A Gentleman Never Tells (3 page)

“Yes, you are!” he said, anger rising in his tone again. “And now I’m left with the task of sorting all this out! If there is any chance of salvaging this engagement, the only way will be if I give more lands than were exchanged in the betrothal agreement, not to mention everything else we had worked out. With the wedding date just days away, funds, lands, and business ventures have already been mingled. It will take our solicitors weeks to sort it all out.”

Gabrielle stiffened. Salvage the engagement? Marry the earl’s youngest son, knowing he and her sister were in love? She couldn’t.

“No, Papa. I will not marry Staunton.”

“Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “You will, if I can talk him and his father into forgiving you.”

All thoughts of capitulation vanished. “It’s not nonsense. I’ve never wanted to marry him. You and his father arranged this marriage for financial profit, not for any love between Staunton and me.”

“Love?” His lips thinned in exasperation. “What is that, Gabrielle? Of course the marriage was for money. There’s no such thing as love. I should have known it was a foolish notion that brought you out to the park this morning to meet that man. It’s just as well you learn here and now that whatever it is you think you feel for him it isn’t love, and it has nothing to do with what makes a good marriage.”

No such thing as love? Did she believe that?

Maybe, yesterday. Maybe, before she saw the passion between Rosabelle and Staunton. Maybe, before she kissed Lord Brentwood and felt those wonderful stirrings of desire down in her soul.

Gabrielle looked toward Viscount Brentwood again. He was tall and lithe for such a wide-shouldered man, walking with far more ease than she would have anticipated considering what had happened to him. She expected him to be seething with uncontrolled anger like her father and Lord Austerhill, but when his gaze locked onto hers, all she sensed from him was a deep burning to know why.

A shiver of awareness slithered through her. He seemed to consume her with his dark eyes as he drew nearer. The way he looked at her played havoc with her breathing. She felt flushed and out of breath, as if she’d been the one running and in a struggle. A seeping warmth settled low in her stomach, an unwelcome warmth. That feeling had caused enough trouble already, and she wouldn’t give in to its comfort again.

The closer he came to them, the faster her heart beat, and not from fear of reprisal, but from very raw, very real attraction. There was a jagged red scratch on his cheek where his face had been shoved against the ground. His black greatcoat fell open and hung off one shoulder. His top hat was missing, and his thick, light brown hair was mussed and fell carelessly across his forehead. Despite all the recriminations she’d heard from her father and Lord Austerhill, she wanted once again to wrap her arms around Lord Brentwood’s strong, broad chest and feel his full, sensual lips on hers.

She couldn’t comprehend the reason she was so affected by him.

Lord Brentwood and the servant stopped in front of Gabrielle and her father. She was supposed to be making final preparations for her wedding next week and, instead, she was staring into the intense dark brown eyes of a stranger that were asking questions she knew she couldn’t answer.

That old eagerness to please stirred inside her. She wanted to take a step toward him, plead with him to forgive her, but something in the quiet way he looked at her made her remain where she was.

In a voice much less emotional than she was feeling, she said, “My lord, I assured my father this was not your fault.”

A brief moment of surprise flashed in his eyes before they turned dark and stormy again. She could see that he wrestled with something deep inside. Was it loathing for her, or for her father and the footmen who tackled him?

“I don’t need you taking up for me, Lady Gabrielle.”

She threw a cautious glance toward her father, surprised he was letting her talk to the viscount. “But I must,” she protested. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

His gaze stayed on her face, as if he was taking careful note of her every feature. “Really?” he asked quietly. “None of it?”

Stunned by what he asked, Gabrielle sucked in a hasty breath. He was reminding her of their passion. Her cheeks heated. He was seducing her right in front of her father, and she was powerless to stop him.

“Please don’t,” she managed to whisper softly so only he could hear, before saying in a stronger voice, “You must know I didn’t want this to happen.”

His eyes turned quizzical. “I don’t know that.”

“How could you not?”

“Because I don’t know what games you are playing, Lady Gabrielle, and I don’t know why you chose to involve me in them.”

“There is no game. You are just an innocent victim.”

The viscount drew back suddenly as if she had struck him below the belt. “I am no one’s victim, my lady.”

“No, of course, you’re right. I only meant I’m sorry you were treated like a common criminal just now.”

“Nevertheless, I willingly made the bed, and I will lie in it.”

Her stomach clenched at the implication of his words. “I’m not sure what you mean by that,” she said, though she feared she did.

“I will do whatever I must to make this right for you.”

She blinked rapidly. Merciful heavens! He was too blasted calm about all this. He was making her crazy. “What is right for me? You are the one who was wronged.”

“That is not up to us to decide,” he said, glancing toward her father.

“Indeed it is not,” her father chimed in as if on cue. “And I’m glad to hear you are going to be sensible about this debacle. But, of course, the first thing I intend to do is see what can be done to save her engagement to the earl’s son.”

Lord Brentwood jerked toward her, the fierce glare from his eyes cutting her as if it was a sharp knife. “You’re betrothed?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know of this?” her father barked.

“I didn’t,” Brent said tightly, keeping his hot gaze on her face. “I’m new to London and hadn’t heard.”

“I’ve heard of you,” her father said. “Your brothers are the talk of the clubs and scandal sheets.”

The viscount grimaced but said nothing.

Gabrielle swallowed past a thick throat. She, along with everyone else in town, knew about his twin brothers’ resemblance to the well-known and well-liked Sir Randolph Gibson. The scandal sheets mentioned them every day.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course, I should have told you I was to marry the Earl of Austerhill’s youngest son next week,” she admitted, knowing how terribly awful that made her sound after the way she had thrown herself at him.

Anger seeped into the viscount’s face, and from between tightly clenched teeth, he said, “Next week? And you didn’t see the need to let me in on that important detail about your life a little earlier?”

Her emotions were frayed. No answer she could give would satisfy him, so she simply said, “It didn’t seem relevant at the time.”

Lord Brentwood’s mood changed quickly, and he took a menacing step toward her. Brutus growled a warning. The servant’s hands clamped tighter around his arms and held him back as he said, “With you betrothed, tell me, what the devil were you doing kissing me?”

“That’s what I have been trying to find out for the past ten minutes,” her father added brusquely. “And it’s past time for one of you to tell me!”

Gabrielle’s gaze shifted from Lord Brentwood to her father and back to the viscount again. They both demanded and deserved answers.

Heavens above!

Surely there was something she could do other than tattle on her sister? But what?

Courage is doing what you’re afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you are scared.

—Eddie Rickenbacker

Gabrielle paced in front of the window in the drawing room of their Mayfair home. Her faithful companion, Brutus, slept peacefully on his giant pillow in his favorite spot near the softly burning fire.

She kept reminding herself she was a calm, rational, and sensible person, even though her actions earlier that morning disproved that fact. Most of the shock of everything that had happened had worn off, and Gabrielle was feeling stronger and more capable of dealing with the crisis she’d created with her uncharacteristically impulsive and scandalous behavior in Hyde Park.

Staring at her father and the viscount, she became so emotional that, for a moment, she was on the verge of spilling all and telling them about Staunton and Rosabelle’s romance and deception when, thankfully, they’d heard someone approaching them in the park. Her father told Lord Brentwood they would talk later. He had then grabbed her arm, quickly whisked her to his waiting carriage and back home where she had been ever since.

After telling her he’d deal with her when he returned, he had left immediately to see Lord Austerhill. Her father desperately wanted to undo the damage she’d done by being caught in a compromising embrace with Lord Brentwood. In the hours since he’d been gone, Gabrielle didn’t care what kind of agreement her father might reach with Lord Austerhill, she would never marry the earl’s son.

She was over the shock of Rosabelle and Staunton’s love for each other and was thinking more rationally about that, as well. If the two of them truly loved each other, wasn’t it her duty to try to make it possible for them to be together? Just because Gabrielle had been willing to settle for a loveless marriage in order to be the obedient daughter didn’t mean Rosabelle must, too.

She was glad she hadn’t had to face her sister since she returned home. It wasn’t yet past noontime. Rosabelle was a late riser and always took an enormous amount of time with her toilette in the mornings.

With little more than a year’s difference in their ages, Rosabelle had always been very competitive with Gabrielle, but she never minded and often would let her sister win if they were playing cards or other games. To please her sister, Gabrielle had even postponed her debut at court a year so she and Rosabelle could debut together. They had always been close, sometimes talking until the wee hours of the morning about friends, books, beaus, and clothing. That is, until recently. Gabrielle had noticed her sister had been avoiding her. She had thought it was because Rosabelle was upset to see her leaving to have a home and family of her own. Now Gabrielle knew the real reason.

A shiver shook her. Gabrielle couldn’t even think about how dreadfully awful it would have been if she had married Staunton and then learned of her sister’s love for him.

Gabrielle heard the rear door open and stopped in front of the window. That must be her father. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands into fists. She willed herself to be courageous and strong. She had learned long ago how to reason with her temperamental father, and she had to do that now. It was best to be patient with him, let him have his say, and then calmly make her point. Slowly, her hands relaxed. Her eyes opened. She took a long, steadying breath.

In the past, it had always helped her to think of the worst that could happen and then come up with a solution. What exactly could her father do to her for her indiscretion? She supposed the worst thing he could do would be to try to force her to marry Staunton. She had already decided she’d never do that. So the next worst thing would be if she were forced to marry the viscount. That was almost as objectionable as marrying the earl’s son.

Almost, but not quite.

If she acquiesced to that, she would not only be agreeing to another loveless marriage, but she would be ruining Lord Brentwood’s life, too. She couldn’t do that to him.

She had to give her father another option. She would ask that he send her away to one of his many estates. She knew from gossip that each Season more than one young lady was sent to the country to live for a time. Some returned to London and Society, and others preferred to stay in the country.

Gabrielle had always loved the hustle and bustle of living in London. She loved riding in the parks, walking the streets, and looking in shops. She loved going to Vauxhall Gardens, the opera, and on the few occasions her father had allowed, to the theatre. She would probably be lonely in the country for a time, but with enough books to read, needlework to stitch, and her painting, she would find a way to cope and fill her days.

Her father’s voice drifted down the corridor. He was talking to Mrs. Lathbury, a short, rotund woman with a soft voice, who was frightened of her own shadow. She was the latest in a long string of housekeepers who had managed the duke’s Mayfair home over the years. Her father had never been an easy man to work for, and turnover in their staff occurred frequently, certainly more often than Gabrielle would have liked. She was only six when her mother died giving birth to her only son, Ellis, who was currently finishing his studies at Oxford. Gabrielle had often wondered if her father would have been a kinder, softer man had her mother lived longer.

A few moments later, she heard the duke stomping down the corridor. Listening to his heavy footfalls, Gabrielle knew he was heading straight to his book room, which was opposite the music room.

Gabrielle wished she didn’t have to have this discussion with her father, but there was no way around it. And she wasn’t going to stand around worrying, fearful, waiting for her father to come to her. She was going to him to determine her fate.

She waited a reasonable amount of time and then squared her shoulders and headed that way. She stopped at the doorway to the drawing room when she heard Brutus moving behind her.

Looking back at the dog, she saw him half standing, struggling to lift his back legs and get them moving. “Stay,” she said and held out her hand. “You’ve done enough walking for today.”

Brutus made a low growling sound in his throat, as if to argue with her his right to go, as he continued struggling to stand.

“Stay, Brutus,” she said more firmly. “Down.”

Brutus stopped but continued looking at her with big, soulful eyes, panting heavily, as if hoping she would change her mind.

“I’m only going to the book room to see Papa,” she said gently, not wanting him to think she was scolding him. “There’s no reason for you to disturb yourself. Now be a good boy and lie back down on your soft pillow.”

Seeing he wasn’t going to win this battle, Brutus eased back down onto his bed with a groan, laid his head on his front paws, and stared at her with a sorrowful expression.

Gabrielle felt as if a cold hand gripped her heart. She knew the cold of their morning jaunt had seeped into his old bones and sapped a lot of his strength. It was heartbreaking to know her big brute of a dog and faithful companion could no longer climb the two steps by himself to get into her father’s coach. Muggs had struggled to help lift his hind legs and get him into the carriage. Brutus’s age was showing more and more as each day, week, and month passed.

She smiled lovingly at Brutus. “That’s my good boy. I’ll be back soon.”

Halfway to the book room, fluttering butterflies attacked her stomach, and that angered her. She wasn’t a simpering fool. Whatever weakness had come over her in Hyde Park that had caused her to deny her good common sense and kiss a stranger was gone.

Forever, she vowed.

She was back to being Miss Practical. But as she neared the end of the corridor, she couldn’t help but ask herself if she really wanted to return to life as it was before her few enchanting moments in Lord Brentwood’s arms.

Gabrielle stopped at the open doorway of the book room and, pulling from an inner strength that had served her well in the past, knocked on the casing. Her father looked up from pouring himself a drink but didn’t speak to her.

“Papa,” she said and stepped inside.

“You are either very brave or very foolish, Gabrielle, to seek me out knowing how upset I am with you at this very moment. You would do well to give me time to have a drink, perhaps several, before you approach me.”

Gabrielle wasn’t afraid of her father, and until today, she had always obeyed him.

“What’s done is done, Papa,” she said, grateful her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

“Yes, yes, I know, and can’t be undone. Believe me, I’ve tried. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at Austerhill’s house, he had already awakened his son and told him about your brazen indiscretion. Of course, Staunton made a good show of wanting to immediately call out the viscount, but thankfully, his father and I talked him out of that foolhardy idea. Neither of us wanted scandal heaped upon scandal.”

“Oh, thank goodness, Papa! That would have been madness.”

“So was my time there. From the moment I arrived, the entire household treated me as though I had brought the black plague to their doorstep. I hope you are happy now that your wedding and my financial plans are officially canceled.”

As a matter of fact, she was happy and relieved her wedding was canceled, but no matter how difficult a man he was, she couldn’t find delight in her father’s misery. He may not have been a doting father through the years, but he’d certainly never done her harm. Gabrielle wished she could tell him that she took it all back, but that wasn’t true. She knew she wouldn’t want to have missed those few incredible minutes she’d spent in the viscount’s strong arms for anything in the world.

“But surely, Papa, you will regain the properties you promised to the earl as my dowry when the betrothal was arranged; so all will not be lost.”

The duke harrumphed disdainfully. “I would never give away anything I wanted.”

The sting of her father’s carelessly chosen words pierced her, and she gasped. “But what about me, Papa? You were willing to give me away.”

To a man you knew I didn’t love.

“What?” He waved his hand as if to brush off what she said. “No. I mean, yes, of course, Gabrielle. Fathers always give their daughters away in marriage, but make no mistake. You will always be
my
daughter. And if any man dares hurt you in any way, he would have me to answer to.”

Gabrielle knew that was as close as he was going to come to an endearing comment.

“What I meant was that the whole of what I promised to Austerhill and his son are worthless lands to me and useless business ventures I wanted to dispose of anyway. He is the one who had the prized lands I wanted to add to my holdings. Now, thanks to you, I won’t get them.”

Her father had never tried to hide his many business ventures from her, often bragging to her, and to Ellis when he was home from Oxford, about his lucrative deals. He seemed to be happiest when he was trying to lure some unsuspecting soul into selling their land, their horses, or their businesses to him.

Gabrielle walked farther into the room. “If that’s the case, Papa, maybe now is the right time to bring this up. Perhaps in a few days you could suggest to Lord Austerhill and to Staunton that they might consider Rosabelle’s hand in marriage so the arrangements the two families have put in place can proceed as originally planned.”

“What?” The duke turned toward her, glass in hand, and laughed bitterly. “Ha! How well I would like that! But I can assure you, Gabrielle, that neither the earl nor his weak-kneed son wants anything to do with either of my daughters now, later, or ever.”

Gabrielle blinked at her father’s harsh words as he put the glass to his mouth, drank heavily from it, and then turned his back on her to refill it. At least there was hope, since her father didn’t know Staunton wanted to be with Rosabelle. And her father wanted the lands, so he would be agreeable. The only one to worry about would be Lord Austerhill. Surely in time, his son could persuade him to allow marriage with Rosabelle.

“But maybe all is not lost.” Her father spoke more as if talking to himself than her.

“What?”

“I’ve already sent word to Viscount Brentwood, asking him to come see me late this afternoon.”

Gabrielle tensed. “Papa, can’t we just leave him out of this? I want to forget about what happened in the park.”

The duke turned back toward her and harrumphed again as he walked toward his desk. “If only we could. Wouldn’t that be a pretty ribbon wrapped around a boar’s tail? But, no, we can’t just forget about him. I have no doubt that, in time, news of your indiscretion will be tattled from the tongues of men at the clubs and whispered from the waspish mouths of every old hen and every young biddy in the ton.”

“That certainly puts the situation I’m in bluntly.”

“These kinds of things have a way of growing all out of proportion, but you did it, not I. Obviously, I would have considered the viscount for you, along with all the rest of the blades who were knocking on my door, had he been in Town at the beginning of the Season. I’m glad you at least had the good sense to have a tryst with a titled man.”

Her father had never been one to mince his words, and she shouldn’t have expected it of him now.

“But I have to say, Gabrielle, that it doesn’t speak well of him that he tried to run away when he saw us coming to aid you; but then you picked him, I didn’t.”

“I don’t know why he ran, Papa. All I remember was seeing four men charging us. That could frighten anyone.”

“Harrumph,” her father muttered. “I don’t think it would have frightened me. But no matter the reason he ran, all that is important is Muggs stopped him before he got away.”

“So what will you have me do to save face in Society? Will you banish me to one of your country homes?”

A wrinkle formed between his eyes. “Why the devil would I do that? No doubt that is what you would love, but no.” He chuckled ruefully. “Life will not be so easy for you. Even after the alarming stunt you pulled, you are still much too valuable for me to hide away in a small village somewhere. Exaggerated tales of your assignation in the park with Brentwood will surface, but so be it. They will die down in due time. Thankfully, because I’m a duke, no one would dare cross me. I’m certain that if you marry quickly enough, all will be forgiven and forgotten.” The chair behind his desk creaked as he lowered his broad frame into it. “So, no, dear girl, you will not be banished to our beautiful English countryside. You will be wed to the viscount.”