Gabriella

by Brenda Hiatt

  A few moments later, the Duke returned with a grey satin robe over his arm. "Will this do?" he asked anxiously, holding it out.

  Brie could not believe her eyes. That robe had no doubt cost twice what her own dress had! "I simply wished for something to throw over my gown, your grace," she said. "I should hate to ruin that lovely robe."

  "Oh, it is just an old one of my mother's," he replied, scarcely glancing at it. "No doubt it was overlooked when the rest of her things were given away. Please put it on. Didn't you say there was not a moment to lose? How is she?" He watched Diana worriedly as he spoke.

  Brie realised that the foxhound meant far more to him than the robe possibly could, so she wordlessly put it on over her dress. "I'm not quite sure yet, though I have managed to calm her somewhat. Ah, there you are!" This to the groom, who entered at that moment. "Set those down here, if you please. Now, whom does Diana trust most?"

  The men blinked at her in confusion before the Duke said, "That would be me, I suppose. She is with me constantly, both here and on my estates."

  "Fine," cut in Brie, not waiting for more details. "Would you come round here and hold her head then, your grace? Try to keep her calm while I make a quick examination."

  The Duke of Ravenham obediently knelt by the dog's head, crooning to her much as Brie had done earlier. After watching him approvingly for a moment, Brie gave her attention back to the distressed bitch. With the Duke at one end of Diana and Brie at the other, their two heads were nearly touching, though Brie tried very hard not to notice, focusing instead on her patient.

  "It is as I thought," she announced after a pause. "The first puppy is a bit too large for her, and is breech, as well. She'll need some help to deliver it."

  The two men exchanged dubious glances over her head, but as neither of them had the vaguest idea of what to do, they silently let her continue. Brie spread the linens under Diana's hips, then went to work. She considered using the twine, but discarded the idea for fear of harming the puppy, which might just still be alive. After a tense silence which lasted many minutes, Brie was able to carefully maneuver the tiny body from its too-tight quarters. At once, she began to rub him vigorously with a scrap of linen.

  "A dog pup, as I suspected!" she exclaimed with relief, as he began to breathe on his own as a result of her rubbing. "They are almost always larger than the females." Diana looked round in sudden interest and took over the cleaning process herself.

  "She will probably be able to manage the rest on her own, but we will watch for a bit to be sure."

  The two men nodded silently, their eyes wide and awed by the miracle they had just witnessed. Brie knew the Duke had seriously feared that he would lose Diana, and the groom was clearly fond of her, as well. She did seem an unusually sweet-tempered dog.

  "I—I don't know how to thank you, Miss Gordon," the Duke managed to say after a moment. "By now, you probably have an idea of how much this dog means to me."

  Brie smiled warmly at him, deeply touched by his concern for the little bitch. In her book, a man that could care so much for an animal had to be a good man.

  "That horse at the Ruby Crown —you did not mistreat it, did you?"

  He blinked at her sudden change of subject, but smiled and answered readily enough. "No, I had just purchased it from its owner, a brute of a tinker, to prevent its further mistreatment, as a matter of fact. But I seem to recall that you were in no mood to listen to explanations."

  "And you were in no mood to give them," Brie retorted, then stopped, suddenly embarrassed by the recollection. For surely the reason he had been so brusque was that she had interrupted his assignation with that woman, whoever she was.

  The Duke must also have remembered the reason for his ill temper at the time, for he flushed, suddenly appearing almost as embarrassed as Brie felt. But then his expression changed to something more serious.

  "I am not like to be in such a mood for such a cause again, Brie," he said quietly. Their eyes met over the busy forms of Diana and her new pup and again, as in the Park earlier, an unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them. Brie held her breath, waiting for the Duke's next words.

  "Dexter!" came Lady Elizabeth's voice from outside the stables.

  "In here," he called, and Brie found herself both frustrated and relieved at the interruption. What had he been about to say?

  A moment later, Elizabeth appeared round the comer of the stall. "I came right down as soon as I heard," she was saying. "Poor Diana! I should never have gone shopping if... Oh! Brie! No one said that you were here!"

  "We owe Miss Gordon a very great debt," the Duke informed his sister. "If she had not come back with me, we might very well have lost Diana. As it is…" His voice trailed away, for Diana was again straining.

  "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Are you certain she is all right?"

  "Just puppy number two, I should think," replied Brie cheerfully. "We'll let her push on her own for a few minutes before doing anything, if you don't mind, your grace."

  "You are the expert here, Miss Gordon," he answered quickly. "I would not presume to argue with you on the smallest point."

  "How very pleasant," she teased. "I shall be sure to remind you of that at some future time."

  He did not respond to her bantering tone, however, for he was still watching Diana with some trepidation. His worry proved needless, however, for in less than a minute the second pup had made its way into the world with no assistance from the human observers.

  "As I thought," said Brie with satisfaction. "She should go on splendidly now. I suppose there is really no reason for us to remain, unless you wish to." She looked from the Duke to his sister enquiringly.

  "Oh, let us stay," cried Elizabeth eagerly. "I am simply dying to know how many pups Diana is going to have, and if I know Dexter he probably has at least one wager riding on the outcome."

  The Duke flushed again and admitted this to be true. "If she has six or more it will be worth fifty pounds to me. Not from Garvey, obviously. He never gambles for mere money. In fact, Miss Gordon, it may interest you to know I have vowed never to wager with him again."

  "Probably a wise decision," she returned calmly, deciding not to take offence, as no malice was apparently intended in his statement. "One never knows what kind of bumblebath a wager of unknown stakes might land one in."

  Ravenham chuckled at her carefully innocent expression and the three continued to converse lightly while waiting for Diana to complete her litter. One of the footmen brought sandwiches and lemonade at the Duke's request and they made quite a merry party of it.

  "Seven!" exclaimed Ravenham in obvious satisfaction some two hours later. "Do you think that will be all, Brie?" They had both grown comfortable with being on a first-name basis during their vigil, encouraged, no doubt, by Elizabeth's cheerful informality with both of them.

  "Yes, she appears to be quite empty," replied Brie, palpating the little bitch gently. "And in excellent health, I might add, though she is no doubt exhausted. You might have someone bring her food and water right in here so that she won't have to leave the pups to eat."

  "Gracious, I certainly am glad that we don't have seven at a time, aren't you, Brie?" commented Elizabeth as she rose and brushed the straw off her gown.

  "But think how simple it would be to get a whole brood out of the way at once," returned Brie in the same vein.

  "I still think I would prefer to have mine one at a time. What think you, Dex?" She turned to her brother with a roguish smile, clearly hoping to embarrass him.

  "As I shall never be in such a position, I feel no need to have an opinion on the subject," he retorted. He seemed to be avoiding Brie's eye for some reason.

  "I must be getting back," said Brie regretfully. She could not remember when she had so enjoyed an afternoon. "I suppose I will have to explain my absence to my sister, after all. I hope she will not be too scandalised." She was not optimistic.

  "I'll escort you home at once," said the Duke. "I
will even come in to help you explain, if you think it might make things easier. I feel that to be the very least I owe you."

  Elizabeth hugged her friend briefly, thanking her again for what she had done for Diana and promising to call on her soon. "I would accompany you, but I shall have to change immediately if I am not to be late to Miss Haverly's. I knew her in school, though we were hardly friends, and she has bidden me to attend an afternoon card party." She grimaced slightly. "I accepted the invitation, so I must keep my word."

  Brie was still in excellent spirits when they reached the Platt residence a short while later; so much so that she cheerfully refused the Duke's assistance. "I think it is time I began to stand up to my sister, your grace, don't you?"

  "Bravo! I do indeed," he approved. "But please, I would prefer to remain Dexter, if you don't mind. That way I can continue to call you Brie, as my sister does, and I vastly prefer that to Miss Gordon."

  She flushed with pleasure and agreed. "Thank you for the driving lesson, Dexter. Good day."

  "We will continue it at a later date," he promised as he helped her to alight, "though you are already more accomplished with the ribbons than most ladies of my acquaintance. "Good luck with your explanation. Don't hesitate to send for me if you should need reinforcements!" They parted at the doorway on the best of terms.

  Brie entered the parlour a moment later, her head still high with her renewed sense of self-confidence. Lady Platt, already dressed for dinner, sat there alone with a ladies' periodical but threw it down the moment she spotted her sister.

  "And where have you been till this hour?" she demanded at once. "Never say you were driving with Ravenham all this time! By the bye, I thought you once told me that it was the Lady Elizabeth who had offered to teach you to drive." Brie had never mentioned the earlier lesson to her sister, as it had ended so embarrassingly.

  "There was a change of plans," replied Brie lightly, refusing to be intimidated for once. "Dex— The Duke felt that he would be a better instructor than his sister."

  Angela's eyes narrowed at the near-slip, but passed over it for the moment. "Are you telling me that he has been teaching you to drive for four hours? You must be quite the expert by now. Did you take tea in his curricle by chance?"

  "No, in his stables, as a matter of fact," said Brie blandly. "That is where we have been for the last three of those four hours." She waited confidently for the outburst that was sure to follow.

  "Are you lost to all sense of propriety?" Angela fairly screeched, exactly on cue. "I can think of absolutely nothing decent that a young lady might do for three hours in a stable! Were you seen, do you think?"

  "Certainly, by several grooms, at least, and by the Lady Elizabeth," said Brie. Then, perceiving that her sister appeared to be on the verge of hysteria, she relented somewhat. "She was there as well, you see."

  Angela visibly relaxed upon being assured that Brie's reputation, at least, must still be intact. "You still haven't told me what you were doing in Ravenham's stables for three hours," she pointed out a trifle more calmly.

  "One of his prize foxhounds was having difficulty whelping, so I offered to help. Both the Duke and his sister seemed very grateful," she added quickly, seeing that Angela's colour was beginning to rise again. "I may very well have saved the dog's life, as their veterinarian had refused to come."

  "And have you now decided to take up our esteemed father's profession?" asked Angela icily. "Really, Gabriella, have you no sense of decorum at all?"

  "Not when an animal's life is at stake," snapped Brie. She had been patience itself at the start of this interview, but now it was wearing thin. "It would have been unforgivable in me to have done nothing, out of some mistaken sense of propriety, when my help could make a difference."

  "Perhaps when I wash my hands of you, you can hire your services out to their friends," said Angela caustically. "Next you'll tell me everyone already knows that our father was a veterinary surgeon."

  "No, I have only told the Duke and his sister. And I must say that they did not seem particularly scandalised."

  Angela glared at Brie, but seemed to realize that the damage could not be undone. "We can trust them to remain silent on the subject, I suppose," she said after a moment. "If you are discredited in Society it would reflect badly on Ravenham, as it was he who brought you into fashion. Don't be surprised if he wishes to see less and less of you now that he knows the truth, however!"

  Brie must have shown her dismay, for her sister suddenly became patronizing. "Don't tell me you were actually hoping that he might continue to distinguish you now that the terms of his wager are over!" She gave a brittle little laugh.

  "Let me tell you, missie, that the Duke of Ravenham can choose among the wealthiest and most beautiful ladies in England for a bride. A nobody like yourself can be no temptation to him whatsoever. If he speaks to you at all after today, it will be strictly for his sister's benefit, as she seems to have taken a liking to you." Her tone plainly indicated that she was unable to fathom any reason for such an eccentricity on Lady Elizabeth's part.

  Brie sat down rather suddenly. She had realised with a flash during her sister's lecture that she had begun to cherish a hope of engaging Dexter's affections, though she had not truly been aware of it before now.

  During the course of the afternoon he had shown himself to be exactly the sort of man she had always dreamed of. Now that she knew the truth behind that mistreated horse at the Ruby Crown, she could not even use that feeble excuse to fend off her feelings for him. Here was a man whose love and concern for animals matched her own; that he was also the handsomest man of her acquaintance didn't seem to detract from his charm, either.

  But she had no doubt that what her sister said was true. He had been grateful to her for saving his prize foxhound, but that did not mean he had any more tender feelings for her. Perhaps, however, if she could keep her own emotions in check, they could still be friends, she thought. They certainly had enough in common for just that.

  She tried valiantly to allow none of her conflicting thoughts to show in her expression, and merely said to her sister, "You are quite mistaken, Angela. The Duke of Ravenham has been very kind to me, but I never expected that he might continue dancing attendance on me. Any fondness I feel for him is merely as Elizabeth's brother."

  With that, she rose gracefully and left the room. Angela's face showed plainly that she didn't believe a word of it, and Brie really could not blame her. She didn't believe it herself.

 

  * * *

 

 

 

 

  CHAPTER 17

 

  "You should have seen her, Barry! Not a bit ruffled, and she knew exactly what to do. I don't doubt for a moment that she saved Diana's life and, of course, this whole beautiful brood!"

  "An impressive litter, I must say," agreed Lord Garvey with appreciation. They were in Ravenham's stables, where Dexter was proudly showing off the day-old pups to his friend. "I can't help but notice that you seem unusually taken with Miss Gordon, Dex," Garvey went on cautiously after a moment, worry creasing his brow.

  "Yes, I—I suppose I am," replied the Duke slowly, with a crooked smile. "Hadn't really thought much about it, I confess. I just like being around her."

  Garvey watched his friend with concern; Ravenham was showing every sign of falling under the girl's influence. And it was only yesterday that Garvey had heard Sir Seymour defending his wife's name at White's by saying that it was his sister-in-law More had been seeing all along. Dexter would have to be told.

  "Dexter, m'boy," he said heavily, "there's something I think you should know." He proceeded to relate the story Sir Frederick More had told him several nights ago. "I truly am sorry, Dex," he finished, "but, well, better that you hear it from me than elsewhere." He was already partly regretting his decision to speak after seeing the stricken expression on his friend's face.

  "Do you mean it has bec
ome common knowledge? Is someone liable to tell me of it in some tavern, as well?" Ravenham was torn between disbelief and despair.

  "No, no," Garvey quickly reassured him. "More told me privately, and asked that it remain so. Didn't swear me to silence, though, and I thought you should know— had a right to, in fact."

  For a moment, Dexter wished his friend had remained silent, that he had been left in blissful ignorance. But no! That was absurd. Sooner or later the girl's true nature would be bound to show itself. Suppose he had... had married her in said ignorance? Their union surely wouldn't have remained "blissful" for long! Still, there were things about this that he didn't quite understand.

  "Why should More confide in you, of all people, Barry?" he asked. "You're an admirable fellow, of course, but you and he have never been boon companions, have you?"

  "Good Lord, no! Scarcely know the man. He seemed rather cast down that evening, though, and I was probably the first available confidant he found. We must be glad it wasn't some gossipmonger instead of me, I suppose."

  "Hmm." Ravenham was thoughtful. He had never trusted Sir Frederick More, and would have liked to dismiss the story as an outright lie, but there were certain considerations which kept him from doing so.

  "She cut him dead in the Park last week, did you know that?" he asked abruptly. "Wouldn't tell me why, either."

  "Well, I have to admit that would fit," said Garvey cautiously, as though trying to gauge his friend's mood. "More said something about her pushing him too far of late. Said he cared too much for her to speak out in public, which is likely, but how long will he remain silent if she continues to cut him like that?"

  Dexter didn't think it likely in the least, but forbore saying so to Garvey, as it was obvious his sympathies for the moment were with Sir Frederick. He remembered the time in Hyde Park a few weeks ago when he had "rescued" Brie from a private tête-à-tête with the man and his disappointment was suddenly swallowed up in anger. Perhaps that's why she had seemed upset at his interference!

  "You...you'd best go, Barry," he said absently. "I have a great deal on to think right now."