Swallowing hard, Celia blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind.

“How did you come to have your scar?”

Gabriel’s smile widened. “You begin with the most obvious of my mysteries.”

Celia blushed. “I do not mean to offend. It’s just I’ve always wondered and there are rumors.”

“I’m far from offended. Tell me some of these rumors.” His melodic voice put Celia at ease. “They may prove more interesting than the truth.”

Celia took a sip from her water goblet. “A jealous husband gave it to you after discovering you with his wife.”

“I would never sleep with another man’s wife,” Gabriel murmured, revealing more of his character than he probably realized. “What else?”

“You got it whilst fighting pirates off the coast of Malta.” Celia grinned. “That’s my favorite. I can imagine how it occurred. You were swinging across the deck, brandishing a sword, when a dastardly pirate cut the rope as you flew past.”

“Very imaginative but never happened.”

“All right. It’s been said you were completely soused and fell from your own bed, hitting your forehead on a chamber pot.”

Gabriel grimaced, leaning back from the table as the first course was served. “Hardly a flattering image.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as the one where you and Lord Ravenswood came to blows over a woman while you were both in France.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Only once has that come close to a reality. And it occurred after I arrived in England and after the Earl married. Lord Bentley was also involved in the defense of Lady Ivy, so I did not act alone. Fortunately, no blows were exchanged that night.” He sipped his wine, head tilted as he considered her. “And I was given this scar many years before that.”

“Those are all I can recall at the moment. There are so many, you see. For all your tendencies to remain in the shadows, you have long been a source of gossip.” Celia dipped her spoon into the bowl of chestnut soup. “I regret that won’t change with your new title. In fact, there will probably be many more outlandish tales spread about you.”

“My concern is that you will suffer because of these cruel rumors. I won’t have you sullied simply because the irregular circumstance of my inheritance places you in the same crosshairs as myself,” Gabriel said, his tone vibrating with such fierce protectiveness that Celia blinked in surprise.

“It won’t be as bad as all that,” Celia murmured. “We shall make a game of it. Anytime either of us hears a rumor, we shall invent one even more outlandish simply for our own amusement.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel gave her a considering look. “I believe that is an excellent idea.” He was silent for a long moment, then said, “The scar came from my father. He appeared at the boarding school in France when I was a lad. Tried convincing me he’d done what he thought best in the situation.” Gabriel sighed, remembering the altercation that day. “But he’d done what was best for himself. Not me. And it was certainly not in my mother’s best interest. He abandoned her when he was needed the most. I wanted nothing of his explanations or excuses. We argued and eventually came to blows. He struck me across the face with his cane, and as I stood bleeding, he blamed me for causing the injury.”