Enchanting Pleasures (22 page)

Quill grinned. “I like Madame’s gowns,” he remarked.

Gabby managed to wrench the sleeve of her morning dress back into place.

“They are well-designed,” he continued. “You see, Gabby? Having been tussled to your elbow, the bodice jumps up to cover your magnificent bosom, looking none the worse for wear.”

Gabby met Quill’s teasing eyes a bit shyly. What on earth had she been doing, lying about on the carpet? “I hope you are not going to make a habit of this,” she said rather stuffily.

Quill helped her to her feet. Then he bent over and whispered into her ear. “Wait until we are married, Gabby.”

She felt pink rising up her neck. “What do you mean?”

Quill’s dark green eyes were devilish. He reached out his hand and trailed one finger down her neck.

Gabby jerked away, embarrassed by her reaction to his simple caress. “I had better return upstairs,” she said, raising her hands to the waves of hair at her neck. “Lord knows what Margaret will think of my appearance.”

Quill shrugged. “Who cares?”

“How like a man to say so!
I
care. Otherwise, why would I say it?”

To Quill’s mind, females regularly said all sorts of things they didn’t mean. But the important thing was that Gabby had agreed to marry him—and she did seem to mean that.

“I will send a messenger to Bath and inform my parents of our plans.”

“Oh.” Gabby thought of the viscountess and her invalid husband. “Will your parents be angry?”

“Not at all,” Quill replied. “They initially thought you would marry me, after all.”

“Well, then, why didn’t they send your picture over to India?”

The back of Quill’s neck crawled. The last thing he wanted to do was explain postcoital headaches to his newly betrothed. No doubt she would rethink the engagement if she knew the whole truth. So he shrugged.

His family was well-aware that Quill rarely answered questions and could never be counted upon to keep up his side of a conversation. But to his irritation, Gabby obviously did not understand his personality yet.

“Quill? Why didn’t your father send your picture to India instead of your brother’s? And why does my father think I am marrying a future viscount, given that you are the eldest son?”

“He—” Inspiration struck. “My father is afraid that Peter will not be able to make a match on his own. You see, he’s rather shy.”

“Peter? Rather shy?”

“Oh, yes,” Quill said, more confident now that he was well-embarked on his tale. “Do you remember last night, when you tried to kiss him? How is Peter going to make a marriage when he cares for etiquette above kisses?”

Gabby’s brows drew together. “That is not necessarily the case. Peter is remarkably easy in conversation, and he is a leader of the
ton
. Madame Carême herself told me so. Certainly he could find a bride if he wished, and he wouldn’t need to break any proprieties to do so.”

To his relief, Quill heard a scratching at the door.

It was Codswallop, whose eyes widened a bit when he realized that the study held not only the master’s son but also a somewhat disheveled Miss Jerningham. And he had distinctly heard the key turn in the door after he knocked.

He held out his silver tray. “Lord Breksby’s card, sir. His lordship has indicated that his visit is urgent.”

Quill nodded to Codswallop. “Please show Lord Breksby to the study. And ask Lady Sylvia to join us,” he added.

“Oh, goodness, no,” Gabby said. Patting her hair had confirmed that most of it was lying down her back. “I shall leave you to entertain your guest, Quill.”

“He is calling for you,” Quill remarked.

“What?” Gabby, in the middle of replacing a hairpin, looked sharply over her shoulder. She didn’t seem to realize that the greater part of her hair was falling down to the right.

“Let me,” Quill said. He pulled five or six hairpins out, so that a great mass of hair fell down Gabby’s back. Then he swiftly twirled it into a bun and stuck it back on the top of her head.

“Oh, thank you,” Gabby said, clearly taken aback. “Where did you learn to do that? No, don’t tell me.” She turned around. “Why does Lord Breksby wish to see me? And who is he?”

“Lord Breksby is England’s Secretary for Foreign Affairs,” Quill remarked. “He approached me just after you arrived from India, wishing information about the whereabouts of Kasi Rao.”

“Oh, no,” Gabby breathed.

“Yes,” Quill said dryly. “Perhaps you should tell him, Gabby. The Foreign Office is not the same thing as the East India Company, and I believe that Breksby is a man of honor. If he believes that Kasi is unfit to rule, he will ensure that the boy is kept safe.”

But Gabby shook her head. “I doubt he’s to be trusted, Quill. My father’s experience with representatives of the British government has been almost as unsatisfactory as his relationships with East India men. The government seems to have no ability to control company officials. Look what happened at Bharatpur. Hundreds of people died, and yet my father said the company had no authority for an assault on Holkar territory.”

It was Quill’s turn to look rueful. “I am very sorry to say that I agree with you for the main part. But Breksby himself is not a bad sort. And he has a great deal of power here in London. If he decides that Kasi is not an adequate ruler—and how could he decide otherwise?—then the company will have to leave Kasi alone.”

“They will not do so,” Gabby retorted. “I am quite familiar with the machinations of East India men, Quill. They will lie and steal and bribe to get control over territory that does not belong to them. Kasi would be naught more than a pawn to them. And I don’t believe they would show any mercy if it came to putting him on the throne, not if they thought they could gain more territory as a result.”

Quill watched his newly betrothed warily. She had an unexpected side to her. He hadn’t anticipated such steely rationality from someone who at first glance seemed little more than a chatterbox.

“Do you agree with me, Quill?” Gabby asked impatiently. She could hear footsteps approaching in the hallway outside.

Quill bent his head. “The East India Company would do well to accept female directors.” And found himself surprised again.

Lord Breksby declared himself enchanted to meet Miss Jerningham in person. “I am the Secretary for Foreign Affairs,” he announced.

Gabby sat down and clasped her hands together. “Lord Breksby, I would be delighted to aid the English government in any way possible.”

“We understand,” Breksby said, “that your father may have had a young visitor in his household while you were growing up, the son of the ruler of Holkar. The directors of the East India Company are under the impression that Lord Jerningham may have sent Kasi Rao Holkar to England. It would have been a natural action, given that your father has many contacts in this country.”

“I’m afraid that I have no information about Kasi’s whereabouts,” Gabby replied sweetly.

Her eyes didn’t even flicker, Quill thought. His future wife was quite an accomplished fibber.

“Well,” Breksby announced, “certain representatives of the East India Trading Company appear to believe that the prince has been—”

At that moment Lady Sylvia entered the room and gave a crow of pleasure at the sight of Lord Breksby. To Gabby’s dismay, it transpired that Breksby and Lady Sylvia were old friends, since Lord Breksby’s wife had grown up in a village next door to Lady Sylvia’s country estate. It wasn’t until Gabby decided that Breksby was going to describe every single one of the fourteen bedchambers in the cottage he and his wife had just bought in the same village that she lost her patience.

“Dear sir,” she implored Lord Breksby. “Please, may we return to the subject of Kasi Rao?”

Breksby smiled genially. “My apologies, Miss Jerningham. I was so caught up in conversation with this charming lady”—he smirked at Lady Sylvia—“that I forgot your natural distress. As I was saying, representatives of the East India Trading Company appear confident that the Holkar heir is to be found in London.”

Gabby chewed on her lower lip but said nothing.

“Now, I cannot say where or how they came by their information,” Breksby commented. “Nor, of course, can I venture a guess as to its reliability. But I did wish to inform you, Miss Jerningham. Because in my view—only in my view—it would be far better for the English government to discover Mr. Kasi Rao Holkar than it would for representatives of the East India Company to do so.”

Quill waited.

Gabby gave Lord Breksby a sad little smile. “I most certainly agree with you, sir. I fear that representatives of the East India Company wish to find Kasi for their own nefarious purposes.”

“No question about that,” Breksby replied promptly. “They love the idea of putting a half-witted ruler in the Holkars. Give them a handle into the whole Marathas region, no doubt about it.”

“Couldn’t you stop them?” Gabby pleaded.

A rare look of chagrin flitted across Breksby’s face. “The company has been one of the few failures of my tenure,” he admitted. “We managed to pass the India Bill in ‘84, but it has been a dismal failure in terms of curbing their territorial greed.”

Gabby seemed to have made up her mind. “I certainly wish I could help you, Lord Breksby,” she cooed, tilting her head to the side.

Quill watched cynically from the other side of the room as Breksby melted in front of his eyes. At least he wasn’t alone in being bowled over by Miss Gabrielle Jerningham. Although he rather thought he, Quill, hadn’t been lied to yet. If so, he reminded himself, it was only a matter of time.

Lady Sylvia turned about the moment the door clicked shut behind Lord Breksby and shot Quill a steely glance. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Erskine, but I won’t have you handing yer brother damaged goods. It isn’t the work of a gentleman.”

Hot color rushed up Gabby’s neck. “Oh, Lady Sylvia, I…Quill …” She faltered.

“You may be the first to congratulate us,” Quill said calmly. “This morning Miss Jerningham agreed to be my wife.”

Lady Sylvia gave him another scathing look. “Well, then, I won’t have you trotting damaged goods up to yer own altar either.”

Quill met her eyes steadily. “You need have no fear of that, Lady Sylvia. I should prefer, however, that you do not impugn the honor of my betrothed.”

“Oh?” She gave Gabby a monstrous frown. “Miss Jerningham, I clearly instructed you not to spend time alone with a man,
any
man. Yer gown is crumpled in the back, and there are hairpins all over the hearth rug. If you two haven’t been tumbling about on the floor, then I’m a monkey’s uncle!”

Gabby thought it wasn’t possible for a person to feel so embarrassed. But Quill spoke before she could try to defend herself.

His eyes were icy with fury. “I’ll tumble my fiancée any damned place I please.”

Lady Sylvia drew herself up sharply. “Gabrielle is not a milkmaid, and there will be no such behavior while I’m her chaperone. We’ll see what yer father has to say about this!”

Silence fell as all three people realized that Viscount Dewland would have nothing to say, given his incapacity.

“I suppose poor old Thurlow can’t complain,” Lady Sylvia said after a moment. “But he won’t like it if you have a six-month child.
I
won’t like it. I’m supposed to stop this sort of thing.”

Gabby rushed forward and took her chaperone’s hand. “Please, Lady Sylvia, forgive me for my behavior this morning. I will not spend any time alone with Erskine before our wedding, that I promise you. And…and I’m not damaged goods!” she finished in a rush.

Lady Sylvia gave a reluctant little smile. “I thought as much,” she admitted. “Erskine here may be a hothead, but he isn’t a debaucher.”

“I should not have spoken to you in that fashion,” Quill said. “Please forgive me, Lady Sylvia.”

She shrugged. “The way you’ve been wearing your heart on your sleeve, Erskine, I should have expected a little plain talk. I suppose you’re going to want the wedding set within the next week or so.”

Quill had fully intended to have an engagement that lasted a good three months, just as Peter had advised the night before. But he had no illusions about the source of his current bad humor. Every inch of his body was instructing him to tumble Gabby on the hearth rug again. And he wanted a sixth-month child no more than would his father.

“Absolutely not,” he replied stiffly. “Gabby and I shall have a formal announcement and wait a suitable period of time before solemnizing the wedding. Perhaps a month,” he added.

Lady Sylvia laughed. “You’re far gone, Erskine. Not that I dislike seeing it. My Lionel was that eager to get me into bed! He swore it was time to measure a casket when my father refused to have the ceremony for six months.

“At any rate, you’ve chosen your new bridegroom just in time, Gabrielle. I’ve a note here from Kitty. She says she’s coming to London, and I expect she wants to see Peter married quickly. You’ll have to inform your brother that he’s lost his heiress, Erskine.” Lady Sylvia gathered up her reticule and fan. “Gabrielle, come with me, please. Your hair needs immediate attention, and I suggest you spend the next hour or so composing yourself. Now that you’ve not only been introduced to society but created your first scandal, I warrant we shall have a flood of callers this morning.”