A Gentleman Never Tells (2 page)

He didn’t believe for a moment she didn’t know what he was referring to, but he decided not to call her on it. He simply raised a questioning eyebrow again and said, “Perhaps something unusual has happened this morning, and that is why you are in the park without benefit of a proper chaperone or guardian.”

Brent was certain she blushed, and then she intrigued him even more by lowering her lashes for a moment, as if she wanted to shield something from him.

But what?

The first shards of daylight spread across the horizon, making it easier for Brent to see just how lovely she was. He hadn’t seen the sky on a cloudless summer’s day that could hold a candle to the blue of her eyes. Every movement she made seemed graceful and natural for her, but to him they were inviting and seductive.

“No,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I just had to clear my, I mean, I just wanted to get away and be alone for a little while before the day began.”

He doubted whatever had brought her to the park was as simple as that. “Surely I don’t have to tell you it is not in your best interest to be in the park by yourself at this time of morning, or at any time for that matter.”

She lifted her chin as if to challenge his concern. “I am not worried about unsavory people out to make mischief, sir. As you can see, I have Brutus here to protect me.”

Brent knew it to be true the breed of mastiff was a good guard dog, but now that it was brighter, he could see Brutus more clearly. The dog looked to be quite old. A closer look at the black soulful eyes, gray muzzle, and droopy face, not to mention a total lack of interest in sniffing Prissy, confirmed Brent’s assessment that the mastiff’s best days were behind him.

“No doubt Brutus has a heart as big as the ships that sail the Thames, and in his younger years, it’s not hard to imagine he would have been a fierce protector. His size alone might still send some ruffians running; but whether he can protect you from danger now or not, he cannot protect you from scandal, and that might be your greatest concern.”

She shrugged her shoulders, and even that common, unobtrusive gesture aroused him.

Her gaze stayed locked on his. “Perhaps you are right about that, sir, but I have no fear from someone who is considerate enough to walk his mother’s dog.”

“It’s true you have nothing to fear from me, but alas, I cannot be your chaperone.”

She stepped closer, though for half a second he had the distinct feeling this confident young lady was suddenly uncertain. But the thought vanished when she surprised him by reaching up to touch the side of his face. Even though she wore a cotton glove, he felt heat and gentleness in her hand, and he caught the intoxicating scent of rosewater on her skin.

“You seem a kind and decent man.” She hesitated, and then drew a deep breath. “Forgive me,” she whispered.

She rose on her toes and placed her lips on his. Brent was stunned by her action, but as her body leaned into his and her lips pressed against his, surprise was replaced by an intense and immediate feral desire to possess her, which he struggled to control.

Her lips were soft and warm despite the chill of the morn, and he was lost to her tender kiss. It took a moment before it filtered into his brain that she wasn’t really very good at kissing, though she was trying hard to play the seductress. That simple fact made her all the more intriguing and desirable.

When her arms wound around his neck and her lips parted, Brent dropped Prissy’s leash and drew her gently into his embrace. Though he had no idea why, this woman was obviously serious with her intentions, and his body could no longer resist her attempt at seduction.

Brent coaxed her lips farther apart and tasted the warmth of her mouth, teasing her with his tongue. He slid his hands inside her cape and around her waist to the small of her back and felt her feminine softness. She gasped into his mouth when he brought her tightly against him. She was slender, yet very womanly melting into his arms. Beneath her wrap, his hand roved up and down the sensuous curve of her small waist and gentle flare of her shapely hips.

He couldn’t believe how wonderful and sweet her pliant lips felt beneath his. A rampant hunger sprang up inside him, and he deepened the kiss, letting his mouth cover hers more fully, frantically seeking her inner depths. She matched his hunger as if she had been yearning just for his touch. His hand moved up her rib cage to settle over the soft, tempting swell of her breast, and his insides quivered at how delicious she felt. Beneath his hand, her chest heaved with each determined breath, each skillful caress. A soft, involuntary whimper passed her lips, and her arms tightened around him. Her fingers dug into the thick fabric of his greatcoat.

Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he heard Prissy barking again, but the sound barely registered. The little creature was always barking at something. Brutus woofed a couple of times, but there was no way he was leaving the golden-haired beauty with the enchanting blue eyes who had walked freely out of the mist and so amazingly into his arms.

Brent reached up and pushed her cloak away from her shoulders, letting it fall to her back, giving him more freedom to touch her supple body as he desired. His lips left hers, and he kissed his way down the slender column of her neck, past the tied, corded sash that held her cape on, to where a bit of lace at the neckline of her dress teased and tickled his cheek and chin.

“Gabrielle!” a man shouted.

“Unhand her, you scoundrel!” another man bellowed.

Startled, Brent released her. A button on the sleeve of his coat caught on the lace at the neckline of her dress and ripped it as he stepped away.

In the blink of an eye, Brent saw four men charging toward him. Two of the men were well-dressed gentlemen, and the other two were wearing servants’ garb. He glanced over to his seducer. Her eyes held firmly on his. He expected to see fear or maybe regret in their depths, but what he saw was guilt.

Guilt?

Surely not, but the expression on her face told the tale. She wasn’t frightened of him or the men barreling down on them.

Had she planned this?

Was it possible that barely a fortnight in London and he’d already been caught in a parson’s mousetrap by the conniving, sweet-smelling hand of an angel?

While it was true he had planned to look for a comely, well-suited wife while in London, he had no intentions of being leg-shackled by anyone he didn’t choose.

“Sirs, I’m Viscount Brentwood,” he said as the men skittered to a halt in front of him. “I assure you this is not what it looks like. I was not attacking this young lady.”

“Lord Brentwood,” the taller of the two gentlemen said, “I am the Duke of Windergreen, and I assure you, I saw you kissing my daughter!”

A duke’s daughter! Blasted hell!

He didn’t know what kind of wretched plan was in that lovely head of hers, but he knew how powerful dukes were. This little scheme of hers could easily land him in Newgate if he wasn’t careful.

Brent turned to face the bewitching young lady, who still stood close to him, and whispered, “You did this deliberately, didn’t you?”

Her blue eyes rounded in horror. “No, of course not. How could you think that?”

“Right now I’m finding it very easy to think that.”

“Explain yourself, Brentwood,” the duke demanded.

Damnation!

He turned back toward her father. What could he say to the duke? That his daughter was the one who had kissed him? Would the duke believe him or even care that this lovely young angel he called Gabrielle was the one who initiated the kiss?

Somehow, Brent thought not.

In the dark recesses of his mind, Brent realized he heard Prissy barking again. It wasn’t her yappy, irritating bark or her snarling growl at blowing leaves. It was a painful whine.

Brent tensed again. Something had happened to his mother’s dog.

He glanced down. It wasn’t the mastiff giving her trouble. Brutus stood quite innocently beside his mistress.

Prissy cried again, a piercing screech of alarm as if something had hold of her. Brent’s mind went blank, and without thinking about consequences, he bolted toward the sound.

“Catch him!” Brent heard the duke shout behind him, but he kept running toward the dog.

But not much more than a few steps farther, he was slammed to the ground from behind, a heavy body landing on top of him.

Brent grunted and winced. He struggled to throw the man off his back as a beefy hand shoved the side of his face into the hard, wet ground.

“Stop!” he yelled. “I’m not running away. I hear my dog. I need to go to her. She’s hurt.”

“Sure she is, my lord,” the servant muttered above him as he pushed Brent’s face harder into the cold, rocky earth. “And I have a manor house in Kent, too.”

What a hell of a mess he was in. Something was wrong with his mother’s dog, and he’d been caught in the park at daybreak kissing a duke’s daughter.

“Damnation,” he rasped into the hard ground.

No wonder his mother had always said it would be a cold day in hell before she went back to London.

Never mind your happiness; do your duty.

—Will Durant

Gabrielle’s heart jumped to her throat. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

She watched in horror as her father and her fiancé’s father yelled at their footmen to catch the retreating viscount. Heavens above, she didn’t blame him for running away. If she were him, she’d be trying to get away too!

He thought she had deliberately tried to leg shackle him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

She only wanted to kiss him.

Gabrielle knew her father and Lord Austerhill occasionally enjoyed a smoke, a talk, and a long early morning walk in the park. But she had been too consumed with her own troubles to even consider that they might be in Hyde Park this chilly morn.

Heavens above, what had she done? But, of course, she knew the answer to that.

With a brief squeeze of her eyes, she tried to blot out the image of seeing her fiancé and her sister wrapped together in a passionate embrace in a dimly lit corridor where the Autumn Ball was being held. She feared that scene would be forever etched in her mind. How had she missed their love for each other? She had always considered herself so discerning, so intuitive, but obviously not when dealing with matters of the heart.

With what she witnessed, a different young lady might have thrown herself out a window or across her bed and cried like a fool, but Gabrielle had never been a fool… other than being foolish enough not to notice her fiancé and sister were in love. This, in turn, had made Gabrielle wish for a window. Instead, she had grabbed her cape and her faithful dog Brutus and had gone to the park and thrown herself at a gentleman!

What in heaven’s name had she done?

Watching the servants chasing after Lord Brentwood, she had to wonder if the window might have done less damage.

She didn’t know what madness had come over her, but when she’d seen the tall, handsome man standing in the swirling mist, for a moment she couldn’t breathe. He was beautiful, regal, nearly otherworldly, which could be the only reason she had forgotten all about this world and approached him. When his gaze had drifted down her face, she’d felt a quickening of something wonderful skimming along her breasts and then sailing inexplicably to the lowest recesses of her abdomen. Just remembering how she had felt when he looked at her brought the elusive sensations tingling back into her body, feelings she’d never experienced when her fiancé had looked at her.

In the distance, the sound of a body being slammed to the ground, followed by a loud grunt, cut off everything but her own distressed gasp. With a wince, she turned to see her father’s footman sprawled on top of the viscount, and Lord Austerhill’s servant pressing the innocent man’s face into the ground. Queasiness filled her stomach, and Gabrielle thought she might be sick. She swallowed past a thick throat and steeled herself for the backlash she knew wasn’t far away.

Brutus sensed her distress and nudged against her hip with his body, growling low in his throat. Out of habit, she reached down, and with a pat on his big head, assured the dog she was fine. He reached up and sniffed her hand.

“What in the name of Hades are you doing out here with that man?” her father demanded. Grabbing her upper arm, he turned her around to face him. Brutus growled again, but her father paid the dog no mind.

Feeling as if her breath was trapped in her chest, and unable to move, Gabrielle stood in mortified silence, staring at the two enraged men glaring at her. The raw fury in their faces spoke of dire consequences and suddenly rendered her speechless.

“Gabrielle!” her father said more sharply, squeezing her arm.

Her father had always been a short-tempered man, but he had never touched her—in kindness or in anger. She hated disappointing him, but there was no changing what had happened. She calmly took hold of her father’s wrist and removed his clenched hand from her arm before Brutus decided to attack. That would prove a bigger disaster than she was facing right now.

“It’s clear we’ll get nothing out of her,” Lord Austerhill spat, not bothering to hide the contempt he felt for her. “As I suspected, she is too filled with guilt to speak.”

“No, Lord Austerhill,” Gabrielle said, struggling to pull herself together. “I am not afraid to speak. There is simply nothing I have to say about my presence in the park.”

Her father shook with uncontrolled rage. “You better have something to say, young lady, and you can start by telling me what you are doing out here alone with that man.”

“I believe we saw what she was doing here, Duke,” Lord Austerhill argued. “What I want to know is why, when she is to marry my son a week from today.”

How could she tell her father she had enticed the viscount because something about him drew her, and she wanted to be kissed the way she saw her fiancé kiss her sister last night? How could she admit to Lord Austerhill she wanted to experience the unbridled passion she saw on her sister’s face when his son had kissed her? Though one look at her father’s thin lips, not to mention Lord Austerhill’s bulging eyes, let her know she didn’t want to tell either man the truth. Besides, how could she explain to them what happened when she was as astounded at what she’d done as they were? No, it was best to remain silent and let them think what they wished.

Gabrielle had never been a witless ninny who was led by fanciful dreams of romance and feminine emotions. She was calm, sensible, and never flustered—until today. The truth was, she had never done an impetuous thing in her life. She was her father’s oldest child. She was dependable, rational, and obedient. That was why she had accepted the practical, unemotional marriage her father had arranged for her in the first place. That was what those of her kind did.

Or so she had always believed. Now she wasn’t so sure. After what she experienced with this viscount, this stranger, Gabrielle had to wonder if she had only buried feelings of passion and desire in order to please her father.

But, what in heaven’s name had come over her this morning to make her throw all of her upbringing away and want to be kissed and held in the arms of a handsome stranger? What was there about Lord Brentwood that had awakened the wanton desire she’d felt when she looked at him?

“Speak, girl, speak,” her father demanded again.

“Have you absolutely nothing to say in your defense?” Lord Austerhill snapped.

Gabrielle was forced to ignore her father and the nobleman. She had no answer. She felt as if her whole life had suddenly shifted, and she didn’t know herself.

She glanced back at the man on the ground. She watched in horror as the two footmen struggled with Lord Brentwood. No matter what her father or the earl thought about what they witnessed, she was the reason the viscount was being manhandled like a common footpad, and it was her responsibility to help him.

Suddenly, Gabrielle was not concerned about her father’s ire, herself, her sister, or Lord Austerhill’s son. She was appalled to watch the handsome viscount dragged unceremoniously to his feet, his hands held firmly behind his back by the servants.

She turned to her father. “Papa, tell Muggs not to hurt Lord Brentwood. What happened was not his fault; it was mine.”

Her father’s jaw was set with rage. He was a rigid man, straight as the blade of a soldier’s sword and just as hard. In his younger days, a mere glance from him could send a shudder through the household staff, and her younger brother and sister racing to hide beneath their beds.

“I’m not the least concerned whether Muggs hurts the man. He can kill the scoundrel for all I care. And for your information, young lady, when a man puts his hands on an untouched maid of quality, it is never her fault as far as I’m concerned. The blame is always with the man, though the girl is always the one punished.”

“Notice whom her concern is for, Duke,” Lord Austerhill remarked scathingly. “Did you hear her say one word about how this shameful act of betrayal she’s committed is going to destroy my son?”

Gabrielle smothered an angry retort about his son by pressing her lips tightly together. Her ill-advised words of concern for Lord Brentwood didn’t sit well with the earl or her father and wasn’t going to help the struggling viscount.

“Clearly, your daughter has been carrying on an affair with this man behind my son’s back with secret assignations.”

Gabrielle gasped. “That is not true, my lord. I haven’t,” she said earnestly, and immediately wondered if letting them know this was the first time she had ever met the man made her seem more a wanton doxy than if she and Lord Brentwood had been long-standing lovers.

Apparently her fierce denial did nothing to salve the earl’s rancor. His bushy gray eyebrows rose with skepticism, and a nervous tic worked each side of his wide, sneering mouth.

Indignation dripped from his words as he said, “That is not what it looked like to me. You two seemed to know each other very well indeed, considering the way you were wrapped in each other’s arms, with your lips locked together as if you were trying to swallow each other. Your torn gown and gaping cape were falling off your shoulders.”

No longer able to hide the turmoil churning inside her, a shiver of outrage shook her. Gabrielle gasped so loudly Brutus growled a warning.

Gabrielle’s chin lifted defiantly. “Lord Austerhill, you owe me an apology. My gown was never off my shoulders.” She looked down at the bodice of her dress and winced inside when she saw the delicate lace that had edged the neckline of her dress was torn free. Hastily she added, “A bit of lace was ripped away from the fabric when it caught on the button on Lord Brentwood’s sleeve. That is all.”

“Ha!” Lord Austerhill shouted loudly. “As if any of that matters anyway. Tell the story any way you like. It won’t change what was going on here or the outcome it has now created.”

Resentment and anger at the man’s pompous attitude festered inside Gabrielle. She was the one who had been wronged by his son carrying on a tryst with her sister. Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest and tell the man the ugly truth she had discovered just hours ago at the ball at the Great Hall, but caught herself. Accusing his son would mean telling on her sister, as well, and while Gabrielle wanted to strangle the impetuous Rosabelle for her deception and betrayal, she couldn’t risk ruining her by telling Lord Austerhill and her father what had been going on between Rosabelle and Staunton.

“Now see here, Austerhill,” her father stated firmly. “That is enough of that kind of talk. There has to be a reasonable explanation for what we witnessed.”

Austerhill took the bowl of his pipe and knocked it quite firmly against his palm, sending ashes fluttering to the ground. Somehow, Gabrielle knew the man was telling her that, to him, her worth was no more than ashes to be trampled beneath his feet.

The earl looked up at her father with steely eyes and a grim expression. “Maybe you need clarification to satisfy your questions concerning your daughter’s actions, Duke, but I do not. My son is not going to marry a woman who was caught alone with a man for any reason. All I can add is I thank the saints in heaven I found out what kind of person
she
is before
she
married my son and became his wife.”

“Austerhill. There is no call to get—”

“I’m done here,” the earl said, sticking the pipe in the pocket of his greatcoat. “If my son’s wife is ever with child, I damn well want to be sure he is the father.”

Gabrielle gasped, and anger surged inside her. “You go too far, my lord.”

Lord Austerhill twisted his lips into a sneer at Gabrielle, turned, and stomped away.

“Wait,” her father called furiously to the earl’s retreating back. “You can’t leave. Where are you going?”

“To tell my son his wedding is off because his betrothed is…”

Gabrielle didn’t hear Lord Austerhill’s last words and was glad she didn’t. By the revulsion in his parting glance and the loud gasp from her father, she could imagine what he’d said.

“Damn you, man,” her father yelled and started after him. “This was not her fault, I tell you. Get back here!”

Lord Austerhill called to his servant, and the man immediately dropped his hold on the viscount and followed the earl until they disappeared into the mist.

Gabrielle’s father turned on her with rage. “By all the angels in heaven, what made you pull such a foolhardy stunt as this? I could imagine something like this from your sister, or even from your brother, but not you! You have always been my sensible daughter. Now look what you have done!”

Once again she retreated into silence. She had no answer for him.

“What in God’s name was going on between you two?” her father barked. “You have ruined everything! Do you know what you’ve done, the money this is going to cost me, girl?”

Gabrielle blinked at her father’s harsh tone. She had always known the wedding was for her father’s financial benefit and not her own happiness, but hearing him actually say the words pained her and, once again, her stomach quaked.

“Yes, Papa, I know,” she said softly, keeping her gaze locked on the viscount.

“Then explain yourself, Daughter. Have you no shame? By all that’s sacred, tell me why you agreed to meet him.” Her father threw a finger toward the viscount.

“It wasn’t planned. It just happened,” she said, knowing it was the truth but also knowing it didn’t explain anything. There was no logical answer for what she had done.

“Really?” her father asked in an incredulous voice as he threw a glance in Lord Brentwood’s direction. “Do you expect me to believe you woke before daybreak and decided you were going to take Brutus for a walk in the park and, by chance, you happened to meet a stranger, embrace him, and end up kissing him by accident?”

Yes, that is exactly what happened.

“After more than nineteen years of living with me, just how big a simpleton do you take me for?”

What she had done to her father was horrible for a well-behaved daughter; what she had done to the viscount was unforgivable. She feared there was no way she could make it right for any of them.

For the present, Gabrielle saw no way out other than capitulation. She lifted her shoulders and chin, and said what she knew her father wanted to hear. “I’m sorry for the distress I’ve caused you, Papa. Though I never intended for this to happen, I’m without excuse.”