Gabriella

by Brenda Hiatt

  "This can't be the same little Lady Eliza that I remember, with the perpetual pigtails and muddy petticoat!" he exclaimed. There was admiration mixed with disbelief in both his tone and expression.

  Glancing quickly at her new friend, Brie was startled to see a deep blush suffuse Elizabeth's delicate complexion. She retained enough composure to greet Lord Garvey with a shy smile, however, as well as a murmured response that he had changed, as well. The Duke was frowning slightly, and to divert his attention, Brie broke the small silence which had descended.

  "Lady Elizabeth and I were just going in search of some lemonade, your grace. Perhaps you and Lord Garvey would be kind enough to procure some for us?"

  She trembled a bit at her boldness, but the two gentlemen seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary in the request and complied readily. The two girls found seats near the wall and awaited their return.

  "I collect that you knew Lord Garvey when you were much younger," Brie said tentatively after a moment, in hopes of beginning a real conversation with the shy Elizabeth.

  "Oh, yes," agreed her companion, almost eagerly. "He and Dexter were forever together, as our estates adjoin and they are of an age. Of course, I was just a silly little girl in their eyes, though I tried my best to keep up with them. I'm afraid I was a bit of a hoyden back then."

  Brie felt herself warming more to this girl every moment and mentioned that she was country bred herself and only now learning how to go on in Society.

  "I would never have guessed it!" exclaimed Elizabeth admiringly. "Why, it took four years at Miss Gebhart's Seminary and another abroad to give me what my brother and aunt decided was enough Town polish to make my come-out. I just hope I can remember it all."

  "You terrify me!" returned Brie, her alarm not entirely assumed. "There must be gaping holes in my education, in that case. Right now, I'm only hoping to remember a few of the names I've learned tonight."

  Their conversation continued in that vein, and before the gentlemen returned, they were Eliza and Brie to each other and as comfortable as if they had known each other for years.

  "Why is it you never mentioned what a beauty your sister has grown up to be, Dex?" was Lord Garvey's first comment as soon as they were out of earshot of the ladies.

  "I guess I never noticed. You know how it is, one's own sister and all," Ravenham replied with a sidelong glance at his friend. "Never thought you were much in the petticoat line, anyway, Barry."

  "Oh, I'm not," declaimed Garvey quickly. "Just couldn't help noticing the change in her, that's all. So," he continued, "that's the Miss Gordon whose fate will determine your honour."

  "My honour?" exclaimed Ravenham. "What the devil do you mean by that?"

  "No need to fly into the boughs, old boy," Garvey said with a laugh. "I only meant that the payment of your wager— debt of honour, you know— hinges on her success."

  "Do you foresee that I'll have any problem there?" he asked, his attention successfully diverted.

  "Not if she goes on as she has begun. Seems a much more genteel girl than her sister, and dashed pretty, too."

  Ravenham nodded. He had noticed her tact a moment ago in smoothing over an awkward situation, if Garvey had not.

  "Your sister seems to have taken to her," Garvey added, glancing back to where the two girls sat, deep in conversation.

  "Yes," agreed the Duke, following Garvey's gaze with a slight frown.

  "I thought it was what you wanted?" asked his friend, clearly surprised at his expression. "By the bye, what story are you putting about? An old school chum of your sister's?"

  "No, just an old friend. We wouldn't want some other chit from Miss Gebhart's establishment declaring to the world that she's never seen Miss Gordon before. Too risky."

  Garvey looked at his companion with admiration. "I would never have thought of that," he admitted. "Good thing I asked before I started spreading the story."

  "You always were a nodcock, Barry," replied Ravenham good-naturedly. "We'd best hurry if we're to get this stuff to the girls before the next set forms."

 

  * * *

 

  By the time they were ready to leave Almack's, after midnight, Brie no longer felt alone in London. She had made numerous acquaintances, even if she only counted those whose names she could match to faces, several admirers, and one close friend in Lady Elizabeth. The only sour note had been provided by Sir Frederick but, she had to admit, it was not really his fault. It was the obvious friction between him and the Duke which caused her discomfort.

  The evening was nearly three-fourths gone before Sir Frederick approached her for a dance, and she had to regretfully inform him that she was already engaged for every one. She was truly disappointed, for she felt that dancing with Sir Frederick would show the Duke that she was not to be bullied, but she was conscious of a vague sense of relief, as well, which she couldn't understand.

  As the evening drew to a close, Brie (and Elizabeth) were besieged by gentlemen begging the honour of calling upon them the next day. Both girls looked to the Duke of Ravenham before answering these requests, and he benignly gave his assent to each one.

  As most were quite eligible in the light of suitors, as well as eminently respectable, she was startled when he commented to her in a sarcastic undertone, "No doubt you will manage to nab one or another of these fine fellows who are too besotted to enquire about your fortune. I wish you luck!"

  Startled and hurt by his tone, for she had assumed he would be pleased by her success, Brie groped for a suitable rejoinder. Before she could form one, however, she found herself face to face with Sir Frederick More.

  "Might I also have the honour of calling upon you, Miss Gordon? Perhaps you would do me the favour of walking out with me tomorrow." His air of assurance showed that he was aware that the Duke could not very well deny him without giving rise to unwelcome speculation. Brie, still stinging, realised it, as well.

  "Certainly, Sir Frederick," she answered without a glance at the Duke. "I look forward to seeing you again." She was more pleased to have been so promptly revenged on the duke for his rudeness than at the prospect of entertaining Sir Frederick, but let no trace of that show in her voice.

  Sir Frederick bowed and made his escape before his grace could repent of his forbearance. Damn the man's insolence, thought Ravenham in frustration. And Miss Gordon was no better, deliberately flouting him like that. He maintained a disapproving silence as he escorted her and his sister to the waiting carriage, but as the two girls were gaily comparing notes on the evening it was doubtful whether either of them even noticed.

 

  * * *

 

  "I'm not certain I wish you to pursue Miss Gordon's acquaintance after all," Ravenham informed his sister abruptly as they departed that young lady's doorstep. He had continued his silence during the brief drive, but it had only served to demonstrate to him how rapidly the friendship between the two girls was flourishing. He found being ignored by a young lady a novel experience, and one he did not care for.

  "Why, Dexter!" exclaimed Elizabeth in surprise. "I thought you wished us to be friends! And I must admit, I find her excessively agreeable. Whatever has caused you to change your mind?"

  "We know scarcely anything about her," he responded loftily, aware that he really had no good argument to put forth. "Her sister often behaves in an ill-bred manner, and I would not wish you exposed to that."

  "Oh, gammon!" returned Elizabeth, whose shyness did not extend to her own family. "We've been through all that and you know it! From what you have told me, you very likely know more about her family than she does herself, and Brie is certainly not ill-bred, whatever her sister may be."

  "Brie?" asked the Duke, momentarily diverted.

  "Miss Gordon. Brie is her family nickname, short for Gabriella, and she asked me to call her that when I told her to drop the 'Lady' from my name. Her father was Gabriel, you see, and by the time
Brie was born her parents had despaired of a son, so she was named after him. Then her brother came along a few years later so, to avoid confusion, she became Brie and he is called Gabe."

  "You seem to have gleaned quite a bit of family history yourself," remarked her brother sourly.

  "Why, Dex! I do believe you're jealous! And I think you're only out of sorts because Brie— Miss Gordon— was so sought after this evening."

  "Nonsense!" he replied, startled at the thought. Could that be it? Could he possibly be forming a tendre for the girl? "I don't wish to discuss it further," he said brusquely as Elizabeth appeared ready to continue the subject. "You may associate with her if you wish, but I pray you will not introduce any of her vulgar relations into our household."

  Elizabeth agreed to abide by this compromise, but exacerbated her brother's ill humour by chuckling quietly at intervals the rest of the way home, so delighted was she with her discovery.

 

  * * *

 

 

 

 

  CHAPTER 9

 

  Brie awoke near noon the next day, in tolerably good spirits but still tired from the night before. She wondered what was wrong with her; dancing for five hours might be strenuous, but surely no more strenuous than assisting at a difficult calving. Of course, she admitted, she had always been tired the day after that, as well.

  Entering the parlour in search of anyone else who might be awake, she was amazed to see a veritable garden containing every imaginable colour and variety of flower which, on closer inspection, proved to be more than a dozen bouquets, all addressed to herself. No wonder Angela was not in evidence, she thought wryly, inspecting the various cards, then chided herself for such an uncharitable thought.

  After reading every card, she was conscious of a faint sense of disappointment that none was from the Duke of Ravenham. Why, even Lord Garvey had sent a bouquet, and she had no illusions about where that young man's affections lay. This thought led naturally to Elizabeth, and she felt a sudden eagerness to see her new friend again. Had she received so many flowers? Brie hoped so.

  Suddenly conscious that she had had no breakfast, although it was nearer time for luncheon, Brie repaired to the dining room, where eggs, ham, toast and coffee had been left on the sideboard. She had just seated herself, a well-heaped plate before her, when Angela entered, superbly dressed and coiffed as usual and not looking at all as though she had just arisen.

  "Not much worried about your figure, are you?" she asked caustically, with a gesture towards Brie's repast. "Though, if anything, you could use some plumping out, I suppose."

  But Brie refused to have her day soured by her sister's acid tongue and mildly bade her good-morning. She diplomatically refrained from asking whether she had yet been in the parlour —she rather suspected, from her mood, that she had. A breakfast not much less generous than her own seemed to go a long way towards improving Lady Platt's outlook, however, and as she was finishing she finally enquired about Brie's evening at Almack's.

  "As you stayed fairly late, I suppose it is safe to assume that your debut was something of a success?" The question was asked casually, but Brie could sense her sister's anxiety over the answer.

  "Yes, I believe so," she answered cautiously, not sure just what Angela wished to hear. "I met a great number of people and danced most of the evening."

  Angela relaxed slightly, and Brie realised that her sister must actually have been worried that something would go wrong. Perhaps she really does care a bit about me, she was thinking, when Angela's next words dispelled that illusion.

  "Thank God you did nothing to embarrass us, then! You must have followed my advice and kept your mouth shut. The gentlemen seem to appreciate that in a lady, I've noticed."

  "No, I did not keep my mouth shut," replied Brie, bristling at her sister's tone, "and the gentlemen seemed to appreciate me, anyway. You have not yet seen the parlour, I take it?"

  "Oh, I have no doubt the gentlemen, and the ladies, too, were eager to ingratiate themselves with you, as you came in on Ravenham's arm. There are few who would not benefit by his notice." Angela showed a fine disregard for her own behaviour, little short of grovelling, towards the Duke. "I only hope that you said nothing that might reflect poorly on me. Do not forget to whom you owe this visit, missie."

  "I don't recall that I mentioned you at all, Angela," replied Brie drily, "so you need not worry. Word is bound to get about that I am your sister, but you can depend upon me not to spread it."

  Brie knew this was not what Angela had meant at all, as she clearly had every hope of being associated with her sister's success. In fact, it was rather amusing how quickly Angela backtracked, in an obvious effort to undo any harm her jealousy might have wrought.

  "Now, now, my dear," she soothed. "I didn't for a moment mean that I am ashamed of you, only that I was concerned that you might embarrass yourself, being so new to Town and its ways. I am sorry if I was a bit sharp, but I fear I have the headache most dreadfully and it has put me a bit out of temper. Now come, let us remove to the parlour, for if I am not much mistaken you will have simply droves of callers today!"

  Brie refrained from any comment as to the reason for this sudden volte-face, and obediently followed her sister out of the room.

 

  * * *

 

  Lady Platt had been quite correct, for within fifteen minutes the parlour was besieged by several of the gentlemen that Brie had met the evening before. Her sister played the perfect Society hostess, the effect only slightly marred when she succumbed to the temptation to flirt, and Brie found that she had less trouble than she had expected remembering names.

  There was Lord Hugely, a slight man whose appearance was enough at odds with his name to make it easy to remember, and Mr. Beakerton, whose long, pointed nose similarly jogged her memory. Sir Jeffrey she remembered by his stutter, and Lord Billings by the brightness of his waistcoat, though it was a vivid pink today rather than the brilliant orange it had been last night.

  And then there was Lord Timothy Gardiner, who had been her most persistent admirer at Almack's, so much so that she had with difficulty persuaded him against the advisability of a third dance. He was very handsome, with his black curling locks and aquiline features, though small of stature and probably younger than herself.

  "I see you received my offering, Goddess, and have kept it within your sight!" he exclaimed upon entering, gesturing towards the largest of the floral arrangements.

  Brie reflected that she had had little choice in the matter, as there was surely no cupboard in the house large enough to contain it, but thanked him sweetly just the same. She had noticed how Angela's eyes had widened when his name was announced, and concluded that he must be a person of more consequence than she had realised.

  "Pray allow me to place myself at your feet," he continued, but Brie stopped him before he could actually sit upon the floor.

  "Please, my lord, no," she said gently but firmly. "There is a perfectly adequate chair right here, and I would much prefer you to sit there."

  "Anything to please the divine Miss Gordon," he acquiesced, moving to the chair indicated. He then lapsed into silence, his whole attention riveted on her face, oblivious even to Lady Platt's most determined efforts to draw him into her conversation with Mr. Beakerton.

  Brie suspected that he might be composing more of the rather astonishing poetry he had shared with her last night at Almack's, and hoped that his quarter of an hour might end before he completed it. That wish was apparently answered, for when he rose to leave, his knitted brows indicated that he was still deep in thought; he broke his trance only long enough to kiss her fingertips lingeringly and utter a heartfelt sigh at the parting.

  After a hectic hour, Brie and Angela finally found themselves alone in the parlour, able to catch their breath. Brie had to admire the way her sister had been able to keep every one of their
callers entertained, never favouring one too obviously over another, and never losing her composure, even in the face of near-pandemonium when the tea tray had been accidentally overturned by Mr. Simkins. Brie herself had been hard-pressed not to laugh when cream and strawberry had sadly marred both his satin hose and his dignity.

  "Well!" Angela exclaimed as the door closed behind the last caller. "You have taken, and no mistake. I'll be very surprised if even you can't contrive to bring one of those bucks up to scratch!" Her smile was genuine, Brie realised. "I advise you to do it quickly, before your lack of fortune becomes generally known."

  This reminded Brie all too forcibly of the Duke's words to her last night. "I have no intention of wedding anyone at this point," she informed her sister tartly, "and if I did, I certainly wouldn't do it so dishonestly as that. I have never implied in any way that I have a fortune."

  "Of course not, my dear, how should you?" asked Angela, seemingly startled that her sister should have taken offence. "But anyone seeing you in public with Ravenham is bound to assume it. By the bye, what tale was given out to account for your presence with him last night?"

  "That I was an old friend of his sister's," replied Brie grudgingly. The thought that she might rightly be accused of deceit disturbed her profoundly.

  "There you have it, then! No pauper is likely to be a lifelong friend of the Lady Elizabeth. By all accounts, she is too proud to even speak to anyone with less than twenty thousand a year."

  "What a nasty thing to say!" exclaimed Brie, springing instantly to the defence of her friend. "Elizabeth is by far the pleasantest person I have yet met in London, and she knows full well I'm not wealthy. The only flaw she might possibly have is in being a bit shy."

  "My apologies, my dear," said Angela quickly, startled again. "I've never met the girl myself, and was only repeating what I had heard. It is still true, however, that her appearing to be your friend will only go to reinforce the idea of your eligibility, and we should do all we can to take advantage of it."

  Brie was about to insist that Elizabeth truly was her friend, choosing to ignore the latter half of Angela's statement, when Sir Frederick More was announced. Lady Platt pinned on her most charming smile in greeting, though it became somewhat fixed when Sir Frederick gave her only a perfunctory greeting before turning to her sister.