Her eyes widened with indignation. “My wants and needs are none of your concern,” she told him hotly.
Ah, but they could be.
“Very well,” he acquiesced. “No dancin’ then.” Stepping around the desk, he crossed to the door, his shoulder lightly brushing hers as he did so. The effect was immediate; heat rushed through his torso and limbs, accelerating his heart and tightening his stomach until he felt his chest contract and his breath hitch.
With a deliberate cough, he concealed the unbidden reaction, reached for the door handle and turned to face her, his hands going instantly clammy the moment he did so. For there she stood, bewilderment shimmering in the depths of her pale blue eyes—eyes he sensed might swallow him up if he stared at them too long. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips slightly parted as if on a gasp, and he knew then that the spark he’d just felt had been felt by her too.
“Thank ye-ou for comin’ and for offerin’ to help,” he said as he opened the door, suddenly desperate for her to leave so he could get his body under control. He had no business panting after her like a dog. No business at all. “Richardson will show you out.”
With a nod, she stepped toward the door. “Thank you for the tea.”
“Ye’re welcome,” he said.
And then she was gone, allowing Raphe to finally sink back into his chair and wonder about what the hell had just happened. He really didn’t have time for emotional nonsense, or physical attraction, or anything else that might have him chasing after a woman who was not only destined to marry another, but who most assuredly would never agree to marry him. Not that he would consider marriage. Which he wouldn’t. Not under any circumstance. It was utterly and irrevocably out of the question. Which meant that he must learn to restrain himself when in Lady Gabriella’s presence.
“Your Grace?”
Startled by Richardson’s voice, Raphe looked up to find the man standing in the doorway with a grave expression. “Yes?” he inquired.
“If I may offer my opinion, I’d take Lady Gabriella’s warning to heart, Your Grace.”
Raphe straightened himself with a noncommittal grunt while his secretary quietly returned to the chair he’d been occupying earlier. “It’s the same warning as yers, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Richardson agreed. He crossed his legs before saying, “But perhaps you’ll be more inclined to listen to her than to me.”
“An’ miss out on the opportunity to impress me peers?”
Richardson groaned and, from the looks of it, appeared to be trying very hard not to roll his eyes.
Raphe frowned. “Ye don’t think I’m capable,” he remarked with the same degree of flatness he felt.
“I did not say that, Your Grace.”
“Ye didn’t ‘ave to!”
“Have to, Your Grace. Have to.” Richardson sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly beneath the weight of what Raphe assumed to be reluctant resignation. “I would be remiss in my duties toward you and your sisters if I were to let you attend such an event before you are ready.”
“Then I suggest that we do what we can to ensure me readiness, Richardson, because I’m goin’ to that dinner.” Especially if Fielding was hoping to make a laughingstock of him. “I’ll prove meself capable. Mark me word!” Richardson didn’t look the least bit convinced, but Raphe could see no other way around it. “To send me regrets would just signify their victory and my defeat. An’ just so ye know, I like to win.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” When Raphe didn’t respond, Richardson blew out a deep breath and eventually nodded. “Well, in that case, I suggest we get started. There’s a lot for us to accomplish within the next few days, so I’ll summon Humphreys and Pierson right away.” He didn’t need to say that they would need all the help they could get. That thought was heavily implied.
Chapter 8
Flipping through a recently purchased book about centipedes, Gabriella waited for her mother and her aunt to leave the house the following morning.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Her mother asked, eyeing Gabriella’s book with a twitch of her nose.
“No, Mama. Poetry readings have never interested me very much.”
“More the pity,” her mother murmured.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Aunt Caroline said, “it doesn’t interest us either. We’re only going because it was your idea to host the event, Portia.”
“With good reason, Caro,” Gabriella’s mother shot back. “It’s an excellent way for me to raise money for the hospital.”
And since nobody wanted to argue the importance of a charitable event, Gabriella simply wished her mother and aunt a good day, listening carefully for the sound of the front door closing behind them.
Expelling a deep breath, she took another sip of her tea and glanced at the clock that stood on top of a large cabinet. The hands ticked merrily along, bringing her closer to her next encounter with her neighbors. A touch of excitement slithered through her belly. How thrilling this would be—what a challenge! She’d come up with several ideas on how to proceed since her interview with Huntley the previous day. None of which would include the man himself.
Which was how it should be—how it had to be. After all, she could not allow him to continue doing whatever it was he’d been doing to her yesterday. The way she’d responded to him had felt . . . strange and unfamiliar . . . indecent and . . .
Stop it!
Tearing her mind away from the duke, she forced herself to focus on his sisters as she went in search of Anna. They were the ones she’d be helping, not Huntley. She’d even managed to find the etiquette book she’d been given for her twelfth birthday: A Lady’s Guide to Proper Comportment and Social Skill. That ought to help.
“We will go through the garden today,” Gabriella told her maid, deciding to take advantage of the fact that Warwick House backed up to Green Park, with a wrought-iron gate offering easy access to the footpath. If any of her servants went looking for her, they would simply assume that she’d gone for a stroll.
“Yes, my lady,” Anna dutifully replied as they set out together.
Turning toward her, Gabriella said, “Anna, you have every right to refuse coming with me, you know. Especially since there is a good chance that my parents will find a way to punish you if they ever discover that you agreed to join me—that you did not do everything in your power to prevent me from visiting this house. All I can do is promise you that I will tell them you tried to change my mind and that, failing to do so, decided to remain at my side for the sake of propriety.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I would never think of abandoning you.” They made their way along a footpath. “In fact, I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing for those girls.”
Touched by her kindness, Gabriella offered Anna her thanks and hurried onward, entering the Huntley garden through a narrow opening in the fence—a remnant from years gone by when Gabriella and her sister had played with Shirring and Lord John as children. Crossing the springy grass of the lawn, they approached the stairs leading up to the terrace and knocked on the glass door there.
“The duke’s sisters are expecting you,” Pierson said in the same dry tone that Simmons employed as he admitted them. “This way, if you please.”
Arriving in a brightly lit sunroom with large potted plants in each corner, Gabriella smiled at the sight of the two young women who jumped to their feet with boisterous enthusiasm the moment they saw her. “My lady,” one of them burst out in jubilation, “you’ve come!” She hurried forward and instantly enfolded Gabriella in a tight embrace. “Thank ye.” Stepping back, eyes shimmering slightly with emotion, she said again, “Thank ye ever so much!”
“It’s my pleasure,” Gabriella said, unable to resist a wide smile in response to such forthright elation. She was also pleased to see a bit more color in their cheeks. “You needn’t be so formal though. Gabriella will suffice.”
“Then ye must call us Amelia an’ Juliette,” Amelia said, gest
uring first to herself and then toward the petite brunette who stood behind her. The girl responded with a timid smile, immediately underscoring the difference between the two sisters. Both had chestnut-colored hair, though Amelia’s was slightly curly with a hint of copper, while Juliette’s was straight and slightly darker.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to see you both again,” Gabriella said. She glanced around. “I take it your brother will not be joining us?”
“Probably not. Said ‘e’d be takin’ lessons with ‘is valet an’ secretary,” Amelia said.
Gabriella breathed a sigh of relief, reassured by the knowledge that her nerves would not be subjected to the duke’s dashing looks and charming smiles today. “Well then, let’s get started, shall we?” She waited for Amelia and Juliette to sit so she could observe the way in which they moved. Both appeared to lack any semblance of grace as they strode across the floor, plopping down on chairs as though their feet had just been swept out from underneath them.
Gabriella exchanged an uneasy look with Anna, who responded with a teasing grin. “Good luck,” she whispered. “I think I’ll retreat to that corner over there.”
Envying her maid’s lack of inclination to participate, Gabriella turned toward her hostesses and quietly said, “We have a great deal of ground to cover before either one of you will be ready to venture out in public. You will have to speak precisely, without cutting your words in half, and you will have to move about gracefully. Additionally, we shall have to discuss a few subjects of importance, so that your conversational skills can be improved.” Setting her reticule aside on a small table, she offered them the book she’d brought. “I think this will be a useful reference guide.”
“Ye brought us a book?” Amelia asked, accepting the gift and turning it back and forth as she studied the gold-embossed leather cover.
A thought struck Gabriella and she suddenly asked, “You do read?” She hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might not until this moment.
But then the girls smiled, appeasing any concern she might have on that score. “Yes,” Juliette said. “Raphe taught us.”
“Raphe?”
“Our brother,” Amelia explained. “The duke?”
Gabriella felt her heart skitter a little.
Raphe.
What a perfectly suitable . . .
She gave herself a mental kick. “Lesson number one: you must always refer to a peer by his or her title when in polite society. Whenever you speak of your brother in the future, you should say ‘Huntley,’ or ‘the duke.’”
The sisters stared at her in dismay.
Gabriella sighed. “Perhaps I ought to begin by teaching you how to walk properly. She faced them with both hands at her sides. “Watch me carefully as I move toward that sofa over there. My back is straight with my head held high. As I walk, I step slowly, as though I have all the time in the world. A lady never rushes, you see, and now that I am here, I lower myself as though I am gradually sinking into a warm bath. Fluid movements, that is the key.”
Their eyes widened. “You look so weightless,” Amelia said. “Like a butterfly flittin’ about the room on a stream of air.”
Gabriella chuckled. “Thank you, but as easy as it may look, I can assure you that such grace took many hours of practice for me to perfect.” Endless hours, in fact, and with her mother constantly correcting her every move. “So I don’t want either of you to be discouraged by the length of time it might take for you to learn such skill.” She nodded toward Amelia. “Now you try. Go to the bellpull and ring for a maid to bring us refreshments—lemonade will do.”
Pressing her lips together, Amelia rose from her seat with exaggerated slowness, her body occasionally jerking from the strained effort. Once she was upright, she walked stiffly toward the bellpull. Her pace was decent enough, but her chin was too high and rather than give the velvet rope a gentle tug, she pulled on it as though she were ringing a church bell. “How did I do?” she asked Gabriella with inquisitive hopefulness.
“Err—” Unwilling to crush her spirits, Gabriella said, “That was a good start, but there is still a great deal of room for improvement.” She looked toward Juliette. “Let me see you try.”
As it turned out, Juliette was much more capable of elegant movement than her sister. Her diffidence, it seemed, served her well in that regard. But whenever she spoke, it was with a mumble that was virtually impossible to understand, her gaze never quite meeting Gabriella’s. A maid arrived to take their order of lemonade before departing once more with quick efficiency.
“Tell me more about your schooling,” Gabriella said once Juliette had resumed her seat. Knowing exactly what the girls had learned over the years would be useful since it would help form a picture of their level of education.
Amelia stared back at Gabriella for a moment, then eventually said, “We lived quite far from the nearest school, so we learned what we could at ‘ome. Our brother taught us our letters, ye know. He always insisted we educate ourselves as much as possible so we’d ‘ave a better chance at a proper future.”
Realizing she must be gaping at her, Gabriella sank back against the sofa, unsure of what to make of this puzzling bit of information. There was also something curious about the two sisters’ account. At no point did either of them mention the people with whom they’d allegedly lived. They only spoke of their brother and the influence he’d had on their education.
Recalling the duke’s own muddled version of his childhood and the vague mention of some distant relation somewhere close to the Scottish boarder, Gabriella decided that there was a good chance that the Duke of Huntley and his sisters were not at all what they seemed.
The maid returned, setting down a tray containing a glass decanter and three glasses before departing once more.
Deciding not to quiz the two women anymore, since they were beginning to look ill at ease, she got to her feet and asked them to do the same. “Let’s practice your walk again. We can take a turn of the room together and then I will show you how to pour a drink.”
For the next two hours, Gabriella applied herself to teaching Amelia and Juliette how to comport themselves as young ladies ought. She corrected their English whenever they spoke incorrectly, while they proved themselves to be better students than expected, both making conscious efforts to heed her advice, no matter how trying it must have been for them at times.
“You know, I’m quite impressed by your progress today,” she told them later as they took a small reprieve for luncheon, which consisted of sandwiches brought into the sunroom for the sake of expediency. It was the truth. What these two women had accomplished today during their first lesson was quite impressive, to say the least. Gabriella was confident that as long as they kept it up, they would be sure to turn a few heads once they made their debut in another couple of weeks or so.
“We have you to thank, Gabriella,” Juliette said as she bit into a sandwich. The effort left a blob of butter attached to the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, she stuck out her tongue with the intention of licking it away, but then she saw Gabriella’s frown, considered her options, and reached for her napkin instead.
Gabriella gave her a nod of approval and an encouraging smile. Finishing her own food, she studied each of the sisters in turn. They were both quite pretty, she noted, and they were looking a little healthier than when she’d seen them last, although Juliette appeared more fragile than her sister. Thankfully, their maids had been of some use with regard to their attire, for both had acquired flattering gowns cut in the most fashionable styles. “When you meet Queen Charlotte for the first time, you will be required to execute impeccable curtsies,” Gabriella told them.
“Do you really think we’ll be invited to the royal drawing room?” Juliette quietly asked.
“Without question,” Gabriella said. Seeing the troubled look in her eyes, she added, “Not to worry, though. I’m going to make sure that you’re ready once the invitation arrives. And when you do go there, I
shall come with you.”
“Really?” Amelia sounded both happy and relieved.
“Well of course!” Gabriella frowned. “Your brother didn’t mention it?”
“He told us not to expect anything beyond a little advice,” Juliette said.
Gabriella understood Huntley’s reasoning immediately. “He didn’t want you to get your hopes up in case I changed my mind.” His consideration toward his sisters was touching—a vulnerable side of himself that he otherwise hid beneath honed muscles and a serious expression.
“He’s very protective of us,” Juliette said. She bit her lip as her expression grew distant. “Too protective, at times.”
Chuckling as though to alleviate her sister’s maudlin mood, Amelia got to her feet with a start, almost overturning her glass of lemonade in the process. “Gabriella doesn’t want to hear about that, Julie. Come, let’s show her our curtsies instead.”
And so they did, while Gabriella corrected their postures and movement of limbs. The idea that Huntley had a compelling reason to shelter his sisters, and that it might stretch beyond the obvious one regarding the ton, had lodged itself securely in her mind, however. She wondered about it, increasingly distracted by the many possibilities. She had no business being curious, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. For reasons unknown, she wanted to know more about Huntley and his sisters.
They were not like any aristocrats she’d met before, and her parents would probably lock her away in the attic for daring to speak with them, let alone spend the entire morning in their company. But they were interesting, and . . . enjoyable. A breath of fresh air in an otherwise stale environment.
She was just pondering the notion that one should never judge a person before getting to know them when the nape of her neck suddenly buzzed with acute awareness. Turning with a start, she saw Huntley leaning against the doorway with arms crossed, eyes dark as night, and with a coy smile trailing along his lips. “Am I intruding?”
A Most Unlikely Duke Page 8