Her revelation was met with a long stretch of silence, made more powerful by the tick-tock of the ormolu clock atop the fireplace mantel. At last, Chloe spoke. “If you are determined to establish a school for young ladies,” Not necessarily ladies by Society’s standards. “And that is what has brought us together, then,” she collected Jane’s hands. “Then that is why we’re together. Your secret is yours, Jane.” She frowned. “Is your name in fact, Jane Mun—?”
“Oh yes. Though I was referred to as Mrs. Munroe at Mrs. Belden’s.” She lowered her gaze. “I am not married, nor have I ever been.”
Except, this understanding between Jane and Chloe could not be so very simple. The secret was a deception she’d practiced not only on Chloe, a woman who after just several days considered her a friend, but also Gabriel. “Your brother deserves the truth.”
Chloe’s eyes went wide and she gave her head several sharp shakes. “No. No. No. No.” She slashed the air with a hand. “Gabriel sees the world in absolutes.” Her heart spasmed. “He sees only the white and black but never the gray between.”
Yes, the coolly aloof lord who’d so kissed her and who, even for just several stolen moments had felt connected to would never understand. And yet—“Perhaps, but he is deserving of the truth.” All of it. With absent movements, she retrieved her spectacles and then toyed with the useless pair. Regardless of how a nobleman would view a young woman turned out for having struck the son of an earl who’d put his hands upon her person. Even as the thought entered, she thrust it aside. Gabriel was a good, honorable man. He’d not hold her guilty for crimes of another. She drew in a shuddery breath. He’d only hold her guilty of the crimes that were hers.
Chloe gave her a gentle smile. “Now come,” she took her free hand. “Gabriel is waiting below.”
Her heart tripped a beat. “The marquess.” She flinched. Was there another?
A mischievous twinkle set the young woman’s blue eyes aglow. “I do concur. It would be a good deal preferable if my charming, affable brother, Alex, were to accompany us. Alas, we are to be with Gabriel’s miserable self.”
“He is not miserable.” Those words escaped her and she curled her toes into the soles of her slippers at that revealing defense.
Chloe, however, gave no outward reaction she’d noticed anything awry. “That is good of you.” She slipped her arm into Jane’s. “You are loyal,” she said as she steered her from the room. They fell into step down the quiet corridors. “But he really is quite miserable, you know.” Chloe waved a hand. “Very high-handed.”
Yes, he’d proven himself to be that on numerous occasions since she’d entered into his employ. Annoyance stirred in her belly. Still—“You are fortunate to have his support.” Life was a good deal harder with no support.
Chloe snorted. “I’d appreciate him a good deal more if he accepted my resolve to remain unwed and ceased treating me as a woman in need of his guidance. Ah, here we are,” she said as they came to a stop at the top of the stairwell.
Gabriel paced the white, Italian marble foyer. His elegant black cloak whipped about his long legs and Jane stood frozen, stilled by his masculine perfection. With his midnight black, unfashionably long hair and broad, powerful shoulders, he was that first man—virile and strong. “Where in blazes are they?” That impatient question carried up the marble stairs.
Her lips twitched at that reminder of how very real and human he was. He was no marble God. He was just a man. Who happened to curse.
The butler glanced up the stairwell and caught her eye. His eyes glittered with amusement. “They are above stairs, my lord.”
“Yes, I know as much,” he said, his tone heavy with impatience. “I’m wondering—”
“He means we are here, Gabriel,” his sister called down.
Her words startled him into a stop and his cloak snapped noisily. “At last,” he complained.
*
Gabriel’s words ended on a soft hiss of shock.