“It was but one kiss, my lord,” she said in flat tones. “Nor was it forced upon me.” She clasped her hands before her and studied the interlocked digits.
Forced upon me. The second hint that there had been others before him who’d taken advantage of her. He balled his hands into tight fists so that his nails left marks upon his palm. It is not my place. It is not my place. He’d already reestablished the boundaries between them. Or at the very least, he hastily constructed them now. To ask questions about her past had no bearing on her future here, or those barriers he sought to cast up. “Who?”
She did not pretend to misunderstand that lethal whisper. “It matters not.”
He’d shred the man apart with his bare hands were he to discover his identity. “It matters to me.”
“Why?” Jane raised her gaze to his. “You are correct, my lord,” My lord. His chest throbbed with regret as he longed to hear the three syllables of his name once more on her lips. Except, he’d resurrected the walls of the station between them. “I am here in your household with a very defined role. There is little need for you to know anything of my past.” She tossed her head back. “Unless you’d turn me out for those pieces, in which case you are deserving.”
He blanched. “I would never.” Did she believe he’d be so callous as to set her from his employ for actions that were no fault of her own? Did everyone truly have such a low opinion of him? He thought back to heated exchanges he’d had with his younger brother, Alex, who with his disgust of Gabriel, would have readily concurred with Mrs. Jane Munroe. Then, had he truly given anyone reason to believe better of him?
Jane’s chest rose and fell with a slow, steadying breath “Very well.” She dropped a polite, deferential curtsy. “Then, if there is nothing else you’d wish to speak with me on, I should fetch my cloak before your sister returns.” She took several steps toward the door and his mind raced, filled with a desire to stay her retreat.
“Mrs. Munroe?”
She stilled and wheeled slowly back to face him.
“We are to attend a ball this evening.” A flash of panic lit the blues of her eyes. What was it she feared? Entering polite Society? Or something else? Something more? She gave a nod and then made her escape. Gabriel stared after her. With a curse, he raked a hand through his hair.
“Did you just curse?”
“Bloody hell.”
“Again?” His sister stood framed in the doorway, her hands planted on her hips and a displeased frown on her lips.
“No.”
“And lie?”
Lying, cursing, kissing lovely members of his staff? With each day he descended deeper and deeper into his father’s vile ways. Perhaps he’d been wrong and he could not purge the evil running through his veins from the blood he shared with that old monster. “Let it rest, Chloe,” he said tiredly.
Alas, she stalked across the room a blazing ball of fury. “Whatever did you say to Jane?”
His heart kicked up a beat. “I said nothing—”
“Oh, come. She was running through the house in a bid to be free of this room.”
“I reminded her that we would be attending a ball this evening.” That much was at least true. Guilt flared.
“Well, that would be enough to frighten any young woman,” Chloe muttered. He grunted as she jabbed a finger in his chest. “I like her a good deal, Gabriel, and you are not,” he winced as she stuck her gloved fingertip at his person once more. “I repeat, are not to drive her away.” What was it with young ladies and their tiny but impressively powerful digits?
“It is not my intention to drive her away but rather—”
“Good.” A final thrust of her finger. “Then do not.” She gave a toss of her blonde ringlets. “Now, if you are quite through here.” If he were quite through? “It is time for our walk at Hyde Park.” With that she spun on her heel and marched from the room.
Gabriel swiped a hand over his face. An afternoon with an angry, putout Chloe and a hurt, annoyed Jane Munroe? It was fitting punishment he supposed for his outrageous behavior since Jane had entered his household and upended his world.