A Gentleman Never Tells(15)

“Lovely to see you, dearest,” her aunt said as they hugged and kissed each other on their cheeks. “You do get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Nonsense, Auntie, let me help you with your cape.”

Gabrielle’s father had three sisters, and while Gabrielle enjoyed seeing them all, she had never adored any of them the way she adored her mother’s only sister. Mrs. Elizabeth Potter was petite in size, but her loud and gravelly voice made her sound as boisterous as most men. Her nose and chin were sharp, and her eyes were as dark brown as the chocolate she liked to drink. She had a shock of golden-red hair that never seemed to fade or show gray. No doubt that was because of a secret solution she bought from the same apothecary where she bought her fountain of youth cream that she put on her face every evening before retiring. Gabrielle didn’t know why her aunt bothered to tint her hair. It was usually hidden beneath one of her many outrageously designed hats.

“You do remember that my wife passed on more than a dozen years ago, don’t you?” Gabby’s father barked. “Or have you gotten so old that your memory doesn’t serve you well anymore?”

“Don’t be such a tyrant, Papa,” Gabrielle said. “I’m thrilled Auntie Bethie is here.” Gabrielle took her aunt’s cape and laid it on a chair by the door.

“You would be,” her father murmured, “but I’m not. She dotes on you and treats you as if you were a piece of the finest china.” He looked over at her aunt and said, “I don’t even know why you are here.”

Auntie Bethie ignored him and smiled at Gabrielle as she handed over her drawstring reticule. “I’m here for the wedding, of course.”

Gabrielle blinked and opened her mouth to say the wedding had been canceled, but her father spoke first.

“You’re early,” he snapped.

“When it involves a wedding, a week is not too early to arrive. Besides, I wanted to surprise Gabrielle.”

Her father picked up his glass again. “It’s more like you wanted to irritate the devil out of me.”

She gave him a cunning smile as she untied the ribbon of her feathered bonnet and said, “You’ve always been able to see right through me, Duke.”

He matched her smile with a smirk of his own. “It’s easy to see through shallow water, Elizabeth.”

A deep, throaty laugh emerged from the small woman, and she walked farther into the room, taking off her gloves as she went. Her dark brown travelling dress swished around her ankles as she moved.

“I’m delighted I can still manage to irritate you, but by the looks of that glass in your hand, I’d say I’ll have to stand in line today. I think someone has already beaten me to it this morning. It’s a bit early in the day for the fish juice, isn’t it, Duke?”

“You would change your Puritan ways and be drinking, too, if you’d had the morning I’ve had,” he grumbled.

Though the subject was a serious one, Gabrielle couldn’t help but smile as her father and aunt traded barbs with each other. Even though their dislike for each other was very real, always intense, and at times very caustic, they could be quite comical. For as long as she could remember, the two had never had a kind word for the other. Because of their constant bickering when they were around each other, Auntie Bethie visited them only once or twice a year. She usually stayed at least three or four weeks every time. The duke would always find a reason to leave shortly after her arrival, and she would always leave as soon as he returned.

Elizabeth stopped in front of the duke’s desk, propped a lean hip against it, and asked, “Who is the lucky devil who dared to take my place of honor in your cold heart?”

Gabrielle’s father lifted his glass in salute to Elizabeth. “A viscount named Brentwood.”

Auntie Bethie turned toward Gabrielle. “Perhaps I’ll meet him at the wedding?”

“You’re too late for the wedding,” her father said gruffly.

Her aunt peeled her hat off her head, tossed the feathered bonnet to Gabrielle, and then turned back to the duke. “Will you make up your mind, old man? You just told me I was early.”

“Blast it, woman, you were early because the wedding was next week, and there was no reason for you to come until the day of it. And you’re late now because the wedding has just been canceled.”

A garbled gasp came from the doorway. “Gabby, you’re not going to marry Staunton?”