Gabriel intentionally avoided any interaction with Celia until it was time to gather for the evening meal. As promised, Ivy arranged it so that he and Celia sat beside each other. Because he was so readily accepted by the Earl and Countess, his presence at the table was not out of the ordinary. Oh, some thought it quite scandalous a bastard was seated among the ton, but Ravenswood was not deterred. Gabriel was accustomed to the murmurs, but he wondered if Celia truly objected.

Offering his arm as he escorted her into the dining room, Gabriel took note of Celia’s barely noticeable limp.

Bending close, he murmured, “Are you well enough to walk?”

Celia gave a tight nod. “I am fine, Mister Rose.”

She said nothing more while Gabriel held her chair so she could slide into it. When he took his own seat, he leaned in again. “Would you tell me if you are still in pain, I wonder?”

“It is not your concern if I am or not, Mister Rose,” she primly replied. Without looking at him, she methodically unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. Still keeping her gaze averted, she nodded permission for the servant to fill her wine goblet. “Indeed, I am not your concern at all.”

Gabriel nodded with grim acceptance. “I agree, Lady Celia, but for the sake of Lady Ravenswood, let us make the best of this situation. After tonight, we shall endeavor to stay far away from one another.”

Celia cast him a glance from beneath long dark lashes and scoffed. “The promise of such action has not come to fruition thus far. You are to blame for that, Mister Rose.”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, idly toying with the stem of his wine goblet. “I take full responsibility for my behavior, my lady.”

Celia huffed. “How refreshing, Mister Rose. And unbelievable.”

They spoke in low murmurs, but Gabriel knew attention was directed their way. From across the table, Lady Darby gave him an encouraging smile. There was no concealing the small glimmer of hope it contained.

The muscle in Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “Should I leave, my lady? Tell me to go and I shall this very instant.”

“And give others even more fodder for their tongue-wagging?” Celia sighed in resignation. “No, Mister Rose. You shall stay and suffer with me.”

Suffer. It was an appropriate word for the remainder of the meal. Because it was pure torture. Sitting in such close proximity to the woman he wanted so desperately while she did her best ignoring his presence.

He allowed her insolence, of course. What else could he do when she only responded when he asked pointedly direct questions? It was not as though he could throw her across his lap and spank her as he had in the forest.

From the opposite ends of the table, Sebastian and Ivy wore duplicate frowns aimed in his direction. They recognized the increasingly cold hostility yawning between Gabriel and Celia but could not make sense of it. Indeed, the crackle of that ice was affecting the other guests. To the point those seated in close proximity lost all interest in any semblance of conversation.