from his exploits.”
As Aunt Millie paused in her rumination, Elizabeth recalled the Duchess of Wesbrook. Having never been formally introduced, she didn’t know the lady well but always thought of her as reserved and slightly cold. It was difficult to envision her as the young girl Aunt Millie described.
“But as hurtful as that had been, her love for him died when he started to parade his paramours before her.” Millie sighed. “He even had the gall to carry on with his lightskirts under the same roof as his wife. Soon after, Helen withdrew from society and from me. As far as I know, the Duke’s behavior never changed, even after young Gabriel was born. People even talked of his dealings bordering on criminal. But nothing could be proven and no one dared go against a duke.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached for Gabe. No wonder he believed he had nothing to offer her. Witnessing his father’s constant betrayal of his mother had to have affected him greatly.
“How do I teach Gabe how to love?” she asked.
A smile erased Aunt Millie’s sadness. “Sorry, child, but I don’t have an answer for you. You are going to have to figure that out on your own. You could begin by showing him your heart. Let him know he is loved.”
Elizabeth fell silent. Did she have the strength to do it? Could she risk such emotion again? And suddenly she knew. Nothing was more important to her than Gabe. If by risking her heart once more, she had a chance for him to love her, she’d do whatever she must.
Starting by finding a way to stop him from avoiding her.
Chapter 11
Gabe circled his opponent, looking for an opening to strike. As they continued to scrutinize each other, Gabe almost felt sorry for the young pup who had taken up his challenge.
Most men surrounding them, watching the action, had recognized the underlying tension streaming through Gabe and declined to spar. If Jackson had been present, he would have spotted Gabe’s need to pound his opponent—instead of having a goodhearted bout—and would have quickly put a stop to it. Luckily, Jackson was otherwise engaged and Gabe had an opportunity to release some of the strain he’d been carrying around since the debacle with Elizabeth in his study.
At the thought of that night, he tightened his fist and took a quick jab at the younger son of Lord Farley. The man’s head snapped back at Gabe’s direct hit. He brushed aside a twinge of compassion. It was the arrogant fool’s own blunder for not seeing Gabe’s desire to thrash something. Or someone. Besides, even if Gabe had a cooler head, the pup would still be no match for his greater skill. Why should he feel responsible for someone else’s ignorance, especially if it worked so well in his favor?
Uncaring of the other man’s obvious fatigue, Gabe relentlessly threw hard jabs and precise uppercuts. The few weak punches landed by the other man didn’t deter Gabe. He continued his onslaught and reveled in the pain that resonated through his fists at each hit.
When the young man left an easy opening for a right hook, Gabe went in for the kill, his nostrils flaring. Before his fist connected, someone yanked his arm back. His opponent’s eyes flashed with relief at the reprieve.
Gabe rounded on the fool holding him. Ready to strike with his left hand, he stopped abruptly at seeing Marcus. Gabe’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from Marcus’s tight grip on his upper bicep to his friend’s raised eyebrow.
Marcus tipped his head toward Gabe’s cocked fist. “Try it and I’ll give you the kind of thrashing that young pup would never be able to deliver.”
“Leave off,” Gabe growled through clenched teeth. He yanked his arm free of Marcus’s grasp and left his circle of onlookers. No use staying when his opponent had vanished at the opening provided him.
Gabe stalked to a bench and grabbed a towel. Without the physical exertion, the sweat quickly cooled on his bare skin. After toweling off, he pulled his shirt on
As Aunt Millie paused in her rumination, Elizabeth recalled the Duchess of Wesbrook. Having never been formally introduced, she didn’t know the lady well but always thought of her as reserved and slightly cold. It was difficult to envision her as the young girl Aunt Millie described.
“But as hurtful as that had been, her love for him died when he started to parade his paramours before her.” Millie sighed. “He even had the gall to carry on with his lightskirts under the same roof as his wife. Soon after, Helen withdrew from society and from me. As far as I know, the Duke’s behavior never changed, even after young Gabriel was born. People even talked of his dealings bordering on criminal. But nothing could be proven and no one dared go against a duke.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached for Gabe. No wonder he believed he had nothing to offer her. Witnessing his father’s constant betrayal of his mother had to have affected him greatly.
“How do I teach Gabe how to love?” she asked.
A smile erased Aunt Millie’s sadness. “Sorry, child, but I don’t have an answer for you. You are going to have to figure that out on your own. You could begin by showing him your heart. Let him know he is loved.”
Elizabeth fell silent. Did she have the strength to do it? Could she risk such emotion again? And suddenly she knew. Nothing was more important to her than Gabe. If by risking her heart once more, she had a chance for him to love her, she’d do whatever she must.
Starting by finding a way to stop him from avoiding her.
Chapter 11
Gabe circled his opponent, looking for an opening to strike. As they continued to scrutinize each other, Gabe almost felt sorry for the young pup who had taken up his challenge.
Most men surrounding them, watching the action, had recognized the underlying tension streaming through Gabe and declined to spar. If Jackson had been present, he would have spotted Gabe’s need to pound his opponent—instead of having a goodhearted bout—and would have quickly put a stop to it. Luckily, Jackson was otherwise engaged and Gabe had an opportunity to release some of the strain he’d been carrying around since the debacle with Elizabeth in his study.
At the thought of that night, he tightened his fist and took a quick jab at the younger son of Lord Farley. The man’s head snapped back at Gabe’s direct hit. He brushed aside a twinge of compassion. It was the arrogant fool’s own blunder for not seeing Gabe’s desire to thrash something. Or someone. Besides, even if Gabe had a cooler head, the pup would still be no match for his greater skill. Why should he feel responsible for someone else’s ignorance, especially if it worked so well in his favor?
Uncaring of the other man’s obvious fatigue, Gabe relentlessly threw hard jabs and precise uppercuts. The few weak punches landed by the other man didn’t deter Gabe. He continued his onslaught and reveled in the pain that resonated through his fists at each hit.
When the young man left an easy opening for a right hook, Gabe went in for the kill, his nostrils flaring. Before his fist connected, someone yanked his arm back. His opponent’s eyes flashed with relief at the reprieve.
Gabe rounded on the fool holding him. Ready to strike with his left hand, he stopped abruptly at seeing Marcus. Gabe’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from Marcus’s tight grip on his upper bicep to his friend’s raised eyebrow.
Marcus tipped his head toward Gabe’s cocked fist. “Try it and I’ll give you the kind of thrashing that young pup would never be able to deliver.”
“Leave off,” Gabe growled through clenched teeth. He yanked his arm free of Marcus’s grasp and left his circle of onlookers. No use staying when his opponent had vanished at the opening provided him.
Gabe stalked to a bench and grabbed a towel. Without the physical exertion, the sweat quickly cooled on his bare skin. After toweling off, he pulled his shirt on
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