She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him.
“Don’t forget you promised me the supper dance.”
She sighed and nodded. “I will not.” Unless of course, Eleanor locked her away so as to keep any more kisses from happening.
They cleared the doorway before Eleanor turned and whispered in her ear. “What did you think you were doing in there? What if it had been a guest who happened upon you? Do you not understand the repercussions?”
Gabby pulled up. “Eleanor, I thought you of all people would understand. I know you love Lord Kirtley. I see the way you look at each other. Have you never kissed him in the same way I kissed Lord Brinton?”
Her face pinked. “My kissing Lord Kirtley is not what we are discussing.” Lady Kirtley stared hard at Gabby. “You do love him, then?”
Gabby nodded.
“I knew it.” She sounded superior. Air pushed from her lungs. “No more kissing until banns have been posted, do you understand?”
As much as she regretted the notion, Gabby nodded. “The kissing balls will be burned tonight, will they not?”
Eleanor sighed. “Fortunately, yes. Now if we can keep you out from under them until then, perhaps your reputation will stay intact,” Eleanor grumbled.
Chapter 18
Gabby did not know a dance could be so thrilling, so wistful, so…wonderful. At least, not until Aaron had led her out onto the floor.
She had danced every set before the supper dance. Her partners, for the most part, were adequate dancers and amiable partners.
Aaron had been absent for the first several sets. But once he’d come into the ballroom, she had watched him from beneath her lashes as he danced with other ladies. She tried to school her features but did not feel very successful at the task, scowling at many young ladies as they twirled about in his arms.
He smiled and made conversation, but she was pleased to note that his dimple never made an appearance—not until he looked down the line and caught her eye.
And then he stood before her, bowed low. “Miss Babineaux, I believe I claimed this dance.”
She’d nodded, unable to hide her happiness. “Yes, I believe you did.” She had wondered if he would come to regret their kiss once he’d had a chance to think on it. But if he had, would he be this eager to dance with her?
He placed her hand on his arm and led her out to the dance floor. The music played, and he bowed to her as she curtsied. They clasped hands, and it felt nothing like the other partners she had danced with. He brought her toward him and then backed away. She thrilled at the warmth of her hand in his. But then he dropped it and she moved onto the next gentleman in line. A disappointment, to be sure.
It felt like forever before she stood in front of Aaron again. He grinned down at her. “I was wondering, Miss Babineaux, if you would be so kind as to meet me in the library before you retire for the evening. I have something I should like to discuss with you.” His voice was low, so as not to carry to the ears of those around them.
Gabby nodded, her pounding heart drowning out the orchestra. “But will you not have to see your guests off after the ball?”
“I had rather hoped you would wait for me.”
Oh, she would wait until the sun came up if he asked it of her. Her mind spun with the possibilities, but only one felt the most obvious. Eleanor had said she expected him to offer for Gabby. Did she dare hope that was his intention tonight?
He moved away from her, bowing to the lady now in front of him, but his eyes flicked to hers.
She nodded her head, and his body relaxed. If one was not paying attention, they likely would not have noticed the change. But Gabby did. She noticed everything about him.
The supper dance ended just before midnight. Aaron joined his mother and Rebekah at the fireplace. They each held a branch of greenery in their hands, ceremoniously tossing it into the fire. Gabby looked around. At some point during the evening, the servants had silently removed all the greenery, ensuring bad luck would not haunt Ivydale and her residents for the duration of the new year. She looked up. Regretfully, they had removed all the kissing balls as well.
Aaron offered his arm to Lady Kirtley and led the procession into the great hall for supper.
Mr. Radley held his arm out to Gabby. “Miss Babineaux.” He was not an abhorrent gentleman and would surely be a fine dining partner, just as he had been as a dance partner.
She smiled up at him, but he was no Aaron.
She looked just over Mr. Radley’s shoulder, her gaze following Aaron and Eleanor out of the room.
The meal was delicious, or so Gabby heard from those around her. She did not eat much, instead pushing her food around her plate. Her stomach twisted in knots as her mind tried to settle on exactly what it was Aaron wished to speak to her about.
“Do you not agree, Miss Babineaux?”
Gabby paused, staring at her plate. Did she not agree with what?
“I assert if this weather persists, it may keep many people at their country estates, perhaps even starting the Season later than normal.”
Gabby shrugged her shoulders before she remembered she was not to do so in social settings. “I am afraid I have no opinion. This is my first Season; I have no previous experience to draw upon.” She forked a potato. Perhaps if she put food in her mouth, it would keep others from engaging her in conversation.
She glanced down the table, expecting to see Lady Kirtley’s raised brow.
But she was not expecting to see Aaron’s. One corner of his mouth twitched up.
Gabby blushed. Who else at this table watched him? It seemed obvious to her that he was flirting from afar, but was that just her impression, or did others see it too? Eleanor would surely ring a peal over her head if she took note.
He bit into his roll and licked the butter off his lips.
Gabby tried to pull her eyes away, but they refused to obey her bidding. She knew those lips—knew what they were capable of.
A footman leaned forward and removed her plate, breaking her gaze with Aaron. She blinked several times, feeling eyes on her. The temptation to discover if it was Aaron again was strong, but she didn’t know if she could stop herself from staring at him a second time. Sitting here at the table, she felt very exposed, as if everyone surrounding her could read her every thought and emotion.
Gabby kept her head down as much as possible, smiling and nodding frequently, her focus almost entirely on keeping herself from glancing down to Aaron’s side of the table over and over again.
Supper finally ended, and Gabby excused herself. Her face was flushed, and her mind was a flurry of what if’s, making it nearly impossible for her to maintain a decent conversation. She needed to find a quiet place and gather herself before Aaron’s guests thought her completely daft.
She pushed into the retiring room, nearly collapsing on the settee.
“Good evening, Gabby. Are you having an enjoyable time?” Rebekah poured water into a bowl. Dipping the corner of a serviette into the basin, Rebekah dabbed at her face.
“Yes. It is a lovely ball. I only wish the weather was better so I could get some air.”
Rebekah nodded, opening her fan as if to emphasize the point. “It is rather stifling in there.” She waited by the door. “Are you coming?”
Gabby shook her head. “I’ll be along soon. I need a moment of quiet.”
Rebekah fanned herself one more time and flicked it shut. She held the fan out to Gabby. “This may provide the air you need.”
Gabby waved the offer away. “I will be well but thank you for the offer.”
The door had barely closed behind Rebekah when a servant poked her head in the door. “Miss Babineaux? A note came for you, miss.”
Gabby’s brow creased. “For me? But from who?” Had Peter discovered she was here? Perhaps he was writing to say he and Caroline would join them here at Ivydale. Although, that seemed unlikely, given they were all to be leaving for London in the next few days.
The maid shrugged. “
The footman didn’t tell me, miss.”
Gabby took the folded paper and turned it over in her hands. No wax sealed the folds, only a series of tucks kept the paper in place.
Gabby unfolded the paper, her curiosity heightened.
The tight scrawl was unfamiliar and gave her no hint as to the sender. Gabby’s eyes immediately went to the signature at the bottom. Mrs. Perkins? Why would Mrs. Perkins be sending her a letter?
Gabby started at the top, squinting as she tried to make out the cramped words.
Dear Mademoiselle,
I apologize for any trouble this may cause you, but I need your help. I fear the babe is coming soon, possibly even tonight, and because of my husband’s shortsightedness, I now have no blankets to wrap it in. While I know my husband treated you poorly, I pray you will take pity on us and allow us to have the one you offered as a gift. My husband has gone away on business and will not be back til morning. I had hoped to get the blanket this evening and perhaps the herbs you spoke of? I’ll send someone to fetch it so as not to inconvenience you any more than I already have. Meet them outside the south door at two.
Yours,
Mrs. Nathan Perkins
Gabby stared at the letter, turning it over in her hand to look at the back as if it would provide some much-needed information. She would give the woman the blanket. That was not a question. But why did she need it tonight? And at such a ridiculous hour? It was normal for parties and balls to run well into the early morning hours, but it wasn’t exactly normal to be sending notes to neighbors after midnight. What was more, who would she be sending for the blanket if her husband was away? Not that Gabby had any desire to meet with Mr. Perkins himself.
She looked down at the letter again. There were many misspelled words, and the sentence structure was not precise in all cases. But that was to be expected, was it not? That the woman knew how to write at all impressed Gabby.
She bounced the paper on her opposite hand several times. The entire thing was odd. Something did not feel right, but she could not say exactly what it was. Was it just the timing? Or was there something else?
Gabby sucked her bottom lip into her teeth. She had never given birth, so how was she to know what went through a woman’s mind as she neared that time? And a blanket seemed a necessity, especially in weather such as this. If the babe came tonight, could it freeze before morning if they had nothing to wrap it in?
Maybe that was what bothered her. They did not have a single blanket? Or did they not have one suitable for a newborn babe?
She had offered the woman a blanket and some herbs. Perhaps now that her husband was away, she was having second thoughts about rejecting the gift. Gabby dashed her hands upon the cushion at her side. Why was she over analyzing this? A woman had asked for her help. Something that required very little effort on Gabby’s part, and here she sat trying to determine the reasons for it.
She pushed herself off the couch and made her way to her room to fetch the blanket and the small satchel of herbs. It was nearly nearing two o’clock, and she did not wish to keep whoever was coming for the package waiting.
Gabby returned downstairs, stopping in the darkened corridor by the south doors. Music drifted faintly from the ballroom on the other side of the house. She leaned her head against the wall. Would Aaron ask for another dance before the night was over?
She looked out into the darkness. Stars sparkled in the sky, as did the moon lighting the night more than she had seen in weeks. The skies were clear of clouds.
Gabby shivered.
It would be a cold night. She was grateful not to be the one coming for this blanket.
The clock in the nearby drawing room chimed two. She stood and looked out the window into the darkness. No one was there, yet. She turned to sit back down when a shadow from the moonlight moved by the tall bush at the side of the door.
Gabby leaned forward, peering into the darkness. Was that who she was to meet? Why did they not come to the door?
She looked down the corridor. Perhaps they were afraid to be seen this close to the house. She pushed open the doors, immediately chilled to the bone, and stepped outside. Moving toward the bush, she peered around it. “Hello? Is someone there? I have the blanket for Mrs. Perkins.”
Snow crunched behind her and Gabby turned, just as rough fabric dropped over her head, casting her in darkness and scratching her cheek and neck. The package dropped from her hands.
Gabby let out a scream, but the burlap covering her head filled her mouth as something closed over her lips, tightening until she could not fully close her mouth. Dust and dirt shook from the fibers, coating her tongue and teeth. She gagged. What was happening?
A vise-like grip tightened around her body and pulled her a short distance. Roughly yanking her gloves from her arms, a rope wrapped tightly around her wrists, binding them behind her. Warmth seeped through the bag with every breath the person took, but it was not in the least comforting.
Her feet left the ground, and her captor threw her over his shoulder. The sounds of the ball faded while the thump and crunch of his footsteps grew louder.
Gabby shivered. Fear and cold battled for prominence, her brain unable to focus on only one of them. Her teeth chattered, and she whimpered. She pushed at the burlap with her tongue, trying to get it out of her mouth, but the bag stayed firmly in place. She tried to speak, to cry out, but no discernable words sounded.
He—she was certain it was Mr. Perkins because of the thumping when he walked—grunted and dropped her onto a cold, wooden floor. It seemed Mr. Perkins was not away from home as the note had indicated.
She moved to sit up, but someone pushed her back down, smacking her face hard into the rough planks beneath her.
“Ye sure about this, Perkins? She didn’t look like a spy when I saw her on St. Stephen’s Day. I’m worried the major will not be happy about this.”
Gabby did not recognize the voice, but whomever it was clearly knew she was the one hidden under the burlap.
“Do not use my name.” Perkins growled. “They never look like a spy. That is why she is so dangerous.” Mr. Perkins grunted. “The major won’t be angry once he’s thought about it. I should have thought he would have learned his lesson the last time we encountered Mireille.”
They believed her a spy?
She let out a sob and rolled to her side, pulling her legs up to her chest as tightly as she could—both to help her stay warm and out of a sense of preservation.
The floor rocked back and forth before settling into a steady pace. She sucked in a stuttering breath. She was not in a room, but a wagon.
It was taking her from Ivydale. But to where?
There was little sound, save the thundering of her pulse in her ears.
Gabby pulled her legs up tighter. How long would it take Aaron or Eleanor to discover her absence? Would they wait until the ball was over? She shivered, her huddled form no match for the frigid temperatures. She closed her eyes and prayed. If ever there was a time she needed God, it was now.
They had not gone far when the wagon stopped. Someone grabbed Gabby by the ankle and yanked her from the wagon.
She kicked and thrashed, hoping to inflict injury on the men. But without her sight, she did not know if her kicks had landed. Fingernails dug sharply into the soft flesh under her arms; she cried out. All the fight fled, leaving only fear in its place.
The men jerked her upright, placing her feet on the ground. A shove at her back sent her feet stumbling forward, but strong hands gripped her arm tightly, keeping her from sprawling on the ground.
It reminded her of London and the Frost Fair when she had run headlong into Aaron. He had gripped her arms to keep her from falling as well. But there was no gentleness this time. How had she thought him such a brute back then? Even when he disliked her, he’d still been gentle when touching her.
She mumbled, trying to plead with Mr. Perkins or whoever else was with him.
“Keep quiet. We know who you are, Mir
eille, and we know what you are trying to do.” A voice hissed in her ear.
Mireille? Why had he called her that name? He knew what her name was. Gabby had heard him use it before, hadn’t she?
They gripped her by the arms tighter, practically dragging her along. Her thin slippers did little to protect her freezing toes from every puddle and bump until her feet scraped against wood.
The smell of hay filled her nostrils. It was warmer in here, but not by much. A hand on her back—so very different from the hand that had guided her around the ballroom earlier—shoved her hard, sending her tumbling to the floor. She braced herself for impact with the hard, wooden floor, but a soft pile of hay caught her instead.
It would have been almost enjoyable, if not for the burning sensation running up her arms and the tingling in her hands. The rope dug deep into her flesh, rubbing away the soft skin.
“You can wait here until dawn, mademoiselle.”
What was to happen at dawn? That could not be far off. What if Aaron had not even discovered her missing by then? She mumbled into the burlap and squirmed. Tears of frustration seeped from her eyes.
It was bad enough she was tied up and blindfolded, but to not even be able to talk was almost more than she could bear. How was she to get her answers if she could not even ask the questions?
A deep laugh rumbled and echoed in her ears. “Dawn seems the best time to execute a spy.”
Fear gurgled up in Gabby’s throat. She bit down on the back of her cheek to keep a fit of hysterics at bay. The metallic taste of blood mixed with dirt filled her mouth. She closed her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chest, and huddled down in the hay. How had she gone from hoping for a second dance with Aaron, to hoping she would live through the night? Maybe if she was lucky, when she opened her eyes, she would discover it had all just been a bad dream.
She took a calming, albeit dusty, breath. Had not Rebekah said Henry had taken all their weapons? What did they mean to execute her with if they had no weapons? Perhaps this charade was meant only to scare her, but not do her any harm. Gabby swallowed, holding on to that thought with all the energy she had left.
Thawing the Viscount's Heart: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 3) Page 16