A Gentleman Never Tells (19 page)

“I don’t suppose I’d mind, Lord Waldo, but I don’t know how I can. I’ve not yet found my mother’s dog.”

“I’m sorry about that. I was hoping you had. It would have given me more hope. I know you’ve been searching the parks and streets for your dog, and I was hoping maybe you’d seen a small beige terrier. She answers to Tulip or Tooley.”

Brent thought about the little dog he’d seen with the old woman in the park. It couldn’t have been the Duke of Rockcliffe’s dog because that one was black.

There was no use in telling the man he was no longer looking for Prissy. He knew from personal experience that all Lord Waldo wanted was hope, and he didn’t mind giving the man that. “I haven’t seen the duke’s dog, but I’ll keep my eye out for her and certainly try to catch her if I do.”

“Thank you. I suppose you’ve heard some think maybe Lord Pinkwater’s ghost is snatching up the dogs for his own pleasure.”

The server set a glass of brandy in front of Brent, and he pulled it toward him. “I’ve heard.”

“I’m not one who believes that,” Lord Waldo said, “in case you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Some others are thinking there might be a wild animal roaming in the parks and streets.”

“I’ve heard,” Brent said, though he had his doubts about that as well. He was beginning to believe it was a two-legged animal who was taking the dogs, but who and for what purpose? But as nervous as Lord Waldo was acting, there was no way Brent was going to tell him he thought the possibility of finding the duke’s dog was very slim.

The server put a tankard in front of Lord Waldo, and he picked it up with a shaky hand and took a long drink before saying, “I’m working on organizing a group of gentlemen to go on a night hunt through the parks. I’d be pleased if you would join us. It’s all right if you don’t want to,” he added quickly. “I asked Lord Snellingly and he declined. He said he’s not much of a hunter.”

Brent could believe that of Snellingly. He couldn’t imagine that fop sitting a horse in the dead of night, as cold as it was this time of year.

For whatever reason, it appeared to Brent that Lord Waldo was trying to make amends for his disastrous meeting with Iverson. Brent needed to buck up and meet the man halfway. He didn’t know what was happening to the dogs, but whatever it was, he was damn sure it had nothing to do with a ghost.

“Let me know when and where to meet and I’ll be there.”

Lord Waldo smiled gratefully. “Thank you, my lord. You can count on it.”

Brent picked up his brandy and headed down the corridor that led to the gaming rooms. He stopped to look in the billiard room and saw that games were in progress at both tables. He started toward the card room when he caught sight of Sir Randolph Gibson, and immediately an idea popped into his mind. Brent leaned against the door frame. He sipped his brandy, deciding to watch for a while and think on his idea. His brothers wouldn’t like it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he did something they didn’t like.

When Sir Randolph’s game ended, he put his cue stick in the wall bracket and walked over to Brent. It was past midnight, and some men were beginning to show signs of being brandy-faced, but the old man appeared as dapper as he looked at midday.

Sir Randolph bowed. “My lord.”

“Sir Randolph, may I buy you a drink?”

He hesitated. “I was on my way home. It’s late for an old man like me.”

“I won’t detain you long.”

“In that case, I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re drinking.”

They walked back into the noisy taproom and found a table that had just been vacated. Brent asked the server to bring two glasses of brandy, and then he sat down opposite Sir Randolph.

“I understand your father was in the shipping business during the war with America.”

Sir Randolph folded his arms across his chest and nodded. “That’s right.”

“You sold the business years ago.”

He nodded again.

Obviously Sir Randolph was a man of few words. He wasn’t going to offer any information that wasn’t specifically asked for. “Did you know my brothers have a shipbuilding business in Maryland?”

“I’ve heard that.”

The server put their drinks in front of them, but neither man offered to pick up his glass.

“Then I’ll get right to the point. They are moving the business to London and are looking for space at the docks to lease, but they keep running into trouble.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed, and he unfolded his arms. “What kind of trouble?”

“It seems that all the owners who have space available are holding it until the Duke of Windergreen decides whether or not he will need it in the future.”

“There aren’t too many people who would go against a duke. I’m sure if he asked them to hold the space for him, they will.”

“Yes, that’s the problem. I thought perhaps because your father was in shipping you might have knowledge of existing space that wasn’t being held for the duke.”

Sir Randolph picked up his glass and sipped, keeping his gaze on Brent the entire time. After he set his glass down, he said, “I might.”

Encouraged by that, Brent asked, “Do you think it might be available for my brothers to lease?”

The old man’s crafty brown eyes never wavered, and his hands stayed steady. “I could check into that for you.”

“And if there were such space, would my brothers have to know you had anything to do with finding it for them?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Brent relaxed a little. “And how might they go about finding this space?”

Sir Randolph picked up his drink thoughtfully and took a slow sip. “I’ll see that someone finds them.”

He is most free from danger, who, even when safe, is on his guard.

—Publilius Syrus

Chimes dinged and bells clanged as Brent, Gabrielle, and Mrs. Potter walked down the church steps on a cloudy midday Sunday. A slight breeze added a chill to the gray day. Brent settled his top hat on his head, and the ladies opened their parasols, even though there wasn’t a slice of sunshine to be seen anywhere in the sky.

“It was a lovely service,” Gabrielle said, “don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” her aunt answered quickly.

“What about you, my lord, what did you think?” Gabrielle asked him.

He glanced over at her and, with a smile, said, “I thought it divinely inspired.”

Mrs. Potter laughed heartily as they strolled down the walkway toward the row of carriages and drivers waiting for their owners. “In case you don’t know, Gabby, that means he was utterly bored to tears.”

“Nonsense, Auntie,” Gabrielle said with a sly smile. “Every time I looked over at Lord Brentwood, his eyes were closed, and I saw no tears whatsoever. He must have been praying.”

“Praying! Ha!” Her aunt belted a hearty laugh. “If he was praying, he was asking the Good Lord to let the service be over quickly!”

“Auntie, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Brent chuckled. He found Mrs. Potter charming and her ribald comments witty. “My eyes were closed only when I was sleeping,” Brent said.

“I’ve noticed that a lot of gentlemen always seem to doze when in church,” Gabrielle’s aunt said.

“But I never closed my eyes while you were singing, Mrs. Potter. You have a lovely voice.”

Mrs. Potter’s dark brown eyes sparkled with humor. “Thank you, my lord. I do love it when a handsome young gentleman flatters me.”

Brent stopped in front of his landau and reached for Mrs. Potter’s hand. “It wasn’t sweet talk. It’s the truth. Should I have my driver put the top on the carriage? It doesn’t look as if the day will get any warmer.”

“Oh, no, not for me,” she said. “I’m sorry to say I won’t be joining you and Gabby today, so you must keep the top off.” She turned and pointed farther down the street. “Muggs is right over there. I told him to wait for me when he dropped us off this morning.”

Concern etched its way across Gabrielle’s face. “But Auntie Bethie, you wanted to go to the fair. You’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

“Of course I have, and perhaps I’ll have the chance to go another time, but not today. I don’t feel good about leaving Rosabelle alone for so long, especially since she isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh,” Gabrielle said. “You’re right. I should skip the fair as well, and go home with you.”

“You will do no such thing, young lady,” Mrs. Potter admonished. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t take two of us to watch over her. Besides, I don’t think there is anything seriously wrong with her, and I don’t believe you do either. It’s certainly nothing a little time can’t cure. You two run along and enjoy yourselves. I’ll take care of Rosa.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potter; that is exactly what we shall do.”

“You will check on her often, won’t you?” Gabrielle asked her aunt.

“More than she would want, for sure.”

Keeping his distance from Gabrielle’s parasol, Brent reached for her hand and helped her step into the carriage.

“Don’t leave her alone for one second, my lord,” Mrs. Potter said. “There are always unsavory characters at fairs and carnivals.”

“You have no cause to worry about that. She shall not leave my sight.”

“Good. I’ll expect you back before dark.”

“You can count on it,” Brent said.

Brent looked at Gabrielle. Her gorgeous blue eyes sparkled despite the dreary day. She wore a beige dress sprigged with tiny blue flowers. Her black cape and matching bonnet were trimmed with a white-and-black–corded braid. He couldn’t help but think how damn lucky he was that the lady who caught him in a parson’s mousetrap was the most beautiful and fascinating lady he’d ever met.

Brent wouldn’t have minded Mrs. Potter going with them. She was a fascinating lady, too, and always in a good humor. But if Mrs. Potter had gone with them, there would have been no chance he could kiss Gabrielle’s delectable lips. He smiled to himself as he climbed onto the carriage and settled himself beside Gabrielle. Yes, he wasn’t the least unhappy the lady had decided to spend the afternoon with her other niece.

Brent gave the driver the signal to go as he tucked a blanket around Gabrielle’s legs. The first thing Brent noticed was she was not sitting as close to him, because the seats were longer in the much-bigger landau than they were in the curricle they used a few days ago. He missed feeling the warmth of her skirts. The second thing he noticed was her beige parasol with the fancy blue trim wasn’t as big as the one she carried on their last outing, so hopefully his hat would remain on his head. He had lost two very expensive hats because of Gabrielle. The first was ruined the morning he met her, when it was stepped on by her footman after he wrestled Brent to the ground, and the second on his last outing with her. It was hard to believe it was now more than a month ago since he met her.

The driver guided the two mares out of the queue in front of the church and into the busy traffic as Gabrielle waved good-bye to her aunt. Sunday was the one day of the week when most Londoners didn’t work, and there were always a lot of carriages, wagons, and horses on the streets.

“I see your lip has healed once again,” Gabrielle said as the driver fit the landau in between a black shiny barouche and a low chaise.

Brent scooted a little closer to her, relaxed against the back of the seat, and said, “Yes, at last.”

“You know what they say, don’t you?”

He glanced at her. There was a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “No, what do
they
say?”

“That things come in threes. So that means you can expect one more cut on the lip before the next new moon.”

He hoped not. He didn’t want to lose another hat either. “I do believe I have heard that, Gabrielle, but I can assure you I won’t take kindly to whoever takes a swing at me the next time. And from now on, I’ll be doubly wary if anyone taps me on the shoulder from behind.”

“Then I’ll make sure it’s not me.”

He smiled at her. “You are in no danger from me.”

Her eyes softened. “I have no fear of you, Brent.”

“Maybe that is true.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I noticed you don’t have your bodyguard with you today.”

“My body—” She stopped and laughed. “Oh, you mean Brutus.”

Brent tried to remain serious when he said, “Yes. I suppose he gets bored and falls asleep in church, too.”

Gabrielle picked up on his teasing and continued it with, “Oh, yes, I had to stop bringing him because his snoring would drown out Auntie Bethie’s singing.”

They laughed, and Brent found himself slipping a little closer to her once again, and he made sure his thigh rested against hers. It pleased him that she didn’t shy away from him.

“If I didn’t know better,” Gabrielle said, “I would think you are happy my precious dog is not with us today.”

“To that, I’ll only say that Brutus and I are becoming friends. I’m looking forward to seeing him when I attend the piano recital in your home on Thursday evening.”

“I’m glad you’re coming, and I know Brutus will be happy to see you, too.”

With a deep contented breath and a smile, Gabrielle turned away from him and looked at the sights along the streets as the carriage rolled along at a lively pace.

Lady Gabrielle was the most difficult person he had ever tried to figure out. At times it seemed as if she was trying her best to keep him from being attracted to her by pretending she couldn’t dance, pulling out poetry to read to him, or trying to make him believe she had a hellish temperament, and several of her ancestors had gone mad. But then there were other times, like the first time they met in the park, when she intrigued him by telling him to speak gently to Prissy. And times like now, when she was just so delightful he couldn’t wait to get her alone so he could pull her into his embrace and kiss her for as long as he wanted.

It didn’t matter which lady she decided to be, she was always desirable, and if he’d had the opportunity to pick a wife of his own choosing, he was beginning to think he certainly couldn’t have done any better than Lady Gabrielle.

“Oh, I forgot to ask you,” Gabrielle said after they had ridden in silence for a while, “did you hear about the Duke of Rockcliffe’s dog, Tulip? She is now missing, too.”

Brent slipped his arm over the top of the bench and eased it around her. “I heard a day or two ago that she went missing, but I don’t know any details and I didn’t ask. How and where did the dog disappear?”

“She was with the duke’s youngest brother, Lord Waldo. The duke is actually with my father and the Duke of Norfolk and several other gentlemen on a hunting jaunt in Kent.”

“I’ve not met the Duke of Rockcliffe, just his younger brother,” Brent mumbled, remembering his brief conversation with Lord Waldo a few nights ago.

“The duke is a very somber man, much like my father,” Gabrielle continued. “But Lord Waldo is really a pleasant man. He was enjoying an afternoon in Hyde Park with Miss Alice Peyton when Tulip wandered off and never came back.”

Brent grinned and then chuckled softly. “I wonder if they had as much pleasure in the park as we did. As I recall, I enjoyed myself immensely, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened, and pink flamed in her cheeks. “Well, ah—of course, but I really don’t know what they were doing in the park.”

Brent laughed again. She was enchanting when she was embarrassed and flustered.

She straightened her back, lifted her chin and shoulders, and very properly said, “However, I do know that Lord Waldo had the duke’s little dog with him and while he wasn’t looking, Tulip wandered away and now can’t be found.”

“Hmm,” Brent said, pretending to be in deep thought. “It sounds like maybe they
were
in the park doing what we were doing.”

Gabrielle huffed. “I’m trying to be serious, and you are making it very difficult.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist a little teasing. Forgive me.”

They hit a huge hole in the road, and the carriage nearly bumped them off the seat. They laughed, and Brent took the opportunity to press even closer to Gabrielle. The tip of her nose was turning pink from the wind, and already a golden strand of hair had escaped the tight fit of her short-brimmed velvet bonnet. Brent loved looking at her, and it was very satisfying being so close to her he felt the warmth of her body.

“So tell me about this dog,” he said.

“I really don’t know very much about Tulip. I just found it remarkably odd that another dog has gone missing. I can’t ever remember a time when I’ve heard of three dogs missing in little more than a month.”

“I agree,” Brent said. “Something like this doesn’t happen unless something or someone is making it happen.”

“Some ladies and I were talking about the same thing before you arrived at the church today.”

“Really? I chatted with two gentlemen before the service started, and no one mentioned it to me.”

“I’m sure that’s because everyone knows how distraught you’ve been because you haven’t found Prissy.”

Brent’s brows drew together, and he frowned. “Distraught? Is that what people are saying about me?”

“Not so much now, of course, but when you were searching the park for Prissy, I might have heard that term used once or twice.”

“Might have?” he grumbled.

Her eyes softened gently. “Well, you were distraught that your mother’s dog is missing, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Brent knew White’s had a wager going about whether or not Prissy would be found by Christmas, and then there were wagers about whether she’d be found dead or alive. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Londoners found such perverse pleasure in mocking someone’s trials… but they did.

“She’s gone, Gabrie. I told you I’ve accepted the fact Prissy is gone and will not be returning.”

Her blue gaze fluttered down his face, and she gave him a compassionate smile. “You know, all the ladies—young, married, and widows—think it makes you the most dashing of gentlemen because you care so much for your deceased mother’s pet.”

Brent wasn’t sure that was how he would choose to be thought of by any lady. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“But perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up dogs at all.”

He put his hand over her muff and tried to find her hand beneath the fur. “No, I’m glad you did. And you are right. I, too, find it odd that three small dogs have now gone missing. It gives some credibility to the fact a large animal is on the prowl.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that. What do you think is happening to them, Brent?”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. “But I’m joining some other men, and we’re going to scour the park to see if we can find a beast.”

“I hope you do.”

They rode the rest of the way to the fair in silence.

“Oh, look,” Gabrielle said with a sparkle in her eyes and excitement in her voice. “I can see the tents. We’re almost there.”

The fair was bustling and lively with people and noise as the driver maneuvered the carriage to the parking area. Loud pianoforte music mixed with the chatter of talking and laughing. The scents of burning wood, cooked food, and animal waste lingered in the chilly air.

After the brake was set on the landau, Brent jumped down and reached back for Gabrielle. He settled his hands around her waist and lifted her from the top step of the carriage and swung her around twice before setting her on her feet.

She laughed breathlessly and said, “That was completely uncalled for, my lord.”

“But highly enjoyable, was it not?”

Her gaze stayed, and the pleasure he saw in her face made his stomach tighten. “Yes,” she said, “very much so.”

“Should I get your parasol?”

She shook her head and took her muff off and tossed it into the seat. “With so little sun out, I shall be fine without it.”

He smiled. “All right, what do you want to see first?”

Her eyes lighted with happiness. “I want to see everything, of course. Whatever we come to first, we will stop and see what is going on.”