A Gentleman Never Tells(13)



To a man you knew I didn’t love.

“What?” He waved his hand as if to brush off what she said. “No. I mean, yes, of course, Gabrielle. Fathers always give their daughters away in marriage, but make no mistake. You will always be my daughter. And if any man dares hurt you in any way, he would have me to answer to.”

Gabrielle knew that was as close as he was going to come to an endearing comment.

“What I meant was that the whole of what I promised to Austerhill and his son are worthless lands to me and useless business ventures I wanted to dispose of anyway. He is the one who had the prized lands I wanted to add to my holdings. Now, thanks to you, I won’t get them.”

Her father had never tried to hide his many business ventures from her, often bragging to her, and to Ellis when he was home from Oxford, about his lucrative deals. He seemed to be happiest when he was trying to lure some unsuspecting soul into selling their land, their horses, or their businesses to him.

Gabrielle walked farther into the room. “If that’s the case, Papa, maybe now is the right time to bring this up. Perhaps in a few days you could suggest to Lord Austerhill and to Staunton that they might consider Rosabelle’s hand in marriage so the arrangements the two families have put in place can proceed as originally planned.”

“What?” The duke turned toward her, glass in hand, and laughed bitterly. “Ha! How well I would like that! But I can assure you, Gabrielle, that neither the earl nor his weak-kneed son wants anything to do with either of my daughters now, later, or ever.”

Gabrielle blinked at her father’s harsh words as he put the glass to his mouth, drank heavily from it, and then turned his back on her to refill it. At least there was hope, since her father didn’t know Staunton wanted to be with Rosabelle. And her father wanted the lands, so he would be agreeable. The only one to worry about would be Lord Austerhill. Surely in time, his son could persuade him to allow marriage with Rosabelle.

“But maybe all is not lost.” Her father spoke more as if talking to himself than her.

“What?”

“I’ve already sent word to Viscount Brentwood, asking him to come see me late this afternoon.”

Gabrielle tensed. “Papa, can’t we just leave him out of this? I want to forget about what happened in the park.”

The duke turned back toward her and harrumphed again as he walked toward his desk. “If only we could. Wouldn’t that be a pretty ribbon wrapped around a boar’s tail? But, no, we can’t just forget about him. I have no doubt that, in time, news of your indiscretion will be tattled from the tongues of men at the clubs and whispered from the waspish mouths of every old hen and every young biddy in the ton.”

“That certainly puts the situation I’m in bluntly.”

“These kinds of things have a way of growing all out of proportion, but you did it, not I. Obviously, I would have considered the viscount for you, along with all the rest of the blades who were knocking on my door, had he been in Town at the beginning of the Season. I’m glad you at least had the good sense to have a tryst with a titled man.”

Her father had never been one to mince his words, and she shouldn’t have expected it of him now.

“But I have to say, Gabrielle, that it doesn’t speak well of him that he tried to run away when he saw us coming to aid you; but then you picked him, I didn’t.”

“I don’t know why he ran, Papa. All I remember was seeing four men charging us. That could frighten anyone.”

“Harrumph,” her father muttered. “I don’t think it would have frightened me. But no matter the reason he ran, all that is important is Muggs stopped him before he got away.”

“So what will you have me do to save face in Society? Will you banish me to one of your country homes?”

A wrinkle formed between his eyes. “Why the devil would I do that? No doubt that is what you would love, but no.” He chuckled ruefully. “Life will not be so easy for you. Even after the alarming stunt you pulled, you are still much too valuable for me to hide away in a small village somewhere. Exaggerated tales of your assignation in the park with Brentwood will surface, but so be it. They will die down in due time. Thankfully, because I’m a duke, no one would dare cross me. I’m certain that if you marry quickly enough, all will be forgiven and forgotten.” The chair behind his desk creaked as he lowered his broad frame into it. “So, no, dear girl, you will not be banished to our beautiful English countryside. You will be wed to the viscount.”

Amelia Grey's Books