Silence settled around them. Gabriella held her breath. Slowly, like the sun rising over the horizon, Huntley’s eyes filled with deep curiosity and the sort of admiration that Gabriella had never before been subjected to from anyone. He stared at her a moment before quietly saying, “It must be the weather.”
A sigh of relief swept through her. “Yes, it must be.” She gave Warwick and Fielding a pointed look. “Don’t you agree?”
They reluctantly nodded, though their guards clearly remained in place, secured like impenetrable walls of steel. They didn’t trust Huntley in the least; that much was clear. And they didn’t like the fact that he’d come here from out of nowhere, without the pedigree to commend him for the position.
A sudden dislike rose through her throat, tingeing her tongue with a bitter taste. It made her want to leave this place and the people it contained with uncanny speed. And yet, as much as she disliked it, it was the life to which she’d been born, the life to which she was beholden. To simply turn her back on it now when her parents depended on her . . .
A bell sounded, signaling that it was time to go in to the dining room. Fielding offered her his arm once more, and she dutifully accepted. But as she did so, her gaze landed on one of the windows, and on the reflection captured within. It was of a blonde-haired woman, her eyes filled with resigned sorrow, affording her the look of a sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter.
“I have to say that I found your behavior this evening baffling, Gabriella,” her father told her later during their drive home. Shadowed against the opposite side of the carriage, her parents’ expressions were impossible to read, but Gabriella had heard the tightening of her father’s voice, a reminder of his trained control. Her mother’s silence, on the other hand, was like a living, breathing thing that filled the space between them, to the point of suffocation.
“My behavior?” Gabriella dared, her hands curling into the diaphanous silk of her skirts.
Not once, in all her years, had she ever questioned her parents’ behavior or argued against them. It wasn’t done. Was it? Children were taught to respect their elders. Her father’s word had always been law, and her mother’s advice had been meant to be followed.
Gabriella stared at them now—at the faceless silhouettes that bobbed in time to the carriage’s movement. Occasionally, the glow from a streetlight would steel through the window, brightening the tips of their noses for one flickering second.
“That is what we are discussing,” Warwick grumbled.
Nails digging against the sides of her thighs and her heart drumming wildly against her chest, Gabriella shoved aside the temptation to smooth things over with platitudes and chose honesty instead. “You were unforgivably rude to Huntley,” she murmured.
Her mother gasped, but said nothing further. Warwick, however, leaned forward with the slow precision of a predator. His face emerged from the darkness, shrouded by dull shades of gray that no doubt softened the furious glint in his eyes. “He may have a title, Gabriella, but he is not one of us.”
“He is common,” Gabriella’s mother pointed out, as if she sensed that Gabriella needed reminding.
“And he speaks as though he’s struggling to pronounce the words,” Warwick added, “not to mention his lack of education. For heaven’s sake, Gabriella, the man has had no proper schooling. He admitted as much himself. And he is a peer! A man we’re meant to consider our equal! Forgive me, but I don’t believe I have ever heard of anything more absurd!”
Fearing that her parents might become suspicious of her concern, Gabriella chose to retreat, saying simply, “It was no reason for you to be cruel.” As much as she’d always loved her parents, she had seen a side of them in recent days that she intensely disliked. It was a certain sense of superiority that she’d never really noticed before, perhaps because there had never been occasion for them to show it so clearly. But it was out in full force now with Huntley’s arrival, and Gabriella found herself, for the first time ever, questioning her station in life.
“Cruel?” Her father laughed. “I did the man a favor by informing him that he is never going to be welcome among our set. If he’s wise, he’ll stop wasting his time trying.”
Oh blast. She could not let that statement go without comment. “Like it or not, Papa, he is the Duke of Huntley. I really think you ought to resign yourself to the fact.”
“The most unsuitable duke I’ve ever seen. And his sisters!” Gabriella’s mother shuddered. “I’ll trust you to remember that we have forbidden you from socializing with any of them in any capacity.”
“The last thing we need is for Fielding to withdraw his interest on account of any poor judgment on your part,” Warwick said.
“Oh heavens,” Lady Warwick exclaimed with her hand on her chest, “you must not squander the opportunity you have of becoming Lady Fielding.”
A prospect that hadn’t really concerned Gabriella one way or the other, until recently. Now, after witnessing how unfeeling he could be, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right choice for her, no matter the stakes at play. Marriage was, after all, quite permanent.
“Would you still love me if I didn’t want to marry him?”
She’d spoken without thinking, and found herself completely surprised by the thought she’d just voiced, and quite unsure of where it had come from.
A lengthy moment of silence passed, as though her parents were having some difficulty processing her words themselves. Eventually, her mother chuckled. “What a silly idea,” she said with a smiling voice. “Of course we would.”
“You don’t seem to approve of Victoria’s choice, and she chose love above everything else,” Gabriella said with a strange sense of envy that she’d never felt before.
“Your sister broke a brilliant engagement in order to marry a tradesman,” Warwick clipped with unconcealed vehemence. “That doesn’t mean we don’t love her anymore, it just means that we would be forced to move in different circles if she were still in England, which, as you know, she is not.”
“But all of that is beside the point, is it not?” Gabriella’s mother asked as she placed a calming hand on her husband’s arm. “After all, Fielding will eventually propose, and when he does, Gabriella will accept. That’s all there is to it. She will not make her sister’s mistake.”
“But will I be happy?” Gabriella asked, choosing to ignore her mother’s note of warning.
“Of course you will,” Warwick insisted. “Fielding will make an excellent husband. You will want for nothing.”
“What about love?”
Heavens, it was as though a lifetime of unanswered questions were spilling out of her. Questions she’d never dared think about, let alone ask. Her future had been pre-ordained since the day she’d been born. Or at least, that was how it had always felt. Because although her parents had always placed their highest hopes on Victoria, they’d still expected Gabriella to make them proud. To consider straying from that path had seemed increasingly impossible as her mother had helped her prepare for her debut, desperate to turn her strange and awkward daughter into a diamond of the first water.
But there had been no need to worry. Gabriella’s dowry had drawn great attention and Fielding had claimed the first dance. Her parents had been giddy with joy. Gabriella hadn’t really cared one way or the other. She was simply fulfilling her purpose, indifferent to her choices since none of the gentlemen she’d met that evening had made much of an impression on her. Apart from differing looks, they were all quite similar. So then, why shouldn’t she have aimed for the best in the end, as her mother had advised? It would have been silly of her not to.
But then a dark-haired man so unlike the rest—a man whose masculinity oozed from every fiber of his virile body—had moved in next door, upsetting every thought she’d ever had, on pretty much every topic.
“Love will come,” her mother said smoothly.
“Will it?”
“Yes,” her parents spoke in unison, just as the
carriage pulled to a jostling halt outside their home.
“It did for us,” Warwick added, as if that assurance would ease away Gabriella’s concerns.
“Really?” She couldn’t help but ask. She also couldn’t help but wonder if their idea of love was equal to hers, for she could not recall ever witnessing any signs of affection between them.
“Of course,” her mother said, bringing the conversation to a close.
Alighting, Gabriella followed her parents inside, where she bid them both good night before retiring to her bedchamber. Sleep would not come quickly this evening, she realized.
There was far too much for her to think about.
By the time she descended to breakfast the following day, Gabriella found only her aunt waiting for her. Apparently, her mother had decided to go shopping with one of her friends, while her father had chosen to visit one of his investments. Breathing a sigh of relief, Gabriella pulled out a chair and sank into it. She reached for the teapot and poured.
“How was dinner last night?” Aunt Caroline asked from across the table.
Looking up, Gabriella saw the inquisitive glow in her eyes. “Worse than expected,” she said as she set the teapot aside and pulled a slice of toast onto her plate. “Papa made it very clear to Huntley that he doesn’t belong in our midst.”
Aunt Caroline’s lips curved just enough to convey her lack of surprise. “But you disagree?”
Sipping her tea, Gabriella schooled her features before saying, “I disagree with the way in which Papa treated him. It was horribly impolite.”
“I wonder if anyone else considered it so, besides you and Huntley.”
Buttering her toast, Gabriella eyed her aunt. “Nobody said anything.” With a shake of her head, she dropped her gaze to her plate before setting her knife aside and picking up the toast. She bit into it with a decided crunch. “You know how it is. It only takes one person to deem someone unworthy. The rest will follow like sheep.” She knew, from personal experience. “And unfortunately, in this case, Huntley’s expensive clothes were not enough to distract them from his unsophisticated speech and mannerisms.”
A lengthy pause followed while Gabriella ate the rest of her toast. Eventually, her aunt said, “I know you don’t understand or agree with your father’s reasoning, but you ought to know that he is a man of strong principles, and that he has never dealt well with change.”
“That does not excuse his arrogance.” Allowing her finger to trace the delicate edge of her saucer, Gabriella said, “You should have seen him. He was so angry at me for questioning him. And Mama was no better. She still insists that I must have nothing to do with Huntley, or his sisters.” The thought of them discovering her disobedience prompted her to reach for her teacup once more. She took a fortifying sip.
Aunt Caroline sighed. “They are both very protective of you, Gabriella. All they want is what’s best—especially after your sister’s hasty marriage to a man of inferior social standing.”
“He is a wealthy businessman, and Victoria loves him! Shouldn’t they be happy for her, rather than fretting over the fact that he’s not an aristocrat?”
“I’d say it’s a bit more complicated than that, Gabriella. Even I find her broken engagement to Bellmore hard to accept, and I’m a lot more open-minded than my brother.” A smile crept across her lips. “Look at it this way. If your father were to take you to Tattersall to purchase a horse, don’t you think he would buy the most expensive champion available?”
“Of course he would,” Gabriella murmured, her fingers tapping impatiently on the table.
“Because he wants what is best for you, even if that may differ from what you believe to be best for yourself. You see, it’s not just the scandal that needs fixing.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, I think your father feels as though he failed Victoria. He blames himself for what happened, and he’s determined to do better by you, Gabriella.”
“What if I don’t want Papa’s version of what’s better?” The words were out before she could think.
A gentle frown puckered her aunt’s brow. “I never cared much for Fielding myself, but you have always seemed pleased by his attentions. Are you saying that this has changed?”
“I don’t know.” Biting her lip, Gabriella tried to untangle her emotions so she could figure out what she was feeling, but it was proving difficult. “I don’t approve of the way in which Fielding treated Huntley last night. It makes me think that he’s not a nice person.” But was that enough reason for her to push Fielding away? Perhaps not, but then again, it wasn’t just about that, was it? It was also about the way Huntley made her feel—interesting and attractive—unfamiliar sensations that sparked a hope for something more. Something . . .
“You want love!”
Jolting, her hand almost knocked over her teacup. “No. Don’t be absurd.”
“You just went all dreamy-eyed, Gabriella.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Really?” Her aunt gave her a dubious stare.
“I have no expectations of marrying for love, Aunt. I never have. But harmony would be nice. And frankly, Fielding and I have nothing to talk about, besides the mundane.”
Leaning forward slightly, Aunt Caroline pushed her plate aside so she could rest her elbows on the table. “Love is a wonderful thing, Gabriella. If you think you have a chance at it, then I would advise you to take it.”
“I am not in love!” She shook her head, regretting having said anything at all.
“Marriages within the aristocracy are much like business arrangements. Mine certainly was, and as a result, I gave up on love in favor of marrying for duty. I ended up living with a man with whom I hardly spent any time at all. We were partners in a deal our parents had struck, but our hearts were never in it. He loved another, and so did I. The most painful thing of all was watching those whom we cared for end up just as we had—married to the wrong people.”
“I’m so sorry,” Gabriella whispered. “I never knew.” And what a different story from the one her parents had told her last night when they’d adamantly insisted that she would eventually find love with Fielding.
“You had no reason to, until now.” Staring firmly at her, Aunt Caroline said, “The point is, marriage cannot be undone, so you must be absolutely certain that you say your vows to the right person.”
“What if that person doesn’t exist? What if Fielding would be best for me, and I ruin my chance with him on account of some misguided uncertainty?” The fear that she would make a mistake that could not be fixed—the sort of mistake her sister had made—weighed heavily upon her shoulders.
“Perhaps if we go over all of your options, we’ll arrive at the right one,” Aunt Caroline suggested. “What are your thoughts on Lord Rothgate?”
“I suppose he’s pleasant enough, but Fielding is handsomer, I think.”
“How about Lord Barkley, then?”
Gabriella frowned. “Too shy for my taste, and not nearly as well liked as Fielding.”
Several more bachelors were mentioned, including a couple of well-known scoundrels. The mention of their names made Gabriella laugh. “Papa would have an apoplectic fit if I married either of them. He would never approve, and frankly, neither would I.”
“Hmm . . .” Aunt Caroline gave her a shrewd look. “Shall we consider Huntley, instead?”
The mention of the duke’s name brought an unbidden flash of heat to Gabriella’s cheeks. She glanced away, unable to meet her aunt’s gaze. “No. Papa would never give us his blessing.”
“But what if he did? Would you seriously consider him then?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Gabriella said, her voice much higher than she’d intended. “I barely know the man. It—it would never work.”
Aunt Caroline seemed to consider that for a moment before shrugging slightly and saying, “You’re probably right. For such a match to happen, you would have to go against your parents’ wishes and the exp
ectations that everyone has for your future.” She nodded pensively. “Yes, you would be a duchess, but would you still maintain your social standing? Probably not, considering the ton’s response to Huntley. And since you’re not the rebellious sort, Fielding does seem like the safest choice for you.”
Pressing her lips together, Gabriella stared back at her aunt. “Stop trying to influence me.”
Aunt Caroline leaned back with a snort. “Forgive me if that is how you see it. My only intention is to give you a fresh perspective so you can determine your own wants—something that must be difficult to do after constantly having to listen to everyone else’s.” Pushing away from the table, she stood up. “Now, I do believe I shall go for a walk. Will you join me?”
“No, thank you,” Gabriella murmured. Her mind was filled with so many conflicting thoughts and emotions, it seemed impossible to think straight. “I think I’m going to see if there are any ladybirds about.”
Leaving the dining room a short while later, Gabriella headed out into the garden. The weather was cooler today, prompting her to wrap her arms about herself as she descended the stone steps leading down to a paved path on the right side of the terrace. A small gathering of birds took flight the moment they heard her approach, their cacophonous calls accompanying her as she went.
Reaching the rose beds, Gabriella admired the fresh little buds. Another week or so and they would start to open, permeating the air with their thick aroma and luring bees and butterflies to them. A sigh escaped her. If Fielding proposed as expected, she would probably be planning her wedding once these roses were in full bloom.
If she accepted.
A loud grunt drew her attention. Tilting her head, she stilled to listen, her breath coming sharply when she heard it again. A succession of other exclamations had her staring at the wall that separated her garden from the courtyard that sat between her house and Huntley’s. There was a large wooden door in it that was meant to provide the gardener with easy access—a door she’d never really considered before since she’d had no use for it. It loomed before her now, drawing her closer with each resounding utterance rising from the opposite side.
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