In some ways, Gabriel reminded her of Devon, with whom he seemed to have struck up a fast friendship. Both were quick-witted and irreverent men, tending to view the world with a mixture of irony and clear-eyed pragmatism. But whereas Devon’s nature was spontaneous and occasionally volatile, Gabriel was more careful and considered, his character tempered with a maturity that was rare for a man of relatively young age.
As the duke’s firstborn son, Gabriel was the future of the Challons, the one to whom the estate, title, and family holdings would fall. He was well educated, with a complex understanding of finance and commerce, and a comprehensive knowledge of estate management. In these days of industrial and technological development, the peerage could no longer afford to depend only on the yields from their ancestral land holdings. One heard more and more often of impoverished noblemen who had been unable to adapt their old-fashioned ways of thinking, and were now being forced to abandon their estates and sell their property.
There was no doubt in Pandora’s mind that Gabriel would rise to the challenges of a fast-changing world. He was astute, intelligent, cool-headed, a natural leader. Still, she thought, it must be difficult for any man to live under the burden of such expectations and responsibilities. Did he ever worry about making mistakes, looking foolish, or failing at something?
On the third day of Pandora’s visit, they spent the afternoon at the estate’s archery grounds with Cassandra, Ivo, and Seraphina. Realizing it was time to go inside and change for dinner, the group went to collect their arrows from the row of targets backed by grass-covered mounds.
“Don’t forget,” Seraphina cautioned, “we’re to dress a bit more formally than usual for dinner tonight. We’ve invited two local families to join us.”
“How formal?” Cassandra asked, instantly worried. “What are you going to wear?”
“Well,” Ivo said thoughtfully, as if the question had been meant for him, “I thought I would wear my black velveteen trousers, and my waistcoat with the fancy buttons—”
“Ivo,” Seraphina exclaimed with mock solemnity, “this is no time for teasing. Fashion is a serious matter.”
“I don’t know why girls keep changing their fashions every few months and making such a fuss about it,” Ivo said. “We men had a meeting a long time ago, and we all decided, ‘It’s trousers.’ And that’s what we’ve worn ever since.”
“What about the Scots?” Seraphina asked slyly.
“They couldn’t give up their kilts,” Ivo said reasonably, “because they’d become so accustomed to having the air swirling around their—”
“Knees,” Gabriel interrupted with a grin, tousling Ivo’s gleaming red hair. “I’ll see to your arrows, brat. Go to the house and find your way into a pair of velveteen trousers.”
Ivo grinned up at his older brother and trotted off.
“Hurry inside with me,” Seraphina told Cassandra, “and we’ll have just enough time for me to show you my dress.”
Cassandra cast a worried glance at her target, which was still bristling with uncollected arrows.
“I’ll take care of it,” Pandora told her. “I never need more than a few minutes to change for dinner.”
Cassandra smiled and blew her a kiss, and ran toward the house with Seraphina.
Grinning at her sister’s haste, Pandora cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted after them in her best imitation of Lady Berwick, “Ladies do not gallop like chaise horses!”
Cassandra’s reply floated back from a distance, “Ladies do not screech like vultures!”
Laughing, Pandora turned and found Gabriel’s intent gaze on her. He seemed fascinated by . . . something . . . although she couldn’t imagine what he would find so interesting about her. Self-consciously she brushed at her cheeks with her fingers, wondering if there were a smudge on her face.
Gabriel smiled absently and gave a slight shake of his head. “Am I staring? Forgive me. It’s only that I adore the way you laugh.”
Pandora blushed up to her hairline. She went to the nearest target and began to jerk out arrows. “Please don’t compliment me.”
Gabriel went to the next target. “You don’t like compliments?”
“No, they make me feel awkward. They never seem true.”
“Perhaps they don’t seem true to you, but that doesn’t mean they’re not.” After sliding his arrows into a leather quiver, Gabriel came to help collect hers.
“In this case,” Pandora said, “it’s definitely not true. My laugh sounds like a serenading tree frog swinging on a rusty gate.”
Gabriel smiled. “Like silver wind chimes in a summer breeze.”
“That’s not at all how it sounds,” Pandora scoffed.
“But that’s how it makes me feel.” The intimate note in his voice seemed to vibrate along the network of fine, taut nerves strung all through her.