by Amelia Grey
Her aunt winked at her. “Go to them. I’ll be watching you from one of the chairs around the dance floor. Enjoy yourself, and I’ll find you whenever I’m ready to leave.”
Gabrielle leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Auntie. I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few days.”
“You would have managed and done the right thing. You always do. Now, remember what I said about holding your head high, and go have a wonderful evening. You deserve it.”
“Auntie, there’s only one thing I’m concerned about.”
Her gaze searched Gabrielle’s with concern. “What’s that?”
“I haven’t talked to Staunton since our marriage was canceled. What should I say to him if he is here? Should I apologize to him?”
“For what?” her aunt asked a little too loudly.
Gabrielle quickly put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Not too loud, Auntie. It seems to me that might be the proper thing to do, since I was in the park alone with Lord Brentwood.”
Auntie Bethie gave her a gentle smile, and in a softer voice said, “And just like your mother, you always want to do the proper thing. She would have been so proud of you. Tell me, are you the one who called off the engagement, or did he?”
Gabrielle thought about that. “That might be up for debate. I believe it was actually his father, Lord Austerhill, who called it off, but as you know it was because of what I did.”
Her aunt pursed her lips for a moment. “Hmm, in that case, I’m going to counsel you the way I think your mother would have had she been here instead of me, because I would probably say to you never apologize.” She laughed softly for a moment and then said, “But I can remember your mother once saying to me, ‘My dear Bethie, there are two things that are never out of line, out of place, or out of time—an apology and a thank you. You can never go wrong saying I’m sorry or thank you.’”
Her aunt’s remembered words from her mother brought a happy sadness to Gabrielle, and she smiled. “Thank you, Auntie. I think I know what I need to do.”
Babs and Fern didn’t wait for Gabrielle to reach them. When they saw her heading their way, they ran to meet her, excitedly throwing questions at her without giving her time to answer any of them.
“Is it true your wedding to Staunton has been canceled?” Babs asked.
“Gabby, you must tell us what happened,” Fern said. “We feel as if we’ve been sitting on pins and needles, hoping to get to see you so we could find out what happened.”
Fern’s eyes widened. “I overheard Papa tell Mama you had been caught in the park in a state of dishabille with one of the Brentwood twins. And Staunton has challenged him to a duel. It’s so romantic to have two handsome gentlemen fighting over the right to your hand in marriage.”
Gabrielle gasped, looking from one friend to the other. How in heaven’s name did events in the park get so far from the truth?
“Tell us it’s not true,” Fern said.
“No, tell us it is true,” Babs said with a mischievous smile. “Tell us all about your secret lover. It’s so naughty of you to keep something like this from us, Gabby. How could you? We are supposed to be your dearest friends.”
“When did you meet him?” Fern asked. “Was it love at first sight?”
Babs added, “Mama said she would have believed it of me before she would have believed you were meeting a lover in the park.”
“Please, please,” Gabrielle said, taking both their hands and moving them away from listening ears. “Both of you must talk more softly so no one will hear you. People are looking at us. Come. Let’s walk calmly to the punch table, and absolutely no more questions until we are where no one can hear us.”
Gabrielle smiled pleasantly, held her head high, and led the way, weaving her friends through the throng of people crowding the house. She nodded to some, spoke to others, and curtseyed to a countess as she made her way to the back of the drawing room where the punch table had been set up. With every step, she felt questioning eyes and icy stares. From her peripheral vision, she saw hands cover mouths and fans cover faces. The roar of laughing and talking ceased as she approached and started up again as soon as she passed.
She and Auntie Bethie had talked about what might happen tonight, and she knew shunning by some members of Polite Society was a very good possibility, but Gabrielle wasn’t bothered by that. If it happened, so be it. She still didn’t know why she had kissed Lord Brentwood, but she was glad she had, and she wasn’t going to be ashamed of it.
After the three ladies were served a cup of punch, they moved away from the well-attended table to a far corner in the crowded room.
Gabrielle looked at her friends’ eager faces and took a sip of the fruit juice. She wouldn’t wish all the different feelings she’d gone through the past few days on anyone. But how much should she tell them? Not everything that happened, for sure.
“How long do you intend to keep us on the point of this needle?” Babs asked. “Tell us what happened!”
Gabrielle smiled understandingly. She would have no peace if she didn’t tell them a little, and it was quite clear they expected to hear something salacious. She would have to disappoint them on that. There wasn’t much she hadn’t shared with her friends over the past couple of years, but she didn’t want to tell them about how the viscount made her feel. It was personal, intimate, and it was glorious. It wasn’t something she wanted to share with anyone.
She looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear them and then softly said, “First, let me assure you I was not with one of the Brentwood twins.”
“Then who?” Babs asked.
Fern clasped a hand to her chest and said, “Or was it all a horrible lie, and there wasn’t a gentleman with you at all?”
“No, there was a gentleman,” Gabrielle admitted, “but most of what you have heard is not true. I was in Hyde Park with Lord Brentwood, the twins’ older brother, but we didn’t plan to meet there. It was quite by accident.”
“Oh, the viscount,” Fern said in a softly whispered voice.
“I saw him and his brothers at a party last week,” Babs said, “but I haven’t been introduced to any of them. How and when did you meet him? And why did you agree to a secret rendezvous in the park with him? And what did Staunton have to say about all this?”
“It must have been love at first sight,” Fern said.
“I haven’t talked to Staunton,” Gabrielle readily admitted, “and my meeting with Lord Brentwood was not a secret affair.”
“If you didn’t go to meet him or someone else, why were you in the park alone?”
“Oh, I wasn’t alone, Brutus was with me. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and I was troubled about my upcoming marriage. I decided to dress and take a walk.”
Gabrielle continued the story, sticking to the facts when she could, but being careful. The last thing she wanted to do was mention anything about Rosabelle’s secret or the passionate kiss she shared with Lord Brentwood.
“So you were just standing there in the park, talking with him, when your father and Lord Austerhill found you?”
Leave it to Babs to ask for more details than Gabrielle wanted to share.
“Well, we were talking about our dogs,” Gabrielle said, feeling a little guilt at skirting the truth, or at least the timing of it.
“Oh, I’ve heard about Lord Brentwood’s combing the park every day for his dog,” Fern said. “And just tonight I heard that some people think Lord Pinkwater’s ghost picked up the viscount’s dog and is keeping her for himself.”
“Some people actually think a ghost has Prissy?” Gabrielle asked.
“Forget the ghost and the dog,” Babs said. “After all I’ve heard, I was hoping for a more scandalous story than you were helping Lord Brentwood look for his dog. Especially since all the gossips had your cloak lying on the ground and your dress hanging off your shoulders!”
Gabrielle gasped. “Babs, no such thing occurred.”
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“How can you even suggest that?” Fern said, turning to Babs with a firm expression. “Shame on you for even repeating such rubbish. You know how tightly Gabby is laced.”
Gabrielle was a little taken aback by Fern’s strong defense.
Babs frowned at Fern. “No, obviously we don’t know that. But I do know how quickly and easily a handsome, sweet-talking gentleman can sweep a lady off her feet, no matter how tight her stays!”
“The only thing I know for sure—” Gabrielle stopped as two elderly ladies walked very close to her. As they passed, one of them said quite loudly, “In my day, when a young lady was involved in a scandal, she didn’t show her face in public for years.”
“If ever again!” her companion added haughtily.
“And it didn’t matter if she was a duke’s daughter.”
“The nerve of those ladies,” Fern whispered.
“It was all gossip meant to ruin her,” Babs called after the ladies. “She was in the park looking for her dog.”
One of the ladies turned around and said, “I’ll make sure you three are never admitted into Almack’s again.”
“You can try,” Babs returned.
“Babs, please, don’t antagonize those ladies,” Gabrielle said. “I don’t want you getting into trouble because of something I did.”
“Why not?” She smiled mischievously at Gabrielle. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you have all the pleasure of being the most talked about young lady in London?”
“You are much too self-assured for your own good,” Gabrielle said with a smile. “And it wasn’t my dog that was lost. Brutus would never run away from me. It was Lord Brentwood’s dog.”
“Excuse me, ladies.”
Gabrielle’s breath caught in her throat at the sound of the viscount’s voice. She turned, and her gaze fell on a broad chest covered by a crisp white shirt and a black tufted waistcoat. She saw wide, straight shoulders that fit perfectly into a black cutaway jacket. Her gaze continued up a strong, cleanly shaved neck, sailed over a smooth, slightly square chin, and lingered on sculpted masculine lips, before resting on intriguing golden-brown eyes that seemed to reach down into her very soul and softly greet her there.
Her heartbeat faltered and then raced. Lord Brentwood was a magnificent-looking man. He stood perfect in stature and impeccable in dress, letting her stare at him. And she did so without guilt, shame, or hesitation. Everything about him awakened and stimulated her senses like no other man ever had.
Lord Brentwood bowed, then picked up her hand and kissed it. Her breath caught in her throat at the excitement that coursed through her at seeing him. His fingers boldly caressed the inside of her palm. Even through her gloves, she felt the heat of his fingers. A shiver of something wonderful skittered through her fingertips and exploded inside her. His gaze fluttered intently down her face, lingering on her lips before lifting back to her eyes again.
He smiled. “I believe you promised the next dance to me,” he said.
Nine
What must be shall be; and that which is a necessity to him that struggles, is little more than a choice to him that is willing.
—Seneca
It was on the tip of Gabrielle’s tongue to say to Lord Brentwood that she never promised him anything, but she stopped herself before speaking. It was brash of the viscount to assume she would play along with what was so obviously not true, rather than call his hand.
“I, ah, yes, I believe I did,” she said, deciding she didn’t want her friends to know Lord Brentwood was being brazenly forward, because she hadn’t agreed to a dance.
He took her punch cup from her hand and placed it on a table behind him. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting these two lovely ladies. Perhaps you would like to present them before we leave.”
“Yes, please,” Babs said and curtseyed.
“Yes, of course,” she said, and then taking a deep breath, she presented Fern and Babs to Lord Brentwood.
A roguish grin made its way across Lord Brentwood’s lips, intriguing Gabrielle so much she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was then she realized the scratch under his eye and cut on his lip had healed. In the deepest recesses of her abdomen, a quickening started and shuddered all the way up to her breasts and lingered there before moving on to her throat, tightening it. Would this man always make her feel this way every time she saw him? By the heavens, could he possibly know she had been completely enchanted by him since the moment she first saw him, and she was desperately trying to fight it?
Gabrielle had to find the strength to deny those wonderful feelings he always sparked inside her and plant her feet back on solid ground. If Staunton, who had been her fiancé for almost six months and had kissed her on more than one occasion, couldn’t make her feel these wonderful sensations, how in heaven’s name could the viscount?
After a few moments of chatting with Fern and Babs, Gabrielle and Lord Brentwood excused themselves and headed in the direction of the room that had been cleared of furniture and readied for dancing.
As soon as they were far enough away from her friends, Gabrielle looked over at the viscount and said, “I’m certain I didn’t promise you a dance, my lord.”
He glanced over at her and smiled. “No?”
She shook her head.
“Well, you should have. I’m a very good dancer. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before your father returns and our engagement will be formally announced. Perhaps it’s best I stake my claim on you now.”
His choice of words stung. Why couldn’t Lord Brentwood want to marry her because she made him feel all the wonderful things he had made her feel, and he wanted to feel them over and over again?
“The way you said that makes me sound like a piece of land, my lord.”
“You are far more valuable to me than land, Lady Gabrielle.”
It was clear he still thought that, as a duke’s daughter, she would make him a perfect wife. She was going to do her best to change his mind about that. And if he considered himself a very good dancer, she might as well begin her plan on the dance floor.
“Ah, that’s right,” she said. “How could I have forgotten that as a duke’s daughter, my dowry is considerable, and more important, I am the key to your brothers’ business success, right?”
“All that is true, but as we discussed in your back garden, there are certainly many things that will make you an excellent choice for my wife.”
Wanting to change the subject, she said, “I had hoped to receive word from you this week concerning Prissy’s safe return home.”
“I had no news to report. I would have sent you a note, as I promised, if I had.”
That wasn’t what Gabrielle wanted to hear. She knew how much he adored the little dog and, sadly, if she hadn’t been found in a week, she probably wasn’t going to be. It was best to change the subject again.
“I’m glad your face has completely healed since I last saw you.”
He chuckled ruefully and touched the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, I now recognize myself when I look in the mirror.”
She tried not to look at anyone as they walked side by side through the drawing room and into the music room where the dancing was to take place. But she couldn’t completely shield her eyes from everyone. Though she was well aware the whispers behind the fans and hands were about her, she hoped no one would be ill-mannered enough to say anything about her while she was with the viscount, as the ladies had when she was with Babs and Fern.
They stopped at the edge of the dance floor, as the call to assemble on it hadn’t been announced. Wanting to avoid the awkwardness of standing in silence, she said, “I don’t know much about you, Lord Brentwood. I looked in copies of old newsprint for some mention of you in the Society Column and found none. I find that odd.”
He smiled. “You admit you wanted to find out more about me?”
She eyed him curiously. “Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I?”
�
�You could have just asked.”
“There has been precious little time for that when we’ve been together.”
His lashes lowered, and his gaze fell to her lips. “I agree. We’ve always had other pressing matters to discuss, haven’t we?”
Gabrielle’s abdomen tightened. She refused to let her attraction to him overtake her again. She inhaled deeply, focused on remaining calm, and asked, “Is this your first visit to London?”
His gaze lingered for a moment longer on her mouth and then swept back up to her eyes. “Not the first, but I don’t come often. There is much to keep me busy at my estate in Devonshire. On the whole, our lands are fertile, sheep and cattle are plentiful, and there are several surrounding villages. Certainly there are enough people, parties, and dinners to keep a much busier social life than I care to participate in.”
“On occasion, I have traveled throughout England, Wales, and Scotland with my father, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to your part of Devonshire.”
“In that case, I’ll look forward to showing it to you after we are married.”
Suddenly, she could hardly wait to watch that cocksure attitude of his crumble. “I love London, my lord, and doubt I would ever be happy living in the country. With my father such an important figure in Parliament and advisor to the prince, we’ve never spent much time at any of our country homes. I’m sure I would get dreadfully lonely away from the shops, the plays, the opera, even the street lamps. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t take a walk in one of London’s parks.”
Lord Brentwood regarded her thoughtfully for a moment with his golden-brown eyes. “Nonsense. The Brentwood estate is surrounded by nature that is much more impressive than Hyde Park, St. James, or any of London’s other parks. And believe me, Lady Gabrielle, you won’t have to wade through all the people, horses, and carriages for your strolls. You won’t see the street vendors, milk carts, or the traveling minstrel shows and carnivals that put up their tents around the parks. All you have is the beauty of nature, peace, and tranquility without the trappings of civilization.”