Her heart raced, and her throat constricted. She’d expected their disapproval, but never did she think the loving family she’d grown to feel a part of would treat her with such disdain. She labored to take a breath, her poor Gabriel. What had she done? “I am so very sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick from the tears she fought not to shed. “Gabriel, I’ll leave—”
He kissed her and with a muffled cry of fear and desperation she returned his kisses. Their lips parted on a ragged sigh. “Let’s go outside,” he murmured.
Her heart clenched at the shakiness and uncertainty in his voice. Primrose followed him as they exited the room, down the hall, and used a side terrace door to spill out onto a cobbled path leading to the western gardens.
She drew in a long, cleansing breath of fresh air, feeling petrified to face him and what his family’s objection would mean for their future. Gathering her courage, she clasped his arm and turned him to face her…and lost her breath at the love shining in his eyes.
“You’ll not leave me,” he said fiercely, speaking directly to the fears beating in her heart.
“I do not want to be apart from you, Gabriel. But I know the love you have for your family, and I cannot ruin it!”
He smiled. "Is that what you're worried about?"
She searched his face intently. “Yes? Aren’t you?”
“Do you love me?”
“Most ardently,” she vowed passionately.
"We will work from there because I love you and nothing will change the fact I want you as my wife. Nothing.”
With a choked sob she flung herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely and wishing upon the star streaking through the darkened sky that Gabriel was right, and the fears in her heart were for naught.
Chapter 6
Gabriel breathed in Primrose's sent of lilac and honeysuckle into his lungs. There was a fine trembling in her body, and he rubbed soothing circles on her shoulder. The reaction of his family had been distressing, and the lack of support from George more painful than Gabriel would care to admit.
He pulled from his love's embrace and walked them toward the conservatory, which should be warmer than outdoors. "I promise soon I'll give you the home you deserve. A manor with at least twenty rooms. Rolling lawns and several gardens. Servants and carriages. And I'll love you in this life and the next."
She jerked to a halt, forcing him to peer down at her.
“I do not know what we’d need twenty rooms for Gabriel Northcote. But I’ll take the gardens,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “And the love you promise. I’ll take that.”
There was a shadow of doubt in her gaze, a hint of pain, and he knew the horrified rejection of his family had severely wounded her kind, gentle heart. He knew how much she wanted a family of her own—for their longs talks she’d often reminisce of the happy moments with her parents when they’d lived, her loneliness at not having a sibling, and the happiness she found with her Aunt Agatha and cousin Jane.
He’d seen the need, and he’d vowed to give her all she desired. Only now there was an uncomfortable anxiety in the pit of his stomach. What if he was unable to provide for her with his own fortunes? His father had the power to make life difficult for him, and Gabriel knew his father would believe with his heart he was saving his son from a reckless folly. The inheritance from his grandmother was not due to him for another three years, and in that time, he would be on his own without his family support to help provide for her. The money he had from selling his commission would only last for a few months, and then it would only be his half pay. “It will be hard at first,” he murmured. “But I’ll not stop working for you,” he said as they reached the conservatory.
The boiler there was lit, the air redolent with the many blossoms. A wrought iron bench was pushed against a corner, and he guided her there, lowered himself, and tugged her into his lap. She came happily, slipping her gloved hands around his neck. Her eyes searched his, and whatever she saw reassured her, for the tension eased from her delicate shoulders.
“We’ll rent a cottage. At least three rooms. I’ll hire someone from the village to do the cooking and the clean—”
“I can do that,” she said with a light laugh.
Surprise flared through him. Though she had no wealth and little connections, he knew she'd never lived such a life where she'd been required to cook for herself and clean her own household. "Do you know how to?" he asked, curious about a facet of her life he'd not yet explored.
Her cheeks dimpled in a smile. "No. But I am quite sure I can learn." She held up her fingers. "I've learned Latin, French, and Italian. I've studied the great philosophers, the law, and literature. I am even quite excellent at needlework. How hard can it be to learn to cook and tidy after ourselves?"
Her chin wobbled slightly, and it was then he saw how brave she was trying to be. And her beautiful eyes fired with a determination to walk beside him as they made their way in life. Some of the tension in his gut released, and he expelled a shaky breath. “I’ll help too,” he promised gruffly.
“With what?”
He kissed her temple tenderly. “The cooking.”
She spluttered. “Cooking!”
“Yes.” He pushed back a few tendrils behind her ears. “And the cleaning too.”
She laughed, the warm sound filling the cold bleakness that had tried to worm its way into his heart. She had one of those expressive faces where every thought and feeling was written across it. And he saw no doubt or even fear now. Just trust and love. How her faith humbled him, soothed the pain tearing through his heart from parting from his family.