The little girl reached forward. “Babby.”
Gabby kissed her fingers and placed them to the little girl’s forehead. “If you are quiet for ze service, I will sing you a song before you rest.” She flicked her eyes up to Nurse Jones for approval. The woman smiled and nodded. Unlike Miss Carter, Nurse Jones did not seem bothered by Gabby’s presence in the nursery. Perhaps it was because she had never had dreams of having her own house, as Miss Carter did.
Lord Brinton settled in next to Gabby.
Her stomach fluttered, and her brow furrowed, all thoughts of Sophia fleeing her brain. Why could she not control herself better? Perhaps it was because he no longer seemed to glower at her every time he looked at her.
Lady Brinton stiffened beside her and the already cold church chilled a little more.
Suddenly the lady stood and lifted a hand. “Oh, I just saw Mrs. Davenport. I’ve been needing to speak to her. I shall be right back.” She shimmied her way past Gabby and Lord Brinton’s legs.
Lord Brinton’s brows rose, even as his jaw tightened.
Lord and Lady Kirtley had yet to sit down, standing near the aisle speaking in low tones to a man Gabby did not know. They all leaned back slightly, giving Lady Brinton room to exit the bench.
Gabby’s lip curved at the corners as she recognized the look of disapproval on Lady Kirtley’s face.
Lord Brinton shrugged. “Perhaps we should scoot down. Lady Brinton will have to take the seat on the end, next to my mother.” Gabby moved to the end of the bench by the wall. Now that she was seated—and Lord Brinton was not touching her—she could really look at the windows and the architecture of the building. She did not have the passion for design that her father did, but she could still appreciate a flying buttress. She smiled at the thought of her papa. He would surely have mentioned the changes he would have made had he designed this little church.
She took in a deep breath, allowing the smell and the feeling of this place to settle over her. This place felt like home—or at least like the church she used to attend in Lyon. It was the first time in a long while that she had felt as if she belonged.
“Pardon me, but I must get back to my seat.” Lady Brinton whisper-talked to Lord and Lady Kirtley. Without waiting for a reply, she shimmied her way into the bench. Lady Kirtley’s eyes went wide as the lady’s backside passed in front of their faces.
Gabby’s face heated in mortification. Surely the lady had better manners than this? The intake of breath from the dowager viscountess indicated she had thought the Lady better bred.
Lady Brinton wiggled her way onto the bench nearly sitting on Lord Brinton and Lord Kirtley’s laps. “Perhaps it is best if I just sit here, rather than moving all the way in.” She smiled down at Lord Kirtley but saved her biggest smile for Lord Brinton. “Can you believe I was not even able to speak with Mrs. Davenport?” Her head shook in disbelief.
Lord Kirtley scooted, making room for Lady Brinton. Once settled in his new location, he leaned forward, looking past Lady Brinton, and stared at his friend with slightly raised brows. His mouth twisted to one side and he nodded ever so slightly before sitting back.
Gabby knew that look. It was the one that indicated he did not know whether to laugh or be irritated. While Gabby did not look for confirmation, she could feel the whole of the church staring at Lord and Lady Brinton.
Lord Brinton must have felt it too because his thumb repeatedly bounced up and down on his thigh as his jaw worked furiously. Gabby even thought she heard him growl when his mother and Lord and Lady Kirtley shuffled down to make room next to Aaron.
Lady Brinton smiled her thanks to Lord Kirtley then turned and patted Lord Brinton’s arm. She scooted closer to him, a feat Gabby did not think possible.
Gabby did not miss the subtle shift of Lady Brinton’s leg as it hugged up close to his, nor did she miss Lord Brinton’s stiff posture.
The service started and so did Lord Brinton’s measured breathing. He clasped his hand tightly in his lap, his gloves pulled taut over his knuckles.
Lady Brinton seemed oblivious to his discomfiture. She sat with her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, smiling up at the vicar as he preached the Christmas sermon.
By the time the last amen was uttered, it was Gabby’s leg that was touching Lord Brinton’s as he endlessly shifted away from Lady Brinton. At one point she had half-expected him to move to her lap. She would have been angry or maybe excited—she wasn’t sure which—at his forwardness, but she knew he was trying to disentangle himself from Lady Brinton. It meant nothing, even though she found herself delightfully warm—the center of that warmth radiating from her thigh.
When the vicar turned from the congregation, Aaron shot to his feet, his gaze roving the crowd, as if looking for the fastest means of escape.
Gabby felt sorry for the man. She didn’t know much about Lady Brinton—only that she’d been married to Lord Brinton’s brother and was now a young widow—but that information did not explain her very odd behavior.
The dowager cast a dark look down the bench at Lady Brinton and then up to her son before she stood and moved into the aisle.
The Kirtley’s followed close behind her.
Lady Brinton stood and moved out of the bench, waiting in the aisle.
Lord Brinton sighed deeply before offering Gabby a hand up. She took it and stood behind him, waiting for him to move out with the rest of their party. But he stayed, blocking her from leaving.
“Excuse me, my lord. Are you waiting for somezing?” She bent slightly to look under their bench.
He shook his head. “No. We can go.” He moved toward the aisle but stopped. “I must apologize. You must think me very untoward. I did not maintain a proper distance during the service. It is just…” His voice trailed off, and he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“I understand, my lord. You need not apologize.” She glanced toward the end of the bench to Lady Brinton, the only member of their party still waiting there. The others had moved down the aisle, smiling and nodding to people they passed. “It is she who owes you an apology.”
He gave her a half-smile, and she took it for what it was—a thank you of sorts.
They moved the rest of the way to the aisle.
Lady Brinton looked expectantly at his arm. His face was a stony mask as he held out his arm to Lady Brinton and she smiled triumphantly until he offered his other arm to Gabby. Then the lady’s smile dropped away.
They walked out into the cold, and Gabby found she welcomed the bite. At least it was a diversion from the frostiness vibrating off Lord Brinton. Relieved that for once, his stony glare was not directed at her, Gabby glanced over at Lady Brinton. Her stomach clenched and burned. She knew what Lady Brinton must be feeling.
Several flakes fell from the sky and Gabby squinted, the wind burning her eyes. She dropped Lord Brinton’s arm, wrapping her pelisse tighter around her body. They did not have far to walk, but in this cold, it felt like miles. She quickened her steps, not sure why the rest of them seemed content to take a more leisurely pace. Did they not feel the biting cold?
As the house grew larger, she hurried faster, lifting her skirts and running the last several rods to the front steps. When the front door opened, she welcomed the burning that stung her cheeks and grudgingly handed her pelisse off to the footman. Bounding up the stairs in a most unladylike fashion, Gabby grinned. Lady Kirtley and the rest of the party had not yet made it back from the church. Gabby could slide down the banister for all they would know. But she did not, contenting herself with the race up the stairs.
Aline would have the fire stoked and Gabby could scarcely wait to settle into a chair to read or stitch. She did not care what she did, as long as she could be alone. She planned to sit for the rest of the afternoon, or at least until her feet thawed out.
She threw open her bedchamber door, and the heat hit her like a wall. Gabby sighed, letting the warmth envelope her like a blanket. “Ah, mademoiselle. Est-ce que la messe
vous a plu?”
“English, Aline. You will never master it if you do not practice. Besides, it helps me to learn it as well.”
“Oui—yes, miss.” Aline moved toward the dressing screen. “Why could you not have moved to Bavaria or Hanover? I am more proficient in the Germanic languages.” She huffed. “Even Italian would have been better.”
Gabby snickered. “But think of the opportunities, Aline.” She sighed. “Perhaps when I have children, I will make you a governess instead of my maid. Then you could teach my children all the languages you know.”
There was a spark in Aline’s eyes. “Are you in earnest, miss?”
Gabby grinned. “Only if you get better at your English. My children will be English, first and foremost.” That thought brought a pang of homesickness to her chest. “It is likely their father will speak only English. So will the children. How will you teach them these other languages if you do not know their primary language?”
Aline nodded. “I will try harder, miss.”
Gabby settled into the chair. “I know you will, Aline. I have complete faith in you.”
Gabby thought she saw a hint of wetness in her maid’s eyes.
“And yes, I enjoyed the service.” She frowned. Had she even heard the service? Now that she thought on it, she could not recall a single thing the vicar had said. What she did remember was the feel of Lord Brinton’s leg against hers and his hand as it sat on her waist. Her face heated. Such things a lady should not dwell on. He had only placed his hand there to keep her from falling.
Gabby leaned back in the chair, dropping her head and closing her eyes. She must stop thinking as if they were courting. They were not even friends. There had been a moment or two while they were decorating the staircase when it had felt like they could be. But those were isolated events where talking had felt necessary.
Aline helped Gabby change from her thick woolen dress into a lighter weight gown, more suitable for time indoors. As Aline fastened the last button, a knock sounded. Gabby’s breath hitched. Could it be Lord Brinton?
It was not Lord Brinton—what a silly notion for her to think—but rather Lady Kirtley who stepped through the door. Gabby sighed. Her time alone was not to be—at least not until Lady Kirtley said what she came to say.
Chapter 8
Gabby poked her head out into the corridor and when no one was within view, she slipped out of her room.
After Lady Kirtley’s short visit to check on her well-being, she’d done well staying in her rooms since returning from church. Neither Lord nor Lady Brinton had seemed amiable when the sermon had concluded and Gabby had not been interested in discovering if their moods had improved. But she had finished her books—many times over since arriving in England—and she wished for something else to do.
She made her way to the nursery. She had promised Sophia a song, and it was about time for her to rest for the afternoon. She pushed inside. The schoolroom appeared empty at first glance. But then she spied the corner with the settee and the bookshelves. Katie and Winston sat with Miss Carter, each with a book in their lap. So intent were they on their stories, not one of them lifted their eyes at her entrance.
Gabby moved quietly to the nursery door and twisted the handle. Nurse Jones sat in the rocking chair, mending in her lap. Sophia lay asleep on the bed.
Gabby sighed. She had missed her chance.
Nurse Jones looked up. “I’m sorry, miss. She was just too tired to wait.”
Gabby nodded. “I understand.” But she didn’t. Not really. Why did no one come and fetch her? She would have abandoned her reading for Sophia. “I will check back in a while. Perhaps I can play a game with her once she awakens.”
Nurse Jones just nodded and returned to her mending.
Gabby trudged through the school room, disappointed when Winston and Katie still did not acknowledge her presence. Miss Carter, however, looked up and scowled. Why must she be the only one to notice her presence?
Gabby stopped and turned back. “Winston, would you and Katie please go to your rooms for a moment? I need a word with Miss Carter.”
Winston nodded, but Katie looked wide eyed at Miss Carter and then at Gabby. She nodded and they both disappeared into their rooms, closing the doors behind them.
“You have no right to dismiss my students.” Miss Carter pushed herself to standing, her hands clenched at her side.
“And you have no right to scowl at me as you do. What have I done to earn your ire?” Gabby folded her arms across her chest, mostly to hide the shake in her hands. But if it added a sense of confidence, she would accept the help.
The lady scoffed. “As if you do not know.”
Gabby stared, perplexed. How was she to know what the governess was thinking? “I have some ideas, but I do not know for certain.”
“You come here with your accent and your large dowry, dangling them in front of our eligible gentlemen. While English ladies, those without such substantial means, are forced to seek employment. What gentleman would desire the likes of me—with no dowry—when they could have you and your money.” She spat out the last words.
“I have no money of my own. Besides, what would you have me do? Spurn all gentlemen and lead them in your direction? Zis was not my doing. And if you zink my accent has been anyzing but a source of contempt for all who hear it, you are mistaken.”
“I am to pity you, then? I am afraid you will be disappointed.” The governess leaned and straightened the books on the bench.
“There is nothing to be done, then? Nothing I can do to change your opinion of me?”
The governess looked blankly at her. “Nothing comes to mind.”
Gabby nodded. “Very well.” Why had she thought to even try? She seemed destined to be disliked wherever she went. This did not bode well for the upcoming Season. She slipped out of the nursery room door.
Perhaps she could return to her rooms and work on a stitchery. Her shoulders slumped. A person could only stitch for so long before their eyes crossed and the colors ran together.
Gabby stopped in the middle of the corridor. What was she to do? None of her books held any appeal and her stitchery even less.
She twitched her lips to the side in thought. Had not Aline told her this house had a very grand library? The servants seemed to think it so. Maybe she could find something new to read?
Gabby padded down the stairs to the first floor. Aline had asked the servants below stairs where the library was, and she had passed the directions on to Gabby.
She had been leery to seek it out earlier—afraid she may encounter Lord Brinton. Was the library considered a private room? She had not considered them on friendly enough terms to venture down. But now, she may just be desperate enough to risk it.
Besides, Lord Brinton had told Lord Kirtley he was welcome to use it. Did that invitation not include her also? Her lips puckered. Probably not in the mind of Lord Brinton. But he had not expressly forbidden her from using it, either.
She turned down the corridor and counted the doors until she reached the one Aline had identified.
She placed her hand on the knob but pulled back without opening the door. What if this was not the right room? What if it was Lord Brinton’s study or another private room?
She lifted her hand and knocked. Turning her head, she placed her ear close to the door but heard nothing. Gathering her courage, she twisted the knob and slowly pushed the door open. Peeking her head inside, relief flooded her. Not only was it the library, but it was empty.
Slipping inside, she turned in a circle, amazed at the vastness of it. The servants had not overstated its grandness.
Her father had possessed many books, but his three small bookcases were nothing compared to this two-story room with shelves lining every wall on both floors. Gabby moved to the center and looked at the upper floor. A door in nearly the same location as the one she had entered stood on the next level. Was it possible she could enter this room without the risk of seeing anyone on the
stairs?
She spotted the narrow circular staircase in the far corner of the room. Lifting her skirts, Gabby hurried over and scurried up to the next floor. She went straight to the door to test it. Knowing her luck, it was locked, and she would just have to stare at it as it mocked her.
But when the knob twisted in her grip, she let out a little squeak of delight. Peering down the corridor, she found her bearings so she might use the upstairs door the next time she visited. Once she was sure she knew which door it was from the other side, she closed it and turned her attention to the shelves. There were shelves upon shelves of books. It was a pity they were all in English. She would love to read a book in her native language, though Lady Kirtley would likely frown upon her doing so. She insisted Gabby would never learn English better if she continued to read the French books—her father’s books—she’d brought with her.
She pulled a few books off the nearest shelf and thumbed through them. Nothing caught her eye. Surely, in a library this vast, she could find something of interest.
The door beneath her clicked open and Gabby froze in place. Who was down there?
“Gabrielle? Are you in here?” Lady Kirtley’s voice carried up from the lower level.
For a moment Gabby froze. If she did not answer, would the lady leave her alone? Gabby shook her head. No, she was looking for her. Lady Kirtley would keep at it until she discovered Gabby’s whereabouts.
“I’m up here, Lady Kirtley.”
The lady sighed. She was obviously frustrated if Gabby could hear it on the next level.
“Would you mind coming down? I would like to speak with you.”
Gabby sagged and re-shelved the book she still held in her hand. Her mind flashed over everything that had happened in the last few days. Was there something she had done wrong? She could not think of anything—at least nothing Lady Kirtley had seen—but the irritation in the lady’s voice indicated Gabby had done something.
Thawing the Viscount's Heart: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 3) Page 6