They stared at each other, a sinking sensation forming in the pit of Gabriel’s stomach. “I’m not without my own money.”
“From selling your commission?”
“I’m also on half pay as a retired captain.”
“Come, man, that would not even allow you to live for a month in any style."
“I do not need style, just Primrose,” Gabriel said softly.
George raked his fingers through his hair. “You are entirely serious. And when that money runs out?”
“You forget I will come into Grandmother’s legacy in a few years’ time?” On his thirtieth birthday, a sum of thirty thousand pounds would be bequeathed to him, as per his grandmother's will.
“Good God man, that is three years from now!” George said, shaking his head in disapproval.
It seemed at one point in their father's young life, he'd been somewhat of a wastrel, until he'd met his wife. Still, he'd been reckless with his legacy and had been forced to marry an heiress. The earl had merely been lucky it had turned into a love match. His grandmother had been very careful in the inheritance she left her grandchildren, thinking with maturity they would be more responsible. George had already received his, but Gabriel and Annabelle had years to wait. Until they were both of thirty years, their inheritance would sit in a trust. “I am quite aware of how long before I claim the monies Grandmother left. I believe I am ambitious and inventive enough that I can provide for my wife ably until that time.”
"If father desires it, he can find a way to ruin that," George snapped. “He is the Earl of Fairclough, and his influence is far-reaching. Our father can be ruthless when he is of a mind to be, and I do not think he would care for you marrying Miss Markham even though she is a pleasant girl. Use your head. Take her as your mistress, do not make the mistake of arguing for her to be your wife!”
Anger snapped through Gabriel. “You insult Miss Markham, and I will not stand for it,” he warned low and hard. "She does not deserve to be anyone’s soiled dove, and you dishonor her for even suggesting it."
George exhaled on a harsh breath. “She is a nice girl, but she is not fit for your wife. I’ll not apologize for thinking it.”
Gabriel glanced toward the figure in the distance. “I spoke to you before making an announcement, because your support is important to me, George.”
He wrinkled his nose, but his eyes were sympathetic. “Do not ask me to back you in this.”
"You are my brother, of course I shall ask it of you. When you offered for Verity, you asked for
my support, and I gladly gave it."
“She’s the daughter of a viscount! It is hardly the same.”
“Yes, but you were expected to marry her older cousin who is the daughter of an earl. You were being forced to marry against your heart. I supported your decision to elope with Verity. I daresay I expected a similar loyalty, George.”
His brother made no reply, simply turned, and walked away to the Manor. Trudging through the snow, Gabriel made his way over to Primrose. Her cheeks and the tip of her elegant nose were red from the biting cold, but her lovely eyes sparkled with joy and a bit of shyness.
“Good morning, Miss Markham,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Gabriel,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes searching his. Vulnerability glimmered deep in those exquisite eyes of hers.
The quick flash of hesitation, of doubt, had him stepping scandalously close to her. “I slipped away before the household woke. I did not want to explain what I was about in your room before marriage.”
Her sharp cheekbones lifted as her face lit with the radiance of her smile. “I understand. Though I wish you’d woke me. I…I had a present for you.”
“I shall gladly receive it tonight. How are you feeling, Primrose?” he asked her, tenderness, and love, welling inside him so deep, so strong it nearly strangled him.
A becoming flush crept up her slender neck, pinkening her fair cheeks. “It is frightfully cold out,” she said with a gasping laugh. “But I feel glorious.”
He reached out and tugged the muffed hat firmer over her ears. He did not like that her coat and gloves seemed so worn. How little she had, no family to call her own, no wealth, and worked very hard for the little she had, yet she possessed such good cheer.
“I’m glad there are no discomforts from my enthusiasm last night…and early this morning.” He could still smell the heady and decadent fragrance of her passion on the air, taste the tart sweetness of her sex, and hear her lovely cries of fulfillment.
Her eyes widened, and her cheeks blushed apple red. “I’m quite fine, thank you,” she said primly.
He laughed, and she grinned. Her small teeth bit nervously at her lip, drawing his attention to the fullness of her soft mouth, with soft curving lines bordering its pale-pink, pouting skin.
“I could not hear the conversation between you and Lord Weatherton, but I thought he appeared out of sorts.”