A Gentleman Never Tells (10 page)

As Gabrielle said those words, she realized for the first time they were true.

She had made a horrible mistake in kissing the viscount, but she wasn’t going to let that one lapse in judgment keep her from going forward with her life. Her father had left London, so she could no longer work on persuading him that she and Lord Brentwood shouldn’t marry. That left Lord Brentwood, whom she hoped would be an easier target than her father.

Since he would be at Lady Windham’s tonight, she would put her plans into action. She had only a few weeks at most to convince him she was not the lady he wanted to marry.

Do not look back in anger, or forward in fear, but around in awareness.

—James Thurber

A nervous fluttering attacked Gabrielle’s stomach as she entered Lady Windham’s house with her aunt later that evening. The spontaneous jitters had nothing to do with her dreading cold stares or unflattering comments whispered about her or her broken engagement. This wouldn’t be the first time she was the topic of conversation. People felt a certain familiarity that came with being the daughter of a powerful duke. Some were not only comfortable but believed they were justified in talking about her. Gabrielle had never minded.

Her fluttery feeling was because she knew she would see Lord Brentwood again tonight. She had paid special attention to her appearance, selecting a long-sleeved, high-waisted velvet gown of the palest pink that went perfectly with her golden-colored hair. A single strand of pearls circled her neck, and a delicate teardrop-shaped pearl dripped from each ear. Her hair was swept up into a loose chignon and circled by a band of pearls.

Lord and Lady Windham’s house was bright with the yellow glow of candles and oil lamps. Their home was one of the largest in Mayfair, and any event hosted by them was a grand affair. They spared no expense with food, drink, or the guest list whenever they gave a party. The house was buzzing with the constant strum of lively music, raucous laughter, and the chatter of conversations.

In the large foyer, the attendant helped Gabrielle and her aunt take off their velvet cloaks. From where she stood, Gabrielle could see into the drawing room and down the corridor. She quickly scanned the area to see if she could catch a glimpse of Lord Brentwood. When she saw no sign of him among the crush of people spilling into the rooms, she relaxed a little.

“Tell me, dearest, how are you feeling now that you are here?” Auntie Bethie asked her.

Gabrielle turned to her aunt, who was dressed in a puce-colored gown adorned with three flounces on the skirt and the sleeves. An elaborate necklace of gold and garnets was fastened around her neck, and large garnets were clipped to her ears. In her red hair, she wore a comb that had been festooned with ribbons and short-cropped pheasant feathers.

Long ago, Gabrielle had learned how to adapt and to accept whatever situation she was in at the time, so she gave her aunt a smile of confidence and said, “I feel exceptional, Auntie.”

Her aunt’s dark brown eyes gleamed with happiness. “That’s what I wanted to hear. You are doing the right thing, my dear, by coming out to the parties. When a person shies away from Society, it’s natural for people to think it’s because they have something to hide.”

Gabrielle pursed her lips and thought on that. “I suppose you are right.”

“I know I’m right. Now, who are those two young ladies I see standing over by that clock, trying desperately not to let me know they are trying to get your attention?”

Gabrielle laughed softly as she caught sight of her two friends motioning for her to join them. Fern Crenshaw was a lovely red-haired young lady who had married right after the Season ended and was blissfully happy with her new husband and the baby that was expected next spring. Babs Whitehouse was a voluptuous golden-haired beauty and an outrageous flirt who had turned down more than three offers for her hand this past Season. She was constantly admonishing Gabrielle for her prim and proper ways.

“No doubt they are eager to hear what has been happening in my life.”

“I’m sure they’ve heard the gossip their parents have brought home to them, and they are ready to hear the truth from you, should you decide to divulge more of it to them than you have to me.”

“Never, Auntie,” Gabrielle said with a sly smile.

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.”

“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.