There was no reason he couldn’t just marry his nymph, as startling as the idea was.
None at all.
She wouldn’t even object to his friends, or his way of life, since she was already a part of it, and to all appearances, enjoyed it immensely. And they certainly wouldn’t object to her.
Perhaps they would even begin breeding race horses together, or if her inclination turned to travel, they could sail to Italy, visit his grandfather in Constantinople even. The pasha had invited him many times over the years. What would it be like to meet his mother’s family?
Their options were endless.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Whatever is keeping Lord St A—— in Town? This must be quite the first hunt season he’s missed since he was breeched. Could it be the delightful Mrs P——?
Tête-à-Tête, 3 November 1789
Imogen burrowed into Gabriel’s side, burying her face between his chest and the blankets. It was freezing in the room, and in a few minutes the clock would strike five and he would crawl out of her bed and return to his own room as he did every morning.
She had no idea how he did it; years and years of playing the rake most likely. If it had been up to her to leave, they’d have been caught immediately.
Not able to sleep any longer, she cracked an eye and peeked up at him. He was wide awake and staring out at the dark room with a thoughtful expression on his face. She nipped his chest and slid up against him slightly so that her head fell naturally into the hollow of his shoulder.
‘Morning,’ she said, yawning and turning her head up so she could look at him.
‘Morning, love,’ he replied almost absently. ‘I was just thinking…’
‘About what?’ she asked, not really paying too much attention. His hand had slipped down to cup her breast and his thumb was slowly circling her nipple.
‘About where we go from here.’ Imogen stiffened and he looked down at her sharply, his expression serious. ‘We all leave here in two days. You to return to Barton Court, and me to Town.’
‘That’s not worth thinking about,’ Imogen said, trying to keep her tone light, dismissive even. Pretending a nonchalance she was far from feeling. ‘That’s what happens at the end of a house party; everyone goes home.’
He frowned and shook his head slightly. ‘That’s not what I mean.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘And what’s more, you know it.’
Imogen rolled over and sat up, keeping her back to him. This discussion was going in directions she wasn’t prepared to go. ‘Don’t, Gabriel.’
‘Don’t what, my silly nymph? Don’t think about tomorrow, or the next day—’
‘Or the day after that,’ she interrupted. ‘Yes. Exactly. Don’t.’
Gabriel gave an exasperated little snort. ‘I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you, love, but I’ve been thinking a lot further ahead than that.’
Imogen twisted around and looked at him, his amused expression only heightening her disquiet. ‘I can’t, Gabriel. I wish I could, but I can’t.’
‘Can’t what?’ His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. ‘I haven’t asked you anything yet.’
‘This is one thing,’ she replied doggedly, suddenly numb to the core. ‘An affair is one thing,’ she qualified. ‘But I can’t be anyone’s mistress. Not now, not ever. I can’t. You have to see that. George, your other friends…’
‘You certainly can’t be. George would skin me alive, and the rest of the boys would hunt me down and force me to put a bullet in them one by one.’ He gave a strange little laugh, and looked at her very intently. ‘But you could be my wife.’
‘Your wife?’ The pit in her stomach turned icy. Her brother’s angry florid face swam before her eyes. Richard would ruin them both if pushed. If he felt he had to. She couldn’t risk that. Couldn’t risk pushing him so far.
‘My wife,’ he reiterated. ‘People do get married all the time you know. Even people like me.’
‘Not to people like me, they don’t.’
‘What are you—’
‘Absolutely not,’ she insisted, crawling out of bed and struggling impatiently into her wrapper.
She’d never expected him to ask her to be his wife. She could already hear the gossip such a union would incite, and she simply wasn’t prepared for the ruckus her family would kick up. And neither was Gabriel.
Standing before the cold fireplace, she shivered and suppressed a half hysterical sob. This was not supposed to be happening. Why couldn’t he have just let things be?
She’d been prepared since they’d met for him to offer her carte blanche, and she’d known her answer would be no. It had to be no. But marriage? She wanted to say yes. Her heart had leapt, and her pulse had quickened, but just as quickly all the reasons such an answer was impossible rushed to the fore.
It simply wasn’t fair for him to put her in such an untenable situation. And it wouldn’t be fair for her to accept. He didn’t understand what he was asking.
Confused and caught out, Gabriel climbed out after her and came up behind her. His skin prickled with the cold, but he ignored it. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.
‘Why, ‘Absolutely not’?’
Imogen hiccupped and tried to step away from him. He tightened his grip. ‘You must—I can’t—Don’t be…’ She broke into outright sobs and he turned her around to face him.
He cupped her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I’ll ask again, love. Why absolutely not?’ She wasn’t making any damn sense.
Imogen stared up at him, her eyes continuing to well up, until he gave her a little shake.
‘I can’t,’ she finally choked out. ‘It’s crazy to think it would work between us. That our families would allow
