The Hopeless Hoyden (21 page)

             
“Damn," Gabriel swore under his breath.  When Emily giggled, he slewed his eyes to meet hers and saw she shared his frustration.  Ever since their engagement was announced, he'd been unable to get Emily alone for barely more than five minutes.  He was beginning to wonder if there was conspiracy afoot to keep them apart.

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Gabriel, thinking he'd be the first one down for breakfast, was surprised by the number of guests already seated at the dining room table.  It seemed a number of the others also had it in mind to take advantage of the warm, sunny weather with a vigorous morning ride.   He'd no sooner taken his seat when Emily appeared, looking as fresh and lively as a wild flower in a periwinkle blue riding habit.  However, she seemed to wilt when Cecil entered behind her.

             
Apart for some bruising under one eye and a slightly swollen nose, Gabriel thought Cecil looked little worse for wear.  While Emily ate a muffin and drank hot chocolate, Gabriel watched her covertly study Cecil.  She was careful not to encounter his cousin's brooding eyes, jarring Gabriel into recalling how anxious she'd seemed to tell him something last night just as Deborah interrupted them.  Something about Cecil.  Perhaps it would be wise for him to have a talk with his beloved this morning, Gabriel mused, and smiled to himself as he anticipated just where such a meeting might lead.

             
Soon after, the riders set off trotting across meadows, then cantering along the winding country lanes.  Once again, Gabriel found no chance to have a tête-à-tête with his fiancée.  A bruising rider and familiar with the terrain, Emily led the group almost as often as he, not that he minded.  In fact, Gabriel gave her the lead so he could appreciate her seat on Marabell.  He eyed her straight back, tiny waist, the gentle flair of her slender hips, and the intriguing curve of her derriere.  Emily radiated vivacity.  Her violet eyes sparkled as she tilted her face up to the sun, heedless of acquiring more freckles.  He found her joy for life contagious.  It made him feel alive and whole. 

             
Once back at the Park, Gabriel, determined to have a moment alone with his wood sprite, singled Emily out as the group walked toward the house.  But before he could get Emily's attention, Sylvia hooked her arm through his.

             
“La, Lindemann, what fun can we ladies expect if all the gentlemen go harrying off to a cockfight tomorrow?"  She raised china blue eyes to his and batted her lashes.

             
“How would you suggest the dilemma be resolved, Sylvia?"  Gabriel tried not to sound irritated.  He'd lost sight of Emily when she had fallen back behind the group. 

             
“There is always some place, even in the provincial backwaters where a lady can purchase a descent hat.  Anything to ward off boredom," she finished with a pretty pout.

             
“Winchcombe might answer your needs if you're not too fine in your requirements, expecting a Bond Street modiste."

             
“No, no, I would be quite satisfied with only a few flippery gewgaws."

             
Promising to handle the details, Gabriel succeeded in ridding himself of the cloying blonde in the great hallway with the excuse that his bailiff awaited him.  He laid in wait at the bottom of the staircase to catch Emily as she headed for her room.  But she was not among the others. 

             
Frustrated, he wracked his brain over where she could be and set out for the library, the morning parlors, then finally retraced his steps to the stables.  There he found her in one of the stalls with Marabell, currying the chestnut mare.             

             
Coming up behind her, Gabriel circled an arm about her waist and took the comb out of her hand.  “I keep a full staff of grooms for this."

             
Emily whirled around.  “But I enjoy brushing Marabell.  I do it all the time at the Grange."

             
Bare inches separated them.  Gabriel could see every adorable freckle bridging her nose, the smoothness of her complexion, the color still heightened from the wind whipping her cheeks.  Her soft curls were in disarray, springing loose from the bun at the nape of her neck.  Breathing in her scent, he was anesthetized to the world around him and became lost in her violet eyes and his need to possess this desirable young woman. 

             
His arms encircled her, and he slowly, deliberately drew her to him.  His head bent to hers for a kiss. . . .

             
“Anything you want me to do for you, milord?" Gresham's voice boomed from the stable door behind Gabriel.

             
Dropping his arms, Gabriel stepped back from a bemused Emily.  “No, you've quite done it all, thank you," he spat out in a barely civil tone.

             
“What's that, milord?"

             
“Never mind, Gresham."  Gabriel inhaled deeply, took Emily by the elbow, and led her out of the stall, tossing the currycomb to the head groom.  “It's time you and I had that talk, Emily."

             
“Yes," she answered softly.               

             
The sad note in her voice did not escaped Gabriel, and he wondered what could make her so sad.  Guiding her out of the barn, he turned toward the gardens where they were afforded some degree of privacy while still in full view of the house.  Decorum, he grudgingly admitted to himself, must be observed for Emily's sake.    He led her to a stone bench under a rose arbor and watched her fidget with the ribbons of the silly torque hat with its dashing white feather. 

             
“You were trying to tell me something last night when Deborah interrupted us," he finally prompted.

             
Her eyes suddenly cut over to meet his. “You will not appreciate what I must tell you."               

             
“No doubt you're right," he agreed with a smile.

             
She lowered her eyes before giving a dismissive shrug of her shoulders.  “My lord, I know who is trying to kill you."

             
“Hold on, Em--"

             
“No."  She grabbed his arm and fixed her eyes on him.  “You must listen to me, Gab.  Yesterday at Hailes Abbey, I didn't step on my gown or trip over any stones.  I was pushed."

             
Cold fear stabbed Gabriel in the pit of his stomach.  All of a sudden, it was painfully clear to him what she was saying, and he dreaded it.  Still, he had to ask, had to play out this nightmare.  “Pushed?  Who could have pushed you?  The only other person up there was Cecil."

             
“Exactly."               

             
She said it so quietly Gabriel wasn't sure he'd heard her.  But he had.  As she held his gaze, Gabriel tried to control his surging anger when all he wanted was to find his villainous cousin and ram the knave through with a saber.

             
Gabriel fought to control his temper while mentally berating himself for not foreseeing such a turn of events.  Cecil's motive was obvious.  Gabriel's marriage to Emily meant the end of his cousin's chances to inherit.  By Jove, that blackguard would rue the day he harmed one hair on his wood sprite's head.

             
Thing was, Emily was in even greater danger now that she knew of Cecil's treachery. Gabriel had to persuade Emily she was wrong before she did something foolish, like confront Cecil herself.               

             
“That's absurd, Emily.  You must have imagined it.  Cecil's my cousin, and while he is hardly a paragon of virtue, I won't allow you to say such wicked things about him."

             
“Cannot you see why he did it, Gab?  He wants--"

             
“Enough, Emily," he growled.  "Not another word on the subject.  Is that clear?"

             
Her color was high and her eyes spewed sparks of anger.  She rose with her arms rigid at her sides, fists clenched, and stomped her booted foot, glowering at him.  “Are you calling me a liar, milord?"

*** Chapter 10 ***

              Gabriel, momentarily stunned by the vehemence of Emily's attack, realized he'd made a serious tactical error.  “I never said you lied," he said, softening his tone and rising to stand next to her.  “I believe you believe that's what happened.  But things aren't always as they appear.  As in the heat of a battle when confronted with death, our emotions become confused, and we don't see things as clearly.”

             
“I felt Cecil’s hand on my back,” Emily replied indignantly.

             
“I’m sure you did.  But he would have been trying to save you.   And to make such accusations publicly without proof is foolhardy."

             
“What do you take me for, some dim-whit?" she asked, not at all mollified.  "I would never accuse someone of trying to murder you if I were not sure--"

             
“I won't tolerate such talk," he cut her off ruthlessly. “You will say nothing about this to anyone, and you will put it from your mind.  Do you understand?"

             
They stood toe to toe, each glaring at the other.  He could read her face, see in her eyes, she wasn't about to budge without further argument.  Thus when he heard Deborah's voice hailing them, he counted it a godsend, buying him some time to deal with his cousin.

             
“There you two are.  Luncheon is almost ready, and Lady Spivey is looking for you, Emily."  If Deborah suspected he and Emily were arguing, she didn't let on.               

             
Gabriel took one of Emily's balled fists and molded his arm about her rigid limb. “Shall we proceed?" he asked, tugging her gently past Deborah.

             
When she tried to pull free, Gabriel held fast and wondered what Deborah thought of Emily's stiff and jerky movements.  To cover for any awkwardness and Emily's silence, he kept up an inane flow of cherry chatter about the gardens and the weather while his spirits sank lower and lower.  Gabriel realized nothing had been accomplished with his decree except to antagonize his beloved.  Now, he knew, she would react as if he had thrown down a gauntlet, and she would readily take up the challenge to prove him wrong.

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              “A word, dear Deborah," Cecil drawled in his sister's ear, coming out of the dining room after lunch. 

             
He took her arm and propelled her down the hall to the library.  Once closing the door, he turned on her, one corner of his mouth pulled down in a sneer.  “You over played your hand the other night, I fear.  I’ve heard Chesterfield observe how Fordyce fairly cringes if you come within ten feet.  You’ve fences to mend. "

             
“Damn Freddy’s eyes!"  She flounced over to a burgundy brocade wing chair and plopped down in it.

             
“Tut, tut, such language."

             
“You are beastly, Cecil.  For all his worth, Freddy is as fat as a sow and not nearly as good looking as Chesterfield."

             
“Hmm, but so much more manageable, my dear.  The baron redefines the word moron."

             
“So?  I am the one who will have to put up with the mor-- er...."  Cecil burst out laughing at this slip of the tongue, and she turned a scornful eye on him.  "Leave off, brother dear."              

             
His dark eyes narrowed and he became serious again.  "Your late night fiasco failed because of our sister-in-law-to-be's interference.  So direct your venom elsewhere, not at me, my dear.  Besides, time runs short, and unless you snag the baron soon, you can whistle Fordyce's estate and ten thousand pounds a year down the pike."

             
“There is the cock fight in Cheltenham tomorrow.  Anything could happen in a crowd."

             
“True, but our cousin is more cautious of late, and I suspect him of keeping a pistol or some other weapon on his person.  At any rate, I've instructed Anslow to lay low for a while.  The gallows at Tyburn can play havoc with one's cravat."

             
“So what am I to do?"

             
“Behave yourself and be patient.  The right moment will come.  Make sure you’re ready.”

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              “Got a moment, Em?"  Tom called out as Emily raced down the terrace steps. 

             
From her bedroom window, Emily had earlier spotted Gabriel out in the garden, strolling the gavel paths, apparently deep in thought.  After a brief battle with herself, she grabbed a straw hat and dashed from her room.  She'd hoped for a few minutes alone with him in order to break the engagement.  Their argument that morning had left her not only angry but hurt and confused.