by Amelia Grey
“You will do no such thing, young lady,” Mrs. Potter admonished. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t take two of us to watch over her. Besides, I don’t think there is anything seriously wrong with her, and I don’t believe you do either. It’s certainly nothing a little time can’t cure. You two run along and enjoy yourselves. I’ll take care of Rosa.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Potter; that is exactly what we shall do.”
“You will check on her often, won’t you?” Gabrielle asked her aunt.
“More than she would want, for sure.”
Keeping his distance from Gabrielle’s parasol, Brent reached for her hand and helped her step into the carriage.
“Don’t leave her alone for one second, my lord,” Mrs. Potter said. “There are always unsavory characters at fairs and carnivals.”
“You have no cause to worry about that. She shall not leave my sight.”
“Good. I’ll expect you back before dark.”
“You can count on it,” Brent said.
Brent looked at Gabrielle. Her gorgeous blue eyes sparkled despite the dreary day. She wore a beige dress sprigged with tiny blue flowers. Her black cape and matching bonnet were trimmed with a white-and-black–corded braid. He couldn’t help but think how damn lucky he was that the lady who caught him in a parson’s mousetrap was the most beautiful and fascinating lady he’d ever met.
Brent wouldn’t have minded Mrs. Potter going with them. She was a fascinating lady, too, and always in a good humor. But if Mrs. Potter had gone with them, there would have been no chance he could kiss Gabrielle’s delectable lips. He smiled to himself as he climbed onto the carriage and settled himself beside Gabrielle. Yes, he wasn’t the least unhappy the lady had decided to spend the afternoon with her other niece.
Brent gave the driver the signal to go as he tucked a blanket around Gabrielle’s legs. The first thing Brent noticed was she was not sitting as close to him, because the seats were longer in the much-bigger landau than they were in the curricle they used a few days ago. He missed feeling the warmth of her skirts. The second thing he noticed was her beige parasol with the fancy blue trim wasn’t as big as the one she carried on their last outing, so hopefully his hat would remain on his head. He had lost two very expensive hats because of Gabrielle. The first was ruined the morning he met her, when it was stepped on by her footman after he wrestled Brent to the ground, and the second on his last outing with her. It was hard to believe it was now more than a month ago since he met her.
The driver guided the two mares out of the queue in front of the church and into the busy traffic as Gabrielle waved good-bye to her aunt. Sunday was the one day of the week when most Londoners didn’t work, and there were always a lot of carriages, wagons, and horses on the streets.
“I see your lip has healed once again,” Gabrielle said as the driver fit the landau in between a black shiny barouche and a low chaise.
Brent scooted a little closer to her, relaxed against the back of the seat, and said, “Yes, at last.”
“You know what they say, don’t you?”
He glanced at her. There was a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “No, what do they say?”
“That things come in threes. So that means you can expect one more cut on the lip before the next new moon.”
He hoped not. He didn’t want to lose another hat either. “I do believe I have heard that, Gabrielle, but I can assure you I won’t take kindly to whoever takes a swing at me the next time. And from now on, I’ll be doubly wary if anyone taps me on the shoulder from behind.”
“Then I’ll make sure it’s not me.”
He smiled at her. “You are in no danger from me.”
Her eyes softened. “I have no fear of you, Brent.”
“Maybe that is true.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I noticed you don’t have your bodyguard with you today.”
“My body—” She stopped and laughed. “Oh, you mean Brutus.”
Brent tried to remain serious when he said, “Yes. I suppose he gets bored and falls asleep in church, too.”
Gabrielle picked up on his teasing and continued it with, “Oh, yes, I had to stop bringing him because his snoring would drown out Auntie Bethie’s singing.”
They laughed, and Brent found himself slipping a little closer to her once again, and he made sure his thigh rested against hers. It pleased him that she didn’t shy away from him.
“If I didn’t know better,” Gabrielle said, “I would think you are happy my precious dog is not with us today.”
“To that, I’ll only say that Brutus and I are becoming friends. I’m looking forward to seeing him when I attend the piano recital in your home on Thursday evening.”
“I’m glad you’re coming, and I know Brutus will be happy to see you, too.”
With a deep contented breath and a smile, Gabrielle turned away from him and looked at the sights along the streets as the carriage rolled along at a lively pace.
Lady Gabrielle was the most difficult person he had ever tried to figure out. At times it seemed as if she was trying her best to keep him from being attracted to her by pretending she couldn’t dance, pulling out poetry to read to him, or trying to make him believe she had a hellish temperament, and several of her ancestors had gone mad. But then there were other times, like the first time they met in the park, when she intrigued him by telling him to speak gently to Prissy. And times like now, when she was just so delightful he couldn’t wait to get her alone so he could pull her into his embrace and kiss her for as long as he wanted.
It didn’t matter which lady she decided to be, she was always desirable, and if he’d had the opportunity to pick a wife of his own choosing, he was beginning to think he certainly couldn’t have done any better than Lady Gabrielle.
“Oh, I forgot to ask you,” Gabrielle said after they had ridden in silence for a while, “did you hear about the Duke of Rockcliffe’s dog, Tulip? She is now missing, too.”
Brent slipped his arm over the top of the bench and eased it around her. “I heard a day or two ago that she went missing, but I don’t know any details and I didn’t ask. How and where did the dog disappear?”
“She was with the duke’s youngest brother, Lord Waldo. The duke is actually with my father and the Duke of Norfolk and several other gentlemen on a hunting jaunt in Kent.”
“I’ve not met the Duke of Rockcliffe, just his younger brother,” Brent mumbled, remembering his brief conversation with Lord Waldo a few nights ago.
“The duke is a very somber man, much like my father,” Gabrielle continued. “But Lord Waldo is really a pleasant man. He was enjoying an afternoon in Hyde Park with Miss Alice Peyton when Tulip wandered off and never came back.”
Brent grinned and then chuckled softly. “I wonder if they had as much pleasure in the park as we did. As I recall, I enjoyed myself immensely, didn’t you?”
Her eyes widened, and pink flamed in her cheeks. “Well, ah—of course, but I really don’t know what they were doing in the park.”
Brent laughed again. She was enchanting when she was embarrassed and flustered.
She straightened her back, lifted her chin and shoulders, and very properly said, “However, I do know that Lord Waldo had the duke’s little dog with him and while he wasn’t looking, Tulip wandered away and now can’t be found.”
“Hmm,” Brent said, pretending to be in deep thought. “It sounds like maybe they were in the park doing what we were doing.”
Gabrielle huffed. “I’m trying to be serious, and you are making it very difficult.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist a little teasing. Forgive me.”
They hit a huge hole in the road, and the carriage nearly bumped them off the seat. They laughed, and Brent took the opportunity to press even closer to Gabrielle. The tip of her nose was turning pink from the wind, and already a golden strand of hair had escaped the tight fit of her short-brimmed velvet bonnet. Brent loved looking at her, and it was very satisfying being so close
to her he felt the warmth of her body.
“So tell me about this dog,” he said.
“I really don’t know very much about Tulip. I just found it remarkably odd that another dog has gone missing. I can’t ever remember a time when I’ve heard of three dogs missing in little more than a month.”
“I agree,” Brent said. “Something like this doesn’t happen unless something or someone is making it happen.”
“Some ladies and I were talking about the same thing before you arrived at the church today.”
“Really? I chatted with two gentlemen before the service started, and no one mentioned it to me.”
“I’m sure that’s because everyone knows how distraught you’ve been because you haven’t found Prissy.”
Brent’s brows drew together, and he frowned. “Distraught? Is that what people are saying about me?”
“Not so much now, of course, but when you were searching the park for Prissy, I might have heard that term used once or twice.”
“Might have?” he grumbled.
Her eyes softened gently. “Well, you were distraught that your mother’s dog is missing, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Brent knew White’s had a wager going about whether or not Prissy would be found by Christmas, and then there were wagers about whether she’d be found dead or alive. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Londoners found such perverse pleasure in mocking someone’s trials… but they did.
“She’s gone, Gabrie. I told you I’ve accepted the fact Prissy is gone and will not be returning.”
Her blue gaze fluttered down his face, and she gave him a compassionate smile. “You know, all the ladies—young, married, and widows—think it makes you the most dashing of gentlemen because you care so much for your deceased mother’s pet.”
Brent wasn’t sure that was how he would choose to be thought of by any lady. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“But perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up dogs at all.”
He put his hand over her muff and tried to find her hand beneath the fur. “No, I’m glad you did. And you are right. I, too, find it odd that three small dogs have now gone missing. It gives some credibility to the fact a large animal is on the prowl.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that. What do you think is happening to them, Brent?”
“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. “But I’m joining some other men, and we’re going to scour the park to see if we can find a beast.”
“I hope you do.”
They rode the rest of the way to the fair in silence.
“Oh, look,” Gabrielle said with a sparkle in her eyes and excitement in her voice. “I can see the tents. We’re almost there.”
The fair was bustling and lively with people and noise as the driver maneuvered the carriage to the parking area. Loud pianoforte music mixed with the chatter of talking and laughing. The scents of burning wood, cooked food, and animal waste lingered in the chilly air.
After the brake was set on the landau, Brent jumped down and reached back for Gabrielle. He settled his hands around her waist and lifted her from the top step of the carriage and swung her around twice before setting her on her feet.
She laughed breathlessly and said, “That was completely uncalled for, my lord.”
“But highly enjoyable, was it not?”
Her gaze stayed, and the pleasure he saw in her face made his stomach tighten. “Yes,” she said, “very much so.”
“Should I get your parasol?”
She shook her head and took her muff off and tossed it into the seat. “With so little sun out, I shall be fine without it.”
He smiled. “All right, what do you want to see first?”
Her eyes lighted with happiness. “I want to see everything, of course. Whatever we come to first, we will stop and see what is going on.”
He took hold of her hand. “Let’s go.”
The afternoon flew by for Brent. Even though the air was crisp and their hands must have been tight from cold, the acrobats managed to do amazing feats of tumbling, twirling, and swinging from ropes. They watched a man twist his body into odd and what looked like painful positions. A juggler kept five balls in the air at one time and never missed catching any of them.
With awe, they stared at a young woman dressed in what Brent could only classify as her unmentionables, which in itself was a spectacular thing to do because of the chilly air. She defied gravity by walking on a thick rope that was stretched about three-houses high, between two poles that had been erected and with nothing beneath her to catch her should she fall. They spent time watching a tiger, which Gabrielle didn’t think was very impressive at all. She said he didn’t look fierce, lying so calmly in his cage. Some youngsters walked up beside them and yelled to the big cat. They wanted him to lift his big head and growl at them, but the tiger was more interested in his nap.
Late in the afternoon, when Brent knew they must soon leave, he found a place for them to sit down near a booth that was serving hot tea and warm biscuits dusted with finely ground sugar and cinnamon. Brent could hardly eat his own biscuit for watching Gabrielle, who had removed her gloves and was daintily licking sugar from her fingertips. He was sure she had no idea how enticing she looked doing that. When his body could take no more of watching her, he knew it was time to head for the carriage and get her home. But first he intended to steal a few kisses from her tempting lips, and he had already seen the perfect place to do that on the way back to the carriage.
“There is one more thing we need to do before we go,” Gabrielle said, fitting her black gloves back on her hands.
Brent swallowed the last of his tea. “I thought we had seen and done it all,” he said.
“No, I saw the booth earlier and resisted its lure until now.”
“I’m intrigued. What haven’t we seen?”
“The fortune-teller booth.”
Brent folded his arms across his chest and eyed her warily. “You aren’t serious.”
“Of course I am.” She smiled. “Don’t you want to know what your future holds?”
“Not particularly,” he said. “I have no interest in such folly.”
“Oh, I do,” she said quickly. “I absolutely adore having my fortune told, and I believe everything they say will come true.”
He studied her and said, “Do you now?”
“Oh, yes. My father believes in what fortune-tellers say, and my sister, too. And we all consult them often.”
Brent smiled. He didn’t believe a word of what she was saying. The second she heard he had no interest in fortune-tellers, she was suddenly very intent about it.
“All right, Gabrielle, let’s go and see what your future holds.”
The cramped booth was painted black with small, shiny red stars. A woman sat behind a counter. She was dressed in all black with a sheer lace netting covering her face.
“Welcome, gentleman and lady,” she said in a heavy Italian accent. “I tell both fortunes for one shilling, no?”
Gabrielle looked at Brent. “You will do it, won’t you?”
“Only for you.”
Brent paid the woman, and she asked Gabrielle to take off her glove and hold out her hand, palm up.
“It’s all right I touch your hand?” the woman asked.
Gabrielle nodded. The fortune-teller lightly traced the lines in Gabrielle’s hand as she hummed. After what seemed like a dreadfully long time to Brent, she looked up and said, “I see that recently in your life there has been a major change, and that has troubled you.”
Gabrielle nodded and glanced at Brent. He shrugged.
“Ah, but I see great happiness in your future. But first”—the woman paused for another long time as she seemed to study Gabrielle’s hand—“first something more will trouble you and cause you pain. You have very strong men in your life, and they all want to choose for you.”
Gabrielle frowned. “Choose what?”
“That I cannot say, but when it come
s, you will remember I was the one who told you it would happen.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle said and pulled her hand back. She turned to Brent and said, “Now it’s your turn.”
Brent took off his glove and, as he extended his hand to the woman, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a man walking by. Something about him seemed very familiar. It took a moment or two for Brent to realize it was the black patch over his eye that jogged his memory. This was the man Brent had seen in the park a month or so ago, who had a rabbit under his coat. Brent turned and looked behind him. The man was carrying a lumpy, dirty canvas sack over his shoulders.
Brent’s senses went on alert, and he jerked back his hand from the fortune-teller. Brent remembered the talk going around Town that not only the remains of horses and cattle were fed to beasts at fairs, but strays, too.
He wanted to follow the man and find out what he had in that sack he carried, but what could Brent do with Gabrielle? He quickly glanced around him. There was no place safe where he could leave her unattended at the fair. There were too many disreputable people milling around. But he had to do something quickly. The man was getting farther away.
He grabbed Gabrielle’s and said, “Come with me.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, almost running to keep up with his long strides. “What about your fortune?”
“Later,” he said, searching the people in front them and trying to catch up with the man before he lost him in the crowd.
“Brent, what is wrong? Where are we going in such a hurry?”
“Look ahead of us to the left. You’ll see a man in a gray coat. He has a sack thrown over his shoulder.”
“Yes, I see him.”
“I want to follow him to see where he is going, and I don’t want him to know we are doing it.”
“Why? What has he done?”
Brent glanced over at her and wondered if he was doing the right thing by bringing her along with him. He could understand her curiosity, but he didn’t have time to explain to her what he was doing. He wished like hell he didn’t have Gabrielle with him. He couldn’t leave her alone, though he wasn’t sure she was any safer with him following this man. Brent had to know what was in that bag.