Primrose felt her body trembling, her chest tightening with tears.
Gabriel stiffened. “Don’t be outrageous and insulting father, ” he said bitingly, and much colder than Primrose thought he would speak to his father.
His mother appeared daze as she glanced at her husband. “Edward do something. Our son is foolish in allowing this…this…social climbing leech to grab onto him!”
“Mother!” Gabriel snapped. “I’ll not have you disrespect, Miss Markham.”
Primrose pulled her strength around her quickly, the pride and pain and the determination that had helped her survive the years settled over her shoulder like a warm coat. “I do not love Gabriel for his money or connections. He…he’s everything.” My everything. So inadequate to express the depths of feelings she had for him, but there it was.
“You will not marry a lady who does not elevate your standing within society,” the earl said firmly, tugging his countess close. “If you do not wish to marry Lady Beatrice that is fine, but you’ll find a suitable bride.”
“No. I’ll marry the woman I love or not marry at all,” Gabriel snapped, perhaps more sharply than he had meant to.
“Then you will leave this house immediately with her.”
The cold, harsh words felt like a blow to Primrose’s chest. Love and family were fundamental to Gabriel, it was one of the things she'd most admired and loved about him. This denial from his family would shred him. A sharp tremor of uncertainty quivered through her.
Gabriel stepped forward. “Father—”
His father's face was a grimace of offended fury. "You'll not get a penny from me if you marry her. Your allowance and the family connections will be cut off until you come to your damn senses."
Though said in smooth even tones, the earl's edict fell in the drawing room like the rumble of a thunderclap. Sympathy plastered Verity’s face, while George’s expression was unbending. The earl made toward the door, leading his countess as he turned. Then George and Verity fol
lowed. Gabriel’s family left the small sitting room together, not sparing them another glance.
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.”