A Gentleman Never Tells

chapter Two

Never mind your happiness; do your duty.

—Will Durant

Gabrielle’s heart jumped to her throat. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

She watched in horror as her father and her fiancé’s father yelled at their footmen to catch the retreating viscount. Heavens above, she didn’t blame him for running away. If she were him, she’d be trying to get away too!

He thought she had deliberately tried to leg shackle him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

She only wanted to kiss him.

Gabrielle knew her father and Lord Austerhill occasionally enjoyed a smoke, a talk, and a long early morning walk in the park. But she had been too consumed with her own troubles to even consider that they might be in Hyde Park this chilly morn.

Heavens above, what had she done? But, of course, she knew the answer to that.

With a brief squeeze of her eyes, she tried to blot out the image of seeing her fiancé and her sister wrapped together in a passionate embrace in a dimly lit corridor where the Autumn Ball was being held. She feared that scene would be forever etched in her mind. How had she missed their love for each other? She had always considered herself so discerning, so intuitive, but obviously not when dealing with matters of the heart.

With what she witnessed, a different young lady might have thrown herself out a window or across her bed and cried like a fool, but Gabrielle had never been a fool… other than being foolish enough not to notice her fiancé and sister were in love. This, in turn, had made Gabrielle wish for a window. Instead, she had grabbed her cape and her faithful dog Brutus and had gone to the park and thrown herself at a gentleman!

What in heaven’s name had she done?

Watching the servants chasing after Lord Brentwood, she had to wonder if the window might have done less damage.

She didn’t know what madness had come over her, but when she’d seen the tall, handsome man standing in the swirling mist, for a moment she couldn’t breathe. He was beautiful, regal, nearly otherworldly, which could be the only reason she had forgotten all about this world and approached him. When his gaze had drifted down her face, she’d felt a quickening of something wonderful skimming along her breasts and then sailing inexplicably to the lowest recesses of her abdomen. Just remembering how she had felt when he looked at her brought the elusive sensations tingling back into her body, feelings she’d never experienced when her fiancé had looked at her.

In the distance, the sound of a body being slammed to the ground, followed by a loud grunt, cut off everything but her own distressed gasp. With a wince, she turned to see her father’s footman sprawled on top of the viscount, and Lord Austerhill’s servant pressing the innocent man’s face into the ground. Queasiness filled her stomach, and Gabrielle thought she might be sick. She swallowed past a thick throat and steeled herself for the backlash she knew wasn’t far away.

Brutus sensed her distress and nudged against her hip with his body, growling low in his throat. Out of habit, she reached down, and with a pat on his big head, assured the dog she was fine. He reached up and sniffed her hand.

“What in the name of Hades are you doing out here with that man?” her father demanded. Grabbing her upper arm, he turned her around to face him. Brutus growled again, but her father paid the dog no mind.

Feeling as if her breath was trapped in her chest, and unable to move, Gabrielle stood in mortified silence, staring at the two enraged men glaring at her. The raw fury in their faces spoke of dire consequences and suddenly rendered her speechless.

“Gabrielle!” her father said more sharply, squeezing her arm.

Her father had always been a short-tempered man, but he had never touched her—in kindness or in anger. She hated disappointing him, but there was no changing what had happened. She calmly took hold of her father’s wrist and removed his clenched hand from her arm before Brutus decided to attack. That would prove a bigger disaster than she was facing right now.

“It’s clear we’ll get nothing out of her,” Lord Austerhill spat, not bothering to hide the contempt he felt for her. “As I suspected, she is too filled with guilt to speak.”

“No, Lord Austerhill,” Gabrielle said, struggling to pull herself together. “I am not afraid to speak. There is simply nothing I have to say about my presence in the park.”

Her father shook with uncontrolled rage. “You better have something to say, young lady, and you can start by telling me what you are doing out here alone with that man.”

“I believe we saw what she was doing here, Duke,” Lord Austerhill argued. “What I want to know is why, when she is to marry my son a week from today.”

How could she tell her father she had enticed the viscount because something about him drew her, and she wanted to be kissed the way she saw her fiancé kiss her sister last night? How could she admit to Lord Austerhill she wanted to experience the unbridled passion she saw on her sister’s face when his son had kissed her? Though one look at her father’s thin lips, not to mention Lord Austerhill’s bulging eyes, let her know she didn’t want to tell either man the truth. Besides, how could she explain to them what happened when she was as astounded at what she’d done as they were? No, it was best to remain silent and let them think what they wished.

Gabrielle had never been a witless ninny who was led by fanciful dreams of romance and feminine emotions. She was calm, sensible, and never flustered—until today. The truth was, she had never done an impetuous thing in her life. She was her father’s oldest child. She was dependable, rational, and obedient. That was why she had accepted the practical, unemotional marriage her father had arranged for her in the first place. That was what those of her kind did.

Or so she had always believed. Now she wasn’t so sure. After what she experienced with this viscount, this stranger, Gabrielle had to wonder if she had only buried feelings of passion and desire in order to please her father.

But, what in heaven’s name had come over her this morning to make her throw all of her upbringing away and want to be kissed and held in the arms of a handsome stranger? What was there about Lord Brentwood that had awakened the wanton desire she’d felt when she looked at him?

“Speak, girl, speak,” her father demanded again.

“Have you absolutely nothing to say in your defense?” Lord Austerhill snapped.

Gabrielle was forced to ignore her father and the nobleman. She had no answer. She felt as if her whole life had suddenly shifted, and she didn’t know herself.

She glanced back at the man on the ground. She watched in horror as the two footmen struggled with Lord Brentwood. No matter what her father or the earl thought about what they witnessed, she was the reason the viscount was being manhandled like a common footpad, and it was her responsibility to help him.

Suddenly, Gabrielle was not concerned about her father’s ire, herself, her sister, or Lord Austerhill’s son. She was appalled to watch the handsome viscount dragged unceremoniously to his feet, his hands held firmly behind his back by the servants.

She turned to her father. “Papa, tell Muggs not to hurt Lord Brentwood. What happened was not his fault; it was mine.”

Her father’s jaw was set with rage. He was a rigid man, straight as the blade of a soldier’s sword and just as hard. In his younger days, a mere glance from him could send a shudder through the household staff, and her younger brother and sister racing to hide beneath their beds.

“I’m not the least concerned whether Muggs hurts the man. He can kill the scoundrel for all I care. And for your information, young lady, when a man puts his hands on an untouched maid of quality, it is never her fault as far as I’m concerned. The blame is always with the man, though the girl is always the one punished.”

“Notice whom her concern is for, Duke,” Lord Austerhill remarked scathingly. “Did you hear her say one word about how this shameful act of betrayal she’s committed is going to destroy my son?”

Gabrielle smothered an angry retort about his son by pressing her lips tightly together. Her ill-advised words of concern for Lord Brentwood didn’t sit well with the earl or her father and wasn’t going to help the struggling viscount.

“Clearly, your daughter has been carrying on an affair with this man behind my son’s back with secret assignations.”

Gabrielle gasped. “That is not true, my lord. I haven’t,” she said earnestly, and immediately wondered if letting them know this was the first time she had ever met the man made her seem more a wanton doxy than if she and Lord Brentwood had been long-standing lovers.

Apparently her fierce denial did nothing to salve the earl’s rancor. His bushy gray eyebrows rose with skepticism, and a nervous tic worked each side of his wide, sneering mouth.

Indignation dripped from his words as he said, “That is not what it looked like to me. You two seemed to know each other very well indeed, considering the way you were wrapped in each other’s arms, with your lips locked together as if you were trying to swallow each other. Your torn gown and gaping cape were falling off your shoulders.”

No longer able to hide the turmoil churning inside her, a shiver of outrage shook her. Gabrielle gasped so loudly Brutus growled a warning.

Gabrielle’s chin lifted defiantly. “Lord Austerhill, you owe me an apology. My gown was never off my shoulders.” She looked down at the bodice of her dress and winced inside when she saw the delicate lace that had edged the neckline of her dress was torn free. Hastily she added, “A bit of lace was ripped away from the fabric when it caught on the button on Lord Brentwood’s sleeve. That is all.”

“Ha!” Lord Austerhill shouted loudly. “As if any of that matters anyway. Tell the story any way you like. It won’t change what was going on here or the outcome it has now created.”

Resentment and anger at the man’s pompous attitude festered inside Gabrielle. She was the one who had been wronged by his son carrying on a tryst with her sister. Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest and tell the man the ugly truth she had discovered just hours ago at the ball at the Great Hall, but caught herself. Accusing his son would mean telling on her sister, as well, and while Gabrielle wanted to strangle the impetuous Rosabelle for her deception and betrayal, she couldn’t risk ruining her by telling Lord Austerhill and her father what had been going on between Rosabelle and Staunton.

“Now see here, Austerhill,” her father stated firmly. “That is enough of that kind of talk. There has to be a reasonable explanation for what we witnessed.”

Austerhill took the bowl of his pipe and knocked it quite firmly against his palm, sending ashes fluttering to the ground. Somehow, Gabrielle knew the man was telling her that, to him, her worth was no more than ashes to be trampled beneath his feet.

The earl looked up at her father with steely eyes and a grim expression. “Maybe you need clarification to satisfy your questions concerning your daughter’s actions, Duke, but I do not. My son is not going to marry a woman who was caught alone with a man for any reason. All I can add is I thank the saints in heaven I found out what kind of person she is before she married my son and became his wife.”

“Austerhill. There is no call to get—”

“I’m done here,” the earl said, sticking the pipe in the pocket of his greatcoat. “If my son’s wife is ever with child, I damn well want to be sure he is the father.”

Gabrielle gasped, and anger surged inside her. “You go too far, my lord.”

Lord Austerhill twisted his lips into a sneer at Gabrielle, turned, and stomped away.

“Wait,” her father called furiously to the earl’s retreating back. “You can’t leave. Where are you going?”

“To tell my son his wedding is off because his betrothed is…”

Gabrielle didn’t hear Lord Austerhill’s last words and was glad she didn’t. By the revulsion in his parting glance and the loud gasp from her father, she could imagine what he’d said.

“Damn you, man,” her father yelled and started after him. “This was not her fault, I tell you. Get back here!”

Lord Austerhill called to his servant, and the man immediately dropped his hold on the viscount and followed the earl until they disappeared into the mist.

Gabrielle’s father turned on her with rage. “By all the angels in heaven, what made you pull such a foolhardy stunt as this? I could imagine something like this from your sister, or even from your brother, but not you! You have always been my sensible daughter. Now look what you have done!”

Once again she retreated into silence. She had no answer for him.

“What in God’s name was going on between you two?” her father barked. “You have ruined everything! Do you know what you’ve done, the money this is going to cost me, girl?”

Gabrielle blinked at her father’s harsh tone. She had always known the wedding was for her father’s financial benefit and not her own happiness, but hearing him actually say the words pained her and, once again, her stomach quaked.

“Yes, Papa, I know,” she said softly, keeping her gaze locked on the viscount.

“Then explain yourself, Daughter. Have you no shame? By all that’s sacred, tell me why you agreed to meet him.” Her father threw a finger toward the viscount.

“It wasn’t planned. It just happened,” she said, knowing it was the truth but also knowing it didn’t explain anything. There was no logical answer for what she had done.

“Really?” her father asked in an incredulous voice as he threw a glance in Lord Brentwood’s direction. “Do you expect me to believe you woke before daybreak and decided you were going to take Brutus for a walk in the park and, by chance, you happened to meet a stranger, embrace him, and end up kissing him by accident?”

Yes, that is exactly what happened.

“After more than nineteen years of living with me, just how big a simpleton do you take me for?”

What she had done to her father was horrible for a well-behaved daughter; what she had done to the viscount was unforgivable. She feared there was no way she could make it right for any of them.

For the present, Gabrielle saw no way out other than capitulation. She lifted her shoulders and chin, and said what she knew her father wanted to hear. “I’m sorry for the distress I’ve caused you, Papa. Though I never intended for this to happen, I’m without excuse.”

“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?