The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It may seem that way, but it was the actuality of a well-executed plan on his part that had taken several weeks to prepare for. Gabriel had been considering his actions the moment Victoria left England and he had been somewhat surprised and a little bit, unaccountably, hurt by her actions. Not that he blamed her. But he had come to the conclusion that although he may not be able to trust her immediately, he could still love her and come to learn to trust her again. On top of all this, the acute sense of loss, the barren emptiness his life had become, the black hole that consumed his heart and soul, all contributed the yawning, dark need for her in his world.

And Gabriel was no idiot.

He felt unworthy, an utter lout.

He had hurt her, he had used her, and then had coldly informed her that he could not marry her despite having jeopardised her reputation beyond repair. And London still churned with the impact she had left on society during those few days she had strived to make him see what was right. It made him uncomfortable thinking of it, of the way she sacrificed everything she was before him. He had been privileged to witness the more sensitive side to Victoria Colton. The day of the amateur recital she had exposed her insecurities about her inabilities and lack of accomplishments, and that day in the library after Mrs Littleford had resigned: her devastation about her ‘failures’ had brought her great discomfort. He had known that she was a proud little thing yet he had stood by idly while she humbled herself before people who loathed and judged her. And she had been marvellous. Completely charming and enchanting.

The self-loathing that had ensconced him once she left had been overpowering and the only way he could dull the effects was by burying himself in his cups. Unfortunately, the liquor’s aftereffects clung to his constitution cloyingly and consigned him to a foul-disposition that made him unpleasant to converse with and waspish in his responses.

Until a week ago when he had acquired a special licence.

And promptly misplaced the sodding thing.

“You must be joking,” Gabriel retorted dryly, draining his tumbler and setting it heavily on the desk.

“It’s about time, then.”

Nodding, he reached for the pitcher of brandy. “I thought you might think that.”

“You’re a right idiot.”

“Thank you for your support,” Gabriel remarked dryly. “I shall make a note of your humility when deciding on a name for our first son.”

Henry snorted. Dismissing the topic, he pushed the envelope towards Gabriel. “You should take a look at this. Not that it would make much difference now, but there is all the evidence you need to mollify any lingering distrust you have about the girl.”

Gabriel picked it up and instantly recognised Vicky’s lovely scrawl addressed to Dani along the front. “What is this?” he demanded softly.

“The letter Victoria sent to Danielle, cancelling her commission to Captain Doyle. Like I said, it matters not-”

But Gabriel had already torn it open and had extracted the single sheaf of paper, unfolding it manically and beginning to scan the contents therein. There it was- all the verification that he ever needed- Victoria’s innocence. The date, the contents… she had stated to Danielle even then that she was in love with him and that she had no desire to desert him. Jesus, he had been a right idiot. Why hadn’t he trusted her?

Ignoring or unaware of the blackening of his grandson’s brow, Henry continued with his tale, explaining, “The footman who Victoria entrusted with the delivery of the letter hid the missive under his pillow.”