by Amelia Grey
“Auntie!” the duke’s daughter gasped. “You know I did no such thing.”
“Not you, silly girl.” Mrs. Potter laughed heartily in a voice that was much too deep and gruff for a woman her size. “I’m talking about your obnoxious father.”
Keeping her gaze on her aunt, Lady Gabrielle asked, “What did Papa do this time?”
“What he always says he will do but never does. That he will cut off my allowance and force me to live in one of his dreadfully damp country homes if I don’t keep an eagle eye on your every move. But don’t worry about that, dear. He has been saying that since your mother died. As you can see, I’ve been saved from his gallows many times.” She quickly turned her gaze on Brent and, without hesitation, said, “Not that the duke or his daughter told me all the intimate details, but I understand Lord Austerhill’s son jumped the fence at the paddock and you are the new stallion.”
Brent chuckled, stretching the injured corner of his mouth and wincing from the sudden pain.
“Auntie, please. You are being far too brash. You’ve just met the viscount. He doesn’t know your nature.”
“Nonsense, Gabby. Don’t be so fussy. If he’s marrying you, he’ll learn me soon enough,” she answered and then turned her incorrigible gaze on Brent again. “I understand nuptials are in the future for the two of you.”
“That is the case, Mrs. Potter,” Brent said to the lady and let his gaze slowly drift to Gabrielle as he added, “even though the duke doesn’t want it widely known until the previous engagement matters can be resolved. As soon as they are, the banns will be posted, and Lady Gabrielle and I will wed.”
“That sounds lovely,” Mrs. Potter said and then turned and smiled sweetly at Lady Gabrielle. “Does that suit your gentle nature better, my dear?”
“Much,” Lady Gabrielle said quite stiffly, making it clear she wasn’t happy her aunt was going beyond the pale.
Brent was enjoying the conversation between the two ladies, who were as different as night and day. The first time Mrs. Potter spoke, Brent knew she was nothing like her niece.
“No doubt you are the reason she wanted to come to the park so early this morning, so I’ll allow her five minutes to talk to you while my maid pours me another cup of chocolate. But next time, Gabby, don’t make up a story about a poor lost dog. Just tell me you desire to see your handsome viscount, and I’ll do my best to make it happen.”
Lady Gabrielle opened her mouth as if to counter her aunt’s words but turned toward Brent instead when she heard his chuckle.
Brent held up his hand to stop her from speaking, and she pressed her lips together. He allowed his gaze to drift lazily over her lovely face. Lady Gabrielle let out a sighing breath. Her taut shoulders relaxed, obviously realizing he wasn’t offended by her aunt.
“Don’t let your aunt’s comments disturb you. I find her refreshing and charming, and I don’t, for a moment, believe you came to the park to see me.”
“Thank you for that, my lord, it is true.”
“But did you come to the park just to look for Prissy?”
A wrinkle of concern formed between her eyes. “I must admit I hardly slept a wink last night. I’ve been anxious about her since you told me she was missing. Have you found her?”
“Not yet, but I’m still hopeful.”
Lady Gabrielle’s frown deepened. “I feel responsible for her disappearance and was hoping if I came to the park that, perhaps, I could find her for you. Brutus has a very good nose. I fear she may have somehow gotten trapped or tangled up with her leash or…”
She didn’t finish the sentence, though Brent could imagine what she wanted to say but had then thought better of it. He’d found himself thinking the same thing more than once. And while he would love to blame Lady Gabrielle for Prissy’s running away, in truth only he was to blame.
“I’m the one who let go of her leash. I know she’s prone to be a wanderer, and that’s why I have never trusted any of the servants to walk her. If she can get away and explore, she will. Her disappearance is in no way your fault.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” Her eyes searched the distance behind him. “I’m afraid the only thing I’ve found is this is a very big park when you are looking for a little dog.”
“That’s what I’ve found, too.”
Brent couldn’t help but be touched by her concern for Prissy, but knowing how much she liked dogs, he wasn’t surprised.
“How long have you been out here?” he asked.
“Though Auntie Bethie would lead you to believe we’ve been here hours, we haven’t been here that long,” she said and lowered her lashes over her eyes so he couldn’t see in their depths.
Brent didn’t believe her. The tip of her nose and crest of her cheeks were dark pink from the cold. Mrs. Potter was shivering from the chilly wind. However, he couldn’t help but be impressed Lady Gabrielle came out on this windy day just to look for his dog. He was quite certain he had never met another young lady who would trouble herself to do that on such a cold morning.
He took a step closer, lowered his voice, and said, “I’m glad to see you are properly chaperoned this time.”
She lifted her chin in quiet defiance. “I do try to never make the same mistake twice, my lord.”
“That’s good to know.”
Their gazes held a moment longer than was necessary, and then she said, “Your injuries look better today.”
He gave her what he knew was a crooked smile and shifted his hat from one hand to the other. “You think so? I thought a monster was looking back at me when I was shaving this morning.”
“It seems I still have things to apologize for. I’m sorry about what Muggs and Lord Austerhill’s footman did, as well.”
Brent threw a quick glance to the beefy man sitting on the driver’s bench as he touched the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Don’t be. It was a small price to pay for a few kisses.”
“You two are going to have to speak up if you want me to hear you,” Mrs. Potter called.
Lady Gabrielle glanced back toward the carriage with a smile and said, “We are only talking about the weather, Auntie.”
“Ah, that’s what I thought,” she answered and then chuckled. “In that case, carry on.”
“Your aunt is a very astute person.”
“I can see she amuses you. Some people, including my father, find her crude and offensive at times.”
“Everyone’s nature is different.”
“I know, but she has shocked most everyone in the ton at one time or another with her loose tongue.”
Brent nodded. “I’m sure. Has she lived with you since your mother’s death?”
“Good heavens no,” Lady Gabrielle said. “Not that I would have minded. I would much rather have had her than the string of governesses we’ve had over the years. But she and my father can’t tolerate each other for very long, and they stay away from each other as much as possible.”
“But he allows her to visit.”
“Yes, once or twice a year. She arrived in London just yesterday. She was going to help with last-minute preparations for the wedding.”
Brent watched Lady Gabrielle’s face carefully. There wasn’t even the tiniest bit of disappointment or bitterness showing in her eyes or voice when she mentioned the canceled wedding. That sort of thing would have devastated most young ladies. He couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t wanted to marry the earl’s son and why she was willing to elicit the aid of a complete stranger to make sure the wedding wouldn’t take place. That puzzled him immensely. He’d tried to get her to tell him when they talked yesterday. She was keeping that bit of information to herself, for now, but Brent intended to find out the answer.
“When I talked to your father yesterday, he mentioned your sister. I take it that, since she’s not with you, she doesn’t enjoy early morning jaunts to the park like you do.”
Brent watched a faraway look come to Lady Gabrielle’s eyes, as if she were remembering
some private pain she didn’t want to surface, and he wondered what it was about the mention of her sister that brought such a look of sadness and contemplation to her face.
“Her name is Rosabelle,” she finally said. “Not even as a small child did Rosabelle want to start her day early or in a hurry. She has always wanted to stay up all night and sleep all day.”
“My mother was like that until she was given Prissy. That dog changed her life. She didn’t trust the servants to walk her, so she was up at dawn almost every morning to make sure Pris had her stroll.”
Lady Gabrielle lowered her lashes over her eyes, as if shielding what she felt from him. He hadn’t meant to bring up Prissy again.
“Gabby,” her aunt called, “I do believe it’s time for us to go. I’m going to catch a death chill if we stay out here any longer. Lord Brentwood?”
“Yes, madame?” he said, looking over Lady Gabrielle’s shoulder at the woman.
“We are planning to be at Lady Windham’s party on Saturday night. Will you be there?”
“Yes,” he said at the same time Lady Gabrielle walked closer to the carriage and said, “No, Auntie.”
“He just said yes,” Mrs. Potter contended.
“I mean no for me. I will not be attending any parties for the foreseeable future.”
The older woman’s brow wrinkled, and her lip curled up curiously. “That’s pure poppycock.”
Lady Gabrielle glanced back to Brent before saying, “There’s bound to be talk, Auntie.”
“Of course there will, but you have to treat it like falling off a horse. If one throws you, you get right back on and ride him again to overcome your fear. That’s what you shall do in this case. Besides, the best way to confront scandal and gossip in Society is to face it head on and dare them to breathe it to your face. I will not allow you to hide away in your house and feel as if you have been shunned by Society. No, it won’t happen as long as I am here.” She turned back to the viscount. “We all know gossip travels fast, don’t we, my lord?”
“Yes, madame.”
“I’ve hardly been in Town twenty-four hours and I’ve already heard about your twin brothers. Interesting fellows they must be.”
“Society seems infatuated with them, and I must admit they are not shying away but enjoying the attention.”
“See, Gabrielle. That’s how you handle scandal. Will they be attending Lady Windham’s party with you?”
“I’ve not talked to them personally about it, but they will probably be there, too.”
“Good. They can help keep you out of trouble. Judging from what little I know about your rendezvous with Gabby, I believe there will be a certain amount of unflattering talk when both of you appear at the same party for the first time. You must keep your wits, she must keep her head held high, and you both must resist the urge to fight back verbally or otherwise. It will only invigorate and prolong the gossip and enlarge the scandal. It will do more harm, and I would say the two of you have done quite enough already, wouldn’t you, Lord Brentwood?”
She spoke with such authority Brent was surprised the lady wasn’t the duke’s sister. But perhaps that was the reason she didn’t get along with Lady Gabrielle’s father. They were too much alike.
“Yes, Mrs. Potter, I understand,” Brent said, “but I would find it difficult not to defend Lady Gabrielle’s good name should it come to that.”
“Understood, my lord, however you must. She is a duke’s daughter, so she will be forgiven more easily than most young ladies in her current circumstances. The majority of people in Society will be respectful of her position, but there will be some who cannot contain themselves. For her, you must. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly.”
Mrs. Potter smiled and said, “Good. Come along, Gabby, we’ll return to the park at another time to look for your phantom dog. Preferably when it’s warmer and the sun is shining.”
“I’ll be right there, Auntie. Muggs, would you please help Brutus get into the carriage?”
Gabrielle turned back to Brent. Her blue gaze lighted on his face. She studied him as if she were trying to absorb every detail of his features, causing his lower stomach to tighten. He remembered her saying yesterday it was madness that caused her to kiss him, and he could almost believe it, because right now he was feeling a little madness himself. He was tempted to pull her to him and kiss her right in front of her aunt.
Lady Gabrielle looked deeply into his eyes for a moment before saying, “I hope you find Prissy.”
He nodded once, thankful he hadn’t followed his urge to kiss her. That would have been sheer, unadulterated madness.
“Do you want me to tell Mrs. Potter there is really a lost dog you were looking for?”
She shook her head. “She wouldn’t believe you.”
“I didn’t think so. Thank you for your help, Lady Gabrielle.”
Her expression changed to one of concern again, and she said, “There is always the possibility someone has taken Prissy home and is desperately trying to find her owner as we speak.”
“That she is safe and warm in someone’s gentle care is a comforting thought.”
“Gabby, we really must go.”
“I’m sure Prissy will turn up soon, Lord Brentwood. Would you mind sending me a note once you find her?”
He nodded. “Lady Gabrielle, Mrs. Potter.”
The servant rushed to help her onto the carriage, but Brent stepped in front of him and held out his hand for her. Lady Gabrielle hesitated and then looked at her aunt for approval. Only when Mrs. Potter gave the nod did Lady Gabrielle accept his offer and place the tips of her gloved fingers in his before stepping into the carriage. But just that brief touch was enough to send the heat of sexual desire rushing through him. He didn’t know why, but she affected him like no other woman ever had.
Lady Gabrielle seated herself beside her aunt and turned back and smiled at him with such genuine happiness that Brent’s breath caught in his chest. He felt the same feelings he’d had yesterday when she’d approached him. At times like this, she utterly enchanted him.
This was the lady who had intrigued him so desperately he forgot about everything but her in his arms. When they’d first met, she appeared so capable and independent. And this was the lady who stood so confidently before him and admitted she was betrothed to another.
He watched her as the carriage pulled away. Her father was a strong, unyielding man. Obviously, he’d taught his daughter to be a strong-willed and accomplished young lady, and obviously she had learned early how to get her way. And when he was with her, enjoying their banter, it was easy to forget she’d designed to catch him in a parson’s mousetrap. There could be only one reason why she had. She didn’t want to marry the earl’s son. But why?
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait for Lady Windham’s party so he could see the lovely and intriguing Lady Gabrielle again. He made a mental note that it would be five days.
He stood and watched until her carriage was out of sight before he started back toward his own vehicle. He would write up a notice for The Times and all the other newsprints when he got back home. Maybe offering a handsome reward for Prissy’s safe return would bring results quicker than his outings to the park.
A few minutes later, when Brent neared the curricle, he noticed a man standing a short distance away, looking at his horse. “Can I help you?” Brent called.
The man turned toward Brent, and the first thing Brent saw was a black patch covering one of the stranger’s eyes. His long beard was graying and unkempt. A tattered plaid scarf wrapped around his neck. His hands and arms were huddled to his chest in an unusual position, and as Brent got closer, he could see that he cuddled something beneath his coat—and it was moving.
Prissy was Brent’s first thought. He picked up his pace.
“No, sir,” the man answered, turning to walk away. “I was just admiring your fine horse and carriage. I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait,” Brent said, gaining
on the man. “Are you holding something underneath your coat?”
The man stopped and faced Brent. “Yes, sir,” he said in a calm voice and showing no fear of being caught doing something wrong. “But I didn’t steal anything from your carriage.”
Brent didn’t know what the man carried but now realized it couldn’t be Prissy. She would have started barking like a fiend the moment she heard Brent’s voice. But he was curious as to what the stranger held.
“I believe you, but do you mind showing me what you are holding on to?”
“Don’t mind at all. Got nothing to hide.” The man unfastened the one large button on his coat and cautiously opened it.
Brent saw the wild black beaded eyes of a gray rabbit.
“Got yourself a pet, I see,” Brent said, realizing he was disappointed the animal wasn’t Prissy.
The man shook his head. “On a cold morning like this, I hold them underneath my coat to help keep me warm. I catch them in the park and sell them to taverns, inns.” He shrugged. “I sell to anyone that’s buying. Are you interested in it for your supper?”
“Not today,” Brent said, and climbed up on his curricle and headed out of the park.
Seven
Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him.
—Aldous Huxley
She couldn’t get him off her mind.
It was frustrating for Gabrielle that most of her waking moments she was thinking about Lord Brentwood or his poor dog. It had been several days since she’d seen the viscount, and she hadn’t received a note from him saying Prissy had been found. She had managed to drag her aunt to the park twice more to look for the dog, with no luck. She hoped with all her heart the Pomeranian was back home and the arrogant viscount had just failed to notify her. She would make a point to ask him about Prissy tonight.
Every time Gabrielle thought about seeing Lord Brentwood at Lady Windham’s party later in the evening, her stomach would quiver excitedly. She didn’t understand why her attraction to him was so great. She only knew she had never felt this way about any other man.