A Gentleman Never Tells

chapter Fourteen

Jealousy is the only vice that gives no pleasure.

—Anonymous

The Cuddlebury’s house was filled to overflowing with elegantly dressed ladies and dapper-looking gentlemen chatting, laughing, and dancing under a brightly lit chandelier. Perhaps the lively mood of the gathering was because December was only a few days away and everyone was feeling the need to celebrate the festive season early. The music hadn’t stopped all evening, and from her aunt’s side at the far end of the dance floor, Gabrielle hadn’t stopped watching Rosabelle. Her sister seemed to be having a delightful time. She had already danced with three different gentlemen. But every once in a while, Gabrielle would catch Rosa watching the entrance to the room.

Her sister had been eager to come to the party and had spent the entire afternoon getting ready for the affair, Gabrielle knew, in hopes of seeing Staunton. If he arrived, she was determined to see he didn’t sneak into the garden with Rosabelle.

Gabrielle had worried over what to do since her egregious meeting with Staunton yesterday afternoon. She had vacillated too many times to count on whether she should tell Rosa that Staunton didn’t love her or remain quiet but watchful. She had wondered how Rosa would react if she did. Would she fly into a rage, slip into a depression, or do something crazy like go see him? But in the end, she didn’t tell Rosa because she feared Rosa wouldn’t believe her. Gabrielle came to the conclusion there was no use in expecting Rosa to give up her dreams of marrying Staunton; Staunton would have to give up Rosa. And if he didn’t do that soon, Gabrielle knew what she had to do.

“Gabby,” her aunt said, “I don’t think you’ve moved from my side since you got here. You are not a wallflower, a spinster, or an old woman like me. Now go out in the midst of that crowd and enjoy yourself.”

Gabrielle looked down at her aunt. “I am having a good time watching everyone else dance.”

“Not good enough. Tell me, are you waiting for that handsome viscount to arrive?”

“He told me he’s not coming, Auntie.”

“Why not?” Auntie Bethie rose from the chair to stand beside Gabrielle. “I’ve seen both his brothers here.”

“After what Staunton did at Lady’s Windham’s, Brent thought it best he not attend any parties for a while. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more trouble.”

“Hmm, that means if Staunton wanted a fight, next time he’d oblige him.”

Gabrielle nodded.

“That’s admirable of him.”

“I thought so too,” she answered, but knowing his reasons didn’t keep her from feeling empty inside.

“Look, I see your friend Miss Whitehouse heading this way. Go spend some time with her. How will I ever get a wealthy young bachelor to notice me if you are always around?”

“Auntie!”

Her aunt laughed and turned away as Babs walked up.

“Gabby,” her friend said, giving her a quick hug. “I saw you standing over here when I was on the dance floor.”

“And I saw you, too, dancing with Mr. Iverson Brentwood.”

Delight lit Babs’s eyes, and she smiled. “I did. How did you know which one I was dancing with? I can’t tell the twins apart.”

“I’ll give you a clue about their differences. The one named Iverson has longer hair than his brother.”

“Really? I didn’t notice it was.”

“It’s not obvious. There’s only a slight difference, and it requires a keen eye.”

“I will pay close attention the next time I see the two of them together.”

“All right, come with me to get a drink,” Gabrielle said. “I want to ask you something.”

“I hope you want to know something deliciously scandalous so I can tell you something sinfully naughty,” Babs said as they made their way over to the punch table.

Gabrielle laughed as they threaded a path through the crowd. “No more scandals. I’m through with them, but I do need your help. I’ve done everything I can think of to appear unacceptable as a wife to Lord Brentwood, but he seems completely unaware of all my efforts.”

Babs gave her a quizzical look. “First, I must ask, why do you want to be unacceptable to him? He’s titled, handsome, and dashing.”

“All that and more.”

“That’s what I mean. I’ve heard of making a gentleman want to chase you, but why would you want to chase one away? Why do you want to appear unacceptable to such a worthy catch?”

Gabrielle pulled her bottom lip into her mouth for a moment and then released it. “I’d rather not go into details right now, Babs.”

“All right. I can see this is serious for you, so tell me what you’ve done.”

“I’ve tried the things I knew my father would absolutely hate. I’ve pretended not to know how to dance, insisted he go to church with me, told him I believe in ghosts, and forced him to help me with Brutus.” She stopped and sighed. “There have been other things, too, but nothing has worked.”

They stopped in front of the drink table, and the servant handed each of them a cup of punch.

“Oh, I know something my father positively abhors,” Babs offered. “He says he can’t abide piano recitals, and he told my mother he would never attend another.”

“Oh, yes, my father feels the same way about them. And since he is still gone, and my aunt is here, I can have a recital in my home and invite a few friends and Brent.”

“Brent?” Babs asked in mock horror. “That sounds rather familiar, don’t you think?”

“Yes, well, anyway,” Gabrielle said and cleared her throat. “I know just the pianist to invite. Mr. Michael Murray.”

“Oh, yes, I remember him from last year.” Babs laughed. “He’s so uninspiring; he’ll bore everyone to tears.”

“Hopefully none more than Lord Brentwood,” Gabrielle said excitedly. “Mr. Murray will be perfect. I’ll talk to Auntie Bethie about it right now, and we’ll start planning the recital.”

Gabrielle gave Babs a hug and started threading her way back through the crowd.

“Excuse me, Lady Gabrielle.”

Gabrielle stopped and turned to see the Dowager Countess of Owensfield. She curtseyed and said, “Yes, my lady?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Miss Whitehouse. I think it would be highly improper for you to have any kind of gathering in your home at this time and expect people to attend.”

“Countess,” Gabrielle said, trying to remain calm as she looked at the woman’s wide, flat face. “I had no idea anyone was listening to my private conversation.”

“Obviously I didn’t do it on purpose. You shouldn’t even be here tonight. But because you have no mother to advise you, and your father has left London from what I can only assume is the shame you brought to his house, I’ll take it upon myself to instruct you on what is proper. After what you did, you should not even show your face in Society, and if you do, you should be shunned. It is not acceptable for a young lady who has been caught in the park alone with a man to mingle in Society with decent, circumspect people. Especially if the lady was engaged to another man! That was shameful, and your kind is not wanted with our kind.”

Gabrielle had grown more rigid with every word the dowager spoke. Her voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I was invited here.”

The dowager huffed, and her heavy bosom heaved. “Yes, and I’m sure Mrs. Cuddlebury sent your invitation long before she knew of your scandalous indiscretion. I’m sure your attendance is an embarrassment to her, and you should hang your head in shame and march yourself out of this house immediately.”

Gabrielle started to tell the dowager she was completely out of line and she had already spoken to Mrs. Cuddlebury, who was delighted she had come. But at that moment, Gabrielle saw Rosa and Staunton walking out of the drawing room together, and what the countess said no longer mattered. She had to stop them.

“Thank you for your observation, Lady Owensville. Please explain all your grievances to my father when he returns, and perhaps he will listen to you. I don’t care to hear any more of what you have to say. Now if you will excuse me.”

Gabrielle lifted her chin, her shoulders, and the hem of her skirt and walked away without so much as another glance toward the huffing dowager.

Gabrielle headed in the direction she saw Staunton and Rosa disappear. She waded through the crowd as fast as she could without causing a stir. She rubbed elbows, knocked shoulders, and bumped backs as she hurried along.

Staunton would not get Rosabelle alone if Gabrielle had anything to say about it. She caught sight of them about to walk out a side door and picked up her pace. She reached them in time to grab Rosa’s arm and swing her around.

“There you are, Rosa,” she said breathlessly. “I was just looking for you.”

Rosa’s astonished expression at being caught quickly turned to a look of fury, but Gabrielle paid her no mind. She turned to Staunton, smiled sweetly, and said, “And how are you this evening?”

He looked her up and down stiffly and said, “Well, Lady Gabrielle, and you?”

Rosabelle looked at her as if she wanted to scratch her eyes out and pulled her arm from Gabrielle’s grasp. Gabrielle left a sweet smile on her face as if nothing were wrong.

“Did you just arrive, Staunton, or were you just leaving?”

He looked at her curiously. “Just arrived,” he said.

“Oh, that’s such a shame, as Rosa and I have to leave.”

Rosabelle glared at her and said curtly, “No, we don’t.”

“I’m afraid we must, Sister. Auntie Bethie isn’t feeling well and asked me to find you so we can leave.”

Gabrielle had never told an untruth until recently and, suddenly, she was telling far more than she was comfortable with. All the ones she’d told to Brent had bothered her, but telling this prevarication to Staunton didn’t bother her at all.

“We can ask someone to see us home,” Rosa argued. “We shouldn’t have to miss the evening because Auntie isn’t feeling well.”

Keeping her false smile in place, Gabrielle said, “Surely we can’t allow Auntie to go home alone. Now I’ll go tell her I found you and you’ll meet us at the front door in two minutes. That should give you two plenty of time for a chat. Have a nice evening, Staunton.” Gabrielle turned away.

When Gabrielle made her way back to Auntie Bethie, she was talking with another lady but excused herself when Gabrielle motioned for her to come.

“What is it?” Auntie Bethie asked.

“I fear I have put you in a most untenable position, Auntie, and I hope you will forgive me.”

The corners of her eyes wrinkled in worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I found Rosa about to take a walk in the garden with a gentleman I know she shouldn’t be with, so I told her you were not feeling well and she was to meet us at the front door in two minutes. Are you angry with me?”

“Angry?” Her aunt laughed heartily. “Heavens, no! I trust your judgment about the man, and I’ve been ready to go since we got here.”

“Good. That makes me feel somewhat better about my prevarication.”

“Nonsense. It wasn’t a prevarication. At my age, I always have an ache or a pain somewhere in this body. You can always use my ailments as an excuse.”

Gabrielle hugged her aunt tightly and whispered, “I’m so glad you will be staying in London. It looks like I’m going to need you.”

“And I’m glad,” her aunt said, patting her shoulder. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than help you with a sister who is one minute so happy she’s on top of the world and then the next feels like her world is crumbling beneath her feet.”

The servant walked up with Gabrielle’s cloak. Thank goodness she had her aunt to lend a hand with Rosa, because Gabrielle had her hands full with Brent.

***

Brent walked into White’s and handed his coat, hat, and gloves to the attendant. He was in need of something strong to get his mind off Gabrielle. If not for Staunton’s foolhardy stunt, he could be at the Cuddlebury’s house, talking and dancing with Gabrielle. Instead, he had to settle for a few hands of cards or a game or two of billiards to fill the hours in the night. He spoke to a couple of gentlemen on his way to the taproom, where he walked up to the bar and leaned against it.

A roaring fire added warmth to the dimly lit room. It looked as if every chair was filled with men talking noisily. The scent of burned wood and candle wax hung heavily on the air. Brent stuck his finger down his collar, trying to loosen it, while he ordered a glass of brandy. Perhaps a sip or two of the amber liquid would lift his spirits and put him in the mood to win big at the gaming tables.

As he waited for his drink, Gabrielle came to his mind. The truth was she seldom left his thoughts. And he didn’t know why. She had played him for a fool when they first met, but after getting to know her, it had been easy to forgive her for that. She had her reasons, and one day he’d find out what made her walk out of the mist and into his arms.

It wasn’t her fault her father had threatened to ruin his brothers’ business if he didn’t marry her, and she certainly hadn’t let that stop her from making it perfectly clear she didn’t want to marry him. She had gone to great lengths to make him not want to marry her. He chuckled to himself, remembering the afternoon she hoped to read poetry to him. He’d tried to make it clear to her she couldn’t do anything that would dissuade him from marrying her, especially now that he had tasted her passion.

He closed his eyes and remembered how soft and pliant her lips were when he’d kissed her under that tree. He remembered how her breasts were firm yet soft beneath the palm of his hand.

“Lord Brentwood?”

Brent’s eyes popped open. He turned and saw Lord Waldo, the Duke of Rockcliffe’s youngest brother, standing beside him. After his altercation with Iverson, Brent was surprised the man spoke to him.

“Evening, Lord Waldo.”

The duke’s brother asked the server for a tankard of ale before turning back to Brent. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my brother’s dog is missing.” The man was as nervous as a hen staring at a fox. His big blue eyes twitched and he blinked rapidly.

Brent straightened. “No, I hadn’t heard.”

“My brother doesn’t know Tulip is gone yet, as he’s been away. I’d like to find her before the duke returns. I was wondering if you might be able to help me.”

First Snellingly approached him and now Lord Waldo. Was everyone who lost a dog going to come to him for help now?

“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.”