He watched her shift uneasily in her chair, then take a deep breath before she began. “Since you have given only a token nod to the fact that someone is out to kill you, perhaps you will listen--"
“We’ve been over this ground before. While there have been some suspicious doings, nothing concrete has developed. The idea seems to be an obsession of yours that is unfounded.” He shook his head, trying to control his anger, fueled by her perseverance. She was like a frisky filly with the bit between her teeth.
“It is obvious to even the various coxcomb, Gab. First," one slender finger popped up for emphasis, “someone shot at you in the woods. Then," a second finger joined the first, "there was that incident at Cleeve Hill with Ajax. And now," she said in a voice that had dropped to a whisper, “I must tell you Cecil tried--"
“There you two love birds are," Deborah hailed them from across the room, heading their way. “The card tables are being set up, and you are both needed to even out the numbers."
“Damn," Gabriel swore under his breath. When Emily giggled, he slewed his eyes to meet hers and saw she shared his frustration. Ever since their engagement was announced, he'd been unable to get Emily alone for barely more than five minutes. He was beginning to wonder if there was conspiracy afoot to keep them apart.
###
Gabriel, thinking he'd be the first one down for breakfast, was surprised by the number of guests already seated at the dining room table. It seemed a number of the others also had it in mind to take advantage of the warm, sunny weather with a vigorous morning ride. He'd no sooner taken his seat when Emily appeared, looking as fresh and lively as a wild flower in a periwinkle blue riding habit. However, she seemed to wilt when Cecil entered behind her.
Apart for some bruising under one eye and a slightly swollen nose, Gabriel thought Cecil looked little worse for wear. While Emily ate a muffin and drank hot chocolate, Gabriel watched her covertly study Cecil. She was careful not to encounter his cousin's brooding eyes, jarring Gabriel into recalling how anxious she'd seemed to tell him something last night just as Deborah interrupted them. Something about Cecil. Perhaps it would be wise for him to have a talk with his beloved this morning, Gabriel mused, and smiled to himself as he anticipated just where such a meeting might lead.
Soon after, the riders set off trotting across meadows, then cantering along the winding country lanes. Once again, Gabriel found no chance to have a tête-à-tête with his fiancée. A bruising rider and familiar with the terrain, Emily led the group almost as often as he, not that he minded. In fact, Gabriel gave her the lead so he could appreciate her seat on Marabell. He eyed her straight back, tiny waist, the gentle flair of her slender hips, and the intriguing curve of her derriere. Emily radiated vivacity. Her violet eyes sparkled as she tilted her face up to the sun, heedless of acquiring more freckles. He found her joy for life contagious. It made him feel alive and whole.
Once back at the Park, Gabriel, determined to have a moment alone with his wood sprite, singled Emily out as the group walked toward the house. But before he could get Emily's attention, Sylvia hooked her arm through his.
“La, Lindemann, what fun can we ladies expect if all the gentlemen go harrying off to a cockfight tomorrow?" She raised china blue eyes to his and batted her lashes.
“How would you suggest the dilemma be resolved, Sylvia?" Gabriel tried not to sound irritated. He'd lost sight of Emily when she had fallen back behind the group.
“There is always some place, even in the provincial backwaters where a lady can purchase a descent hat. Anything to ward off boredom," she finished with a pretty pout.
“Winchcombe might answer your needs if you're not too fine in your requirements, expecting a Bond Street modiste."
“No, no, I would be quite satisfied with only a few flippery gewgaws."
Promising to handle the details, Gabriel succeeded in ridding himself of the cloying blonde in the great hallway with the excuse that his bailiff awaited him. He laid in wait at the bottom of the staircase to catch Emily as she headed for her room. But she was not among the others.
Frustrated, he wracked his brain over where she could be and set out for the library, the morning parlors, then finally retraced his steps to the stables. There he found her in one of the stalls with Marabell, currying the chestnut mare.
Coming up behind her, Gabriel circled an arm about her waist and took the comb out of her hand. “I keep a full staff of grooms for this."
Emily whirled around. “But I enjoy brushing Marabell. I do it all the time at the Grange."
Bare inches separated them. Gabriel could see every adorable freckle bridging her nose, the smoothness of her complexion, the color still heightened from the wind whipping her cheeks. Her soft curls were in disarray, springing loose from the bun at the nape of her neck. Breathing in her scent, he was anesthetized to the world around him and became lost in her violet eyes and his need to possess this desirable young woman.
His arms encircled her, and he slowly, deliberately drew her to him. His head bent to hers for a kiss. . . .
“Anything you want me to do for you, milord?" Gresham's voice boomed from the stable door behind Gabriel.
Dropping his arms, Gabriel stepped back from a bemused Emily. “No, you've quite done it all, thank you," he spat out in a barely civil tone.
“What's that, milord?"
“Never mind, Gresham." Gabriel inhaled deeply, took Emily by the elbow, and led her out of the stall, tossing the currycomb to the head groom. “It's time you and I had that talk, Emily."
“Yes," she answered softly.
The sad note in her voice did not escaped Gabriel, and he wondered what could make her so sad. Guiding her out of the barn, he turned toward the gardens where they were afforded some degree of privacy while still in full view of the house. Decorum, he grudgingly admitted to himself, must be observed for Emily's sake. He led her to a stone bench under a rose arbor and watched her fidget with the ribbons of the silly torque hat with its dashing white feather.
“You were trying to tell me something last night when Deborah interrupted us," he finally prompted.
Her eyes suddenly cut over to meet his. “You will not appreciate what I must tell you."
“No doubt you're right," he agreed with a smile.
She lowered her eyes before giving a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “My lord, I know who is trying to kill you."
“Hold on, Em--"
“No." She grabbed his arm and fixed her eyes on him. “You must listen to me, Gab. Yesterday at Hailes Abbey, I didn't step on my gown or trip over any stones. I was pushed."
Cold fear stabbed Gabriel in the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden, it was painfully clear to him what she was saying, and he dreaded it. Still, he had to ask, had to play out this nightmare. “Pushed? Who could have pushed you? The only other person up there was Cecil."
“Exactly."
She said it so quietly Gabriel wasn't sure he'd heard her. But he had. As she held his gaze, Gabriel tried to control his surging anger when all he wanted was to find his villainous cousin and ram the knave through with a saber.
Gabriel fought to control his temper while mentally berating himself for not foreseeing such a turn of events. Cecil's motive was obvious. Gabriel's marriage to Emily meant the end of his cousin's chances to inherit. By Jove, that blackguard would rue the day he harmed one hair on his wood sprite's head.
Thing was, Emily was in even greater danger now that she knew of Cecil's treachery. Gabriel had to persuade Emily she was wrong before she did something foolish, like confront Cecil herself.
“That's absurd, Emily. You must have imagined it. Cecil's my cousin, and while he is hardly a paragon of virtue, I won't allow you to say such wicked things about him."
“Cannot you see why he did it, Gab? He wants--"
“Enough, Emily," he growled. "Not another word on the subject. Is that clear?"
Her color was high and her eyes spewed sparks of anger. She rose with her
arms rigid at her sides, fists clenched, and stomped her booted foot, glowering at him. “Are you calling me a liar, milord?"
*** Chapter 10 ***
Gabriel, momentarily stunned by the vehemence of Emily's attack, realized he'd made a serious tactical error. “I never said you lied," he said, softening his tone and rising to stand next to her. “I believe you believe that's what happened. But things aren't always as they appear. As in the heat of a battle when confronted with death, our emotions become confused, and we don't see things as clearly.”
“I felt Cecil’s hand on my back,” Emily replied indignantly.
“I’m sure you did. But he would have been trying to save you. And to make such accusations publicly without proof is foolhardy."
“What do you take me for, some dim-whit?" she asked, not at all mollified. "I would never accuse someone of trying to murder you if I were not sure--"
“I won't tolerate such talk," he cut her off ruthlessly. “You will say nothing about this to anyone, and you will put it from your mind. Do you understand?"
They stood toe to toe, each glaring at the other. He could read her face, see in her eyes, she wasn't about to budge without further argument. Thus when he heard Deborah's voice hailing them, he counted it a godsend, buying him some time to deal with his cousin.
“There you two are. Luncheon is almost ready, and Lady Spivey is looking for you, Emily." If Deborah suspected he and Emily were arguing, she didn't let on.
Gabriel took one of Emily's balled fists and molded his arm about her rigid limb. “Shall we proceed?" he asked, tugging her gently past Deborah.
When she tried to pull free, Gabriel held fast and wondered what Deborah thought of Emily's stiff and jerky movements. To cover for any awkwardness and Emily's silence, he kept up an inane flow of cherry chatter about the gardens and the weather while his spirits sank lower and lower. Gabriel realized nothing had been accomplished with his decree except to antagonize his beloved. Now, he knew, she would react as if he had thrown down a gauntlet, and she would readily take up the challenge to prove him wrong.
###
“A word, dear Deborah," Cecil drawled in his sister's ear, coming out of the dining room after lunch.
He took her arm and propelled her down the hall to the library. Once closing the door, he turned on her, one corner of his mouth pulled down in a sneer. “You over played your hand the other night, I fear. I’ve heard Chesterfield observe how Fordyce fairly cringes if you come within ten feet. You’ve fences to mend. "
“Damn Freddy’s eyes!" She flounced over to a burgundy brocade wing chair and plopped down in it.
“Tut, tut, such language."
“You are beastly, Cecil. For all his worth, Freddy is as fat as a sow and not nearly as good looking as Chesterfield."
“Hmm, but so much more manageable, my dear. The baron redefines the word moron."
“So? I am the one who will have to put up with the mor-- er...." Cecil burst out laughing at this slip of the tongue, and she turned a scornful eye on him. "Leave off, brother dear."
His dark eyes narrowed and he became serious again. "Your late night fiasco failed because of our sister-in-law-to-be's interference. So direct your venom elsewhere, not at me, my dear. Besides, time runs short, and unless you snag the baron soon, you can whistle Fordyce's estate and ten thousand pounds a year down the pike."
“There is the cock fight in Cheltenham tomorrow. Anything could happen in a crowd."
“True, but our cousin is more cautious of late, and I suspect him of keeping a pistol or some other weapon on his person. At any rate, I've instructed Anslow to lay low for a while. The gallows at Tyburn can play havoc with one's cravat."
“So what am I to do?"
“Behave yourself and be patient. The right moment will come. Make sure you’re ready.”
###
“Got a moment, Em?" Tom called out as Emily raced down the terrace steps.
From her bedroom window, Emily had earlier spotted Gabriel out in the garden, strolling the gavel paths, apparently deep in thought. After a brief battle with herself, she grabbed a straw hat and dashed from her room. She'd hoped for a few minutes alone with him in order to break the engagement. Their argument that morning had left her not only angry but hurt and confused.
How could he think her so unhinged as to fabricate a story about Cecil trying to kill her. Just thinking about it fired her blood anew. But now, Gabriel was no where in sight.
Fatalistically, Emily shrugged her shoulders and turned toward Tom.
“We haven't had much chance to talk," he said.
They ambled among a row of roses, all in bloom, their sweet fragrances wafting toward them on a light breeze.
“What do you want to talk about?" she asked cautiously. It wasn’t often that Tom singled her out. And when he did, it usually involved a lecture about something she’d done.
“Nothing of real importance," Tom answered with a nervous laugh. "You know, just a brother-sister coze." Something was bothering him. All the signs were there, his narrowed eyebrows, the ramrod straight back, the scuffing of his prized Hessian boots on the walkway.
Emily drew up short when a bee flew across her path, then eyed her brother with a knowing look. “We have never cozed, Tom, only fought. It is plain as pikestaff that something is on your mind. So cut line and open your budget?"
“Shouldn't use cant, Em," he admonished her ruefully. Clasping his hands behind his back, he kept his eyes straight ahead. "I've been wondering what brought you here, Em?"
“Gabriel asked me."
“That's it?" His tone implied he didn't believe her.
“What brought you?" she countered.
He sheepishly faced her with a ruddy blush coloring his face and neck. "Miss Burke-White."
Emily halted in her tracks. “Prudence?"
“I met her at Lady Jersey's soiree toward the end of the Season, and we became friends."
“But she is so quiet," was all Emily could think to say.
“She ain't a hoyden like you if that's your meaning," he shot back with heat. “Come to that, I thought it dashed queer that a Corinthian like Lindemann made you an offer."
“Well, he didn't exactly."
“What do you mean?"
“Oh, you know, it just sort of happened." Emily kept her eyes fastened on a small folly in the distance.
“Spare the blushes, Em, and tell me what happened?"
From his tone, Emily figured she was in for it. “Oh pooh, what does it matter?"
“It matters, Em." He threw her a suspicious look. “By Jupiter, if Lindemann compromised you... I'll bloody well call him out."
“No, Tom, he did no such thing. If anything, it was I who compromised him."
Tom stared at her for several seconds, his mouth agape. Then he slammed the flat of his palm against his forehead. “Damn, Em, you got to be daft, though I should have guessed. It didn't add up that Lindemann, who could have his pick of the Marriage Mart, settled for you."
Crossing her arms under her bosom, she glowered at him. “What do you know about anything?"
“I know you, and you're no diamond of the first water."
Her arms dropped to her side, and she stomped her foot. “Oh, you...you horrid beast!"
“Now don't go off on me, Em." He held up two hands as if that would ward off her anger. “You said yourself, this whole thing ain't on the up and up."
Emily's shoulders slumped as her eyes pleaded with him. “What am I going to do, Tom?"
“Keep close as an oyster for one, Em. Can't let this cat out of the bag."
“But he does not want to be leg-shackled to me."
“Can't say as I can blame the man."
His words wounded her, but though he was her brother, she was too proud to let him see her cry. Instead, she ground her heel in the dirt as she pivoted to retrace her steps.
“Look, Em." Tom reached out a hand to stay her. “If this leaks out, it's bound to hurt my chances wi
th the Burke-Whites, and they're starchier than my shirt points. The thing's done and the Viscount's a regular gentleman. He won't go back on his word. The best thing is for you to accept it." He put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her to his side. “Besides, Em, you'll never get a better offer."
“Ohhh, you can go to the devil, Thomas Pendleton." She pushed against his chest and whirled out of his arm. Kicking her flounces up with her heels, she strode angrily back to the house.
Tom was two steps behind her. “Blast it, Em. Don't go and cry off. Lindemann's in the Four-in-Hand Club. He can put me up for membership," he called after her.
Emily ignored his plea and sped up, and he soon lost interest in the chase before she even reached the terrace. If she were like all the other debutantes, she'd do as Tom said and count herself lucky that she'd nabbed a Viscount. The only hitch was she loved her Viscount to distraction, a love that wasn't returned. She feared making a fool of herself once he knew the truth, for there was no way she could hide her feelings forever. Her best bet, she decided, was to confront her betrothed and break the engagement. At this time of day, Gabriel would more than likely be in his study. So, she rounded the salon door, heading out into the hall, and literally ran into Deborah.
“There you are," the lovely brunette laughed nervously while trying to peer around Emily into the salon. “Who is in there?"
“No one."
“Oh. Well, I came to tell you Lady Spivey and the others are in the library."
“Thank you," Emily replied. But Deborah continued to stand in front of Emily as though she were waiting for something. Emily gave her a vague, wondering smile.
Deborah took the hint. “Since the gentlemen go to Cheltenham tomorrow, plans are being made for the ladies to make a day of it in Winchombe. We are waiting for your input."
“My input?” Emily asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Oh pooh!" Emily said disgustedly. She knew a whisker when she heard one. Fact was, Aunt Esmeralda breathed a sigh of relief every time she entered a room and found her goddaughter wasn't there.
The Hopeless Hoyden Page 14