do.”
She cast him a skeptical glance. “And she agrees?”
“She will. Eventually.”
“Gabriel—”
“Enough,” he said, rising to his feet. “As long as I gain a wife, you have no reason to complain.”
“You have to live until the wedding for it to count, you know,” she snapped as he walked away.
He turned to stare at her. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re planning to race her—”
“Ah. You think I’ll kill myself threading the needle at Turnham Green.”
“You have been lucky three times. No one’s luck lasts forever.”
His brow furrowed. “What if I swore never to thread the needle again, against Miss Waverly or anyone else? What would you give me?”
She hesitated. Such a vow would eliminate her greatest worry—that he would run that blasted course and kill himself or someone else. Either scenario could put him beyond the reach of his family forever.
Still, bargaining with her grandchildren was dicey. It had worked to her benefit with Jarret, but Gabe was another matter entirely. “What do you want?”
“I want you to rescind your ultimatum for—”
“That will never happen,” she broke in. “Besides, you said you wished to marry Miss Waverly to help her.”
“I do. But it’s not me I want you to rescind it for. It’s Celia.”
She gaped at him. “Why?”
“You’ll already have four of us paired off. I realize the rest of us let it go too long, but she’s only twenty-four. Let her find a husband in her own time. Or not find one at all, if that’s what she prefers. I don’t want to see her marry some fortune hunter, and neither do you. You got lucky with Minerva, but Celia is . . . different.”
“You mean, because she shoots guns for entertainment.”
“Because she’ll hold firm in resisting your ultimatum. She’ll force you between a rock and a hard place. You don’t really want to disinherit us all. And you certainly don’t want to do it if everyone complies but her.”
He was right, though she wasn’t about to say that to him. “I will do what I have to.”
His lips thinned into a line. “Then I’ll race whomever I want, on whatever course I want.”
She scowled at him. “Remember what I said. If you die before you marry, then no one gets anything.”
“Really? You’d punish my grieving siblings just because I had the audacity to die and cheat you out of seeing your plans come to fruition? I hardly think so.” Then that impudent light came into his eyes, the one she knew so well from when he was a boy and would sneak out to the stable, no matter what punishment she invented for making him stay put. “Besides, haven’t you heard? I’m the Angel of Death—I can’t die.”
A chill coursed down her spine. Damned fool. Saying such a thing was tempting Fate.
He stepped nearer, his voice low. “And I’m going to live just to watch Celia make you squirm, Gran. I suspect that after she takes her turn at finding a spouse, you’ll regret you ever came up with this plan of yours. Never say I didn’t warn you.”
When he turned again to leave, she said, “I’ll think about it.”
He paused to look at her.
“I am not saying I will take you up on your offer. But I shall consider it.”
“You’d better consider it soon,” he drawled. “I’m racing Miss Waverly in three days.” He strode off.
Damn that boy! It seemed he had inherited every bit of her skill at manipulation. If she was not careful, he might gain the upper hand in this battle.
She used her cane to push herself to a stand.
But she had come this far without caving in to her grandchildren’s complaints. She was not about to give in because of Gabe’s threats.
Still, as she hobbled to her bedchamber, his words rang in her head: I’m the Angel of Death—I can’t die. She knew better than anyone that Death could seize you when you least expected it. And she could not bear to think of losing someone else she loved to its greedy hands.
G ENERAL I SAAC Waverly was
She cast him a skeptical glance. “And she agrees?”
“She will. Eventually.”
“Gabriel—”
“Enough,” he said, rising to his feet. “As long as I gain a wife, you have no reason to complain.”
“You have to live until the wedding for it to count, you know,” she snapped as he walked away.
He turned to stare at her. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re planning to race her—”
“Ah. You think I’ll kill myself threading the needle at Turnham Green.”
“You have been lucky three times. No one’s luck lasts forever.”
His brow furrowed. “What if I swore never to thread the needle again, against Miss Waverly or anyone else? What would you give me?”
She hesitated. Such a vow would eliminate her greatest worry—that he would run that blasted course and kill himself or someone else. Either scenario could put him beyond the reach of his family forever.
Still, bargaining with her grandchildren was dicey. It had worked to her benefit with Jarret, but Gabe was another matter entirely. “What do you want?”
“I want you to rescind your ultimatum for—”
“That will never happen,” she broke in. “Besides, you said you wished to marry Miss Waverly to help her.”
“I do. But it’s not me I want you to rescind it for. It’s Celia.”
She gaped at him. “Why?”
“You’ll already have four of us paired off. I realize the rest of us let it go too long, but she’s only twenty-four. Let her find a husband in her own time. Or not find one at all, if that’s what she prefers. I don’t want to see her marry some fortune hunter, and neither do you. You got lucky with Minerva, but Celia is . . . different.”
“You mean, because she shoots guns for entertainment.”
“Because she’ll hold firm in resisting your ultimatum. She’ll force you between a rock and a hard place. You don’t really want to disinherit us all. And you certainly don’t want to do it if everyone complies but her.”
He was right, though she wasn’t about to say that to him. “I will do what I have to.”
His lips thinned into a line. “Then I’ll race whomever I want, on whatever course I want.”
She scowled at him. “Remember what I said. If you die before you marry, then no one gets anything.”
“Really? You’d punish my grieving siblings just because I had the audacity to die and cheat you out of seeing your plans come to fruition? I hardly think so.” Then that impudent light came into his eyes, the one she knew so well from when he was a boy and would sneak out to the stable, no matter what punishment she invented for making him stay put. “Besides, haven’t you heard? I’m the Angel of Death—I can’t die.”
A chill coursed down her spine. Damned fool. Saying such a thing was tempting Fate.
He stepped nearer, his voice low. “And I’m going to live just to watch Celia make you squirm, Gran. I suspect that after she takes her turn at finding a spouse, you’ll regret you ever came up with this plan of yours. Never say I didn’t warn you.”
When he turned again to leave, she said, “I’ll think about it.”
He paused to look at her.
“I am not saying I will take you up on your offer. But I shall consider it.”
“You’d better consider it soon,” he drawled. “I’m racing Miss Waverly in three days.” He strode off.
Damn that boy! It seemed he had inherited every bit of her skill at manipulation. If she was not careful, he might gain the upper hand in this battle.
She used her cane to push herself to a stand.
But she had come this far without caving in to her grandchildren’s complaints. She was not about to give in because of Gabe’s threats.
Still, as she hobbled to her bedchamber, his words rang in her head: I’m the Angel of Death—I can’t die. She knew better than anyone that Death could seize you when you least expected it. And she could not bear to think of losing someone else she loved to its greedy hands.
G ENERAL I SAAC Waverly was
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