CHAPTER 34

"COME SPEND CHRISTMAS with us." She extended the invitation on impulse as the train was entering London.

There wasn't much time left. In a few minutes they would arrive at the terminus, and she couldn't bear to part without making further plans to see him.

They had spoken little on the train ride back; the air charged with a cloying melancholy that neither could completely dispel. It had been so different on the way over. They had laughed, made love, and had been filled with anticipation and joy.

He looked at her with a pensive expression. "We can't... be intimate in the duke's house."

Her cheeks heated. "Of course not. But I think he would like to see you. And I would enjoy your presence too. Even if we don't..." She trailed off. Unable to put it into words the way he had.

His smile was sad, his answer non-committal. "Perhaps I will."

But somehow, she knew he wouldn't. The train was now minutes away from the station. Time was running out. She grappled for something to say, some plan that would excite him. She needed something to look forward to.

His mouth descended on hers with a fierceness born of desperation. The kiss tasted like goodbye. But it couldn't be. They would have to see each other again. Surely, she was not pregnant yet. This was merely a temporary separation.

Ending the kiss with the same abruptness he had started it, he commanded her. "Let me know when you know."

There was no need to explain what. He wanted to know if she was pregnant.

"It might be some time before I know for sure..."

"I know. Just...let me know. I will await your news. I'll be thinking of you. Every day, until we meet again."

Her eyes filled with useless tears. Weakness. She knew this wouldn't be easy, but she had to be strong. She shouldn't burden him with her pain. Blinking away the moisture, she tried to speak, but the unshed tears clogged her throat.

His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away an errant drop. "Don't cry. We'll see each other again. I'll come for Christmas...or I'll think of something else. I promise this is not the end."

She didn't know if he was trying to convince her or himself. But there was no time for more. The train was sliding into the station, stopping with a big shudder. He slipped away through the hallway. The same way he had arrived. She knew he would keep an eye on her until she was safely in her carriage, but there was no need for his intervention. Her servants were waiting for her on the platform, ready to take her home.

With a heavy heart, she entered the grand house. She looked forward to a moment of solitude. A bath, maybe a nap, for they had barely slept last night. But she didn't have time to catch her breath. A telegram from the abbey had arrived this morning.

The duke has suffered another seizure. Ask for duchess to come home.

Her heart seized with worry. Turning, she told the servants. "Don't bring the suitcases in. We are traveling on to the abbey."

And she prayed she was not too late. If something happened to Harold while she was away, she would never forgive herself.

A WEEK LATER, GAbrIEL sat morosely in his lonely study, contemplating the calendar, listening to the ticktock of the clock marking the unrelenting passage of time.

It was Christmas Eve. He could take a train and be at the duke's estate before nightfall. If he dared.

She had left for the abbey the same day they had arrived. Not giving him time to plan another encounter. He hadn't been able to see her again since. Her sudden departure had bewildered him. Why would she leave so soon, when she must have been exhausted? He had worried something was wrong.

His worries proved legitimate when two days later he had received a message from the duke informing him he had suffered another minor apoplexy, but was better now. The duke had reiterated Hannah's invitation and added that it would give him great pleasure to have Gabriel visit.

Damn it, what to do? What was the right thing to do in this situation? He ached to see her. But it would be torture to have her near and not be able to touch her, hug her, kiss her. And he would not. He had bent his own code of honor with this bargain, but there were some lines he would not cross. He would not touch her while under her husband's roof.

And then there was the issue of his complicated feelings about the duke. His father. The word still felt awkward, foreign to his psyche. But what he had told Hannah that day by the beach was true. He wished to get to know the duke better, to spend more time with him. Have some memories. There might not be much time left to do that.

Before he could change his mind, he jumped from the chair, calling for his valet.

"Thakur!" When the valet presented himself, he ordered, "Help me pack, we are going to spend Christmas at Stanhope Abbey."

Thakur gave him a curious expression but thankfully refrained from comment. In less than an hour, they were leaving for the train station.

There was no time to inform the duke of his arrival. He only hoped they would be glad for the surprise.

HANNAH SAW THE CARRIAGE crossing the gate of Stanhope Abbey and jumped to her feet. Excitement lent speed to her steps as she walked towards the entrance hall. Only decorum prevented her from breaking into a run. She had no reason to think it was Gabriel. He had not accepted the invitation, and she got the impression he planned to decline it. But who else could it be? No one would dare to show up uninvited on Christmas Eve. She froze with fear at the sudden thought it might be Mr. Blackwell. What if he had decided to pay them a visit unannounced? She wouldn't put it past him...

The front door opened, allowing the biting wind to sneak into the house, and with it... Gabriel. Her heart somersaulted at the sight of him, windblown, travel weary, and as handsome as ever. She breezed down the stairs, her gaze on him, a huge smile of pure joy on her face.

But she skidded to a halt a few paces in front of him when he lifted his gaze to her and sketched a perfect bow.

"Your Grace, I wish you and the duke a Happy Christmas and offer my most sincere gratitude for your gracious invitation."

His formality stopped her in her tracks. Her smile slid from her face. But, of course, he had to be formal for the benefit of the servants. She was such a ninny! In another second, she would have launched herself into his arms.

"Lord Brentworth," she responded with a curtsy, extending her hand.

God, but this formality was awful. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. His every movement was impeccably proper, but there was fire in his eyes when he looked at her, when he touched his lips to her hand.

She had to suppress a whimper at the effect such a simple touch had on her. She had been starving for him, for his touch, for the simple delight of his presence.

"It is a pleasure to have you. I'm sure the duke will be very pleased you accepted our invitation."

Turning to the servants, she ordered Gabriel's luggage to be brought to the room he had occupied the last time he visited.

"Your room will be ready in a moment," she informed him. "Would you care to take refreshments with me in the parlor?"

"It will be my pleasure, Duchess."

After ordering tea to be brought, she led him to the front parlor. The very image of a proper hostess, when inside she was dying to run into his arms, take refuge in the strength of his chest...

"How does he fare?" he asked, pulling her away from her lurid imagination. She detected genuine concern, his tone softening.

"He is better. Still tires easily. He spends most days in bed. He will most likely come down for dinner tonight when he finds out you have arrived."

They had entered the parlor, and she left the door open, as was proper, but sat as far away from the entrance as possible. Here by the window, they could have some measure of privacy.

"And how are you?" Said with such warmth, with such deep caring that her heart squeezed. It was the first time he had allowed his feelings to color his tone since arriving. And suddenly he was again her tender lover. Her beloved.

"I am well. You?"

He shrugged. "Well enough. Any news?"

She shook her head. "It is too soon to tell."

"But there's still a possibility?"

She knew what he was asking; whether she had had her courses. She hadn't, but her face flamed at the intimate question. Silly! As if they had not discussed, and done, a lot more intimate things.

"Yes, the possibility still exists," she whispered and saw the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

Dinner that night was more animated than she could remember it being in a long time. She acknowledged she had been feeling apprehensive about it. How would the two men get along? Would there be any resentment, animosity? Ever since she had returned after her time with Gabriel, the guilt she'd harbored made her mortified to even refer to the weeks she had spent away. Whenever the duke asked her, she had stammered a response and changed the subject or left the room. It had been awkward.

Now she realized there'd been no need for any of that. Her relationship with Gabriel did not bother the duke. If he'd ever had any husbandly feelings towards her, they had died a long time ago. Long before he had suggested this deal. Now Harold's focus was on building a relationship with his son, in making up for past wrongs and lost time.

And Gabriel? At first, she noticed he was ill at ease as well. But soon, the duke's earnest interest in him, coupled with his own curiosity for the man who had given him life, had overcome any lingering doubts.

Now they conversed easily, laughing occasionally as Gabriel entertained them with news from London, or with little tidbits of his life abroad. The duke shared a few scandalous escapades from his youth that he had never shared before. She was happy for them. Content listening to them talk, enjoying the easy camaraderie that had developed between them, and noticing how alike they were.

Oh, it was not obvious to a casual observer. But she noticed the similar gesticulations, the tilt of the smile, the way they laughed, the way they held their heads. It was amazing, really, given that Gabriel had not grown up with the duke, and therefore could not have copied his mannerisms. It really was a case of breeding manifesting itself beyond upbringing. She wondered if her child would share the same features. And then caught herself. There was no child yet. Better not get ahead of herself.

After the meal, she excused herself. "I will leave you gentlemen to your port and conversation," she said, standing up. Gabriel stood when she did, his eyes snapping to her, but Harold merely nodded.

"Thank you, dear. We will join you soon."

"No need to rush. I'm sure you two have much to talk about. I think I will retire to bed now. Good night."

GAbrIEL WASN'T SURE what kind of welcome he had expected. How he would feel coming here, seeing her again. But the hardest part had been when he had arrived and she had almost run into his arms.

The effort to act formal and distant, when all he wanted was to lift her in his arms and never let her go, almost made him regret his decision to visit. But then the moment had passed, and they had shared a few words in private. It was enough for now. He was finding he would rather be in her presence, even when he forbade himself the pleasure of her touch, than to not see her at all.

The duke had been another pleasant surprise. He had known the man for five years now. He had already liked and admired him. However, the fact that he had sired him, that they were related by blood... well, it made a difference. He felt a distinct sort of connection with Stanhope. He feared their bond would be strained by his relationship with Hannah. That there would be rivalry, tension between them. Even a measure of resentment.

But it was not so. The duke had no romantic love for Hannah. Caring? Yes, but not the sort of love that is between a man and a woman. Was it because of Stanhope's age, his illness, that prevented him from feeling desire? Perhaps, but Gabriel suspected he would still love Hannah when he was old.

"You love her, don't you?"

Gabriel looked up sharply, his gaze colliding with the duke's at the unexpected question that so closely mirrored his own thoughts. He looked around, afraid servants may be about. The duke waved a hand to dismiss his concerns.

"I ordered the servants to retire. I tire of their constant presence, and I would rather converse with you without an audience."

Gabriel nodded, still not answering the question. How to answer it, anyway? He kept thinking of her in terms of love. Had even called her my love . A term of endearment, no more. And yet, it was more than that.

"You don't need to answer. I can tell you do. But I wanted to hear you say it. I suspect you haven't admitted it to yourself."

The duke might be more insightful than they gave him credit for. "You are right, I haven't. I don't want to admit it. Least of all to you."

"Why not? I want you to love her. I want her to fall in love with you, too. Which, by the way, I think she is. I'm just not as good at reading her. You, on the other hand, I can read easily. You are so much like myself."

"Not so much, or you would have never suggested this bargain. I could never relinquish her to another man. Not even when we are older."

"Ah, but you two will grow old together. I was already old when I married her. And she was barely more than a child."

Gabriel's mind seized on the words ‘grow old together.' How he wished that came to pass. If only...