“That is so true,” Lady Caroline chimed in. “Mister Rose is always entertaining. And so knowledgeable of a great many subjects. I imagine this is a result of your education in France, isn’t that correct, Mister Rose? The French are so very advanced in all things.”

Gabriel smiled at the widow simpering from the opposite side of the table. “Most assuredly. Excuse me for a brief moment, please.”

Ducking beneath the table allowed him an excuse at avoiding further conversation with the widow. But wickedness was second nature to him. While retrieving the fork, he would give Celia Buchanan something to think about.

Gripping her injured ankle, his fingers tightened as he leaned toward her with deliberate intent. She could not move away when he lightly bit the outside of her thigh, his teeth breaching skirts, petticoats, and stockings.

Celia gave a strangled squeak of alarm, batting frantically at his head as though he were a cantankerous poodle. Gabriel ignored her and calmly emerged from under the table, fork in hand.

The paleness of Celia’s cheeks, the shock at his brazen actions before she schooled her features into a mien of serenity, spread a grin across Gabriel’s face.

“A new fork for the lady, please. She dropped this one,” he instructed a servant while handing over the utensil.

Robert watched them with a suspicious glare, although his tone was artificially light. “I do hope you have games planned for us, Lady Celia. They are the highlight of every house party. I know I enjoy them immensely.”

The stare Gabriel leveled at the young lord was nothing short of glacial. “There shall be no games tonight.”

Celia smiled brightly at Gabriel. Her cheeks were much rosier now than they’d been just seconds ago when he’d nipped her thigh like a lion toying with its food. “Thank goodness you have no control over these matters, Mister Rose.” Her attention turned to Robert. “If others wish it, I am happy to oblige. But those who persist in bending the rules will not be invited to join.” It was a subtle warning. Robert Harvey and his tendency to take more than he should would not be tolerated.

“You already play a dangerous game, my lady,” Gabriel murmured under his breath for her ears alone. “My advice is that you do not begin another.”

“I will remind you, sir, your advice holds no weight with me,” Celia immediately shot back. The fierce statement lay cloaked by an easy smile for anyone watching their interaction.

“You are infuriating, you do know that, right?” Gabriel’s voice strummed with frustration, but Celia was correct. He had no say on her actions. Why he continued this madness of inserting himself into her life was beyond comprehension.

Momentarily defeated, he sunk back in his chair.

Realizing he would say nothing more on the subject, Celia flashed the other guests a stunning smile.

Gabriel’s hands tightened into fists as she cheerfully quoted Shakespeare, “You can’t lose a game if you don’t play the game. So, let us all play, shall we?”