Celia wanted more than anything to beg Ivy and Sara to remain in the room, but her stubborn nature forbade it. Her chin tilted and she steeled herself for confrontation.

Once alone, silence fell as they stared at one other with mutual wariness.

“You’ve left me quite adrift, Lady Celia,” Gabriel finally admitted with a sigh. “Indeed, I’m at a loss when it comes to you. If I possessed a single thread of self-preservation, I would stay far away from such temptation. But I’m finding it an impossible task. You both fascinate and sadden me, if you must know.”

Celia reached for her teacup, taking a sip as a way of hiding her surprise. She wasn’t sure of the correct response after such a brutally honest declaration.

“Have you considered courting me, Mister Rose? What I mean to say is that I would not be averse to it,” she impulsively blurted out. Oh, blast it all. Why would I say such a thing? “Your irrational behavior could then be explained away to others.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “That is impossible.”

Setting her cup back down, Celia took a deep breath and turned fully toward the man. “Why? Why is it impossible? And what have I done that saddens you? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Gabriel stood so suddenly that Celia fell back against the divan with a startled “Oh!”

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving the deep chestnut waves in a ruffled mess. “I’m saddened because someday you will belong to a man who has the right to claim you. We cannot be anything to one another because of who I am. Or rather, who I am not.”

“That’s ridiculous. Courting does not necessarily end with marriage, Mister Rose. Perhaps this might allow us to explore the fascination we seem to share and forever put it to rest. You are not without connections and wealth. Nor are you a pariah because of your birth. It will not impede your prospect of obtaining a wife of social standing at some point. Indeed, it may even help.”

Gabriel leaned toward her with a growl. “I’ve no wish for a wife, regardless of her social status, and need your aid in gaining one even less. Do I make myself clear?”

Celia assessed him and the ferocity of his response. “Perfectly,” she murmured. “Then there is nothing for it. You must abstain from contact with me until I leave Beaumont.”

He appeared startled by her statement and then scowled. “Leave? Where the Devil do you think you will go with that injured ankle?”

“Mother and I will be off for Cornwall soon. We intend to visit Richeforte and Her Grace before their babe is borne.”

“When?” Gabriel barked.

“I don’t know precisely when. Babies have their own schedule, or so I’m told.”

A hand raked through his hair while he muttered beneath his breath. “Seven hells.” He pinned her with a steely glare. “I do not mean that. When do you intend on leaving?”