The Duke's Temptation (7 page)

It wasn’t a secret Elizabeth had moved into his town house, but a chill ran down Gabe’s back as he realized the man kept an eye on him.

What would your dear friend Foxmoore think of his sister residing under the same roof as a murderer?

There it was. The word Gabe had silently called himself for seven years but never had the gall to say aloud. Murderer.

Now, on to what I want for my silence. Power. I want to know I have the power to control the Duke of Wesbrook. That no matter what sudden whim I have, you will carry out my bidding. And to test your willfulness, your first feat is to part with some of the newfound wealth your young steward has earned for you.

And just a warning, don’t challenge me. You will live to regret it.

The letter continued with directions on where and when to deliver the money. The man had no doubt plotted cleverly, because Gabe couldn’t think of a single way to unearth him.

Since receiving the first threat, he’d hoped the man would toss out some quick demands and he’d be done with it. Gabe had obviously underestimated his opponent. The man wanted more than everyday blackmail; he seemed to lust for revenge. Why else the desire to control?

Gabe wasn’t about to forfeit his life to an unknown assailant. If that was the case, he’d be better off revealing his past himself. Regardless, he wouldn’t bow down to some miscreant intent on destroying him.

Unfortunately at the moment, his harasser held all the cards and Gabe was at a disadvantage. It burned to do so, but until he found a way around the man, he’d have to pay to keep him quiet.

Chapter 7

For Elizabeth, the next few days were filled with both success and struggles. Her favorites were the days she observed Phoebe relax and become comfortable with her situation. Even though the child’s amiable nature had much to do with it, Elizabeth liked to believe the countless hours she’d spent with her, playing dolls, had contributed.

Of course, Phoebe did have her difficulties. Elizabeth would often find her staring off at nothing and it would take several minutes for Elizabeth to retrieve the girl’s attention. Luckily, it happened less frequently as the days went on. Yet she still held herself detached, as if afraid to get comfortable because she’d be sent to a new place again.

For as much joy as Elizabeth felt, it was equally matched with days of utter frustration. Soon after her arrival, it became blatantly obvious Gabe’s household was hardly outfitted to handle a child. Through Mrs. Pearce’s direction, the nursery had been equipped with all the basic essentials. However, no amount of proper furniture would turn a bachelor’s house into a home for a child.

Not about to be deterred, each day Elizabeth presented Wilkes with a new list of supplies that were needed. After three or so days, the daily number of items she requested had dwindled. Soon there would be no more lists, Phoebe would finally have all she needed, and the days of frustration would come to an end.

Elizabeth wouldn’t allow herself to celebrate quite yet. Even if she managed to dispel the frustration, she would still be plagued by annoyance from a completely different source . . . Gabe.

Other than the first afternoon in Phoebe’s room, he hadn’t spent more than fifteen minutes in his daughter’s company. Since Phoebe consumed the majority of Elizabeth’s time, Elizabeth hadn’t seen him for more than fifteen minutes herself.

She might desire Gabe’s attentions, but her dissatisfaction was nothing compared to the ire she felt on Phoebe’s behalf. The poor child had lost her mother along with the only life she’d known. The least Gabe could do was spend time with his daughter, for there was no mistaking the wonder that flashed across Phoebe’s face whenever her eyes landed on her father. Apparently, Gabe was proficient at melting hearts of all ages.

Years of dealing with her brother had taught Elizabeth the stubbornness of men, and she conceded little to no control over Gabe and his actions. She’d have to be content with making certain Phoebe had the best of everything. It had become Elizabeth’s new purpose.

Between sifting through letters of reference in the search for a governesses and making sure Phoebe had all the material items necessary, Elizabeth did whatever she could to bring a smile to the child’s face; anything to chase away the sadness that lingered about her.

With that goal in mind, Elizabeth added one extra item to the list she’d given Wilkes the day before. A music box. As one would expect, the home of a rake didn’t possess much along the lines of musical entertainment. Instead of sending for a pianoforte, Elizabeth decided to settle on something easy for young fingers to work that would play a simple melody.

Due to Wilkes’s efficiency and a few hardworking servants, Elizabeth was now able to relax in a chair, musical box on the round side table next to her playing a sweet tune, and watch enjoyment spring from each ungraceful step Phoebe took as she swirled around the floor hanging onto Aunt Millie’s hands.

Regardless of what she had said to Gabe and Marcus about knowing the needs of a child, Elizabeth wasn’t entirely confident in her ability. Instead of being intimidated, she turned to memories of her mother. Some of her happiest recollections were of the two of them dancing together, often with Elizabeth standing on her mother’s feet since she’d been too young to know the proper steps.

The past fresh in her mind as she focused on Phoebe’s dark curls bouncing with each movement, a twinge of heartache pressed on the edge of Elizabeth’s enjoyment. Now was
not
the time for melancholy reflections. She pushed the feeling aside and gave her full attention to the footwork Aunt Millie tried to encourage the visibly ecstatic child to emulate.

“Now follow me, child,” Aunt Millie instructed, taking a half step to the side. “That’s it. Good job.”

Phoebe smiled a toothy grin at Aunt Millie’s praise and it warmed Elizabeth’s heart to see the child so happy.

The notes from the musical box came to an end and yet even without it, the two continued to circle the floor. Elizabeth quickly grabbed the box and wound it. She had set it back on the table when she caught sight of Gabe standing in the doorway, fixated on his child.

As if mesmerized by the sight before him, he stood motionless, his posture neutral, hiding his thoughts. However, as she took in his passive features, her gaze fell on his eyes and there was no mistaking the gentleness hidden within the warm brown.

He studied his daughter a few seconds longer before he locked on Elizabeth. Caught gawping at him, she froze. The room seemed to crackle with a heightened energy. Phoebe and Aunt Millie continued to move about the makeshift dance floor, oblivious to the new tension flowing through the room’s atmosphere.

Gabe gave a sharp shake of his head, dislodging their connection. Realizing he was about to escape, she jumped to her feet.

Her aunt spoke before Elizabeth could stop him. “Gabriel, boy, why don’t you stay and show Phoebe how it is properly done. We could use a man to partner with.”

His discomfort palpable, Elizabeth thought he’d still make good on his departure, but instead of offering an excuse, he turned to Phoebe once more. He’d have had to be blind to miss the anticipation written across the child’s face.

Personally acquainted with his soft spot for catering to the whims of young girls, Elizabeth wasn’t surprised when he agreed to the request. “I only have a few minutes but I could spare some for one quick dance.” He walked further into the room. “What will it be? A quadrille?”

“Actually, I was thinking of a waltz,” Aunt Millie corrected him.

“A . . . a waltz?”

“Certainly the very graceful Duke of Wesbrook knows how to dance a simple waltz,” Aunt Millie added, making Elizabeth suspect the older woman was conspiring something.

Gabe smoothed out his features, ducal assurance sliding into place as he offered a hand to Elizabeth’s aunt and smoothly answered, “Partnering with you in a daring waltz will be my pleasure, Lady Millicent.”

Instead of agreeing, her aunt shook her head. “Oh, no, dear. As much as I hate to admit it, I need to rest my aging body. I’m afraid you’ll have to settle with gracing the floor with my niece.”

Elizabeth knew her aunt and was well aware of the woman’s stamina. She had no need to rest, especially when only a few minutes ago she had been whirling around the room with Phoebe—very enthusiastically, in fact.

Aunt Millie clearly had seen a chance to throw Gabe and Elizabeth together.

When Gabe turned to her, his eyes were stormy and she couldn’t decipher what ran through his attractive head. Her hope vanished, certain he’d refuse. Unwilling to subject herself to his rejection, she opened her mouth to rebuff him the same moment he spoke.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Tension filled his voice, hinting it would be anything but a pleasure. But without causing a scene, she had no option but accept his grudgingly given offer.

“Excellent. The two of you get ready and I’ll wind the musical box. It isn't the exact melody you need but it will do.” Aunt Millie set off to do precisely that. “Phoebe, dear, come and sit by me as we watch your papa and Lizzy dance.”

Elizabeth caught the strain enter his muscular frame when Aunt Millie referred to him as Phoebe’s ‘papa.’ His inner struggle, so apparent, pulled at Elizabeth, cutting through her resentment at his less than eager offer to dance. She never could stay vexed with him for long.

The soft melody began to fill the room and Gabe moved closer to her. Without a word she stepped into the frame he’d created, one hand resting on his strong shoulder while the other settled lightly alongside his palm.

The moment their gloveless fingers touched, a bolt of awareness—unlike she’d ever felt before—flashed through her, settling in her lower abdomen.

Her eyes flicked to his, but he gave no sign he’d felt what she had. What did she expect? For him to touch her and declare his undying love?

She’d never been a featherbrained chit before and she certainly wasn’t going to become one now. She gave herself a mental shake, settled her gaze on the knot of his cravat, and focused her attention on the steps of the dance.

Through the years, she and Gabe had shared numerous dances. There were even times when she’d been young and practicing with her dance instructor when Gabe had, much to Marcus’s ire, offered to be her partner. She could easily recall how her heart would soar each time a dance would bring them close together.

In all those times, never had they danced a waltz.

Her hand continued to tingle where it touched his. The steady strength of his grip on her waist warmed her through her dress. Some deep, unknown desire had her wishing his hand wasn’t separated from her skin by layers of material.

The respectable distance between their bodies didn’t keep her senses from being surrounded by him. She inhaled deeply and filled her nose with the scent of Gabe—a trace of soap mixed with what she could only describe as a masculine fragrance. The heat of his body seeped into hers, summoning her closer. Slowly, the world around them disappeared into a hazy mist, the two of them all that remained.

Almost as if compelled, she lifted her head a fraction and locked onto his eyes, nearly stumbling at the dark intensity shining back at her. His look of disinterest had been replaced by a fever that set her aflame.

Gabe easily handled her misstep and continued to waltz as if nothing had happened. For Elizabeth each step was a struggle.

And yet, each one pure bliss.

The final notes of the song chimed and slowly dissolved into the silence of the room. Still fixated on the deep intensity of Gabe’s eyes, Elizabeth didn’t notice they’d stopped moving until Phoebe’s giddy laughter and clapping pulled her from the trance.

At the interruption, Gabe closed his eyes for a brief moment and when they reopened the warm glow was absent. Instead, a remoteness so distant she had to repress a shiver, reflected in those dark orbs. The abrupt change sent her back a step, chilled to the bone.

“That was excellent,” Aunt Millie praised from her chair. “Makes me wish I were twenty years younger.”

Completely composed, Gabe addressed the older woman. “I believe the current misses of the
ton
are thankful you are not. Possessing such beauty and grace, you already tempt gentlemen young and old. If you were a day younger, no one would be able to resist your various charms.”

“Now, now, boy, such honeyed words will rot your teeth.”

“If that is the consequence of offering you sweet compliments, I’ll take my chances.”

Elizabeth regarded the teasing exchange with only half her attention, her body too occupied with sorting through the layers of sensations that had enveloped her while he’d held her in his arms. Not to mention the look that had filled Gabe’s eyes.

Never had he viewed her with such awareness. It had been as if he’d looked
into
her, seeing her in a way no one had before. Her body flushed simply thinking of how it felt to be the object of his focus.

“My turn to dance with Papa,” Phoebe piped from Aunt Millie’s side.

Silence at his daughter’s declaration altered the easy atmosphere set by music and dancing. Elizabeth’s heart ached for the child. So much of Phoebe’s straightforward, loving nature became exposed with the short phrase. She had never addressed Gabe as ‘Papa’ before. Phoebe had no reservations using the word around Elizabeth or Aunt Millie, but she turned quiet in Gabe’s presence. Not that she ever had the chance to converse with him. He’d been so absent the last few days, only showing for a few minutes here and there.

As for Gabe, Elizabeth could tell by the strain vibrating from his body he hadn’t a clue how to answer the tiny ball of excitement standing at his feet.

Aunt Millie stood behind Phoebe and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Deary, I believe your father might have somewhere else to be. He may not have time to dance with you today. You and I could give it a try if you’d like.”

Phoebe’s pixie face fell.

When would the man stop being so self-centered? Anger crushed Elizabeth’s incipient feelings of tenderness. Would it be too much for him to dance with his daughter? To show her a smidgen of affection?

About to tell him so herself, Elizabeth was surprised when Gabe gave Phoebe a bow that would have impressed even the queen before he extended his hand. “Miss Phoebe, would you please honor me with the next dance?”

Phoebe’s crestfallen features transformed into a beaming smile. The child barely restrained herself long enough to give Gabe a nod of her head, sending her erratic curls bouncing, before she placed her miniature hand in his.

Gabe had always been a master of masking his thoughts. Now was no different. His face remained unreadable as he took hold of his daughter. But the composed mask didn’t conceal the slight tremble in his long fingers as they gently closed around Phoebe’s pudgy hand.

“Come, dear, let’s give them some room.”

Elizabeth hadn’t realized she stood frozen, watching the story of new father and long-lost daughter unfold before her. They quickly cleared the floor and returned to the chairs placed by the table with the musical box, which Aunt Millie promptly wound, sending a fresh wave of melody through the room.

Elizabeth continued to stare at the two figures, so opposite in stature but so similar in most everything else, as they began to dance something that hardly resembled a waltz. Her heart thudded in her chest and a tear formed in the corner of her eye when Gabe altered his larger steps to accommodate Phoebe’s smaller stride.

It was a remarkable sight. It brought forth visions of the man Gabe had been. The one who had stolen her heart.