A Gentleman Never Tells (11 page)

He smiled. “I believe you promised the next dance to me,” he said.

What must be shall be; and that which is a necessity to him that struggles, is little more than a choice to him that is willing.

—Seneca

It was on the tip of Gabrielle’s tongue to say to Lord Brentwood that she never promised him anything, but she stopped herself before speaking. It was brash of the viscount to assume she would play along with what was so obviously not true, rather than call his hand.

“I, ah, yes, I believe I did,” she said, deciding she didn’t want her friends to know Lord Brentwood was being brazenly forward, because she hadn’t agreed to a dance.

He took her punch cup from her hand and placed it on a table behind him. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting these two lovely ladies. Perhaps you would like to present them before we leave.”

“Yes, please,” Babs said and curtseyed.

“Yes, of course,” she said, and then taking a deep breath, she presented Fern and Babs to Lord Brentwood.

A roguish grin made its way across Lord Brentwood’s lips, intriguing Gabrielle so much she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was then she realized the scratch under his eye and cut on his lip had healed. In the deepest recesses of her abdomen, a quickening started and shuddered all the way up to her breasts and lingered there before moving on to her throat, tightening it. Would this man always make her feel this way every time she saw him? By the heavens, could he possibly know she had been completely enchanted by him since the moment she first saw him, and she was desperately trying to fight it?

Gabrielle had to find the strength to deny those wonderful feelings he always sparked inside her and plant her feet back on solid ground. If Staunton, who had been her fiancé for almost six months and had kissed her on more than one occasion, couldn’t make her feel these wonderful sensations, how in heaven’s name could the viscount?

After a few moments of chatting with Fern and Babs, Gabrielle and Lord Brentwood excused themselves and headed in the direction of the room that had been cleared of furniture and readied for dancing.

As soon as they were far enough away from her friends, Gabrielle looked over at the viscount and said, “I’m certain I didn’t promise you a dance, my lord.”

He glanced over at her and smiled. “No?”

She shook her head.

“Well, you should have. I’m a very good dancer. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before your father returns and our engagement will be formally announced. Perhaps it’s best I stake my claim on you now.”

His choice of words stung. Why couldn’t Lord Brentwood want to marry her because she made him feel all the wonderful things he had made her feel, and he wanted to feel them over and over again?

“The way you said that makes me sound like a piece of land, my lord.”

“You are far more valuable to me than land, Lady Gabrielle.”

It was clear he still thought that, as a duke’s daughter, she would make him a perfect wife. She was going to do her best to change his mind about that. And if he considered himself a very good dancer, she might as well begin her plan on the dance floor.

“Ah, that’s right,” she said. “How could I have forgotten that as a duke’s daughter, my dowry is considerable, and more important, I am the key to your brothers’ business success, right?”

“All that is true, but as we discussed in your back garden, there are certainly many things that will make you an excellent choice for my wife.”

Wanting to change the subject, she said, “I had hoped to receive word from you this week concerning Prissy’s safe return home.”

“I had no news to report. I would have sent you a note, as I promised, if I had.”

That wasn’t what Gabrielle wanted to hear. She knew how much he adored the little dog and, sadly, if she hadn’t been found in a week, she probably wasn’t going to be. It was best to change the subject again.

“I’m glad your face has completely healed since I last saw you.”

He chuckled ruefully and touched the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, I now recognize myself when I look in the mirror.”

She tried not to look at anyone as they walked side by side through the drawing room and into the music room where the dancing was to take place. But she couldn’t completely shield her eyes from everyone. Though she was well aware the whispers behind the fans and hands were about her, she hoped no one would be ill-mannered enough to say anything about her while she was with the viscount, as the ladies had when she was with Babs and Fern.

They stopped at the edge of the dance floor, as the call to assemble on it hadn’t been announced. Wanting to avoid the awkwardness of standing in silence, she said, “I don’t know much about you, Lord Brentwood. I looked in copies of old newsprint for some mention of you in the Society Column and found none. I find that odd.”

He smiled. “You admit you wanted to find out more about me?”

She eyed him curiously. “Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

“You could have just asked.”

“There has been precious little time for that when we’ve been together.”

His lashes lowered, and his gaze fell to her lips. “I agree. We’ve always had other pressing matters to discuss, haven’t we?”

Gabrielle’s abdomen tightened. She refused to let her attraction to him overtake her again. She inhaled deeply, focused on remaining calm, and asked, “Is this your first visit to London?”

His gaze lingered for a moment longer on her mouth and then swept back up to her eyes. “Not the first, but I don’t come often. There is much to keep me busy at my estate in Devonshire. On the whole, our lands are fertile, sheep and cattle are plentiful, and there are several surrounding villages. Certainly there are enough people, parties, and dinners to keep a much busier social life than I care to participate in.”

“On occasion, I have traveled throughout England, Wales, and Scotland with my father, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to your part of Devonshire.”

“In that case, I’ll look forward to showing it to you after we are married.”

Suddenly, she could hardly wait to watch that cocksure attitude of his crumble. “I love London, my lord, and doubt I would ever be happy living in the country. With my father such an important figure in Parliament and advisor to the prince, we’ve never spent much time at any of our country homes. I’m sure I would get dreadfully lonely away from the shops, the plays, the opera, even the street lamps. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t take a walk in one of London’s parks.”

Lord Brentwood regarded her thoughtfully for a moment with his golden-brown eyes. “Nonsense. The Brentwood estate is surrounded by nature that is much more impressive than Hyde Park, St. James, or any of London’s other parks. And believe me, Lady Gabrielle, you won’t have to wade through all the people, horses, and carriages for your strolls. You won’t see the street vendors, milk carts, or the traveling minstrel shows and carnivals that put up their tents around the parks. All you have is the beauty of nature, peace, and tranquility without the trappings of civilization.”

The picture he was painting for her sounded divine, but she didn’t want him to know that, so she gave him a queer look and offered, “But I want all that in my life, my lord. I enjoy civilization. I like seeing people and talking to them. I love to attend carnivals, circuses, and all the traveling shows that come to London.”

The assembly was called while she was still speaking, so Lord Brentwood took hold of her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. “You will get used to the quietness of country life.”

The old Gabrielle would have simply acquiesced to his statement and remained quiet, but she was no longer willing to be agreeable or dutiful simply for the sake of being the way others thought she should be. She said, “I don’t want to get used to it, my lord. I want to be free to make my own decisions about where I shall live as well as whom I should marry.”

“That decision was taken away from you when you were found in my arms, Lady Gabrielle.”

She scoffed at his comment. “No, my lord. That decision was taken from me the moment I was born the duke’s daughter.”

They fell silent as other dancers took the floor and surrounded them. A short introduction was played, and Gabrielle realized they would be dancing the waltz. She would have much preferred the quadrille or an even faster dance, where there wouldn’t have been the constant touching. But perhaps all was not lost. She would take this opportunity and use it to show him why she would not be a good wife for him.

He took her hand in his and then placed the other on her back, while she lifted hers and laid it on his broad, strong shoulder. The music started, and on the proper note, Lord Brentwood took a gliding step forward. Gabrielle purposefully didn’t move her foot in time, and he stepped on her toes. He tried not to put his weight down on her and almost tripped himself trying to keep from hurting her.

“Ouch,” she whispered, not realizing it would hurt so much to have him land on her foot.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said.

“No, no. It was my fault,” she said and quickly missed another step, causing the viscount to step on her toes again.

“Nonsense,” he said, trying to be polite. “I’ll take smaller steps.”

As soon as he said the words, she stepped on his foot. “I’m sorry,” she said and then took a huge step backward and deliberately bumped into the couple behind her.

Lord Brentwood quickly guided her away from the middle of the dance floor and to the outer edge of the dancers. “I just assumed you would know how to waltz,” he said.

She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling when she saw the confused look on his face.

“I do,” she said honestly. “Perhaps I’m simply not as good at it as you are. I used to be a very good dancer, but tonight I seem to have two left feet.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” he mumbled. “We’ll muddle through.”

And so they did. Trying not to dance properly wasn’t as easy as Gabrielle thought it would be. She had been dancing since she was a young girl, and it was second nature to her. She could waltz as gracefully as anyone, so she had to pay close attention to the beat of the music so she could deliberately miss steps. At one point, she started forward rather than stepping back. She remembered how irritating it was once when she danced with a young man who counted the steps under his breath, so she whispered, “One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four,” in time to the beat of the music.

She knew her constant mumbling had gotten to him when he said, “Lady Gabrielle, if you will just concentrate on following me, there will be no need for you to count the steps.”

“Oh,” she said and gave him a sheepish smile. It made her feel positively wonderful to be in control of the dance and to cause him a few moments of frustration.

By the time the music stopped, her toes were hurting from being mashed by Lord Brentwood’s much larger feet, and she was certain her beige satin pumps would be beyond repair; still she smiled. All in all, it was a small price to pay if it helped the viscount see that she would be far from a perfect wife for him.

Lord Brentwood bowed, and she curtseyed before they left the dance floor.

When she looked into his eyes, a warm, tingling sensation washed over her, and that made her feel a bit guilty for having deceived him, even though it was necessary. “I’m sorry I didn’t waltz very well.”

He studied her face for a moment before he leaned forward just a fraction, lowered his voice, and said, “Not a problem, Lady Gabrielle, I’ll see to it you have a few more lessons after we marry, and soon you will be outdancing even the most accomplished dancer.”

That wasn’t what she expected to hear. Suddenly a charming light glinted in his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at her that led her to believe he might know she had only been pretending not to know how to waltz.

“I see my brothers have arrived at the party. Do you mind coming with me to meet them?”

Gabrielle looked in the direction of his gaze and saw the two tall and powerfully built men entering the drawing room. They were the epitome of identical twins, from their same height, coloring, and features, to every detail of their evening clothing being exact in color and style.

“Not at all,” she said. “Your brothers are very handsome.”

A queer expression settled on his face. “You think they are handsome?”

“Very much so, don’t you?”

He laughed. “I suppose I do.”

“They look so much alike, how do you tell them apart?”

“In appearance, even I have trouble telling them apart sometimes unless one is wearing his hair longer than the other, as they are now. If you’ll notice, Iverson’s hair is a little longer in back than Matson’s.”

“Thank you for telling me the difference,” she said, studying the two men. “But I do believe what others are saying to be true. From this distance, they look nothing like you.”

“Really? I always thought I was a handsome blade, too.”

Gabrielle gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. You are quite handsome, too. I meant they—”

His eyes sparkled with laughter, and he said, “I know what you meant. My brothers take after our mother’s side of the family instead of our father’s.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, grateful he hadn’t taken offense at her offhanded comment and seemed more than willing to laugh off her reference to the fact the twins looked nothing like their older brother.

He stopped and looked at her for a moment before they reached the gentlemen. “One thing I would ask of you. My brothers don’t know of your father’s threat to ruin their business. I want to keep it that way.”

“If you wish, but why is it so important to you?”

“Because if they knew, they would move heaven and earth to prove your father wrong and make their business prosper. I would rather not get a war going between your father and my brothers, and I don’t think you want that either.”

“Heavens, no.”

“Then we are in agreement that it won’t be mentioned.”

“Absolutely, and just so you know, I never planned to mention it.”

He grinned and said, “And I didn’t think you would, but I had to be certain.”