty, her sweet scent fading from the atmosphere. Then he'd traveled to her childhood home in Kent where the new baronet occupied the manor along with his very pregnant wife. They'd not seen Primrose, and the despair filling Gabriel's heart was untenable.

“I do not believe your Miss Primrose Markham wishes to be found. Whatever are you to do?" Cousin Pernell demanded, tugging at his simply tied cravat. "I cannot traipse around with you until she is found. My family awaits me, and I have my flock to attend."

Gabriel lifted the tankard of mead to his lips and took several swallows. "She is without money or connections. She is not with her aunt in Durham, and I cannot imagine where in God's name she could be." And he prayed she had taken the money his mother had offered and used it to live. He couldn’t stand the notion of Primrose struggling in any manner.

He felt empty, so damn empty, and regretful. It was almost with a sense of despair that he lowered the tankard, pushed to his feet, and made his way from the inn. His cousin followed closely on his heels, tugging the collar of his coat up to his ears.

“Where do you go to?”

“Home,” Gabriel said gruffly, thinking of the cottage that would echo with emptiness.

“Are you giving up then?”

"Never." But he needed money. He was down to only one hundred pounds, and if he were not careful, it would not last for the year. Money was required to travel to town, to the far reaches of England, and to Scotland even. The more he thought of his various plans on how to find her, the more desperate he felt.

Primrose could be anywhere.

He would tan her backside when he found her for having so little faith in him. Then he would hold her, and kiss her, and promise it would all be well. Then he would damn well marry her right away and possibly chain her to the damn cottage.

There was an odd hollowness about the cottage. The holly bush was overgrown, the roses and flowers of the small garden overrun with wild weeds. The snow sludge yard showed no footprint, and the curtains were drawn.

Primrose gripped the valise in her hand, and carefully made her way up the steps of the cottage. Gently she eased the door open, shivering at the coldness of the small hallway. He wasn't there, then. Resting the valise by the front door, she made her way into the parlor.

Memories clutched at her heart, and she pressed a hand to her throat. She'd been traveling from Durham for the last week, overnighting at several inns, her mind and heart a mess of emotions. She had been with her aunt when Gabriel had visited, and it was at her insistence they'd turned him away and lied that they hadn’t seen her.

She had nowhere else to go, and she had held her breath, petrified he would insist on searching their humble cottage and uproot her from where she’d curled under the covers, her eyes too achy from weeping to sleep.

The hollowness sometimes had made her question if every moment of happiness, every lingering kiss, and illicit lovemaking, was only something she’d imagined.