by Amelia Grey
“Where is Papa?” Gabrielle asked, hooking the ends of the shawl around her elbows.
“He said he will be in his book room, where he can look out the window and see into the garden.”
“And where are Aunt Bethie and Rosabelle?”
“Lady Rosa has been in her room all afternoon, just like you, and after a long visit with your father, your aunt has been in the parlor, writing notes or letters or something.”
Gabrielle’s heart was suddenly filled with gratitude once again. She was glad her aunt had insisted on taking care of everything concerning canceling the wedding. “I’m so glad Auntie is here,” she whispered.
“Me, too,” Petra said with her usual bright smile, “because that usually means your papa leaves for a few weeks, and we all breathe easier when the duke is away.”
“Petra, you are being far too fresh with your comments,” Gabrielle admonished, knowing Petra was only voicing what all the servants had thought for years. Her father was a difficult man, but Gabrielle couldn’t allow such freedoms from servants. “You cannot be so disrespectful of my father and your employer.”
Petra’s smile evaporated quickly. “I truly meant no harm.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, but you must never be that familiar again.”
“Yes, my lady, I agree, and I beg your pardon a thousand times. I’m very grateful to the duke for allowing me to be in your service.”
“I know. Now, I better get out of here before Papa thinks you are the reason I’m late.”
Gabrielle left her room and hurried out the door and down the back stairs to the rear of the house. Her chest tightened as she walked. For some strange reason, she was filled with the feeling of wanting to see Lord Brentwood, yet not wanting to.
She stopped and peeked out a small window of the china-and-crystal storeroom and saw him. He sat on a bench in their small garden, one booted foot propped on his other leg. His side profile showed a high brow, straight nose, and strong chin. There was an arrogant tilt to his head, and his light brown hair fell attractively just below his collar. Gabrielle stared at him until, as if sensing someone watched him, Lord Brentwood turned his head toward the window. She quickly ducked down and flattened herself against the wall.
What was she doing spying on the viscount?
Taking a deep breath, she shored up her courage and continued on her way to the garden. At the back door, she hesitated only a moment before opening it and stepping out onto the landing.
Lord Brentwood rose from the bench. Their eyes met and held much longer than she would have wished, but for some reason, she couldn’t look away. His gaze swept lazily up and down her face, seeming to linger on her lips before settling on her eyes. After another moment, he walked toward her with a loose, lean-hipped stride that caused a breathless catch in her throat. His chest was broad and his shoulders straight. He was handsomely dressed in camel-colored trousers and waistcoat, with a dark brown coat that fit him to perfection. As he neared her, she remembered the strength she’d felt in his arms, and an unexpected heat that started at her throat rose up to flash in her cheeks and warm her against the chilling breeze.
He certainly didn’t look as scruffy as he had when she last saw him in the park. The red scratch under his eye looked a little better than when she’d seen him earlier that morning, though his bottom lip was still quite swollen. But none of that detracted from his handsomeness or the attraction she felt every time she looked at him. Somehow, the injuries made him look all the more roguish, dashing, and a little bit dangerous.
Holding her shawl tightly about her as if it were a shield, she walked down the steps to meet him.
Forgetting all about a proper greeting, she asked, “What did you say to my father?”
Brent stopped, not far from her, and folded his arms across his chest. The side of his mouth that wasn’t swollen lifted, forming a half grin that stirred the persistent butterflies in her stomach. Suddenly she was filled with hope once again. Would such a strong and commanding man as he agree to marry her after what she had done to him?
“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes almost caressing her. “Have you no enticing greeting for me this time, Lady Gabrielle? No sweet smiles to tempt me? No softly spoken words to draw me closer to you? No affectionate kiss to warm me? Must we get right to the cold, heartless business at hand as if our lips had never touched?”
Gabrielle’s breasts tightened, and her lower abdomen clenched excitedly. She felt spellbound. It surprised her how quickly and easily those same wonderful sensations that had melted through her in the park returned. Lord Brentwood was trying to seduce her right here in her own garden, with her father looking out the window.
And he was succeeding!
She swallowed hard. “Must you remind me of my lapse in sanity this morning?”
His head tilted back as if he were questioning her. “Is that what I was doing?”
“Yes, and you know it. Furthermore, you know the way I behaved was sheer madness.”
“Madness? Is that what it was?”
Yes, and that I’m feeling those same exciting sensations right now proves it!
“How can you doubt it?”
“It’s easy, because I don’t know you, Lady Gabrielle, but that is about to change.”
She lightly shook her head, and then cleared her throat and said, “All I want to do is forget we ever met. I never meant to involve you in my troubles. I’ve begged my father to leave you out of this.”
“You tried that argument on him this morning, and it didn’t work. I think we both know it was too late for that the moment your lips met mine.”
“Do you intend to remind me of that kiss every time you speak?”
That engaging half smile lifted the corner of his mouth again. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Stop it. You know what you are doing.”
He moved closer to her. “Then tell me, what were you doing in the park this morning? Are you just a terribly spoiled duke’s daughter who was looking to have a little tryst with someone before you settled down to the drudgery of marriage?”
She blinked slowly and cautiously looked at him. She could understand why it seemed that way to him. “No, of course not.”
“Then you must have been looking for some unsuspecting gentleman to waylay so you could save yourself from a marriage you didn’t want.”
“No, you’re wrong. That’s not true either.”
Lord Brentwood quirked his head to the side as if to indicate he didn’t believe her. “Then what is, Lady Gabrielle, because I can think of no other explanations.”
She couldn’t explain it to him any more than she could explain it to her father when he asked.
It was clear the viscount didn’t intend to let her get the best of him again, so she simply asked, “What did my father say to you?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Of course not, my lord. How could I possibly know what either of you said when I wasn’t allowed to be in the room while my future was discussed and, I presume, settled?”
His smug expression faded, and he gave her what looked to be a reluctant nod. “I take it you do know your father was unable to talk the Earl of Austerhill into continuing with your wedding plans to his son.”
Suddenly feeling calmer, Gabrielle loosened the tight hold she had on the ends of her shawl and relaxed a little. “Yes, and that suits me, but what did Papa say to you?”
“What I expected; that we must marry.”
“I was afraid of that,” she said. She inhaled deeply, trying to renew her strength to fight this now with Lord Brentwood. “I hope you held your ground, remained firm, and told him I was not compromised, and you have no intentions of marrying me under any circumstances.”
A half grunt, half chuckle passed his swollen lip, making his smile lopsided. “No, I didn’t.”
He spoke so quietly she was stunned for a second. Her gaze searched his face. “But surely you don’t want this marriage forced
upon you any more than I do.”
“No, I don’t. But after long and somewhat rancorous negotiations, we finally settled on terms of a marriage contract. The conclusion is I will live by my honor, do my duty, and marry you, Lady Gabrielle.”
She winced inside. He might have tried to spare her feelings by calling it his duty and honor, but she knew what that really meant. Staunton was going to marry her for financial reasons, and now Lord Brentwood was going to marry her because he was being forced. She didn’t understand this honor he talked about.
“If you feel you were trapped by me, why would you agree when you know I was not compromised?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her. “There are a number of reasons, Lady Gabrielle, not the least of which is the fact that your father is a very powerful duke who knows the King well and considers him a friend. He is well liked and often sought out for advice by the prince. Your father is admired, respected, and feared by many throughout London.”
“So you agreed to marry me because you are afraid of my father?”
Lord Brentwood snorted with derision, and a low chuckle passed his lips. His gaze held firmly on hers. “I am afraid of no man.”
“You say that, yet you ran from my father and his men this morning in the park.”
Suddenly, the viscount was so close she could feel his breath and almost taste his anger. “Do not doubt my courage.” His words were biting. “I ran to find my mother’s dog. When I pulled you into my arms, I let go of Prissy’s leash. She wandered away while you held me bewitched by your charms. I heard her yelping in pain, so I ran to help her, but your father’s men caught me and stopped me.”
Gabrielle swallowed hard. She would have done the same thing had it been Brutus who needed help. But, obviously, if Prissy had been given the kind of training Brutus had, she would have never left her master’s side.
“Oh, I see. I didn’t know,” Lady Gabrielle said without rancor but also without apologizing for misreading the situation. “As you know, it was chaotic after my father and Lord Austerhill arrived, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t notice she was gone. What was wrong with her?”
His eyes darkened as quickly as blackness filled a room when the light was extinguished. “I have no idea. I searched for her after you, your father, and his men left, but I couldn’t find her.”
She lifted her chin in surprise. “You left the park without finding her? Your mother must have been beside herself when you came home without her darling dog.”
He seemed to relax a little, though he stayed very close to her. “I’m sure she would have been if she were still living. My mother died more than two years ago.”
And still he walked her dog.
Gabrielle softened. “Prissy seemed to be very brave. I’m sure she’s fine and that she’ll find her way home soon.”
Lord Brentwood looked away from Gabrielle for a moment, and she saw it truly disturbed him that the dog hadn’t been found. Knowing how she loved Brutus, she couldn’t blame him. She felt ashamed for having as good as accused him of being a coward for running away in the park. She didn’t think that was true and wouldn’t have even said it in the first place had she not been at the point of madness over the entire day.
“I do hope you find her. I know how upset I’d be if Brutus were missing.”
“I have no doubt Prissy will be found,” he said, seeming to casually brush aside her concern. “But to answer your other question, my brothers will be moving their shipbuilding business from Baltimore, Maryland, to London in the coming weeks. Your father made it quite clear to me that, if I didn’t marry you, he had many connections and would make it impossible for my brothers’ business to be successful. Moving their business to London won’t be easy, and I will not allow your father to add to their burden.”
She knew her father would have had his solicitor find out what he could about the viscount before the day was over. When the duke wanted something, he left no stone unturned. It struck her as odd that she and Lord Brentwood were more alike than she could have imagined. She was willing to sacrifice her reputation for her sister, and he was willing to sacrifice his freedom for his brothers’ success.
“So your father gets his wish, Lady Gabrielle. We will be married.”
Gabrielle shook her head in frustration. “I didn’t want to marry Staunton, but at least I was willing to until—”
Lord Brentwood’s brown eyes narrowed and questioned her. “Until what?”
She hesitated before saying, “Until recently, but none of that matters now. I certainly don’t want to marry you, and you don’t want to marry me.”
“Well, take heart, Lady Gabrielle, it looks as though you’ll have plenty of time to get to know me, as the duke said it will likely take weeks to untangle your previous betrothal agreement with Lord Austerhill’s son. As soon as that is done, we’ll post the banns.”
She pulled her shawl up closer around her neck and positioned herself where her back was to her father’s book room window and said, “Perhaps not. I have a plan, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed. “For what?”
“Us. Thankfully, Papa does have to sort out all the financial arrangements with Lord Austerhill and his son, so I propose we lead my father to believe we are in favor of this marriage and find a way to stall it even after all other matters are settled. We can then, sometime after Christmas but before the Season starts in the spring, come up with a reason to call off the wedding.”
Lord Brentwood’s face wrinkled into a frown, but she kept talking. “That way, come the new year, you will be free to pursue more willing young ladies. The scandal of our hasty engagement will have died down, and the gossips will have moved on to someone else’s unfortunate situation. I venture to say that, halfway through the Season, no one will even remember I was once engaged to you or Staunton.”
His golden-brown eyes seemed to burn into hers. A wrinkle of warning formed on his brow. “Did you not hear what I had to say about my brothers and moving their shipping business to London? Did you not hear me speak of your father’s threat to assure they would have no success in their business?”
She blinked rapidly at his sudden change. “Yes, of course I heard.”
“Then mark my word, Lady Gabrielle, we will be married as soon as it is legally possible. I don’t know how to make myself any plainer than that.”
She would have liked to tell him her father’s intimidation was no more of a threat than Brutus’s growl, but she would be lying. The duke would have no qualms about ruining the viscount’s brothers’ business in order to achieve his goals.
Lord Brentwood’s gaze scanned her face, down her neck to her breasts, and back to her eyes. He gave her a lopsided grin. “Besides my brothers’ plight, I’ll be thirty soon, and I could do worse than to marry a powerful duke’s daughter. You will no doubt know how to manage my home. And your father is making sure your dowry is quite substantial. It’s time for me to take a wife and produce an heir. Judging from our short time together in the park, you should do quite nicely for that and be the perfect wife for me.”
She gasped. “How dare you, my lord. That was a perfectly vulgar thing to say. That you should even suggest using me as a brood mare to bear your children sounds positively ghastly.”
He leaned his head in closer to hers and hooded his eyes with determination. “You may think so now, but once I get you beneath me, I will prove to you that you are no lady, Gabrielle. I will have you in my bed, and I promise you will not want to leave it.”
She shivered and hugged her woolen shawl more tightly around her. “You are being unbelievably ill-mannered, Lord Brentwood.”
His gaze stayed firmly on hers. “Perhaps I’m thinking it’s fitting right now for a young lady who walks out of the mist and into my arms. You are a tempting wench in spite of the fact that, for your own selfish reasons, you used me in your plan to get rid of the earl’s son.”
“No, no— I—” For a brief moment, she was t
empted to tell him the truth.
“Yes, and now you have me, Lady Gabrielle. Before you approached me in the park, perhaps you would have done well to have remembered the old adage my mother used to say to me: ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.’”
Gabrielle straightened her backbone, his words giving her strength to continue the fight. “I never wished for you.”
“Didn’t you? A knight in shining armor to rescue you from what you perceived was a fate worse than death?”
Gabrielle couldn’t deny that. She could only imagine that if she had married the man her sister loved, death would be welcome.
“The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is if you wanted to be rescued from your father or your fiancé. Perhaps it was both.”
Was that true? Did she secretly want to be rescued from a loveless marriage, from her father’s tyrannical ways?
She fixed him with a determined frown. “If I had wanted to be rescued from my father, that could have been easily accomplished, my lord, because my wedding to Staunton was only a week away. But why would I have wanted to be rescued from one loveless marriage just to be forced into another with you?”
“It’s your story. You tell me.”
“I may be forced to marry you, my lord, but I assure you, your bed will not be an easy one. You will find it cold, hard, and empty.”
His crooked smile turned into an attractive chuckle that held promises she didn’t want to think about and sent her pulse racing. He thought she was lying, and that made her all the angrier.
His gaze swept up and down her face again in a way that sent chills of anticipation storming throughout her body.
“I’m up to the challenge, Lady Gabrielle. Let’s see how cold, hard, and empty that bed will be when you are like butter melting beneath my hot palm.”
“You are no gentleman, Lord Brentwood.”
“I don’t think you were looking for a gentleman when you walked into my arms this morning. But you are the one who walked into my life, and make no mistake, there you shall live.”