If he remained any longer, with his fists he’d prove just how much his father’s son he, in fact, was. It was too much. Gabriel shoved back his seat so quickly it scraped along the wooden floor. Fury, rage, and hurt for Jane made his movements jerky. The duke looked at him, a question in his eyes.

Jane’s eyes.

Gabriel settled his palms upon the edge of the man’s immaculate desk and leaned across the broad surface and shrank the space between them. “You sit upon your chair, condescending and calculated. In truth, you are a vile, pathetic excuse of a human being the world would be better off without.” But then there never would have been Jane. The thought of that slammed into him.

The duke’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “How dare—”

“How dare I?” he asked on a lethal whisper. “How dare you? Your daughter may be illegitimate, but she has far more worth and strength than you or any other member of the nobility.” Gabriel straightened and with the man sputtering behind him, started for the door. He reached the entrance and with fury thrumming through him, wheeled back around. “And I am nothing like my father,” he bit out. With that, he yanked the door open and took his leave, with but one question rattling through his mind.

Now, what?

So it was, a short while later, with the question of what to do with Miss Jane Munroe in mind, Gabriel entered the hallowed doors of White’s. The din of conversation came to an immediate cessation as all pairs of eyes in the distinguished club swung to him. With his gaze trained on his back table, he strode purposefully through the club, daring anyone to ask questions or utter one damned word about him and Jane last evening.

He reached his table and waved off a servant who made to pull out his seat. With a growl he yanked out the chair and then sat. He’d wager everything that was unentailed there was already some form of wager or another that involved his name, in that famed book at the center of the club. The irony of that was not lost on Gabriel, in the least. He’d studiously avoided scandal or any shameful behavior that could or would link him to his sire and had condemned Alex for being a consummate rogue…and yet he should be the one in that blasted book, with every occupant at White’s presently looking at him.

A servant appeared at his shoulder and set down a bottle of brandy and a crystal snifter. With curt thanks, Gabriel pulled out the stopper and poured himself a healthy measure. He raised the glass to his lips—

“Waverly,” his friend’s amused greeting cut into his solitude. Then was there truly any real solitude at White’s?

Gabriel took a sip and looked over the rim at Waterson.

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Waterson snorted. “Will you not invite me to join you?”

He wasn’t even permitted an opportunity to formulate a reply as his friend tugged out the chair across from him and sat. At the amusement in the earl’s eyes, Gabriel directed his attention to his drink and glared into its contents. He’d not take the carefully laid bait. Not today. Not in light of the scandal he’d caused with Jane and her father’s subsequent rejection and he finished his drink in a long, slow swallow. He reached for the bottle. He had every intention of getting completely and utterly soused, for then perhaps he might have some answer to…Jane.

“Well?” Waterson questioned as a servant came over with an empty glass. He accepted it and then took the liberty of pouring himself a healthy drink.

Do not ask. Do not ask. Do not… “Well, what?” he gritted out and then downed his brandy.

Waterson swirled the contents of his drink and reclined in his seat. “Do you know with your absence at the clubs these past days—?”

“I was here but three days ago,” Gabriel felt compelled to point out.

“I had attributed it to brotherly devotion,” Waterson continued over him. The demmed annoying grin on his lips widened. “Not that you are not the most devoted of brothers, you are.”

“Shove off,” Gabriel commanded as he picked up the bottle. He splashed several fingerfuls into the glass, thought better of it, and then poured it to the rim.

The earl widened his eyes. “Oh, you are in a bad way, my friend.”




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