For the past two years, Nola had fully indulged Gabriel’s every desire, their encounters unhindered by morals or inhibitions. She always knew when to push the limits farther, coming up with new tricks to spark his interest and satisfy his complex desires. Gabriel didn’t like it that she was married, he resented her temper and her possessiveness, and lately he had begun to realize that the affair was turning him into the worst possible version of himself.
But he kept going back for more.
“No one pleases me more than Mrs. Black,” Gabriel said with difficulty. “That’s the problem.”
Slowly his father set the cue stick onto the table, his face impassive. “You fancy yourself in love with her?”
“No. God, no. It’s just that . . . I . . .” Lowering his head, Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, which had begun to crawl with discomfort. Although he and his father had always spoken freely on a great variety of subjects, they rarely discussed personal sexual matters. Sebastian, thank God, was not one to meddle in his sons’ private lives.
There was no easy way for Gabriel to describe the dark side of his nature, nor was he particularly eager to face it. As the Challon family’s oldest son, he had always strived to meet high expectations—his own and other people’s. Since a young age, he’d been aware that because of his family name, wealth, and influence, many people actively wanted him to fail. Determined to prove himself, he’d earned high marks at Eton and Oxford. When other boys had wanted to test themselves against him by picking fights or trying to best him in athletics, he’d had to prove himself repeatedly. Whenever he’d identified a weakness in himself, he worked to overcome it. After graduating, he had managed his family’s financial affairs competently, and he’d made his own investments in fledgling businesses that had paid off in spades. In most areas of his life, he was self-disciplined and hardworking, a man who took his responsibilities seriously.
But then there was the other side. Sexual, intemperate, and bloody tired of trying to be perfect. The side that made him feel guilty as hell.
Gabriel hadn’t yet found a way to reconcile the opposing halves of his nature, the angel and the devil. He doubted he ever would. All he knew for certain was that Nola Black was willing to do anything he wanted, as often as he wanted, and he’d never found that kind of relief with anyone else.
Flushing, Gabriel struggled to explain without making himself sound like a depraved freak of nature. “The problem is that I require particular . . . that is . . . she lets me . . .” He broke off with a guttural curse.
“Every man has his tastes,” Sebastian said sensibly. “I doubt yours are all that shocking.”
“What your generation considered shocking is probably different from mine.”
There was a short, offended silence. When Sebastian replied, his voice was as dry as tinder. “Ancient and decrepit fossil that I am, I believe the ruins of my senile brain can somehow manage to grasp what you’re trying to convey. You’ve indulged in wanton carnal excess for so long that you’re disillusioned. The trifles that excite other men leave you indifferent. No virgin’s pallid charms could ever hope to compete with the subversive talents of your mistress.”
Gabriel glanced up in surprise.
His father looked sardonic. “I assure you, my lad, sexual debauchery was invented long before your generation. The libertines of my grandfather’s time committed acts that would make a satyr blush. Men of our lineage are born craving more pleasure than is good for us. Obviously I was no saint before I married, and God knows I never expected to find fulfillment in the arms of one woman for a lifetime. But I have. Which means there’s no reason you can’t.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” After a contemplative silence, Sebastian spoke again. “Why don’t you invite the Ravenels to Heron’s Point for a week? Give the girl a sporting chance, and become acquainted with her before you make a decision.”
“There’s no need to invite her entire family to Sussex for that. It’s more convenient for me to visit her here in London.”
His father shook his head. “You need to spend a few days away from your mistress,” he said frankly. “A man with your developed palate will enjoy the next course far more if you eliminate competing flavors.”
Frowning, Gabriel braced his hands on the edge of the table as he considered the suggestion. With each passing day, more people were hounding him about the incipient scandal. Especially Nola, who had already sent a half-dozen notes demanding to know if the rumors were true. The Ravenels must be fending off the same questions, and would probably welcome the opportunity to escape London. The estate at Heron’s Point, with its eleven thousand acres of woodland, farmland, and pristine shoreline, offered complete privacy.
His eyes narrowed as he saw his father’s bland expression. “Why are you encouraging this? Shouldn’t you be a bit more discriminating when it comes to the potential mother of your grandchildren?”
“You’re a man of eight-and-twenty who hasn’t yet sired an heir. At this point, I’m not inclined to be overparticular about whom you marry. All I ask is that you produce some grandchildren before your mother and I are too decrepit to pick them up.”
Gabriel gave his father a wry glance. “Don’t pin your hopes on Lady Pandora. In her opinion, marrying me would be the worst thing ever to happen to her.”
Sebastian smiled. “Marriage is usually the worst thing to happen to a woman. Fortunately, that never stops them.”