One Rogue Too Many (11 page)

Heat swept over Anthony and he tugged at his cravat self-consciously. Thorne likely knew Anthony wouldn’t remember the bard’s work. It wasn’t one of his topics of interest, unlike arithmetic and animal husbandry, which were twice as useful in his estimation. Unfortunately, Gabby hadn’t asked them to explain Pythagoreanism or how best to breed Cotswold sheep.

“If you want to win the lady’s heart,” Corby said, “you will need to do one better than quoting poetry. What interests does your lady hold?”

Perhaps Corby had a point. Gabby enjoyed poetry, but she loved something much more. “She is talented with sketching and watercolors.”

Corby nodded. “Yes, that’s good. Go on.”

“She seems to like all things art related, in truth. Oils. Marble sculptures.”

“I have it,” the viscount said with a snap of his fingers. “I’m a bit of a collector myself. My father turned me on to it.”

“Poetry and art. I wouldn’t have guessed you were a romantic, Corby.”

His companion’s face pinched. “Do you wish for my help or not?”

“Fine.” What was the world coming to that Anthony would accept assistance with courting from Corby?

“I will have my mother plan a private showing and make certain Lady Gabrielle is on the guest list, along with you, of course. You may tell her you persuaded me to open my gallery to a few select people because of her love for art.”

“That’s a brilliant suggestion.” Gabby would be thrilled by the opportunity to peruse Corby’s private collection. Anthony couldn’t wait to tell her. Perhaps she would even forget about the sonnet in her excitement.

Corby was watching him too keenly and a crawling sensation crept up his spine. Something didn’t feel right.

“Why do you want to help me?”

A leer broke across Corby’s too-pretty face. “I have money riding on you.”

His jaw dropped. “You made a bet concerning Lady Gabrielle?”

“Don’t look at me like I kicked a puppy. The competition between you and Thorne isn’t of my making. I simply saw an opportunity to plump my pockets.” He raised his newssheet again, cutting off eye contact. “Truth be told, I feel sorry for the lady. Either way
she
ends up the loser.”

“Sod off, Hugh.” Anthony thumped the other man’s paper on the way out.

“I’ll have Mother send ’round an invitation soon,” he called.

And damned if Anthony wouldn’t accept it. A private showing of a rarely seen art collection was just the thing to give him a leg up on the competition. Gabby would be ecstatic, and he couldn’t resist the urge to make her smile.

***

Gabby pasted on a smile for Lord Thorne and tugged open the double doors to the drawing room. She hadn’t expected him to pay a call after their conversation last night, and yet she wasn’t surprised. He was as persistent as a case of head lice.

He stood at the window with his back to her. Sunlight poured through the glass and cast his broad-shouldered frame aglow. Admittedly, he was several degrees more appealing than head lice, but the comparison was still apt.

“Good afternoon, Lord Thorne.”

He swung around with a grin. “Lady Gabrielle, haven’t I implored you to call me Sebastian?”

“You have, my lord, and I have declined.”

He chuckled and came away from the window. “I do enjoy a challenge, my lady.”

Which created quite the bind for her. The more she resisted, the harder he tried. Her maid claimed a quiet corner of the room and turned her attention toward knitting. Gabby hadn’t felt right about asking Anthony to recite his poem in the presence of one of her family members, so she had requested her maid chaperone this afternoon. Magda was slightly hard of hearing after a bout of measles as a child, so he would have no cause to feel nervous. Now she questioned the wisdom in receiving Thorne without someone more capable of making him toe the line.

She took a seat in the wingback chair to discourage him from coming too close. “I didn’t expect you after I asked you not to write a sonnet.”

With a shrug, he lowered to the settee adjacent to her. “If I follow every direction you give, I’ll never win your heart. Ladies may say they like an amenable chap, but I’ve come to learn a man easily wrapped around a lady’s finger is soon tossed over.”

“Have you been tossed over then?” This news was surprising. Sebastian Thorne was hardly the type of gentleman a woman would banish from her bed. And she was certain this was the nature of any past assignations.

“I wasn’t referring to myself, my lady, but Ellis can enlighten you on the ills of a lady running roughshod over a gentleman.”

Gabby snorted, a most unladylike sound. “Lord Ellis is as ungovernable as you. I doubt he knows anything about the subject.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

He was being too cryptic for her tastes, and she wanted to hurry him on his way. Anthony would arrive any moment, and although she wanted to punish him a little for his bad manners last night, she didn’t want to do it like this.

“Well, be that as it may, Lord Thorne, I asked you not to write me a sonnet.”

Thorne’s off-kilter grin reappeared. “I didn’t.”

“And why not?” she asked, a bit outraged despite not wanting pretty words from him.

“Because you ordered me to write one.”

“You are impossible, my lord.”

“And
you
are intrigued.”

“I am not.” She crossed her arms and pressed her lips tightly together. Perhaps she was a
little
intrigued. He was providing her with a glimpse into the workings of the male mind. Did Anthony think this way, too? “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. You failed your task, and I cannot reward you with an outing to Gunter’s.”

“You weren’t going to choose me anyway, Lady Gabrielle, but now you’ll be unable to stop thinking about me. You will wonder why I didn’t mind my p’s and q’s. Why I’m not trying to win your favor. You’ll ask what you can do to gain my notice and make me want you so badly I would do anything you desire.”

She rolled her eyes. “Does this actually work with some ladies?”

He chuckled as he stood. “Yes, but I didn’t expect it would with you.” He bowed over her hand, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You become more appealing every moment, my dear.”

“Lucky me,” she mumbled, but even though she would like to be cross with him, she wasn’t. She appreciated his frankness. It was difficult to feel manipulated when the gentleman told her what he was doing. “Enjoy your afternoon, Lord Thorne.”

“Take no offense, but I wish you the opposite.”

Eleven

When Anthony arrived at Talliah House, the butler informed him Gabby was already waiting in the drawing room with her maid. He clutched the plain wrapped parcel he had stopped to pick up after leaving Brooks’s. He’d promised Gabby pretty words and romance, and he would deliver one way or another.

“This way, my lord.”

He shoved his hand in his pocket to check for his lucky talisman and followed. His rapid pulse slowed as his fingers skimmed the smooth edge. It was silly to find solace in a common object, but old habits were hard to break.

Gabby was sitting on the settee with her hands folded primly in her lap. She studied him with the same cautious look he would expect from his childhood tutor, rather than a lady prepared to be impressed by his brilliance.

“Lord Ellis, shall we get to the business at hand?”

“Is that the only greeting I’m to receive today?”

She pursed her lips. “Well, perhaps if you hadn’t kept me waiting all afternoon, I would be more patient.” Her haughtiness was revealed as only a charade when a smile crept across her lips. She patted the seat beside her. “Come. I’m eager to be on our way.”

With her maid in the corner, he didn’t hesitate to sit beside Gabby. He needn’t worry temptation would overcome his self-discipline as long as an audience was present. His fingers skimmed the pink rosebuds dotting Gabby’s ivory skirts.

“How smart you look today.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks flushed the same rosy color as the flowers on her dress, and her gray eyes appeared more like lavender. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Are you ready to read your sonnet?”

A hot, prickly sensation traveled the back of his neck and he rubbed it to ease the discomfort. “About the sonnet…”

Her lips turned down so slightly he might not have noticed if he hadn’t been preoccupied moments earlier by the thought of tasting them.

“You didn’t—”

“It’s not very—” They spoke at the same time.

“Forgive me. Please, continue,” Gabby said.

He grimaced as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the sheet of foolscap. “I’m afraid it isn’t very good. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“You really composed one?” Her voice was filled with wonder and her smile lit up the room.

“Of course I did. You requested poetry, and poetry you shall have.” But perhaps he should give her his gift first. He placed the parcel on her lap. “Open it.”

She unwrapped the slim volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets he had chosen for her at Hatchard’s bookshop. Her delicate brows lifted in question.

“You have proven your point twenty times over, Gabby. It isn’t easy to write anything worth a pence, so I’ll leave it to the masters in the future. Perhaps you can read a sonnet or two later to strike from your memory the rubbish I’m about to spout.”

Her face softened and she reached for his hand. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want. It’s enough that you made the attempt.”

“Oh, no. I was awake all night working on this sonnet. I’m
going
to read it.” He shook out the paper and cleared his throat. Gads, this was harder than he’d thought it would be. “I’ll begin now.”

She nodded solemnly, as if expecting a disaster. So be it. He had nothing to lose, aside from his pride.

“Your radiant smile feeds my soul. I bask in your attention like flowers turning toward the sun.”

He looked up quickly to find her studying him with an odd expression. He barreled on. If he stopped to wonder what she was thinking, he might not finish.

“You see beauty where I once thought none existed, and suddenly, through your eyes my mundane world becomes extraordinary. How I long to hold you until my days should end, for you are the only paradise I have ever known.”

When he glanced up again, her eyes were shimmering with tears.

“Egads. Was it
that
awful?”

“Those were the most beautiful words I have ever heard.”

She was being kind.

He tucked the paper away. Perhaps he would burn it when he returned home. “It’s too short, and I’m certain I mucked up the rules.”

She captured his face and caressed his clean-shaven jaw. “I loved it, Anthony. Truly I did.”

When she pressed her lips against his, the sweetness of her mouth nearly undid him. He stopped her retreat and held her close. His breath churned heavier as his fingers curled around the base of her neck. Soft hairs at her nape tickled his wrist. Her lips were still parted, so plump and ripe for the taking. He leaned toward her, eager to taste her again.

Gabby’s maid yawned loudly and broke the spell. Magda lowered her gaze to her sewing. “Pardon me, milord.”

Bloody
chaperones.
He reluctantly released Gabby. The brief kiss hadn’t been enough, but such was the curse of courtship. Perhaps he should just make an offer and forget about flowers and sugary words. But he couldn’t. Deep down, he knew Gabby longed for romance. It was closely woven into the fabric of who she was, a woman he adored.

He stood then assisted her to her feet. “And now, my lady, I owe you a fruited ice.”

***

Gabby didn’t want a man who wouldn’t try to please her. Thorne had been wrong. Anthony’s heartfelt poetry had proven what she had known long ago and had tried to deny.

He had always been the love of her life, and they belonged together.

But
do
you
deserve
him?
Gabby attempted to silence the guilty voice in her head. She was deeply sorry for her part in her mother’s loneliness, and that would remain unchanged. But must she sacrifice the one thing she most wanted in order to make amends?

She squeezed her eyes closed to banish the memory of her mother’s tears.

Anthony brushed against her knee. “Are you all right, Lady Bug?”

Her eyes flew open and she forced a smile. “The cold made my head hurt for a moment.”

He slanted a look at her. “I’m not surprised, with the way you’ve been gobbling that bergamot. Doesn’t your brother feed you?” He shifted his weight where he was leaning against the carriage and chuckled as he spooned a heaping bite into his mouth.

“There’s nothing wrong with a lady enjoying a treat, you jackanapes.” She discreetly swatted the back of his head from her perch still inside the carriage.

He turned and grinned up at her. “I like a lady with a healthy appetite. It bodes well for other indulgences.”

“I don’t eat too much.”

His gaze slowly traveled her figure, his smile still in place. “Just the right amount, I’d say.”

Heat rushed into Gabby’s cheeks, and she was grateful she hadn’t been forced to bring Magda along. Gunter’s was one of the few places she could enjoy Anthony’s company without a chaperone.

“You are taking liberties, Lord Ellis. I should be cross with you.”

“And are you?”

She licked the citrus-flavored ice cream from the spoon. “What I
should
do and choose to do often differ.”

This wouldn’t be news to him, however. A proper lady didn’t correspond with an unmarried gentleman and pour out her heart, nor did she arrive unexpectedly at his home and allow him to kiss her senseless.

His blue eyes glowed softly. “I appreciate that you take risks, Lady Gabrielle. It is but one of your many assets.”

“Are there others, my lord?”

He chuckled. “You are never satisfied with one compliment, are you, love? Perhaps I will dole out more when I escort you to the private showing of Viscount Corby’s gallery. You should expect an invitation from his mother soon.”