Anna Cooper, though, seemed to be exactly what Gabriel believed her to be, a sheltered young woman who hadn’t a clue about the true motives of men. Gabriel would be concerned about Ethan revealing his undoubtedly privileged birth if Sophia hadn’t already learned her lesson, twice, about the perils of matchmaking. Sophia could, in fact, expand Anna’s social circle to include eligible young men she might not otherwise encounter, but in a few years perhaps. In the meantime, they both would take care to guard the young girl from unsavory situations.
Saving her tonight, perhaps, was that Cornelius Kenner had excused himself to get to bed early not long after dinner. Shortly after that, Ethan Nash had gone back to the farm. Gabriel wished he could get rid of the lot of them so easily, but Anna, Mr. Grant, Lord Markham, Aunt Agatha, and his mother remained for cordials in the drawing room. Mother insisted they play at charades. Gabriel hated charades, but he didn’t want to be a poor host. The others, with the exception of Sophia who had remained aloof all evening, seemed eager to try a round.
Mother went first. She made a frame around her face and then dropped the frame. Every time she made the frame, she looked more and more sickly. Outside the frame, she always made the same exaggerated smiling face. Anna, overexcited, guessed at everything but never guessed right. Aunt Agatha barely suppressed a knowing smile and said she didn’t dare guess and ruin the fun because she sensed all the right answers.
“The Picture of Dorian Gray,” guessed Sophia, who hadn’t seemed to be paying attention at all.
“Right!” Mother shouted, seemingly disappointed that Sophia was the one to figure it out. “Your turn.”
“I’m going to need a little help.” She nibbled her lip as if considering. Gabriel expected Sophia to choose Anna or Charles or even Mr. Grant out of the crowd, but she crossed the room to hold out her hand to him. “Please, do this with me. I know we both hate to be the center of attention.”
He had to stifle a laugh, because the Sophia he knew loved nothing more than to be the center of attention. But he felt the need to take her seriously tonight. “All right. I’ll follow your lead.”
When she stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, her breasts brushed his arm. And when her hot breath streamed along his neck, he had to struggle for control of his body. He could never get enough of her.
“Just make that face,” she said. “I’ll do the rest.”
“What face?”
“You know the one. You make it when you’re trying to figure me out.” She arched a brow and curled her lip a little in imitation.
He laughed. “I’m certain that I’ve never looked that way in my life.”
“You’ve no idea.” She laughed too. “Just do it. Come on.”
She led him to the center of the room and positioned him in front of the fireplace.
“And so we begin,” she said with a nod to the audience. She walked in front of him, back and forth, and looked back at him with a haughty expression, then pretended to whisper behind her hand to someone, studying him all the while. She shook her head in indignation and strode to the edge of the scene, presumably offstage, where she gestured it was the end of their Act One.
“I haven’t a single idea.” Mother was the first to speak up.
“I’m puzzled too,” Markham agreed.
“The Taming of the Shrew.” Grant seemed to think he had it. For a minute, Gabriel was inclined to agree. But Sophia tugged his arm to whisper what they would do next.
“Dancing. Just pretend we’re at a ball.” She took his hands.
“I hate balls.”
“Exactly. That will do.” She nodded, satisfied, then took the lead and swept them around the floor.
They danced for barely a second before he insisted on taking the lead. She could make him act the buffoon if she wanted, but he would be damned if he’d be led around by his wife on a dance floor. He was the one to take charge, taking her more tightly into his arms and swaying with her to an imaginary tune. He swirled them left and right, and was tempted to dance her straight out of the room and kiss her breathless. Instead, he let go and bowed to her, his partner. She curtsied and scurried off to the side. He followed. The guesses began again.
“A ball of some sort?” Anna guessed.
“One of Alva Belmont’s affairs, perhaps?” Mother offered. “Though not dull enough to be one of those.”
Agatha clapped her hands as if delighted but never hazarded a guess.
Sophia shook her head. All wrong. And so it was on to Act Three. “Now, you get down on one knee as if you’re going to propose.”
“What the devil are we acting out?” He had no idea.
“You really don’t know?”
“Should I?”
She waved him off. “Oh, probably not. Your brother might have guessed it by now. He’s the bookish one.”
Gabriel loved his brother. After years of sharing a contentious relationship, they were finally getting along. But still, comparing him to his brother was like waving a red flag in his face.
She went to the fireplace and pretended to be reading a book. He followed, dropped to one knee, and pretended to propose, holding out his hand to her. She smiled and looked delighted, as expected, then suddenly she narrowed her gaze, shook her head vehemently, and pointed him to the door.
What? She was saying no? To him? And after such a perfect pretend proposal? The nerve of her! He got to his feet, ran a hand through his hair, and turned on his heel to leave.
“Oh!” Anna cried out. “I know it! I do. I really do this time!”
“Well, young lady, that beats the rest of us.” Markham laughed. “What is it?”
Anna got up. “Obviously, he is all pride. Well done, Lord Averford. And seeing his pride, and his wounded pride, and that look on Lady Averford’s face…”
“What look?” Gabriel asked. She had a look too, did she? He hoped it was every bit as ridiculous as the look she had accused him of having. But no.
“This.” Anna mimed Sophia’s face, and it was beautiful, naturally. His wife was incapable of looking anything other than beautiful, no matter what she did. “Why, it’s prejudice, of course. They’ve acted out Pride and Prejudice. It’s my very favorite book in all the world. Tell me I’m right!”
Sophia applauded. “Yes, Anna. You’ve guessed correctly.”
“Pride and Prejudice?” Gabriel asked, confused. “And I was acting out pride? Why didn’t you say so? It might have made my job easier.”
“Oh, darling.” Sophia laughed. “You’re the very picture of pride at every moment. How could you go wrong? But you were not actually personifying pride. You were my Mr. Darcy.”
“Who?”
“Darcy. He’s a character that girls adore,” Anna said consolingly. “I’m sure you haven’t read any of it.”
“No, I don’t think I have.” Gabriel shook his head. “But this Darcy fellow had better be a catch.”
“Oh, he is.” Anna hugged her clasped hands to her chest. “It’s a very good book.”
Teresa rolled her eyes. “It’s mediocre. I prefer Jane Eyre.”
“You would.” Sophia laughed. “You probably wish Gabriel had a first wife in the attic to scare me off.”
“Sometimes I do.” Teresa smiled. “Have you checked recently?”
“The only things in the attic are all of the old things that I’ve replaced with new.” Sophia had been joking at first, he’d been certain. But suddenly her words held an acerbic tone.
Teresa raised a brow. “You can’t find true quality these days. Not like we used to have. Some of those things in the attic are treasures. Timeless treasures.”
“My, it grows late.” Gabriel felt it time to step in. He didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “Perhaps it’s time that we all went up to bed.”
Fortunately, Gabriel’s suggestion was met with approv
al all around.
Twelve
Sophia felt the tension growing in her veins, ratcheting up until she might have done something foolish, like irreparably damage her tenuous relationship with Gabriel’s mother. She was glad when Gabriel suggested they end their evening, even if it meant that he would probably insist on escorting her so he could attempt another seduction.
“Gabriel, a moment.” She took his arm as they headed toward the stairs after making sure all of their guests had gone up. “I have such a headache.”
“Let’s get you to your room and we’ll ring for Jenks.”
“No. She’ll only have to come back down, and why give her the trouble? We can simply go back to the drawing room and have Finch bring me a glass of water. I think that’s all I need. Some water. I might have had too much wine at dinner.” She hadn’t. She’d been keenly aware of staying on her guard.
What she did have was a case of suspicion. Jealousy, if she were being honest. She had seen the way Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes off young Anna at dinner, and it concerned her. Bringing Anna into the house might have been a mistake. She was young, granted. Perhaps a little too young to tempt a man of Gabriel’s stature. But she was a pretty girl with an admirable figure. High, firm breasts and narrow waist.
She was old enough for a dalliance, if it came to that. Cornelius Kenner and Ethan Nash had both seemed a tad smitten with her, and who could blame them? Anna’s brown hair had been pinned up at dinner, but both Gabriel and Sophia had seen the girl running around the farm with her brothers and sister, her hair flowing down to her slender backside.
“Finch.” Gabriel saw the man in the hall and gestured him over. “Please fetch Lady Averford a glass of water. Do we have anything to ease a headache?”
Sophia held up a hand. “No, just water is fine. Thank you, Mr. Finch.”
“Right away, my lady.”
Gabriel escorted Sophia to the settee, insisting she have a seat while they waited. “And let me guess, this headache started right around the time Mother showed up in a dress entirely too much like your own?”
She shrugged. “Not at all. I arrived first, and I had already made my desired impression by the time your mother arrived. If anything, I found it all rather amusing.”
“You certainly stole her thunder.” Gabriel adjusted his cuffs, probably eager to undress.
Inadvertently, her mind flashed to the image of him stark naked in the gardening shed. Admittedly, he had an impressive physique, but she couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in physical attraction. She’d had her afternoon. Why hadn’t once been enough?
“I like to think so. She looked crestfallen to see me in a similar gown.” Sophia smiled. “Do you think she’s interested in Lord Markham?”
“Lord Markham?” Gabriel shook his head. “I might expect her to sink her talons into Mr. Grant. She likes younger men.”
“A woman can change.”
“I’ve no doubt.” He met her gaze. “To be honest, I haven’t paid much attention to Mother. I’m more concerned with Anna Cooper.”
“Anna Cooper?” Sophia felt her mouth go dry as ash. Did it run in the family, a preference for younger prey? “Why have you been intrigued by her?”
He laughed. “I didn’t say I was intrigued. You make me sound like a lecher. I’m merely concerned for her welfare, a young girl that we’ve taken into our home. I feel somewhat responsible for her. Don’t you? I thought we agreed on this.”
She shook her head as if to clear all unsavory suspicions. “Of course we did. You’re right. I have concerns as well. Both Ethan and Mr. Kenner seemed to have shown her some interest.”
“Exactly.” Gabriel nodded. “Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off her at the field. She has a womanly figure, but her face is so young. She’s out of her depth. I hope that Kenner and Ethan remember that they’re dealing with a sixteen-year-old. And not a very mature one at that.”
“I wouldn’t say that Anna is immature. She has been helping on the farm and with the care of her younger siblings for many years now.”
“But she’s an innocent, not attuned to the ways of the world.”
“Uncertain of men, perhaps. But so many of us are, no matter what our range of experience. For example, I’m not sure I’ll ever figure you out, Gabriel.”
“Ah, so we’ve come to it. The true source of your headache is trying to solve the puzzle of your enigmatic husband. And I thought I was so transparent.” He placed a hand under her chin and tipped her face up to meet his. “You know what I want.”
“I think we’ve both established what we want as far as a physical connection. That’s not what troubles me.”
“Count yourself lucky. It plagues me to no end wondering when I can get you in my arms again. It’s nearly all I think of, day in and day out.”
She tilted her head. “You’re a man. It’s to be expected. I think deeper thoughts.”
“And that, madame, could be at the heart of your problems. Satisfy the simple urges first, and you might find that the answers to the deeper issues just present themselves along the way.”
“My urges don’t feel all that simple.”
“Oh? When you know what you want, it couldn’t be simpler. Man, woman, the way we fit together. Watching you exert yourself at the farm, the color in your cheeks, it made me want you all the more. I’ve never seen you that way.”
“Lifting heavy things? Trying to be useful to others? No, I imagine not. Most women try to avoid exerting themselves, at least in front of witnesses.”
“They’re fools then. You’ve never been more enticing.”
A maid returned with Sophia’s water, bringing an end to their repartee. “Water, my lady. And Mrs. Mallows insisted on brewing ye a cup of her magic elixir. She says it will cure all that ails you, and then some.”
“Where’s Mr. Finch, Jane? And what are you and Mrs. Mallows doing up at this hour? Shouldn’t you all have gone to bed hours ago?”
“Mr. Finch is helping Mrs. Mallows. She’s up starting a broth for tomorrow’s aspic. She said it needs time to simmer and develop the flavor. She won’t be much longer. As for me, I’m afraid I’m not much of a sleeper. I like to be useful as long as others are up and working.”
“That’s commendable, but I do hope you’ll get some rest soon. Mrs. Hoyle expects all maids up bright and early, as I’m aware, and she won’t take staying up late to be helpful as an excuse.” Sophia shuddered. “Why aspic? Mrs. Mallows knows I don’t care for it.”
“The Dowager Countess has a taste for aspic. Mrs. Mallows thought she would appreciate an extra course.”
“Very thoughtful of her, but as unnecessary as the elixir. Since she went to the trouble though, I might as well give it a try. Thank you, Jane. You can run along to bed. Don’t let us keep you.”
Jane smiled sweetly. “Thank ye, my lady. Lord Averford. Good night.”
Sophia took a hesitant sip. “Oh, it tastes terrible.”
“That’s why you should drink it all in one gulp. Mrs. Mallows knows her elixirs. Bottoms up,” Gabriel encouraged.
Sophia wrinkled her nose. Easy to say when he didn’t have to drink it. But she did as instructed, tipping the cup back and swallowing the vile mix in one gulp. She shuddered. “Ugh, it burns.”
“Burns?” He took the cup and sniffed it. “Ah, I do believe she’s brewed a potent cup. I detect a whiff of whiskey, among other things. Drink the water. It will help wash it down.”
“Whiskey? Oh my. Well, I guess we now have some idea how Mrs. Mallows cures all ills. More power to her.” She drank the water, every last drop. “It does ease the burn a bit.”
“Feeling any better?”
She rubbed her temples. “I suppose I do. My head feels clearer.”
“To bed then?” He offered her his hand.
She looked up at him. “I’ll let you walk me
up.”
He nodded. “Understood. Come along.”
She got to her feet and felt her knees give way under her. “I seem to be a bit wobbly.”
“Wobbly?” He caught her before she went down. “Indeed. Wobbly. So it seems.”
“Am I—could I be a little drunk, Gabriel?” Visions of swirly patterns danced before her eyes. She grabbed on to him for dear life, or at least to keep her balance.
“I guess you could be. The whiskey on top of wine for dinner, and what all else she put in there. Though, it has come over you quickly.”
“What all else?” Her clear head suddenly became invaded by a wave of fog. Pea-soup fog. She could see, but she couldn’t easily form a rational thought. She tried to take a step and ended up collapsing against her husband. And laughing! She started laughing and she couldn’t stop. “I can’t seem to walk.”
“I’m sorry? Darling, you’re not speaking clearly.”
In her mind, she was. “I said take me to bed, my golden god of a husband.”
“I heard that well enough.” He lifted her in his arms. “You’re drunk, all right. Hang on. You don’t weigh all that much, but enough that I’m not sure I can make it up the stairs. Arms around my neck.”
“Yes, my lord.” She followed his instructions as far as she could tell. She might have actually grabbed on to his lapel instead of getting her hands around his neck. “Anything you say.”
“Anything? I’ll have to ask Mrs. Mallows to brew more of this elixir if it makes you so agreeable.”
A prick of anger burned through her haze. “Are you saying I’m not agreeable? I’m always agreeable.”
In answer, he only laughed. “Perhaps it’s for the best that you try not to talk. You’re only speaking nonsense.”
She fumed silently in his arms, jostling with every step as he climbed the stairs. Seconds later—or was it minutes?—she felt her anger fade into the fog, replaced by another equally hot sensation. Lust. She burned for him. Every nerve, every fiber. “Gabriel.”
The Great Estate Page 14