He was silent for a few seconds. “My God,” he then said, slowly. “I thought you were different.”
“Different from Cecily Orr, you mean? No, I’m going to be just like her. I’m going to work hard at it, too. You ought to be glad, don’t you think? Isn’t Cecily Orr what you wanted in the first place?”
She smiled at him, but there was no warmth in her beautiful green eyes, only determination. Christ, she was using him. She was like all those other women. He was shocked to feel a jolt of sorrow rushing through him, but then he caught hold of himself.
I am master here.
I am in control.
I am a Penhallow.
Gabriel smiled back at her, but thinly. “Thank you for enlightening me, Miss Stuart. You’ll be pleased to hear, then, that tomorrow we leave for Bath—you, my grandmother, Miss Cott, and me. You’ll receive your education under my grandmother’s aegis. The humble caterpillar is to be transformed.”
He saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, as if she was assimilating this news. But aloud she said only:
“Fine. I’m going to be a very expensive butterfly, I’m afraid. You already know that I have nothing to wear.”
“And you, I’m sure, already know that money is no object for the Penhallows.” An idea came to him then, one of staggering audacity. He was too angry, too confused, to pause to analyze it, but it was definitely a way to seize control, and that was good enough for him. So he added:
“But there’s one more thing you should know.” With that same deliberate insolence, he moved toward her. Her eyes wide, reflections from the firelight flickering in their green depths, she took another step backwards. And another, as he continued to approach. It was like a strange, silent dance, coming to an abrupt halt only when her back met the wall and he stopped mere inches from her.
It wasn’t a proper distance between a lady and a gentleman. That at least she knew. Livia looked up into his face. His expression was so distant, so cold, but from his body seemed to come a bewitching sort of energy that suffused her with that same delicious warmth she’d felt last night, seeming to flow through her limbs and making them feel heavy and peculiar—a fiery sensation, giddy and exciting. It was as if he exerted some peculiar magnetism over her, for without even touching her he seemed to embrace her, to enter into herself, drawing her inexorably toward him. Livia felt her lips part and in a willing sort of half-swoon she tilted toward him, blindly wanting whatever came next from him. Perhaps another kiss, like that other one, only longer, longer—
“This marriage of ours,” he said, in a voice devoid of all emotion, “will be in name only. You’ll not share my bed.”
His breath was warm on her face, his mouth so close to her own, but his words were like a bucket of half-frozen water dumped over her. Livia jerked backwards and her head came hard against the wall. The shock seemed to wake her from an all too pleasant dream.
She’d been dismissed. Rejected. Again. Was this going to be the story of her life? Pride made her lift her chin, to say in a voice that surprised her in its steadiness, “And once given, your word is law, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m glad. You’ll go your way, I’ll go mine.”
“Yes, Miss Stuart, the Penhallow way,” he answered evenly. “You’re learning fast. I’ll leave the damned estate to my cousin Hugo if I have to, or that rustic buffoon in Scotland. These are the terms, and I expect you to conduct yourself with poise and dignity at all times. Is that clear?”
Livia swallowed. It felt like a door was shutting behind her, a door that could never be opened again. But then she squared her shoulders. This was her chance, after all. She’d be an idiot not to take it. “Yes.”
“Excellent. I’m taking you home now, Miss Stuart. I trust you won’t regale my grandmother with the tale of your charming adventure here at the Spotted Hare. It would hardly be an auspicious beginning.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t see my work-roughened hands,” answered Livia, matching his ironic tone with sarcasm. “Otherwise she might need recourse to smelling-salts.”
He smiled that thin smile again. “Know, Miss Stuart, that if you aren’t ready by eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, or if you change your mind and decide to run from me again, I’ll come after you. I’ll find you, and you won’t enjoy the consequences.”
“You needn’t threaten me, you great bully. I’ll be there.”
He stepped away from her at last, and she was annoyed to find she felt a little sorry.