by Dare, Tessa
A small orchestra gathered on a shell-shaped dais and began tuning their instruments.
“You should dance,” he told her.
“I don’t want to dance.”
“I don’t want to be wearing a metal codpiece, but here I am. This had better be worth it.”
She was silent. “How can I dance when no one has asked me?”
“How can anyone ask you when you’ve installed yourself in the shrubbery? You’re being a wallflower.”
“No, I’m not. There aren’t any walls.”
“A shrubflower, then.”
“You know, clanking at me isn’t helping.”
Gabe thought of asking what would help, but there seemed little point. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be able to do it. He couldn’t introduce her to anyone in this crowd of elites, couldn’t make her feel confident when he had no idea what he was doing. And he damned well couldn’t ask her to dance.
Even in a suit of shining armor, he wasn’t fit to be her hero.
“I would do this for you if I could,” he said. “But I can’t.”
“I know.”
”You won’t convince your aunt you’re circulating in society if you spend the night hiding in the bushes.”
“I’m frustrated with myself, believe me. A masquerade is supposed to be a chance to put on a different face, isn’t it? An opportunity to be someone else for a few hours. Yet I can’t seem to manage it. I’m still me, beneath the mask.”
“I know what you mean.” Gabe was still himself beneath the armor, too. An interloper among the aristocrats. Unwelcome. Inadequate. “We are who we are, I suppose.”
“We are who we are,” she agreed.
Gabe despised the defeated note in her voice. He liked who she was, beneath the mask. And when he was in her company, he almost liked who he was, too. The idea that anyone would overlook her made him vaguely furious.
“You don’t have to dance.” He gestured clumsily with a metal-plated arm. “Strike up a conversation with someone. Anyone.”
“I do see someone I know.” She lifted on tiptoe and craned her neck. “That man over there. He’s a distant cousin.”
“The one dressed as a Russian prince?”
“The one who actually is a Russian prince.”
Of course he was. As if Gabe needed one more reminder of the vast gulf between their stations. “Go on, then.”
She hesitated.
He creaked sideways, moving closer. “The hedgehog was ages ago. Everyone will have forgotten it.”
She tensed. “I’m not so certain.”
“Why, Lady Penelope Campion. Is that truly you?”
Penny winced. Of all the people she could bump into at her first true social foray in years, it would be the Irving twins.
“My dear Lady Penelope.” Thomasina took Penny’s hands in hers and squeezed. “How long has it been?”
Not long enough.
Tansy and Thomasina Irving had been the bane of her life at finishing school. Unlike some of the other girls, they were never cruel outright—they would never risk making an enemy of an earl’s daughter. However, they never missed an opportunity to needle her, and since there were two of them, they pricked from both sides.
Tonight, they were dressed as peacocks. They each wore a gown of shimmering teal-blue satin, with matching gloves and slippers. Fan-shaped arrays of peacock feathers sprouted from their posteriors.
“Why, we haven’t seen you since your debut at—” Tansy conferred with her sister. “Almack’s, wasn’t it?”
“I can’t say I recall,” Thomasina answered blithely. Falsely. “It doesn’t matter. What’s wonderful is that you’re here now.”
Penny knew they were baiting her, and she felt helpless to challenge them. With Gabriel, she could be tart and witty, but with these girls she was straight back to her sixteenth summer. All the old feelings rose to the fore. Not because these girls were to blame for the humiliation at her debut, but she couldn’t uncouple them from that time in her life. The years when she’d tried so hard to be good, to be quiet, to curl herself into a tight, impenetrable ball and go unnoticed.
Instead of going unnoticed, she’d made herself a spectacle, mowing down the crowd at Almack’s.
“Won’t you introduce us to your friend?” Thomasina swept an unsubtly flirtatious glance up Gabriel’s armored figure. “What a fine figure you must strike at the Round Table.”
“At any table.” Tansy giggled.
Penny seethed. “It wouldn’t be a masquerade if I gave him away, now would it?”
“I suppose we’ll have to tease it out of him,” Thomasina said. Was it Penny’s imagination, or did her gaze linger on his codpiece?
Get your eyes off him, you vulture.
She chastened herself for entertaining a thought so mean. It was unkind to vultures.
“But you should be dancing, Lady Penelope,” Tansy said. “Our brother is here. I’m certain he’d stand up with you.”
“That’s kind of you, but I don’t wish to dance this evening.”
“What a shame.” Thomasina smiled. “How is that hedgehog of yours? Not still with us, I suppose.”
“Actually, she is. Going on ten years now.”
“By now, I’d wager she’s in good company. You must have a houseful of dear little waifs.”
Tansy latched on to her sister’s arm. “Oh, Tommy. Remember the frog?”
As the sisters laughed, Penny wanted to inch backward until she disappeared into the shrubbery.
“What a sweet thing you were,” said Thomasina. “Always so fond of God’s lesser creatures. What’s the latest beast in your collection, I wonder?”
“Me.” Metal clanged as Gabriel flipped the helmet’s visor. “I’m her latest beast.”
The Irving sisters choked on their laughter, then swallowed it hard.
He took a clanking step forward, towering over them. “Let me tell you, Lady Penelope has her hands full. I’m vicious. Untamed. I won’t come to heel.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a growl. “And I bite.”
He turned, and—confronted with the wall of hedges—stormed through it like the Ottomans breaching the walls of Tyre. Once he’d cleared a path with his armored body, he extended a gauntlet, inviting Penny to follow.
She put her gloved hand in his shining one.
Rather than leading her through, he pulled her to him, slid his hand to her backside, and lifted her off her feet, keeping her slippers free of the trampled shrubs.
Her beast in shining armor.
As he carried her through the hedge, she waved farewell to the bug-eyed Irving sisters. “It’s been lovely seeing you.”
Once he’d toted her a short distance from the pleasure garden, he set her down. After several moments of increasingly comic difficulty, he yanked the helmet off his head and chucked it aside with a curse.
Penny went to retrieve the helmet.
“Leave it,” he said.
“It belongs to Ash.”
“Exactly.”
His face was the red-purple shade of beets, and his dark hair stood up at wild angles. In the darkness, he looked every bit as wild and dangerous as he’d just professed to be.
Penny took his face in her hands and gave him a firm kiss on the lips. “Thank you. That was magnificent.”
“It was stupid. If rumors reach your aunt—or worse, the society column . . .”
She helped him remove his gauntlet. “We can’t do anything about that tonight.”
“I knew this was a mistake. I can’t abide this society shite.”
“The Irving twins have always been obnoxious.”
“It’s not only them. It’s all of it.” He stared at the scene of torches and merriment. “This is why I despise the aristocracy. The only way they survive is by holding themselves above the rest of the world. And it’s not enough for them to sneer at the poor, or to abuse the working class. They have to turn on their own, as well. They’d mock you just because you don’t like
to waltz and you keep a pet hedgehog.”
“You laughed at the hedgehog,” she reminded him. “Understandably so. It’s amusing.”
“It’s an amusing story. It’s not who you are.” He unbuckled a shin plate and shunted it to the ground with such force it bounced off the turf. “You’re worth a thousand of any lady there.”
“Let’s leave, get you into some proper attire, and find ourselves some dinner.” She stroked her fingertips over his brow. “I can tell from the pulsing vein in your forehead, you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry.”
“My only regret is that we’ll miss the fireworks.”
“You want fireworks?” He cocked his eyebrow. “I can give you fireworks.”
Well, then. Penny could scarcely wait.
Chapter Fifteen
It wasn’t the most lucrative of Gabe’s investments, but there were times when owning one of the largest hotels in London came in useful. This was one of those times. For one thing, he kept spare clothing in his private suite, and thus was able to shed that ridiculous suit of armor.
For another, it offered a uniquely impressive location for a private dinner overlooking the fireworks display.
“Careful.” He led her by the hand, helping her up the last few rungs of a ladder and guiding her onto the rooftop verandah. “We’ll be able to view the fireworks from here.”
“Yes. I should think we will.” The awed hush in her voice thrilled him, as did the way she clutched his arm. “I feel like I’m floating in one of those hot-air balloons.”
“I have the servants coming up with dinner soon.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed close to his side. “This is so much better than that silly masquerade.”
She walked to the verandah’s wrought-iron fencing and propped her forearms on the rail, gazing out over the London sprawl. The breeze plucked at her hair, teasing a few golden locks from their pins.
Gabe joined her. “I still can’t believe the nerve of those sisters.”
“Pity their parents,” she said. “One Miss Irving would be bad enough. They had two in one go.”
“I don’t pity them at all. If you like, I could ruin the whole family for you.”
She turned to him. “What?”
He shrugged. “It might take a few years, but I know how to be patient. It’s only a matter of discreet inquiries here and there, paying attention to patterns. Somewhere there will be debts, unpaid taxes, poor investments—with luck, blackmail payments. No matter how impressive the family estate, there’s always a loose brick somewhere. Every man has his weakness.”
“I know they do.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m still looking for yours.”
Cheeky girl. She had to know she took his breath away.
God, she was lovely in moonlight. She was lovely in sunlight, for that matter, and in the pouring rain. Gabe suspected that even in total darkness, she would be radiant. Because though her features were exquisite, and her lips the pinkish hue of rose petals, her most beautiful feature by far was her heart.
Right now, soaring through the stars above the city, miles from everything that could keep them apart . . . he was dangerously close to telling her so.
He was saved by a timely interruption.
“My weakness is dinner,” he said.
A parade of servants came through, bearing a table sized for two, chairs, a damask tablecloth, silver and china, candlesticks, crystal wineglasses, and trays loaded with divine-smelling food.
“My goodness.” She laughed. “Now that was quite the trick.”
“Impressed?” He held out her chair for her.
“Very.”
Gabe settled into his seat and poured her some wine before filling his own glass. “I instructed the chef to prepare you dishes without any meat. I hope they’re satisfactory.”
She uncovered a small tureen and dipped a spoon into the steaming contents. As she stirred, the scent of exotic spices wafted through the air. “Vegetable curry? It smells divine. I’m ravenous.”
Conversation was set aside by tacit agreement, as they both loaded their plates and tucked into their food.
Some minutes later, she sat back in her chair with a contented sigh, cradling her wineglass in one hand. “So tell me.”
He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Tell you what?”
She shrugged. “Everything. How did you come to be the Duke of Ruin? Where did you learn so much about finances, and how to find those loose bricks in a fortune?”
Gabe carefully swallowed his bite and set his fork aside. “The truth?”
“But of course.”
Very well, then. He’d known this would be coming eventually, and he’d been wondering how she would react. Tonight, they would both find out.
“When I was a young man, I worked for a pawnbroker. One with a reputation for discretion and a distinguished clientele. I learned how to judge the value of fine items—but more than that, I learned how to judge the fine people. Over time, you come to observe certain patterns. The lady who comes in monthly, like clockwork, letting go one more pearl from an ever-shrinking necklace? Blackmailed for a secret she can’t afford her husband to know. The younger fellow who stumbles in of a morning, reeking of brandy and willing to accept shillings on the pound for his pocket watch? Gaming debts. The ones who weep as they hand over family heirlooms? They’re poised on the brink of insolvency.”
“And you use this knowledge to your advantage. You seize on their vulnerability to take what they have left.”
“By perfectly legal means.”
“You don’t feel any sympathy for them?”
“None.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Where do you think all that money comes from? Your own family’s estate, for that matter. Parcels of land granted with the wave of a king’s hand, centuries ago. That’s the land here in Britain, of course. When that wasn’t enough, they grabbed more from every corner of the world. The aristocracy built fortunes on the backs of serfs, peasants, tenant farmers. Slaves. I don’t suffer a moment’s shame when I take their wealth from them.”
“You realize that when you say ‘them,’ you also mean me. My family, my friends.”
“I‘m aware of that.”
She poked at a dish of sherry trifle with her spoon. “Before the pawnbroker, where were you?”
“On the streets. Thieving. How do you think I met the pawnbroker? I had to sell the pocket watches and baubles somewhere.”
“And before that?”
“The workhouse, mostly.”
“The workhouse? How dreadful.”
“Could have been worse. I was out of the cold, at least. Meager meals are better than none. They taught us to read and write, and do sums.” Gabe had also learned how to grind bones with a rock until his fingers bled, and how to survive savage beatings from a schoolmaster who took cruel joy in meting them out. But those were lessons better left unmentioned.
“What about your parents?”
“Never knew them.” The one falsehood in his tale.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“So you were raised in the workhouse—and here you are now, at the top of the world.” She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “It’s remarkable, Gabriel. You must be proud.”
Was he proud? He’d always thought so, but now he wasn’t so sure. A sense of pride implied satisfaction. By now, everything he’d amassed ought to feel like enough—but it didn’t. Satisfaction eluded him, again and again.
The hunger never went away.
He pushed back from the table. “The fireworks will be starting soon.”
He guided her over to a heap of pillows and plush, sumptuous blankets. Velvet, satin, embroidered silk. They relaxed into the jumble of luxury and stared up at the clear night sky.
“Alexandra would know the name of each and every star up there,” Penny said. “She found a comet, you know. It’s named for her.”
<
br /> “That’s impressive.”
“I have remarkably accomplished friends. Alex is our astronomer. Emma’s a magician with needle and thread, and Nicola . . . well, Nicola has a dozen brilliant ideas a day. Only half of them are new biscuit recipes.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m the one who invites them over for tea and kittens. And horrid sandwiches.” She nudged him in the ribs. “I don’t have any remarkable talents. I just try to make my friends feel at home.”
“That is a remarkable talent. A damned rare one, too.”
She laughed in self-deprecating fashion.
“No, truly. Ask any hotelier. People with welcoming dispositions are in short supply.”
“That’s good to know. A spinster never knows when she might need respectable employment.”
They lapsed into silence, staring into the vast, starry night. He’d stared into darkness many times in his life. Nothing ever made a man feel so alone.
He inched his hand to the side until his little finger brushed against hers. Just that feathery touch made his breath catch. They clasped hands, interlacing their fingers and holding tight. His heart was beating in his throat.
A rocket whistled into the air, exploding above them with a shock of sound and a burst of golden sparks.
“Make love to me,” she said quietly.
His thudding heart stopped.
She rolled onto her side, facing him. Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, and she slipped them loose. One by one by one. Her hand stole under the fabric, caressing his chest.
Her lips brushed his. The sweetness of her kiss made his whole body ache.
“No, no, no.” With heroic effort, he pulled away. “Your first time should be special.”
“Gabriel. We’re currently on a rooftop, lying atop a mountain of satin pillows, staring up at a sky bursting with fireworks. I should think this meets the ‘special’ requirement.”
A burst of shimmering red bloomed amid the stars, conspiring with her against him.
“Your first time should be with someone special,” he said.
“There’s absolutely nothing ordinary about you. Once again, you can cross that requirement off the list.”
“I meant your husband.”