A Gentleman Never Tells(106)

“And I agree with you, Lord Brentwood,” her aunt responded. “Now, what do you say to a glass of port to warm your bones?”

“I say: Shall I pour or will you?”

Auntie Bethie laughed. “Sit down, and I’ll get it. How about you, Gabby. Will you have a glass with us?”

“Of course,” she said with a heavy heart. “I think lifting a glass in celebration of Brutus’s life is fitting.”

“That we will,” her aunt agreed as she busied herself at the sideboard. “I do have to say I’m not surprised Rosa didn’t make it down to join us. In fact, I’m glad. She was quite fidgety yesterday afternoon, talking as fast as a shooting star across the night sky one moment and quiet as a church mouse on Sunday morning the next.”

“I tried to speak to her last night before I went to bed,” Gabrielle said, “but she wouldn’t even let me in her room.”

“She has no constitution for things that do not center on her and what she wants, that’s for sure.” Auntie Bethie brought over a small tray with three glasses on it, and they each took a glass and sipped.

Gabrielle started to take a seat on the settee when she heard a commotion at the front of the house.

“Someone’s at the door,” her aunt said.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Gabrielle heard her father’s booming, grumbling voice and his heavy footsteps coming down the corridor. Gabrielle glanced at Brent.

His brows lifted. He angled his head and asked, “Did you know your father was coming back today?”

“Today? No, I had a letter earlier in the week telling me to expect him soon but not when.”

The duke walked into the drawing room and stopped in the doorway, looking at the three.

“Welcome home, Papa,” Gabrielle said, immediately wanting to run into his arms, bury her face in his chest, and pour her heart out to him about Brutus. But instead, old feelings of trying to please him pushed those thoughts aside and she greeted him the way she knew he wanted her to. With a bright smile and a low curtsey, she said, “I hope your trip was pleasant.”

“Thank you, Daughter, it was,” he said, walking farther into the room. “My lord,” the duke added and nodded his head toward Brent. “Looks like you’ve been in another fight.”

“Your Grace.” Brent touched the corner of his lip before he bowed. “Trouble seems to follow me.”

“Mmm,” was all the duke said and turned his attention to Auntie Bethie. “Mrs. Potter, you can pour me a glass of whatever it is you have in your hand, and then start packing.”

“Papa!” Gabrielle exclaimed.

Auntie Bethie winked at Gabrielle and laughed low in her throat as she walked over to the sideboard. “Pay him no mind, Gabby. I certainly don’t. I started packing the moment you told me he was coming back.”

“Glad to hear it,” the duke replied.

“I won’t be gone for long this time, Duke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he grumbled.

“I’ll tell you at a later time. You just got in, and I’m sure you want to hear all the latest from your daughter.”

“Yes, I’ll hear from her in due time, too, but it does seem it’s my good fortune you are here, Brentwood. I want to talk to you and Gabrielle.”

Gabrielle tensed. She glanced over at Brent, who gave her a questioning look and moved to stand closer to her.

The duke took the glass of port from Auntie Bethie. “Earlier this week, I received a letter from the Earl of Austerhill. The old chap came to his senses. He wrote to say he has decided to forgive Gabrielle for the sake of our financial plans and let Staunton marry her.”

“No,” Brent and Gabrielle said in stunned unison as they looked at each other.

“Yes, so you are off the hook, as they say, Brentwood, and Staunton is back on.”

Brent set his wine glass on the mantel. He gazed deeply into Gabrielle’s eyes and asked, “Do you want to marry him, Gabrie?”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “No,” she said, stepping closer to him. “I will not marry him. I’ve never wanted to marry him. I was only trying to please my father until I found out—”

“Found out what, Gabrie?” Brent said. “Now is the time to tell what you have been reluctant to say all these weeks.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the duke said. “You’ll do as I say, Daughter.”