A Gentleman Never Tells (13 page)

“All is well, Lady Gabrielle,” he insisted firmly, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll pick you up for our afternoon ride in the park on Wednesday as planned.”

Her brow wrinkled. “We planned no—”

“As we planned,” he interrupted in a low voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to bid our hostess farewell.”

We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon each other our follies; it is the first law of nature.

—Voltaire

There is delicious scandal brewing in London as more than feet hit the dance floor at a well-attended soirée last night. It was told that Viscount Brentwood and Mr. Alfred Staunton met for the first time and, before the party was over, one of them left seeing fireworks behind his eyes and the other being helped out the door by his friends. And Lady Gabrielle left without a word.

—Lord Truefitt,
Society’s Daily
Column

Would the scandals never stop?

Brent wadded the newsprint and threw it at the draperies. Hell and damnation to the beast who wrote that rubbish. Brent would like to get his hands on whoever the hell Lord Truefitt was, and wipe up the dance floor with him. Brent had been in London less than two fortnights, and either he or his brothers had been in that blasted scandal sheet every morning since they arrived. It was no wonder his mother never allowed any of London’s newsprint in the house. And if Truefitt was really a lord, a titled gentleman of Polite Society, he wouldn’t stoop to write such drivel.

He didn’t even know why he bothered to look at it, other than he started looking at the column as a way to keep up with what the gossips were saying about his brothers. Brent had wanted Truefitt to stop writing about his brothers, but he never thought he’d be the latest scandal to take their place.

Brent pushed his chair back from the breakfast table and walked over to the buffet. He had very little appetite for the scrambled eggs, large pieces of ham, and fresh baked bread that filled the silver platters. Since he returned home from Lady Windham’s house last night, only two things had been on his mind: Staunton and Lady Gabrielle. He spent half his sleepless night wanting to smash Staunton’s face with his fist and the other half dying to kiss Lady Gabrielle again. How could he have become so bewitched by her and so quickly?

The slam of a door and the commotion of boots stomping on floors and chatter alerted Brent that his brothers had arrived. The twins made their way over to have the morning meal with him three or four times a week. He wasn’t up to their banter this morning. No doubt they wanted to talk about what happened last night. But Brent wouldn’t be talking.

He heard their heavy footfalls on the hardwood floors of the corridor and watched the doorway as first Matson and then Iverson appeared.

“Are we interrupting your breakfast?” Iverson asked as he leaned against the doorjamb.

“Not at all. I was expecting you, and you’re late,” Brent said and dipped into the eggs. “I’d decided you weren’t going to come today, so I started to eat without you.”

“We can’t have that,” Matson said, walked over to the buffet, and picked up a plate. Iverson headed for the silver coffeepot and poured himself a cup.

When their plates were full and all were seated at the table, Matson asked, “How’s your lip this morning?”

“Hurts like the devil,” Brent said, cutting into his ham. “But I’ll live.”

“What are you going to do about Staunton waylaying you at the party?” Iverson asked.

“Nothing.”

“Why?” Iverson asked as he spread fig preserves on his toast.

“Because the man’s a coward,” Brent muttered. “And I have no use for cowards.”

“I agree with that assessment,” Matson said. “If Staunton had wanted to fight you, he should have called you out like a gentleman for a fair fight, not ambush you like a thief in the night.”

“Right,” Iverson said. “He’s an earl’s son and should act like one.”

“Maybe Brent feels the retaliation from Staunton was justified; after all, he did steal his fiancée away from him.”

“And now that we’ve met both of them, I can understand why you had no qualms about doing it. She’s lovely and charming and surely doesn’t deserve a sniveling coward.”

Brent smiled to himself and kept quiet while he buttered his bread. If they only knew he’d had no choice about that meeting in the park with Lady Gabrielle. She had enraptured him the moment she walked out of the mist. But there was no reason to tell his brothers what happened that morning.

“There is something good that has come from this,” Matson said.

“I’d like to know what it is,” Brent argued and then winced as he tried to open his mouth wide enough to bite into the thick piece of bread.

“Oh, not for you, for us.” Iverson grinned, reached down, and picked up the wadded newsprint from the floor. “You usurped us in Lord Truefitt’s society column.”

“And I feel slighted,” Matson added.

“Like hell you do,” Brent grumbled.

Iverson threw the wadded newsprint over to Matson. “He’s an ungrateful blade, isn’t he?”

Matson and Iverson laughed, and they ate in silence for a while until Matson said, “Lady Gabrielle has much to recommend her. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and not without good humor.”

“Mmm,” Brent said, thankful his mouth was full. If it hadn’t been, he might have been tempted to add that she was also enchanting, seductive, and very, very passionate.

“From all the eligible young ladies I’ve seen at the parties so far, you have picked the loveliest one.”

She picked me.

And Brent still wanted to know why. One of the men who held the earl’s son last night indicated that Staunton had been in more than one fight. Men who couldn’t control their rage turned into beasts and would strike out at anyone. Brent couldn’t help but wonder if the man had ever harmed or threatened to harm Gabrielle. That thought twisted Brent’s stomach, and he pushed his plate away. It would certainly explain why she would risk kissing a stranger and getting caught in order to keep from marrying him.

“Why do you always suddenly get so quiet when one of us mentions Lady Gabrielle?” Iverson asked.

Because a gentleman never tells.

Brent ignored the question and said, “It’s true Lady Gabrielle is the loveliest young lady in London, but keep in mind, Brothers, that many families are not even in Town at this time of year. By far most of them have retired to their country homes and estates to spend the winter and Christmas. They will only come back to Town in time for the Season next year.”

Iverson looked up from his plate. “So there will be more delectable young ladies to choose from come spring?”

“They will be buzzing about like bees after flowers,” Brent said.

“Another reason to hurry spring,” Matson said and then added, “I suppose you would have told us immediately if there had been any good news about Prissy.”

Brent looked up at his brother. “You know I would. There hasn’t even been a response from the newsprint notice.”

“Tell me,” Matson asked, “did you hear about Lord Snellingly’s missing dog and that he actually thinks a ghost might have taken it?”

“Believe me, I heard more than I wanted to from that man,” Brent said and couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he remembered the shocked look on Lady Gabrielle’s face when he left her with the earl. That should keep her from ever pretending again she didn’t know how to dance.

“There was also talk that there might be a particularly vicious animal prowling the darkness of Hyde and St. James,” Matson continued. “Perhaps a wild boar. They can grow quite large.”

“But they don’t usually bother dogs,” Iverson added. “Still, strange occurrences happen from time to time. Some of the men have discussed getting a hunting party together.”

Brent didn’t want to think about the possibility of Prissy’s meeting a wild boar. That impish dog had no fear and would challenge an animal of any shape or size.

Iverson added, “I also heard the carnival that set up camp on the south end of Town last month hasn’t moved on like it usually does. Someone thought perhaps one of their big animals might have escaped.”

“If that was the case, everyone in London would be in danger, not just small dogs,” Matson said. “I can’t see anyone hiding something as dangerous as that. Besides, isn’t it late in the year for traveling carnivals and fairs to still be around?”

“Seems to me it is, but you never know what makes them linger. I suppose they have to winter somewhere and make a little money. Someone was going to pay the owner a visit and see what they could find out about their menagerie.”

“Enough about the gossip and last night, Brothers,” Brent said, not wanting to dwell on what might have happened to Prissy. He’d heard more than enough from Lord Snellingly last night. “Tell me how it is going for you two on finding a building space near the docks to house your business.”

Matson laid down his fork and pushed his empty plate aside. “We’ve found a couple of places we are interested in, but there’s one problem.”

“A big problem,” Iverson added.

“What’s that?” Brent said warily.

“No doubt they’ve all heard the rumors about you and Lady Gabrielle.”

Brent didn’t need to hear more but said, “And?”

“We think they are waiting to see what the duke has to say about you, and apparently he is out of town.”

“How much time do you have?”

“Not much,” Matson said. “As soon as we arrived in London, we sent a letter to our man in Baltimore and told him to load up all our equipment, machinery, everything, including any of the workers who wanted to leave America, and set sail.”

“But we aren’t letting anything stop us from securing a place to house our business,” Iverson said. “We’ll find something, and we’ll be ready when the ship gets here.”

Brent picked up his coffee cup and sipped. He had believed the duke when he’d told him he could keep his brothers from having a successful business in London, and throughout England for that matter. Brent had never doubted Lady Gabrielle’s father, but now his brothers had just given him proof.

***

The rain came down at a steady drizzle and so did Gabrielle’s thoughts of Lord Brentwood. Neither had stopped all day. Even though the fireplace was lit, there was a cold chill to the house as she sat by the drawing-room window, her needlework in her still hands and Brutus snoring heavily on his pillow.

She had worried herself silly wondering what had been said between Lord Brentwood and Staunton and couldn’t wait until tomorrow so she could ask the viscount. She had wanted to stay at Lady Windham’s and hear what everyone had to say about what happened between the two men, but her aunt, sensing more scandal in the making, had hurried her out of the house. Fern had sent her a note, saying she heard Staunton had punched the viscount in the mouth, but that the viscount was a perfect gentleman and had refused to be drawn into a fight in Lady Windham’s house. Gabrielle already knew that much.

She was considering the possibility of confronting Staunton and letting him know what a hypocrite she thought him to be. He had some gall to attack Lord Brentwood for being alone with her when he had been guilty of doing the same thing with her sister.

And when she wasn’t worrying about the tussle between the two gentlemen, she was smiling over the fact that Lord Brentwood had the audacity to leave her with the insufferable Lord Snellingly. She should be furious he had the nerve to smile at her after he told the earl she would love to hear more of his dreadful poetry, but she wasn’t. She was amused the viscount was so clever. She certainly hadn’t wanted Staunton to hit Lord Brentwood, but it had been useful in getting her away from the pompous earl.

Just thinking about Lord Brentwood made Gabrielle smile. He was such a striking figure in his formal evening coat, slim-legged trousers, and buckled shoes. And she couldn’t help but be impressed that no matter how many times she missed steps on the dance floor, he never once became annoyed with her. She couldn’t imagine her father or Staunton being so accepting of a lady who couldn’t dance.

Gabrielle looked out the foggy windowpane and continued her dreams of Lord Brentwood. She remembered how eagerly she had anticipated seeing him, how fast her heart beat at the sight of him, and the feeling of those wondrous sensations low in her abdomen and across her breasts when his hand touched hers as they stepped onto the dance floor. She loved the feel of his strong embrace as he guided them through the steps of the complicated waltz. And as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she could hardly wait for the day of their afternoon in the park.

“There you are, Gabby,” Rosa said, hurrying into the room. “I didn’t see you at first. What are you doing over here in the corner?”

Gabrielle smiled, picked up her embroidery from her lap, and held it up. “Does this give you a hint?”

Rosa looked down at it and said, “Oh, yes. Nice stitches. Would you take the time to read this and give me your opinion?”

Gabrielle laid her work on the table by the lamp, took the sheet of foolscap from Rosa, and read:

My Dearest Staunton,

I have missed you and long to see you.

Where and when can we meet?

I wait for word from you.

Your forever love

A feeling of dread settled over Gabrielle. She looked up into Rosabelle’s young, eager eyes. She saw a raw desperation in her sister’s face that worried her.

“Rosa, I don’t think you want to send this note.”

Rosabelle’s mouth tightened. “Of course I do.”

Gabrielle knew she had to be careful with what she said. “What if it falls into the wrong hands?”

An irritated wrinkle formed on Rosa’s brow. “What if it does? I didn’t sign it. Staunton will know it’s from me, but no one else will.”

Gabrielle rose from her chair. “True, but it is very risky for you to suggest the two of you should plan to meet in secret.”

“Yes, but it can be done.”

Treading lightly, Gabrielle asked, “Has he contacted you?”

Rosa bit down on her bottom lip and then said, “No, I haven’t heard from him in over two weeks, and I don’t know why. I think I’ll go completely mad if I don’t see him soon.”

“You might well, but this secrecy is not the way to see him. Auntie and I will be going to Mr. and Mrs. Cuddlebury’s dinner party on Saturday night. Staunton will probably be there too. I think you should plan to attend with us and see him there, as is proper.”