Page 7 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

Mama had held his small hand tightly. “Most of these people are not here through any fault of their own. This is where the destitute come, the hopeful from Ireland, refugees from the Continent, the poor from the countryside seeking work, and with them they bring their blameless children. You were just such a one, but providence put you in my path, and I was able to save you. Would that I could save more children such as you, but my time on this earth is running short.” And she’d kissed the top of his head, which then had boasted abundant blond curls. “I was so very lucky that day. God put you in my arms, and that is why I named you for one of his angels.” She turned over his left hand to expose the birthmark on his wrist. “When you were born, you were kissed by an angel and that led you to becoming my special son.”

She’d been the wisest, kindest woman Gabriel had ever known, and also the most beautiful. When she’d been taken from them at scarcely forty years of age, the whole family had been devastated. Grief-stricken, Papa had shut himself away in his study leaving Ambrose, who’d been away at Eton, to suffer alone, and Gabriel himself to seek solace with his beloved nurse, Primpy. Some of this, he acknowledged, explained why he was convinced no other lady could ever live up to his memories of his mother. He’d had dalliances, of course, and a mistress some time ago, but never ones that had engaged his heart. The women of the ton seemed so trivial and uninteresting compared to such a woman.

Unfortunately, Papa had chosen to marry again, to Lady Dorothea Beaumont, his and Ambrose’s current stepmother, and she’d seen to it that Gabriel had soon joined his brother at boarding school.

He smiled to himself as he thought of the present duchess. He and Ambrose were well aware how jealous their stepmother was of the loving memory Papa still nurtured for Mama, and how much the fact that none of her children would ever be the heir irked her beyond words. Not only that, but try as she might she’d not succeeded in producing a son of her own for Papa, only three daughters. Luckily these girls were much nicer than their mother, mainly because she had little to do with them, disgusted as she was by their gender. Gabriel was particularly fond on the oldest, Cecilia, who was now fifteen and quite the most sensible and intelligent young lady he’d ever met. Difficult to believe Dorothea had managed to produce such a lovely girl. No doubt Stepmama was already planning her daughter’s debut in a few years’ time as a highly sought after duke’s daughter and making lists of unsuspecting young men to entrap.

Gabriel slipped back into the present, pushing thoughts of his family aside. He was here for a purpose and needed to remember that.

The crowd parted as the dance came to an end and Gabriel’s gaze moved past the dancers towards the far side of the room. He made it his business to know as much about his fellow members of the ton as possible. And he had the sort of memory that never forgot a face or a fact about a person. Very useful.

There, for example, was Lady Brockwood, who could have been a dowager countess. However, misfortune had befallen her husband in the shape of too large a hedge out hunting. He’d had the temerity to fall off his horse and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, get himself kicked in the head just a few months before his father, the old Earl of Alresford, died of an apoplexy. One perhaps brought on by the shock of his heir’s death, of course, although he’d had the luxury of two more healthy sons in waiting. Just as well, as it was the third son who now held the earldom. Perhaps he ought to suggest to Ambrose that one heir might not be enough.

He smiled to himself at the thought of Ambrose’s reaction.

Back to Lady Brockwood, who had a very attractive ruby necklace and earrings on tonight. He’d spied her astonishingly beautiful, but also very tall, daughter on the dance floor with Jeremy Wade, a fellow who’d been a couple of years his senior at Eton. He might ask her for a dance later, as, being over six feet tall himself, he wouldn’t look anywhere near as ridiculous as Wade did. Not that he felt in any way impressed by her looks, but more so he could get a better look at the girandole earrings she was wearing.

Lady Brockwood was engaged in conversation with Mr. Wade’s mother, the truly awful Viscountess Chatteris, but she was not what interested him. Another had caught his eye, arousing his curiosity. Just behind the two matrons stood another young lady. Had she not been staring back across the dance floor at him, she would have been almost unnoticeable. However, their eyes met and Gabriel started in surprise at her momentary fierce expression. He appeared to have caught her doing the exact same thing as him—watching people, only with far less confidence and perhaps a wisp of sadness that intrigued him. As soon as she realized she’d been spotted, though, she dropped her gaze and her slender shoulders hunched over as though she’d been caught in some terrible crime. His experienced eye couldn’t help but notice the three strings of exquisitely luminescent pearls around her neck.

What a little mouse she was, though, apart from that sudden fierceness he was sure he wasn’t meant to have seen. Brown hair, brown eyes too if he was correct in his surmise, pale skin and a slight build, made smaller by the way she was standing, as though her aim was to shrink into the shadows. He might have thought her a timid sparrow of a girl, had it not been for that fierce expression she’d so quickly hidden. He narrowed his eyes. She was wearing every bit as beautiful a gown as the other young ladies here so couldn’t be just some sort of poor relation or companion. And besides which, those were the most magnificent set of pearls he’d ever seen.

Realization dawned at last. It wasn’t hard to guess who she must be. As she was young and with Lady Brockwood, it was safe to assume she was the niece for whom Her Ladyship was supposed to be guardian. Daughter of her late husband’s younger brother, also now deceased, but more importantly granddaughter to a fabulously wealthy merchant banker. A cit, yes, but a rich one. Also deceased, which was undeniably a good thing where heiresses were concerned. Hence, perhaps, those impressive pearls. Might she also have matching earrings? He couldn’t quite see from here. How to gain an introduction?

As luck would have it, who should hove into view at that very moment but the young man who’d been his fag in his last year at Eton, someone who was well used to running his errands and doing as he was told. And, happily, he was also the other heir to the wealthy merchant banker, so undoubtedly the cousin to this mysterious young lady.

Gabriel lifted an elegant hand. “Hughenden, my dear fellow, what an unexpected surprise. I was just admiring your cousin from across the room and am in want of an introduction. Would you be so kind as to present me to both her and her chaperone?”

Young Tobias Hughenden’s youthful face lit up in delight. He’d always been keen to please his friends, especially ones as popular and good at sport as Lord Gabriel Wycliff. “I say, Wycliff, fancy seeing you here. Thought you was at Sherborne with your pa. Don’t know why. I suppose some fellow told me you were. Only I dare say I shouldn’t be at all surprised to come upon you.” He was also a bit of a gabbler. “Most splendid ball of the Season so far. Lots of lovely ladies to dance with. Can’t understand why the Old Man won’t come up to Town with Mama. And you want me to introduce you to Cousin Phoebe? Of course I will. Splendid girl. Come along. I see her over there with her formidable aunt. A woman more like a bulldog you’d be hard pushed to find. No relation to me, thank goodness. My advice is to keep her sweet.”

Scarcely breaking step, Tobias led the way across the rapidly filling dance floor towards the object of Gabriel’s interest and performed the necessary introductions in a somewhat haphazard manner. He’d always been a little scatterbrained when at school, coming back with entirely the wrong things when sent on errands and frequently burning the toast he’d been set to cook. But Gabriel was fond of him as he might have been fond of a favorite spaniel.

Lady Brockwood’s calculating eyes had narrowed at Gabriel’s introduction and then gallant request to dance with her reticent niece. Perhaps she’d been thinking that with such a shy little creature in her charge no gentlemen were going to come calling. But Gabriel had seen the fierce look in the young lady’s eyes and was not fooled. There was more to Lady Phoebe Nicholson than there appeared at first sight.

However, mousey little Phoebe, having been persuaded, possibly under duress, to raise her eyes to meet his, meekly took his hand and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor as though she were the most obedient, biddable, and characterless of young ladies. She smelled divine, her delicate perfume wafting to his sensitive nostrils, but a less enthusiastic dance partner he had yet to meet. As the son of a duke, he was used to young ladies falling over themselves to gain his attention and secure him as a dancing partner, even though he was a younger son. Of course, they didn’t know what he knew—that even if Ambrose were to die without an heir, he could never inherit. No doubt all their doting mamas saw him as a very eligible prospect. Lady Brockwood included.

The dance was a quadrille, and he and Phoebe joined a party of three couples to make the fourth, his apparently docile partner following his lead like the little sheep he was fairly sure she wasn’t. However, as they were all taking their places, he noticed she was trembling like a leaf. Whatever was the matter with the girl? Her lustrous pearls, from whose splendor he was finding it hard to remove his gaze, rose and fell with her rapid breathing on her alabaster breasts, and, had she not been wearing gloves, he guessed the hand he’d taken would now have been slick with sweat. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said she was terrified, despite the ferocity he’d spotted earlier. Could it be she was afraid of him? He prided himself on his affable personality and ability to get on with everyone he met, so it came as a shock to discover someone who didn’t seem to care much for him.

When the musicians struck up the dance, and the polite bowing and curtsying was done, he soon found out why she was terrified. She could not dance. Well, she seemed to know the steps, but not how to execute them without tripping over her feet and trampling on not just his toes but also the toes of the other three gentleman in the square in turn. Or maybe this clumsiness was as a consequence of her fears. Impossible to say. But it made her more intriguing still. For once he’d come upon a young lady who was a puzzle whose key he fancied discovering.

On an impulse to be kind and set her at her ease, he engaged her in conversation. A conversation that was very much on his part rather than hers, at least to begin with.

“Your aunt is bringing both you and your cousin Matilda out this Season, I gather.”

“She is.” Her voice was tight with tension, as was the hand in his. Presumably she was concentrating on the dance steps, which did involve a fair degree of elegant skipping, something she seemed incapable of. She trod on his foot again. Thank goodness she was so slight, and only wearing soft dancing slippers, or his toes would have been black and blue.

He tried again. After all, he had been brought up to be a gentleman and he had asked her to dance so it behooved on him to draw her out a little. And she was pretty in a delicate, fawnlike fashion that he rather liked. He was too wise, however, to allow his feelings to become engaged, or so he thought. “Is this your first ball? I don’t think I’ve seen you before, have I?”

She managed to shake her head whilst tripping over her feet again. Only his strong hand holding hers kept her upright. No wonder she was so terrified. A less skilled partner might have let her fall. A quick glance towards her aunt showed that lady’s face to be stern with potential future admonishment for her ward. A wave of gallantry washed over him. He must endeavor to keep her upright to save her from reprimand.

“How is it that I’ve not seen a young lady as pretty as you, then?”

Color surged up to her cheeks. Had no one ever called her pretty before? He began to feel a strong liking for this strange little thing, and tried to chide himself for it, unsuccessfully. He was usually so good at not allowing his feelings to engage, but somehow, when their eyes had met across the room, he’d sensed a fellow feeling. Did she consider herself an outsider here, just as he did?

They parted and she went off to tread on some other gentlemen’s feet for a short while. When they came back together he bestowed on her his most charming of smiles, determined, now, to draw her out of herself. “You should not hide yourself away behind your Amazonian cousin and her mother, you know. A girl as pretty as you should be full of confidence and out on the dance floor with all the young gentlemen.”

She raised her eyes and for a moment that intense ferocity was back. “Pray do not tease me so, sir. I know you do not speak the truth.” And with the ferocity came a flash of fire that seared through her, making her just for that instant into the most beautiful girl in the ballroom.

For a moment, Gabriel was speechless. Not from her accusation that he was lying, but from the way it had transformed her. And just as quickly she was back to being a mouse.