by Shirl Anders
]Chapter Seven
Drummond pondered irresistibly that Gabriella's eyes were likened to deep and rich colored violets, shimmering in the sunlight. Inexorably, he held her gaze for long moments before allowing her to escape as the butler began to serve the first course. Then, he watched her peek downward at her plate with the beginnings of a blush coloring her cheeks to petal pink, as his gaze refocused to capture the entire vision that she presented in her low-cut burgundy gown. While the gentlemen, Archangels took up varying degrees of conversation around the table, he could only wonder about Lord St. John's sanity forever letting this woman slip through his fingers.
Through the first and second courses served, the conversation drifted through assorted male topics including boxing, hunting, billiards, and one of his favorite pastimes fencing. All discussed to a delightfully curious Gabriella. He understood that a lady of her upbringing would not have been subjected to these bastions of male interests before. Society's ridiculous and redundant mores of being that ladies were too delicate to be subjected to such rough and tumble male accomplishments.
He delighted in Gabriella's obvious interest and held his breath, as it were, to see if she would be brave enough to scramble over the walls of propriety and ask a question of her own. However, it was not until the conversation inevitably turned to their shared profession, during the third course, that she became embolden enough to blurt.
"You're spies ... all of you are spies?"
"Were," Radford amended dryly.
"And you canna let a soul know of it, lass," Brynmore briskly added.
"All of us are entrusting you with our lives to speak of this in your company, my lady," Saxonhurst advised.
"We will have to make the lady an official member of the Archangels," Harrison rasped with a rare smile directed at Gabriella.
"She should speak a vow of some sort," Wyndham said, quietly intense from his end of the lavish table.
Drummond let his gaze slip over Gabriella, who appeared amazed and a bit flustered. "What do you say, my lady, shall you join this illustrious gentlemen's club? Shall you swear secrecy, and then we will divulge our secrets without hesitation in your company?"
"I ... would. I mean, yes," Gabriella replied with demure hesitation, contradicting the excitement coloring her violet eyes.
"Excellent," Drummond responded with his gaze traversing the table and each person there. "How should we officiate this momentous occasion, gentlemen?"
"I would be voting for a kiss each," Brynmore replied, smiling rakishly. "However, I ken our leader might be vetoing this notion."
"And you would be correct," Drummond answered with a quiet, but possessive quality in his voice.
"You are the l-leader?" Gabriella asked in obvious wonder.
"The mastermind is more his tune," Harrison answered in a gravelly whisper.
Drummond raised an eyebrow to Harrison, but turned to Gabriella. "Yes, madame, I was the leader of this nefarious group of information seekers." He toyed with the stem of his wine glass for a moment. "And now to our ceremony and vow. I believe the lady should part with a secret bit of information about herself. Which we shall then keep, just as she will vow to keep our secrets."
"Oh– I." Gabriella gazed in a startled manner around the table. "I expect that it would only be fair," she finished with a dainty hand pressed to her remarkable bosom.
"Hmm," Drummond pondered. "What shall it be? Something intimate enough to cause you caution, I should think."
"Yes, of course," Gabriella replied gazing at each man in turn.
"Then let us retire to the gaming salon for cigars and perhaps a brandy to bolster our lady's courage," Harrison suggested.
"Yes," Drummond replied, watching Gabriella's eyes widen at the suggestion that she should join gentlemen in that most sacred ritual of port, cigars, and conversation after a meal. "I for one enjoy saving my dessert for a much later hour," Drummond added to Gabriella's blush as they all rose.