His Favorite Mistress (18 page)

“Do I pass inspection?” she inquired once Milton let the glass fall away from his eye to dangle at the end of a matching blue ribbon attached to his waistcoat. Up arched one of Dickey’s censorious eyebrows. Tony wondered if her blunt comment had gone too far, half expecting a comeback cold enough to inflict frostbite, and the need to say their farewells and quickly move on.

Instead, Milton gave her another long stare. “That green is exquisite against your brunette coloring, brings out the pink in your cheeks. The style of your dress is excellent as well. You may give your mantua maker my compliments on her efforts.”

Gabriella inclined her head. “Thank you. I shall convey your approval to her at my earliest convenience.”

“So your mother was an actress, was she?” Milton continued.

“That’s right, she was,” Gabriella stated, pride ringing clearly in her voice.

“Hmm. Always been partial to actresses myself, don’t you know. I find them full of fun and mischief, traits that I suspect may have been passed down to you. No aspirations to tread the boards yourself then?”

“No.” She paused for an instant, her gaze unwavering from Milton’s. “Actually, I find Society a great enough acting challenge all on its own. The stages at Drury Lane and Covent Gardens fairly pale in comparison.”

A notable silence fell before Milton tossed back his head and released a booming laugh. “Quite so, m’dear. Quite so.” He shifted his gaze to Tony. “This one’s got wit as well as pluck, unlike the usual crop of dull-as-dishwater misses. I can see why you like her, Wyvern. I believe I like her, m’self.”

Under Tony’s watchful gaze, Milton tossed Gabriella a grin, then added an extravagant wink.

Gabriella laughed in reply.

Tony’s fingers tightened fractionally on his reins. “You’re right, Milton. I do like Miss St. George, which is why I hope you will do what you can to assist her. I presume you have heard the talk.”

The smile eased from Milton’s angular face. “Oh, I hear
all
the talk, however small or large it might be. Sorry business that, what happened last night. My sympathy for any distress it has caused you, Miss St. George.”

“Thank you,” Gabriella said.

Milton inclined his head, then turned his attention once more toward Tony. “Of course I shall be glad to do what I can. Lady Munroe is a humorless sort for whom I’ve never particularly cared. Any opportunity to take a bit of the wind out of her sails sounds a fine idea to me.”

“You believe it can be done?” Gabriella questioned.

Milton puffed out his chest with affronted pride. “I don’t believe it, I
know
it. Never fear, Miss St. George. With Wyvern and myself here to lend you the combined strength of our consequence, your aunt doesn’t stand a chance. Her efforts against you shall soon be put to rest.”

Relaxing visibly, Gabriella sent Milton a smile.

The three of them chatted for another couple of minutes before Milton bid Tony and Gabriella a cheerful farewell. Once he had gone on his way, they urged their horses into a walk and continued their ride.

After only a few feet, Gabriella turned her head and met Tony’s gaze. “Thank you.”

He raised an inquiring brow. “Whatever for?”

“For everything. For accompanying me here today and for making a point of introducing me to someone like Mr. Milton. Given the chilly reactions I’m receiving today from some quarters, it would appear your concern about my aunt’s influence is by no means exaggerated. No matter the outcome, though, I shall not forget your kindness.”

Tony shook off the comment. “As I believe I once told you, I am never kind, so your gratitude is entirely unnecessary. As for the other, all will come right, you will see. Besides, any young woman brave enough to have once held me at gunpoint and who can shoot arrows with the skill of an Amazon queen is a woman perfectly capable of withstanding a bit of rough social weather. You will come clear of this. I shall make sure you do.”

At Almacks the following Wednesday evening, Gabriella sat on a chair and watched the assembled couples whirl by. As they did, she assured herself she didn’t mind sitting out the dance. Nor was she upset about her lack of a partner for the set that had preceded it. She’d danced several times tonight, and was in no way being relegated to the role of a wallflower.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice the desertion of certain gentlemen over the last several days, her usual group of callers having dwindled to a numbered handful—a loyal handful—that included Lord Carlow and four slightly wild young men who were known for disdaining Society’s edicts. And of course there was Wyvern and Mr. Milton, both of whom championed her at every opportunity. Were it not for their efforts on her behalf, she very much suspected her vouchers for tonight’s entertainment would have been withdrawn.

As it was, people had taken to whispering about her, breaking off their conversations whenever she happened near. Often they would wait in silence until she moved away, then resume their tattling as soon as they assumed her to be out of earshot. She fought not to let their behavior trouble her; she’d dealt with far worse than snubs in her life. But she hated the distress such actions were causing Julianna, who had started hovering around her like a mother hen ever since the trouble with her aunt had begun. Lily Andarton and Maris Waring had joined the effort as well, all three women visibly determined to lift her spirits despite her assurances that she was fine.

Although tonight she wasn’t completely positive she was fine, wishing mightily that she could leave early and put the evening behind her. Pride held her in place, though. Pride and Wyvern’s admonition that she withstand this bit of “rough weather,” as he had called it. If only he were here tonight! But as everyone in the Ton knew, the Duke of Wyvern did not attend Almacks—ever.

“Why do we not visit the refreshment table?” Julianna suggested from where she sat next to her. “Another glass of lemonade perhaps? Or a bite of cake? What do you think?”

“Yes,” piped Lily with an encouraging smile from her other side. “Cake and lemonade sound delicious.”

Gabriella knew they were trying to cheer her up. And their idea might even have worked if she hadn’t already drunk two glasses of lemonade and sampled a slice of pound cake, which she’d found bland and a bit dry. She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t, but you two go on.”

A tiny frown settled on Julianna’s brow. “You’re right. Snacks now will only ruin supper. We shall sit here and enjoy the music.”

“Yes. The quartet is in fine form this evening,” Lily agreed.

Gabriella waved a hand. “Please stop, both of you. You are so sweet to keep me company, but it isn’t necessary. Do go on and enjoy yourselves. Have some food, dance if you like, flirt with your husbands. I shall not mind in the slightest.”

“But I
enjoy
sitting with you,” Lily defended.

“As do I.” Julianna sent her a smile. “Passing the time with you is never a hardship.”

“Perhaps not,” Gabriella said, “but we are here at an entertainment and I want both of you to be entertained, not sitting around nursemaiding me. Please, go have fun. I shall be quite all right on my own for a while.”

“Well…” Julianna began, her hesitation clear.

“If you do not leave, I shall be very cross,” Gabriella threatened. “Now, shoo.
Shoo!
”

“If you are sure,” Lily stated, rising slowly to her feet. “But if you look at all blue-deviled, I shall be back in a thrice.”

“As will I.” Julianna stood. “I won’t have you miserable.”

“Not a miserable bone in my body,” Gabriella declared, pinning a huge smile on her face. “Now, be gone!”

Their reluctance clear, Julianna and Lily made their way across the room. Gabriella maintained the happy expression on her face until she knew both women were otherwise occupied, only then did she release the sigh she had been holding inside.

The set ended, and not long after a new one began. Yet despite her hopes, no gentleman approached to invite her to stand up with him. As the music resumed, she cast a glance at the clock. Only five minutes to eleven. At the stroke of the hour, the doors would be closed and locked, no one else permitted to enter regardless of their status or explanations for being late. She was beginning to wonder if she should visit the refreshment table after all, if only to dispel her boredom, when she turned her head and felt her heart thump hard beneath her ribs.

Suddenly, there stood Wyvern framed in the entrance, his saturnine countenance as darkly handsome as the devil himself were he to assume mortal guise. As custom required, the duke was attired in black silk knee breeches and a cutaway coat, his starched white linen neckcloth tied in an urbane knot that emphasized the strong lines of his face and the masculine set of his jaw. “Magnificent” was the word that came to mind, and yet not even that description did him justice. He was…delicious—like a pot of the deepest, darkest, most decadent chocolate.

A shiver raced over her, so strong she placed a hand against her chest and forced herself to draw a measured breath. And then his gaze met hers and she forgot all about breathing.

A moment later, he strode forward.

Only then did she become aware of the hush that had descended over the room, some of the dancers actually stopping to stare. Lady Jersey and Princess Esterhazy stood with their mouths agape, their lorgnettes lifted to their eyes as if both women needed to make certain they were not seeing some sort of collective illusion. From the other side of the assembly room, Countess Lieven hurried across, waylaying the duke only moments before he would have reached Gabriella.

“Your Grace,” the countess exclaimed, dropping into a full-skirted curtsey in front of him. “How do you do? May I say how delighted we are that you could join us this evening.”

He paused and executed a crisp bow. “Countess.”

When he said nothing further, the patroness continued. “I suppose it is no revelation to admit my surprise at your arrival. The other ladies and I had quite given up hope that you would ever attend one of our balls. Might I be so bold as to inquire what has changed your mind?”

“Who,” he said in his low, whisky-tinged voice. “Who has changed my mind.”

And then, stepping around the countess, he stopped in front of Gabriella and made her a low, elegant bow. “Miss St. George, a pleasure as always. May I say how lovely you look tonight. Although from what I have observed, you always look lovely.”

“You flatter me, Your Grace,” she murmured, aware of every eye in the room upon her as she dropped into a curtsey. Peeking up at him from beneath her lashes, she smiled as she returned to her full height.

“I speak nothing but the truth,” he assured her “If you are not otherwise engaged, may I have the honor of the next dance?”

She knew he was putting on a show for the assembled crowd, realizing his intent was to repair the damage her aunt had caused. Still, she couldn’t keep her pulse from speeding faster, nor stop a surge of uncontrollable flutters from exploding like confetti inside her stomach. “I would be delighted.” Then suddenly she remembered. “Oh, except the next set is a waltz, I believe, and I am not yet permitted to engage in that particular dance.”

Graceful and urbane, Wyvern turned once again toward Countess Lieven, who had been unabashedly eavesdropping through the entire conversation. He sent the patroness a devastating smile, one whose power was so strong Gabriella felt the residual energy wash over her as well. “Surely you will not deny myself and Miss St. George the pleasure of enjoying the next dance?” he urged. “You have only to say yes. If I am not mistaken, I see a yes forming on your lips right now. Say it, dear ma’am. Please, just say it.”

The great lady tittered, girlish color creeping upward into her cheeks. A moment later, she waved a hand. “Of course, of course. Yes, she has permission. Go on, you two.”

“You are indeed everything gracious,” he said. Making the countess another polished bow, he clasped Gabriella’s hand and laid it on his sleeve.

As they strode toward the dance floor, Gabriella struggled to collect her emotions, not fully trusting herself to speak. Only after the new set formed and she was standing in the circle of his arms did she gaze up and into his midnight-blue eyes. “You are here,” she stated.

His brow arched. “Did you think I would not be?”

She shook her head. “Truthfully no, since you never attend Almacks. You have quite set all their tongues awagging.”

“I should certainly hope so. They’ll wag even more when I dance with you twice tonight and with no other lady. I expect the event will make the Society column. You must be sure to cut out the clippings.”

A laugh caught her. “You are very naughty.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t wish me any other way, now would you?”

No,
she realized. She wouldn’t want him to be anyone other than himself. Loyal, kind, and filled with a true verve for life. She longed to thank him again for everything he was doing to help her, but knew he would dismiss any further expressions of appreciation on her part.

Yet is that all I feel for him these days
—
gratitude?
Hardly, she confessed to herself, her skin warm and tingly from his touch, her blood humming with an electricity she experienced only when she was in his company. She thought back all those weeks ago to her time in the country when she’d wished to explore her feelings for him. So much had happened since then, leaving her almost afraid now of what too much soul-searching might reveal.

Do I want to love him?
she asked herself as he whirled her in his arms. He smiled and turned her knees to jelly.
Or, heavens above, is it already too late to have a choice?

Chapter Ten