A Gentleman Never Tells(12)

Gabrielle wished she didn’t have to have this discussion with her father, but there was no way around it. And she wasn’t going to stand around worrying, fearful, waiting for her father to come to her. She was going to him to determine her fate.

She waited a reasonable amount of time and then squared her shoulders and headed that way. She stopped at the doorway to the drawing room when she heard Brutus moving behind her.

Looking back at the dog, she saw him half standing, struggling to lift his back legs and get them moving. “Stay,” she said and held out her hand. “You’ve done enough walking for today.”

Brutus made a low growling sound in his throat, as if to argue with her his right to go, as he continued struggling to stand.

“Stay, Brutus,” she said more firmly. “Down.”

Brutus stopped but continued looking at her with big, soulful eyes, panting heavily, as if hoping she would change her mind.

“I’m only going to the book room to see Papa,” she said gently, not wanting him to think she was scolding him. “There’s no reason for you to disturb yourself. Now be a good boy and lie back down on your soft pillow.”

Seeing he wasn’t going to win this battle, Brutus eased back down onto his bed with a groan, laid his head on his front paws, and stared at her with a sorrowful expression.

Gabrielle felt as if a cold hand gripped her heart. She knew the cold of their morning jaunt had seeped into his old bones and sapped a lot of his strength. It was heartbreaking to know her big brute of a dog and faithful companion could no longer climb the two steps by himself to get into her father’s coach. Muggs had struggled to help lift his hind legs and get him into the carriage. Brutus’s age was showing more and more as each day, week, and month passed.

She smiled lovingly at Brutus. “That’s my good boy. I’ll be back soon.”

Halfway to the book room, fluttering butterflies attacked her stomach, and that angered her. She wasn’t a simpering fool. Whatever weakness had come over her in Hyde Park that had caused her to deny her good common sense and kiss a stranger was gone.

Forever, she vowed.

She was back to being Miss Practical. But as she neared the end of the corridor, she couldn’t help but ask herself if she really wanted to return to life as it was before her few enchanting moments in Lord Brentwood’s arms.

Gabrielle stopped at the open doorway of the book room and, pulling from an inner strength that had served her well in the past, knocked on the casing. Her father looked up from pouring himself a drink but didn’t speak to her.

“Papa,” she said and stepped inside.

“You are either very brave or very foolish, Gabrielle, to seek me out knowing how upset I am with you at this very moment. You would do well to give me time to have a drink, perhaps several, before you approach me.”

Gabrielle wasn’t afraid of her father, and until today, she had always obeyed him.

“What’s done is done, Papa,” she said, grateful her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

“Yes, yes, I know, and can’t be undone. Believe me, I’ve tried. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at Austerhill’s house, he had already awakened his son and told him about your brazen indiscretion. Of course, Staunton made a good show of wanting to immediately call out the viscount, but thankfully, his father and I talked him out of that foolhardy idea. Neither of us wanted scandal heaped upon scandal.”

“Oh, thank goodness, Papa! That would have been madness.”

“So was my time there. From the moment I arrived, the entire household treated me as though I had brought the black plague to their doorstep. I hope you are happy now that your wedding and my financial plans are officially canceled.”

As a matter of fact, she was happy and relieved her wedding was canceled, but no matter how difficult a man he was, she couldn’t find delight in her father’s misery. He may not have been a doting father through the years, but he’d certainly never done her harm. Gabrielle wished she could tell him that she took it all back, but that wasn’t true. She knew she wouldn’t want to have missed those few incredible minutes she’d spent in the viscount’s strong arms for anything in the world.

“But surely, Papa, you will regain the properties you promised to the earl as my dowry when the betrothal was arranged; so all will not be lost.”

The duke harrumphed disdainfully. “I would never give away anything I wanted.”

The sting of her father’s carelessly chosen words pierced her, and she gasped. “But what about me, Papa? You were willing to give me away.”