set her sights.
He turned at a tap on his shoulder. Speak of the devil. He scowled at Sabien. “What do you want?”
The lieutenant raised one fair brow. “Grumpy this evening, I see. Did the meeting with our employer not go well?”
Gaspard didn’t want to think about Évoque, any more than he wanted to think about Claudia taking Sabien as her husband, because then he would be forced to think about the large love nest in which the duke had placed Claudia, and to what end. He hadn’t managed to ask her about Évoque and what she knew of her parents’ decision to marry her off to the duke, but he certainly intended to do so…as soon as she arrived. As soon as she chose him. “Define ‘well’. I gave him the list. You heard that Faron called a meeting tonight?”
“Why do you think I’m wearing my finest attire?”
That drew an unwilling chuckle from Gaspard even as impatience gripped him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” If Sabien continued to stand near him, and Gaspard was forced to watch her approach his friend and smile up at him—a shy smile, full of uncertain hope—he couldn’t be held accountable for his actions.
Which would most certainly include using his knife on Sabien’s most vulnerable body parts.
It had to be his worries over the next day’s events making him so needily possessive over a girl he barely knew. Desperation over his situation. Fear that his slapdash plans would fail, leaving him to face the consequences of five years’ worth of blood and secrets, penniless and alone.
Sabien spoke quietly, recognizing too easily what plagued him. “It’ll be fine, Gaspard. We’ll soon be done. Forever.”
“I can’t wait.”
Sabien sucked in a breath. “I haven’t seen you since you had your big laugh with the Pascale girl.”
Fighting for a calm he was nowhere close to feeling, Gaspard shot his friend a dark look. “It wasn’t a laugh.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” Sabien chuckled. “We all know, even if that poor thing doesn’t. What on earth did you do with her in that closet? She hasn’t said a word, or much of anything, since.” Then, under his breath he muttered, “Thank God.”
Gaspard’s bare hands turned to fists at his sides. Sabien’s aversion to Claudia’s stutter hadn’t kept him from kissing her the other night—not that Gaspard could reveal that little tidbit. It would prove he’d seen Claudia, that they’d conversed privately. That she’d confided in him…and more.
And if Sabien knew that, it would open the door for a host of questions Gaspard simply wasn’t prepared to answer. Not tonight, and potentially not ever.
“You’re welcome to her, you know.” Sabien turned his back on the crowd, facing Gaspard but not making eye contact as his voice lowered. “If you really think marrying her is the only chance you’ve got against the Crown seizing your assets, then do what you must. I just wish—” He broke off with a sigh.
“You just wish what?”
“I just wish you could have both the money and the happiness. Personally. You know.” Sabien looked uncomfortable, rubbing a rueful hand over the back of his neck and studying the toes of his gleaming boots.
Gaspard stood in shocked silence. Working side by side with this man for years, he’d thought he understood the boundaries of their friendship. Evidently not.
For Sabien to openly wish him well…it was perhaps the most generous anyone had ever been to him, regardless of his misguided beliefs on what constituted Gaspard’s personal happiness. Homosexuality was whispered about, tiptoed around and altogether ignored—what society refused to acknowledge did not therefore exist. No one of Sabien’s military rank or social status would be caught dead voicing such concern. No one.
Gaspard couldn’t speak, couldn’t thank him—and in that moment he almost wanted to confess the ruse he’d so thoroughly adopted.
Almost.
Lieutenant Sabien Purvis was a good man, a marquis’s son,
He turned at a tap on his shoulder. Speak of the devil. He scowled at Sabien. “What do you want?”
The lieutenant raised one fair brow. “Grumpy this evening, I see. Did the meeting with our employer not go well?”
Gaspard didn’t want to think about Évoque, any more than he wanted to think about Claudia taking Sabien as her husband, because then he would be forced to think about the large love nest in which the duke had placed Claudia, and to what end. He hadn’t managed to ask her about Évoque and what she knew of her parents’ decision to marry her off to the duke, but he certainly intended to do so…as soon as she arrived. As soon as she chose him. “Define ‘well’. I gave him the list. You heard that Faron called a meeting tonight?”
“Why do you think I’m wearing my finest attire?”
That drew an unwilling chuckle from Gaspard even as impatience gripped him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” If Sabien continued to stand near him, and Gaspard was forced to watch her approach his friend and smile up at him—a shy smile, full of uncertain hope—he couldn’t be held accountable for his actions.
Which would most certainly include using his knife on Sabien’s most vulnerable body parts.
It had to be his worries over the next day’s events making him so needily possessive over a girl he barely knew. Desperation over his situation. Fear that his slapdash plans would fail, leaving him to face the consequences of five years’ worth of blood and secrets, penniless and alone.
Sabien spoke quietly, recognizing too easily what plagued him. “It’ll be fine, Gaspard. We’ll soon be done. Forever.”
“I can’t wait.”
Sabien sucked in a breath. “I haven’t seen you since you had your big laugh with the Pascale girl.”
Fighting for a calm he was nowhere close to feeling, Gaspard shot his friend a dark look. “It wasn’t a laugh.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” Sabien chuckled. “We all know, even if that poor thing doesn’t. What on earth did you do with her in that closet? She hasn’t said a word, or much of anything, since.” Then, under his breath he muttered, “Thank God.”
Gaspard’s bare hands turned to fists at his sides. Sabien’s aversion to Claudia’s stutter hadn’t kept him from kissing her the other night—not that Gaspard could reveal that little tidbit. It would prove he’d seen Claudia, that they’d conversed privately. That she’d confided in him…and more.
And if Sabien knew that, it would open the door for a host of questions Gaspard simply wasn’t prepared to answer. Not tonight, and potentially not ever.
“You’re welcome to her, you know.” Sabien turned his back on the crowd, facing Gaspard but not making eye contact as his voice lowered. “If you really think marrying her is the only chance you’ve got against the Crown seizing your assets, then do what you must. I just wish—” He broke off with a sigh.
“You just wish what?”
“I just wish you could have both the money and the happiness. Personally. You know.” Sabien looked uncomfortable, rubbing a rueful hand over the back of his neck and studying the toes of his gleaming boots.
Gaspard stood in shocked silence. Working side by side with this man for years, he’d thought he understood the boundaries of their friendship. Evidently not.
For Sabien to openly wish him well…it was perhaps the most generous anyone had ever been to him, regardless of his misguided beliefs on what constituted Gaspard’s personal happiness. Homosexuality was whispered about, tiptoed around and altogether ignored—what society refused to acknowledge did not therefore exist. No one of Sabien’s military rank or social status would be caught dead voicing such concern. No one.
Gaspard couldn’t speak, couldn’t thank him—and in that moment he almost wanted to confess the ruse he’d so thoroughly adopted.
Almost.
Lieutenant Sabien Purvis was a good man, a marquis’s son,
Similar Books
