by Em Taylor
Gabriel lifted his hand and sighed. “Father, if you want me to affect a fashionable ennui to show you just how well I can imitate your eldest progeny then I can.” He had added a whiny nasal quality to his voice.
“Bloody hell that is astounding,” cried out Godfrey, his own fashionable ennui disappearing like melting snow from a chimney pot. “I could almost have believed Cedric was in the room just now.”
The Duke had raised an eyebrow. “Yes, it is rather impressive. A little too impressive. Almost as if you do it regularly to amuse others.”
Gabriel gave his father his most innocent expression which he suspected was not at all innocent. “I have no idea what you mean, Your Grace.”
“I am sure you do not. Get him upstairs and into one of Cedric’s coats and waistcoats then off to the tailor’s before I change my mind and call this damned ball off.”
“Aye, Father,” said Godfrey, his voice sounding rather excitable now. Gabriel sighed and rose to his feet. It seemed his half-brother was now looking forward to the outing to the tailor. “Tally ho, Gabriel… I mean Cedric. Let’s get you suited and booted.”
“I cannot wait,” replied Gabriel. “Until later, Father.”
∞∞∞
“Oh no. Not this side of hell, Cochrane. You can bugger right off,” Gabriel yelled as Mr Cedric Onslow’s valet walked into the blue bedchamber, a linen draped over his arm and a shaving kit and a bowl and a ewer of steaming water in his hands. “I have been bathing, shaving and dressing since I was out of leading strings. I can bloody well do all three for myself tonight too.”
“My lord,” said Cochrane, his voice quiet with patient understanding as if he was talking to a petulant child, “His Grace has instructed me to act as your valet this evening and to ensure that you are turned out as a gentleman ought to be and not… and I quote… ‘like a god-damned vagabond.’”
“I am quite capable of tying an acceptable knot in a cravat.”
“My lord, it may have escaped your notice, but your brother is, how shall I put it?”
“A fop, a dandy, an embarrassment?”
“I was going to say slightly eccentric in his attire. If you were to wear your cravat in a simple knot, no one would believe you were Mr Onslow. They would believe he had come down with something a lot more severe than a mere fever.”
“Fine, but I do not need you standing over me while I wash my arse.”
“Believe me, my lord, I have no interest in your arse. While you bathe, I shall set out your clothes. We shall shave you while you are in the bath, then clip your hair a little. Mr Onslow’s hair is slightly shorter than yours and we do not wish the ton to be agog with news of your new hair growing tonic, now do we? But worry not, we shall make you very handsome.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting there is something wrong with the way I look, Cochrane? Because I am not short of female company.”
Cochrane chuckled as he laid out the shaving brush, soap and razor. “Oh, I know, my lord. The maids all suffer from dreadful melancholy over the fact you seek your pleasure outside of this house.”
“I am sure you and the other male servants keep them well occupied. Besides, it is not good ton to tup the servants and if my sire dropped dead tomorrow, I should hate to have to fire all the maids because I had seen them all naked and vice versa.”
“I hope given the fact you are about to bathe while I am in the room, the prerequisite for being fired upon your elevation to your title is not whether one has seen you naked or not.”
Gabriel chuckled. “You are most definitely safe. I have no desire to tup you, Cochrane.”
“Thank God.”
“Amen to that.”
∞∞∞
Kathleen entered Aunt Matilda’s room and tip-toed over to the chaise upon which her elderly great-aunt dozed. She would just go to the old lady’s jewellery case and take the necklace and earrings and not disturb her. It was for the best, or she would never have time to finish preparing for the ball. The old lady would chew her ear off.
“Kathleeeeeeen!” Aunt Matilda’s cry made her jump in alarm. “Why are you creeping about my room like a highwayman?”
“I… I do not believe highwaymen creep, Aunt Matilda. Do they not just point a pistol and demand your jewels?” Aunt Matilda thought about this for a moment, her mouth twisting first one way and then the other before she raised both eyebrows and nodded.
“I do believe you are correct, child,” she chuckled. She patted her turquoise turban, fluffed the wrap that covered her legs and smiled indulgently. “Why were we talking of highwaymen? Has someone been robbed?” Her face turned ashen as she sat upright in the chaise. Kathleen hurried to her side to calm her.
“No, no. You accused me of acting like a highwayman because I was sneaking in here. I did not want to disturb you if you were sleeping. I came in because you said I should borrow your pearl necklace and earrings.”
“Yes, I did, my dear.” She unwound her shawl from around her shoulders and there, hanging around her neck, were about twenty necklaces, thousands of pounds worth of jewels sparkling off the candle and fire lights.
“Aunt Matilda, why are you wearing all your jewellery?”
“One can never be too careful, Kathleen. We have been here but a few weeks and we do not know half of these servants.
“But only Hattie attends you and she came over from New Hampshire with us. You know she would never steal from you.”
“Of course I do,” said Aunt Matilda, her brow furrowed in anger—scandalised at the mere suggestion that her faithful lady’s maid would consider stealing. “But my room is seldom locked. I do not trust these English servants. They have not forgiven us for claiming our independence. Mark my words.”
Kathleen chuckled. “I doubt very much if the lower classes care very much if America is independent, Aunt. If the King and the Prince Regent are reconciled to the idea and hold no grudges, then I would imagine the working classes do not care two hoots.
“Do you think?”
“Yes, I believe it is most likely.”
“So do you think my jewels are safe from the servants stealing them?”
“Yes, Aunt. The gentleman who rented the house to Papa told him that all the servants are trustworthy to a fault.”
“I see. Well, I shall keep them on until Hattie comes to help me to bed. You can help me off with these pearls. They shall set off your gown perfectly. That man will want to ravish you as soon as he sees you.” Aunt Matilda gave Kathleen a conspiratorial wink. Kathleen hid her grimace. She was not sure she wanted Mr Onslow to ravish her, not yet at least. Not until she had got to know him and come to terms with the idea of marriage to him. Again, she was sure he could not possibly be as bad as her first impression of him suggested.
∞∞∞
Gabriel walked into the drawing room which was crowded with members of his family and he raised an eyebrow as a hush descended. He knew only the family who resided in the palatial mansion on Grosvenor Square—his father, sister, and half-brother—along with Cedric’s mother, the Dowager Baroness Benwick, knew he was not Cedric.
“Good evening, everyone,” he drawled. “What fun. A gathering of all my richest relatives.” One or two people chuckled uncomfortably, and some met his ‘joke’ with stony silence. A couple of elderly aunts wafted their fans more extravagantly than previously. He had hit the right note with his opening greeting. Cedric really was a prize ass, and he was willing to play the prize ass up to a point, although he would take care not to offend too much where possible. He had a certain line he refused to cross. For instance, it was easier to offend gentlemen than ladies. They generally had a higher tolerance for such things due to the manner of conversations in most gentlemen’s clubs and at places such as Tattersall’s. He had fewer issues calling out hypocrites and cheats and those he knew who treated others badly. And women he knew who were less than innocent, he would willingly tease privately for his own amusement.
One of the be
st things about living with servants was that one learned much more gossip about the ladies and gentlemen of the ton than they thought the servants knew. While the servants made sure they never spilt the gossip about other houses to their masters or mistresses, they well knew of all the goings-on in the bedchambers of almost every house in Mayfair and what the servants knew would make the most accomplished courtesan blush.
Gabriel heard a carriage pull up. This would be the Roberts’ family. Cedric’s betrothed. What kind of young lady would she be? He doubted she would be a simpering miss—polite yet pathetic. His sire had picked this young lady for Cedric but, for all his faults, he knew the Duke to be a shrewd man. He would pick a mate who would make up for his eldest son’s weaknesses, his lack of social graces perhaps, someone who could smooth ruffled feathers or keep Cedric in his place. Gabriel only had to wait a few minutes and then he would find out. He was more than a little intrigued.
The butler announced Mr and Mrs Roberts, Miss Kathleen Roberts and Miss Teresa Roberts. He stretched his neck to see past the large, round man hiding the young ladies from view. Alas, he was rotund and had not entered the room fully so the young ladies were stuck in the doorway.
“Ah, Your Grace.” He bowed low but quickly. Gabriel glimpsed a pretty and young dark-haired girl. Not the blonde he had been expecting. The sister then. Teresa. The mother curtseyed, and he spied golden curls swept up into an intricate knot.
“Please, enter. You are most welcome, Mr and Mrs Roberts.” And at last, the parents of Cedric’s betrothed moved out the way. His gaze alighted on the young lady whom he was to marry. He shook his head. Damn! Whom that bloody arse Cedric was to marry. What in the blazes was going on? The woman was beautiful, and she was to marry his wet fish of a half-brother. The world had gone mad. “Miss Roberts. Miss Teresa. You remember Mister Cedric Onslow, my son. Miss Roberts, I shall allow Cedric to take you around and introduce you to everyone while I introduce your parents and sister.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Gabriel answered, trying for a slight superciliousness in his voice. He suspected he had failed miserably when her gaze swept up his body and she smiled, a look of relief washing over her features.
He moved over to her, offering her his sleeve. Up close she was even prettier, and her cheeks pinked as she laid her hand on his arm.
“I am pleased to see you are recovered, Mr Onslow.”
“Ah yes, I believe it was something I ate which disagreed with me.”
“How unfortunate for you. You did look rather peaked when you left our house. We were all quite concerned.”
“Ah well, we do have very robust constitutions in our family. The Hartsmeres are descended from the Conqueror, you know. I may not be entitled to use the name, but the blood flows through my veins as much as it does in any legitimate son.” God, he felt like an ass.
“I am sure it does. Would you be so kind as to introduce me to everyone?”
“Ah, yes, of course. Miss Roberts, may I introduce you to Lady Eleanor Stanbury. My lady, Miss Kathleen Roberts, my betrothed.” Gabriel’s aunt looked at Gabriel and paused her quizzing glass trained on him for a few moments, her brows furrowed, then she hmphed and her expression cleared as she looked at Kathleen.
“My dear, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the family. Cedric will make a wonderful husband for you.”
“Thank you very much, my lady. And may I say what a beautiful gown you are wearing. The fabric is absolutely divine.”
“Oh, this old thing. I must admit though it is my favourite. I had the fabric specially imported from India.
They made small talk for a few moments then Gabriel introduced Miss Roberts to more of his relatives. When he reached the Dowager Baroness Benwick, he stiffened.
“Lady Benwick, may I introduce Miss Roberts. Miss Roberts, my… mother, The Dowager Baroness Benwick.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” said Miss Roberts curtseying and showing no sign of having noticed any tension between Gabriel and Cedric’s mother.
“Well, are you not just charming,” said the dowager, smiling benevolently on her daughter-in-law-to-be.
“Yes, she is. Far too good for me, Mother,” said Gabriel. The glare that Cedric’s mother shot him could have frozen the River Thames. Gabriel had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing. The woman had been well aware he’d just insulted her first-born. But Miss Roberts had turned her attention to talk of soirees and musicales. He caught his sister’s gaze and Christina raised an eyebrow at him. He returned the gesture. Her gaze swept to the side and she mouthed the words she’s beautiful. His nod was minuscule, but he knew Christina understood—so in tune were they to one another. Some people said it was because they were twins. He did not believe such poppycock. But they had a very close bond.
The fingers on his arm tightened and he understood from Miss Robert’s signal that it was time to move on. He liked this about her. She was not afraid to make her needs and wishes known. He would bet that once she had lost her innocence, she would soon let a man know what she wanted in the bedroom.
He gave her a sidelong glance. Damn, why had he had to think of her in that way? She looked utterly delicious and that mongrel Cedric would have his filthy hands all over her. He’d heard stories about Cedric from the maids and none of them was good. It wasn’t that he forced himself on them. But rather that he made such a nuisance of himself that eventually they gave in for the sake of peace. And he never considered the woman’s pleasure.
“Mr Onslow. Mr Onslow.” A tap on his arm brought him back from his musings about his half-brother. “I apologise, Mr Onslow, but you appeared to be wool-gathering.”
“Oh, yes, I was rather. I... perhaps I am still a little shaken by my illness.”
“Ah… Do you need to excuse yourself?”
“No, no, goodness me. Not at all. I shall be fine. Come and meet my sis… half-sister.”
Chapter 5
Kathleen walked into the ballroom on Cedric’s arm. She had been quite intimidated coming to the home of a duke but at least she was marrying his illegitimate son who was a mere Mister and so they could be paired up to enter the dining room together.
She had been relieved to arrive and see he was wearing silk evening breeches rather than inexpressibles. And he seemed lovely tonight. Less pompous. Perhaps Cedric had just been nervous yesterday and he had been unwell. His smile seemed softer and occasionally when she caught him looking at her it was with a gleam in his eye as if he wanted to eat her. Almost the way she eyed a cream cake when she was particularly hungry. It sent a small thrill through her which settled in her belly and a little farther down. Just the thought of it made her cheeks warm. Occasionally he had become a bit supercilious and then he seemed to forget to be so. It was almost as if it was some kind of affectation brought on by nerves, but when he was just himself, he was a thoroughly nice gentleman.
Dinner was a charming affair. She sat between Cedric and his cousin, Mr Thomas Davenport. They had kept the discussion to polite, if rather uninteresting, topics. Now she stood in a receiving line with her parents, the Duke, Cedric and Cedric’s aunt as the great and the good of high society congratulated her on an excellent match. One or two people gave Cedric second glances, and a few gave him a third glance but no one said anything untoward.
“Is something wrong, Mr Onslow? A few people have been giving you odd looks.”
“I cut my hair differently. That is all,” he said, his tone a little sharp.
“Onslow.” She looked up to see a handsome man about Onslow’s age smiling at him and shaking his hand.
“Stalwood. I did not know you had been invited.”
“Yes. The invitation arrived this morning. Not sure if Lady Christina had something to do with it or that servant Cinder-something. Untrustworthy fellow. You should give that one his marching orders. Put him back in his rightful place.”
“I can get the footmen to throw you out, you know.”
“You could,
but you would never cause a scene at Miss Roberts’ betrothal ball, now would you?”
“No, I would not, for Miss Roberts is much more delightful than you shall ever be Stalwood. Now, remember to behave yourself.” Cedric’s eyes twinkled, and his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. She suspected that these men liked each other. Cedric formally introduced her to Lord Stalwood and His Lordship then took his leave. But as she was introduced to the Earl and Countess of Marven, she caught sight of Stalwood out of the corner of her eye approaching Lady Christina, Cedric’s half-sister. Was he her suitor? She had spoken but a few sentences to the other lady, but she had found her pleasant, demure and friendly. Kathleen wondered how the various relations in this awkward family would rub along together.
“Come, all the guests are now received, apart from any latecomers. The music shall start soon. Would you like a drink before the dancing starts?” Cedric’s voice was low, and he had bent to speak into her ear. His breath fluttered a curl past her ear and it made her shiver with delight. She looked up into hazel eyes. How much lighter his eyes looked in candlelight. How odd. One would have thought they would be darker. “Is there something the matter, Miss Roberts?”
“I… I think perhaps, given we are due to wed, that you should call me Kathleen.” He smiled. It was a smug, satisfied smile.
“I would like that very much. And you should call me Gabriel.”
“Gabriel?”
“Hmm? Oh!” His face turned crimson and his brows furrowed. “Uh, forget I said that. I mean Cedric. Gabriel is my middle name. I am Nicknamed Gabriel but my father hates when anyone uses it.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“It is best you stick to Cedric. I would hate for you to slip up and my father to overhear.”
“As you wish. Though I believe one should be called whatever one wishes, and one’s father should have no say.”
“Perhaps, but you shall learn that my father has an iron will and what he says goes. I suspect it is all part of being a duke.”