Nor that she was the first woman to ever reach for him of her own accord, let alone tug at his arm.
While he’d struggled to process that monumental occasion, she’d invited him into her parlor, and into her employ, before he’d quite understood what was going on.
He could choke on the bitter irony of the entire bloody situation.
After he and Raphael were reported to have died in a fire, Gabriel had lurked about Cresthaven Place for several months as he recovered from his multiple surgeries, telling himself he wasn’t watching Felicity, but guarding her. He feared that Marco Villanueve, the man he had betrayed before he’d faked his death, would come to harm her, if only to get his revenge.
Gabriel had lied to himself for a while, convincing himself he was only looking after family. Raphael had married her twin, after all.
But he couldn’t deny how hungry he was for a mere peek at her. For the barest glimpse of her golden hair as she swept from a carriage to her home. For the sound of her voice as she replied to a greeting from a neighbor.
As it happened, Marco Villanueve had disappeared from the face of the planet months ago. Everyone assumed him dead, run afoul of the underworld.
Cresthaven had been quiet and safe since her parents’ deaths, as callers outside of the family were not allowed during mourning. Not to mention, Felicity had always been surrounded and protected by loved ones.
And so, after a long year, Gabriel could no longer put off fulfilling his promise to join his brother.
He’d lingered in the darkness too long, feeling a one-sided companionship when her lamp would go on at all hours. Knowing she couldn’t sleep either, that dreams were not a safe place for her troubled mind. Wishing to hold and soothe her.
Wishing she would do the same.
On his favorite nights, she would pull the drapes aside and gaze out into the dark as if searching for something.
In his more pitiful moments, he’d fancy that something was him.
Just as Gabriel had promised to give up the deviant and obsessive proclivity of guarding her, of watching her…
She’d been attacked.
Whoever said irony was humorous could fuck right off.
Well, there was no chance he’d leave now, not until he made certain her world was safe once more.
Though, he’d help get her a husband over his own dead body.
Granted, to her he’d been dead nigh on a year now. And he had to remain that way, to keep her safe. Safe from his past. From his enemies. From his sins and his crimes and his consuming, nigh demonic need.
Her brother-in-law, Chief Inspector Carlton Morley, had cautioned that if he caught Gabriel in London again, there would be no saving him from the noose.
Yes, he was bloody well aware he played a dangerous game venturing into her life.
Into her home.
This would be a treacherous lie.
Good thing he was used to danger. That he could think of no better death than one spent in service of her life.
But not before he lethally and efficiently dismantled anyone who threatened her.
Was he a violent man, she’d asked.
He was violence personified.
Which was why he could never be the man for her.
No, she’d marry a lord who could keep her cosseted in the society in which she’d been born. Who could offer her a name and a pedigree and all the gentility bred into the upper class.
Gentility he never even hoped to possess.
“You shouldn’t have invited me in,” he muttered as he followed her up the grand staircase. He would have protected her no matter whom she selected to employ. And as he watched her rear sway at eye level, he began to fear that spending any time in her company was a perilous mistake.
“Why do you say that?” she asked over her shoulder.
He cast about for an answer, not meaning to have spoken his thoughts aloud. “You haven’t seen my references. Nor my skills. Your decision was hasty. I could be terrible at my job.”
She snorted a little. “It’s rather worse than that; I haven’t even seen your face. But I believe you know what you’re about, and that you are not the sort of man who would look for a position he could not fill. Besides, I imagine that your mere presence would prove a discouragement to trouble. Should anyone come at you, they’d break like waves on the rocks.”
He grunted. That was true enough.
Wait… His brow furrowed. What did she mean she hadn’t seen his face?
Out of habit, he brought his fingers up to check to see if the mask that had been a part of his life since the age of sixteen had somehow magically appeared affixed to his brow.
Though he’d been a year without it, he often still felt quite naked.
Exposed.
No. His features were bare, so why—?
Felicity’s hip crashed into a delicately carved side table, sending an empty vase flying into the air.
Gabriel caught it and gingerly returned the delicate object to the table once she righted it again.
“Thank you.” She huffed out an anxious giggle, turning away without looking at him, to press her hands against flaming red cheeks. “I really need to find my spectacles, or I’ll be hopelessly blind for tomorrow night.”
“What’s tomorrow night?”
She heaved a soul-weary sigh. “Lady Brentwell is hosting a ball. It’s my first foray back into society since my parents’ deaths.” She paused as if plucking a thought out of the sky. “I’m hoping you have formal wear, Mr. Severand. If not, Mr. Bartholomew is a more than adequate tailor in a pinch—”
“I’ll send for some things,” he clipped, liking the idea of the sour-faced Mr. Bartholomew attending him only slightly more than the ball he now dreaded with his entire being.
“At my expense, of course,” she insisted.
Gabriel wanted to argue. He was without question the wealthier of the two of them, but could not say so if he intended to keep up this ruse. Instead, he examined their surroundings as they climbed
