Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(12)

He’d never expected to have a marriage like his parents’—few people on earth ever had. But at the very least Gabriel had hoped to marry an accomplished and respectable woman who would run his household efficiently and raise well-behaved children.

Instead, it seemed he was going to marry a forest sprite. With an original mind.

Gabriel couldn’t begin to imagine the ramifications for his family’s estates, tenants, and servants. Not to mention his offspring. God, she wouldn’t have the first idea of how to mother them.

Setting aside his empty glass, he decided to go home and have a bottle to himself. Or better yet, he would visit his mistress, in whose arms he would find temporary oblivion. Anything would be better than sitting here discussing the peculiar young woman who, in the course of ten minutes, had managed to ruin his life.

“Trenear,” he said grimly, “if you can find a solution other than marriage, I swear I’ll dance a fiddler’s jig on the steps of St. Paul’s. But the most likely outcome of this is that I’ll be performing the wedding march instead.” He reached into an inner pocket of his coat for his card. “I’ll await your decision at my London residence.”

A defiant voice came from the threshold. “It’s my decision, and I’ve already said no.”

Gabriel stood automatically, as did Trenear, as Pandora strode into the room. She was trailed by her twin, a pretty blonde, and Eleanor, Lady Berwick.

Pandora’s dress was disheveled, her bodice askew, and her gloves were missing. A few raised red scratches marred the surface of her shoulder. The pins had been pulled from her ruined coiffure during the carriage ride, allowing a profusion of heavy black-coffee locks to fall to her waist in waves and ripples. Her coltish form quivered like a wild creature held in restraints. She gave off a kind of . . . energy, of . . . there didn’t seem to be a word for it, but Gabriel could feel the irresistible voltage eating up the space between them. Every hair on his body individuated as he was flooded with the hot, humming awareness of her.

Holy hell. With effort, he tore his fascinated gaze from her and bowed to Lady Berwick. “Countess,” he murmured. “A pleasure, as always.”

“Lord St. Vincent.” There was no mistaking the gleam of satisfaction in Lady Berwick’s eyes as she beheld the formerly elusive bachelor, now caught. “You’re acquainted with Lady Pandora, obviously.” Bringing forward the blonde girl, she said, “This is her sister, Lady Cassandra.”

Cassandra curtsied in a graceful, well-practiced movement. “My lord.” She was pretty, demure, every curl and ruffle in place. Her gaze remained modestly downcast, not rising above his collar button. A lovely girl. She didn’t interest him in the least.

Pandora approached Gabriel in a direct way no other young woman of her rank would have dared. She had extraordinary eyes, dark blue rimmed with black, like sapphires charred at the edges. A pair of winged black brows stood out sharply against her snowdrop complexion. She smelled like night air, and white flowers, and a hint of feminine sweat. The fragrance aroused him, all his muscles tightening like bowstrings.

“I know you’re trying to do the right thing, my lord,” she said. “But I don’t need you to save me or my reputation. Please go home.”

“Hold your tongue,” Lady Berwick told Pandora in an ominous undertone. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Pandora twisted to glance back at her. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” she insisted. “Or at least nothing dreadful enough to deserve being married for it.”

“It is for your elders to decide what will happen next,” Lady Berwick snapped.

“But it’s my future.” Pandora’s gaze returned to Gabriel. Her tone became more urgent. “Please leave. Please.”

She was trying desperately to control the situation. Either she didn’t comprehend or wouldn’t accept that it would be like trying to arrest the momentum of a runaway locomotive.

Gabriel puzzled over how to reply. Having been raised by a loving mother, and grown up with two sisters, he understood women nearly as well as any man could. This girl, however, was something entirely outside his experience.

“I’ll go,” he said. “But this situation isn’t something either of us can ignore for long.” He extended his card to Trenear. “My lord, obviously you and your family have much to discuss. You may rely on my honor—the offer for Lady Pandora stands indefinitely.”

Before Trenear could react, however, Pandora had snatched the card from Gabriel’s fingers. “I won’t marry you, do you understand? I’d rather launch myself from a cannon into the sun.” She proceeded to tear the card into tiny pieces.

“Pandora,” Lady Berwick exclaimed balefully as the flakes of paper stock fluttered downward.

Both Pandora and Gabriel ignored her. As their gazes caught and held, the rest of the room seemed to disappear.

“Look you,” Pandora told him in a businesslike tone, “marriage is not on the table.”

Look you? Look you? Gabriel was simultaneously amused and outraged. Was she really speaking to him as if he were an errand boy?

“I’ve never wanted to marry,” Pandora continued. “Anyone who knows me will tell you that. When I was little, I never liked the stories about princesses waiting to be rescued. I never wished on falling stars, or pulled the petals off daisies while reciting ‘he loves me, he loves me not.’ At my brother’s wedding, they handed out slivers of wedding cake to all the unmarried girls and said if we put it under our pillows, we would dream of our future husbands. I ate my cake instead. Every crumb. I’ve made plans for my life that don’t involve becoming anyone’s wife.”