A Gentleman Never Tells(14)

Gabrielle looked at her father and had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him no. She wondered what had come over her. Why and how had she changed in such a short span of time? Five months ago she had readily agreed when her father told her he wanted her to marry Staunton, a man she had no feelings for whatsoever. She never once thought to disobey her father. She hardly even questioned him, but she had changed. She no longer wanted to just accept what her father wanted her to do without challenging him.

“Papa, I don’t want to—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Whatever you say will fall on deaf ears, my dear. I don’t know the viscount but I’ll see what kind of financial arrangements I can make with him. They won’t be as lucrative as I had with the earl, I’m sure, but maybe he has something that would be worth an exchange for your hand in marriage. And, of course, I’ll provide him an adequate dowry. I spoke with my solicitor before I came back home. He is already gathering information on Brentwood for me and should have it to me before the man arrives late this afternoon.”

Gabrielle remembered the expression on Lord Brentwood’s face when he heard she was set to be married next week, and that gave her some comfort. He was not a happy man. No matter what he’d said about willing to lie in the bed he made. If she read him right, his expression told her he would rather suffer the depths of hell than marry her.

“Since you liked the viscount well enough to meet him in the park and let him kiss you,” her father continued, “I intend to see that you marry him.”

Showing more confidence than she was feeling, Gabrielle took a bold step toward her father’s desk, and in a strong voice, said, “I don’t want to marry him.”

The chair squeaked as he reached over and placed his glass on the desk. “You should have thought about that before you designed your affair with him.”

Gabrielle gasped. “There was no affair, Papa.”

He slammed a meaty hand down on his desk. “Then what would you call it, Gabrielle?”

“Madness,” she whispered. “Utter madness.” As the words passed her lips, fleeting memories flooded her. Strong, warm, and passionate arms wrapped tightly around her. Cool, soft, and inviting lips pressed against hers. A wide, firm palm pressed gently to her breast.

“Madness?” he asked and then sighed heavily before picking up his glass again. “Aptly put. Now leave me, Gabrielle, I’m tired of this subject, and I have work to do.”

Gabrielle studied her father. It was clear she wasn’t going to change him, but she could change herself. No, she had changed. She wasn’t sure what had happened to her when she saw her sister and Staunton together, but she wasn’t the same person anymore. She knew she’d done the right thing in keeping scandal away from Rosabelle’s name, and now she had to keep from ruining Lord Brentwood’s life, as well. Even though he had been kind enough to indicate he would marry her if her father insisted, she held out hope that he would come to his senses and help her convince her father that marriage between them wasn’t necessary.

With no fear of reprisal, she said. “I want to be present whenever you talk to Lord Brentwood.”

Not bothering to look at her, the duke harrumphed again and said, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s my life, Papa.”

He looked up at her. “Which you have turned into total chaos, along with mine. I’d say you’ve done quite enough.”

“Still squealing like a wild boar caught among the briars, Duke? It looks as though I got here just in time to help Gabby before you blow up like a hot air balloon.”

Gabrielle whirled to see her favorite aunt standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, a black travelling cape on her shoulders, a fancy feathered hat on her head, and cotton gloves on her hands. At the sight of her beloved aunt, Gabrielle felt as if a burden lifted from her shoulders, and she smiled.

“You know,” her aunt continued, “that my dear sister would have never allowed you to talk in that tone to one of her daughters.”

The duke grunted. “I see you still haven’t learned the art of knocking and being announced, Elizabeth.”

“Never saw the reason to, after my sister told me I would always be welcomed in her home. She said the door was always open to me, so why shouldn’t I just walk right in?”

“Because you are usually butting in where you’re not wanted,” the duke said.

“Auntie Bethie,” Gabrielle exclaimed excitedly and rushed toward her aunt. “I’m so glad to see you! I was hoping you would come soon.”