But then there was the other side. Sexual, intemperate, and bloody tired of trying to be perfect. The side that made him feel guilty as hell.
Gabriel hadn’t yet found a way to reconcile the opposing halves of his nature, the angel and the devil. He doubted he ever would. All he knew for certain was that Nola Black was willing to do anything he wanted, as often as he wanted, and he’d never found that kind of relief with anyone else.
Flushing, Gabriel struggled to explain without making himself sound like a depraved freak of nature. “The problem is that I require particular . . . that is . . . she lets me . . .” He broke off with a guttural curse.
“Every man has his tastes,” Sebastian said sensibly. “I doubt yours are all that shocking.”
“What your generation considered shocking is probably different from mine.”
There was a short, offended silence. When Sebastian replied, his voice was as dry as tinder. “Ancient and decrepit fossil that I am, I believe the ruins of my senile brain can somehow manage to grasp what you’re trying to convey. You’ve indulged in wanton carnal excess for so long that you’re disillusioned. The trifles that excite other men leave you indifferent. No virgin’s pallid charms could ever hope to compete with the subversive talents of your mistress.”
Gabriel glanced up in surprise.
His father looked sardonic. “I assure you, my lad, sexual debauchery was invented long before your generation. The libertines of my grandfather’s time committed acts that would make a satyr blush. Men of our lineage are born craving more pleasure than is good for us. Obviously I was no saint before I married, and God knows I never expected to find fulfillment in the arms of one woman for a lifetime. But I have. Which means there’s no reason you can’t.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” After a contemplative silence, Sebastian spoke again. “Why don’t you invite the Ravenels to Heron’s Point for a week? Give the girl a sporting chance, and become acquainted with her before you make a decision.”
“There’s no need to invite her entire family to Sussex for that. It’s more convenient for me to visit her here in London.”
His father shook his head. “You need to spend a few days away from your mistress,” he said frankly. “A man with your developed palate will enjoy the next course far more if you eliminate competing flavors.”
Frowning, Gabriel braced his hands on the edge of the table as he considered the suggestion. With each passing day, more people were hounding him about the incipient scandal. Especially Nola, who had already sent a half-dozen notes demanding to know if the rumors were true. The Ravenels must be fending off the same questions, and would probably welcome the opportunity to escape London. The estate at Heron’s Point, with its eleven thousand acres of woodland, farmland, and pristine shoreline, offered complete privacy.
His eyes narrowed as he saw his father’s bland expression. “Why are you encouraging this? Shouldn’t you be a bit more discriminating when it comes to the potential mother of your grandchildren?”
“You’re a man of eight-and-twenty who hasn’t yet sired an heir. At this point, I’m not inclined to be overparticular about whom you marry. All I ask is that you produce some grandchildren before your mother and I are too decrepit to pick them up.”
Gabriel gave his father a wry glance. “Don’t pin your hopes on Lady Pandora. In her opinion, marrying me would be the worst thing ever to happen to her.”
Sebastian smiled. “Marriage is usually the worst thing to happen to a woman. Fortunately, that never stops them.”
Chapter 4
Pandora knew she was about to receive bad news when Devon sent for her to come to his study without having requested Cassandra to come down as well. To make matters worse, Kathleen, who usually served as a buffer between Pandora and Devon, wasn’t there. She had gone for the afternoon to visit Helen, who was still in childbed after having given birth to a healthy son a week and a half ago. The robust dark-haired infant, named Taron, closely resembled his father—“Except prettier, thank God,” Mr. Winterborne had said with a grin. The boy’s name had derived from the Welsh word for thunder, and so far he had justified it in full measure every time he was hungry.
During the delivery, Helen had been attended by Dr. Garrett Gibson, a staff physician at Mr. Winterborne’s department store. As one of the first few women to have been certified as a physician and surgeon in England, Dr. Gibson was skilled and trained in modern techniques. She had taken excellent care of Helen, who’d had a difficult time during the delivery and had developed a mild case of anemia from loss of blood. The doctor had prescribed iron pills and prolonged bed rest, and Helen was improving every day.
However, Mr. Winterborne, who was overprotective by nature, had so far insisted on hovering over his wife every possible minute, neglecting the mountain of responsibilities accumulating at the store. No matter how Helen reassured him that she was in no danger of falling ill from childbed fever or some other dread condition, he remained at the bedside in a near-constant vigil. Helen spent most of her time reading, nursing the baby, and playing quiet games with Carys, her little half-sister.
This morning Helen had sent a note, begging Kathleen to visit so that Mr. Winterborne would go to his office and attend to some urgent business matters. According to Helen, Winterborne’s employees were all going mad without him, and she was going mad with him.
The house seemed abnormally quiet as Pandora reached Devon’s study. Slants of afternoon light bored through multipaned windows set in deep oak wainscoted recesses.