Do not ask. Do not ask. He swallowed the dry bite. “In what way?”
The room echoed with Waterson’s thunderous laughter, earning them curious stares. “And now lying?” He made a tsking sound and then glanced about, seeming at last mindful of the attention being shown them. When he returned his attention to Gabriel, a mocking grin pulled his lips up in the corners. “I say, don’t you have brotherly obligations to see to? Attending Lady Chloe and all that?” he asked, with a wave of his hand.
Except the knowing glint in his friend’s eyes indicated that Waterson knew precisely why Gabriel was here. Waterson knew. Hell, everyone knew. Following his meeting with the duke, he was in ill-humor and didn’t have time for the always-affable Waterson’s games. “Say whatever it is you intend to say,” and be done with it. There was Jane’s situation to sort through. He tightened his grip upon his snifter so hard, his knuckles turned white. The same agonized disquiet that had besieged him since his meeting with the duke coursed through him and he took a much-needed sip of brandy.
Waterson set his glass down and then folded his arms at his chest. “I just thought, considering our friendship, you would speak on anything new or that might be of import to your life. Oh, say, that you’ve been so ensnared by a lady you’d ruin her at Drury Lane.”
“The London Opera House,” he muttered under his breath.
Waterson leaned across the table and angled his head. “Beg pardon?”
“I said, oh, go to hell,” he finished as Waterson exploded into another round of laughter. “I am not ensnared by the lady,” he said at last when his friend managed to get his hilarity under control. No, you only think of her kisses and dream of the satiny softness of her skin and…
His friend guffawed. “Regardless, you are now thoroughly trapped.”
Not even his only friend in the world knew of Gabriel’s sworn disavowal of marriage. Waterson, just like the rest of the world, saw a marquess so devoted to his title that he’d put responsibility before all else. How little they knew. Jane, however, had seen that glimpse of truth he’d hidden from all—that he had fears and desires. His heart sped up. And that she knew him as she did, terrified the hell out of him.
For now, with the duke’s rejection and Jane’s absolute lack of funds, there was no recourse as they’d both believed…. Hoped? Other than marriage.
Marriage.
A dull humming filled his ears and sucked the breath slowly from his lungs. He dimly registered his friend’s mouth moving as he spoke, but for the life of him could not string together a single clear utterance from the other man. Horror and terror sucked away all logical thought and robbed him of speech.
Concern replaced the amusement in his friend’s eyes and cut across his rapidly expanding panic. “Waverly?”
Incapable of anything else, Gabriel managed a jerky nod. This is how the legendary King and Queen of France had surely felt on their final day. Waterson spoke of marriage to Jane and in this, the earl was indeed correct. There was no other recourse. The slender, sometimes insolent, always passionate young woman as his wife. Forever. For that was, after all, what a wife was. A person he would be eternally bound to for the remainder of his days. He shoved back his chair and leapt to his feet.
“Waverly?” his friend looked up at him, worry stamped on the lines of his face.
“Fine, fine,” he said and moved out from behind the table. Only he was not fine. Nausea twisted in his belly. He had no choice but to wed her. Society saw her as a companion—beneath him in station. She was illegitimate and, by their vile standards, they’d found her unworthy of entry into their world. “If you’ll excuse me.” He sketched a bow and before his friend could utter another word, Gabriel started through his club and to the exit.
With each footfall, he recognized, in light of his meeting with the duke, those were also the reasons he had no choice but to wed Jane. A woman of her origins, shamed and scandalized, would never find respectable employment. You can provide her the funds, a voice whispered. Tell her they are from her father, put her aboard a carriage, and be done with her forevermore. He braced for the rush of relief at the prospect. Except…he slowed his stride. Jane would never be able to retreat to any corner of England to set up her finishing school. Which families, noble or not, would entrust their daughters to the care of a woman with her history who’d also been discovered locked in a man’s embrace at the Opera House? And she would still be alone.