Read Online Gabriel: Lord of Regrets by Grace Burrowes - Free Book Online

precious. He feared it still was.
    He carefully extricated himself from her warmth, secured the fire screen, and blew out the candles. By the light of the hearth, he scooped her up and carried her to her room. His back protested, but the warmth of the fire, and quite possibly Polly’s company, had eased some of the grinding ache.
    When he laid her down on her bed, he tugged off her slippers, drew the covers up over her, and permitted himself to kiss her cheek.
    “Sleep well, my love.”
    She stirred but didn’t waken, so he forced himself to leave her and take himself to the cold comfort of his solitary bed. Why it should be harder this time than any other, he really couldn’t say.
    ***
    Gabriel rose before dawn, as had become his habit when at Three Springs. He was surprised to find Aaron in the breakfast parlor, a mountain of eggs, bacon, and toast on his plate.
    “You’re up early.” Gabriel looked over the selections and wondered if there’d be cheese in the scrambled eggs, a dash of salt, a pinch of oregano.
    “Habit from the cavalry,” Aaron remarked between bites. “I’ve helped myself to most of the chocolate.”
    “Tea will do for me.” Gabriel passed on the bacon, which wasn’t as crisp as he preferred, but took ham, eggs, and toast. “Where in the hell is the butter?”
    “Here.” Aaron gestured with his elbow. “With a nice sprinkling of toast crumbs in it already.”
    Gabriel took a seat on his brother’s right. “Marjorie doesn’t have you trained yet?”
    “She takes a tray in the morning. Saves a lot of bother first thing in the day. I trust you slept well?”
    “Well enough.” Gabriel tucked into his eggs. No cheese, not even a hint of salt or cream or chives greeted his palate. “You?”
    “Not that well,” Aaron said, eyeing his brother fleetingly. “Your reappearance has sparked a few old nightmares, but they’ll fade. They always do.”
    “I’m sorry.” Why hadn’t it occurred to Gabriel that a veteran cavalry officer would have nightmares? Aaron had participated in nearly the entire Peninsular Campaign, for God’s sake. “Is a wife an antidote to troubled slumber?”
    Aaron paused, a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. “Little you know. Have you seen that wife’s millinery bills?”
    “Not yet.” Gabriel took another dutiful bite of the most boring eggs he’d attempted in years. “Has she an allowance?”
    “Nominally.” Aaron poured himself the last of the chocolate. “But she has a she-dragon mother telling her that being marchioness means always dressing to the teeth, never uttering an unkind word, and generally behaving like a beautiful saint with a number of useless flirtatious devils always at her side.”
    “I was under the impression mothers were prone to such nonsense. The good ones, in any case. Haven’t we any jam?”
    “I don’t care for it. Shall we send a footman?”
    “I’ll manage,” Gabriel replied, though having servants about while he ate was one of the things he’d not missed in the past two years. “I did look at your estate book, however briefly. You’ve our father’s handwriting.”
    “As long as it’s legible,” Aaron said, cramming a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Any questions?”
    “If you’re game, I’d like to have a look at the mow where the hay went bad.” The ham was too salty—suggesting it hadn’t been allowed to soak—which was probably why there wasn’t any salt in the eggs. Gabriel managed by taking half a bite of each simultaneously.
    “I haven’t looked at it yet,” Aaron said. “George claims rain gets in under the eaves when we get the right type of Channel storm.”
    “You dispute the theory?”
    “We’ve had storms all summer and fall, from every direction. That’s the only load of hay gone bad, and we have three hay barns, Gabriel. George’s theory simply doesn’t fit with the facts, but far be it from me to argue sense when he has tradition and stubbornness on his side.”
    “He