A Gentleman Never Tells(2)
In the quietness of the morning, Brent couldn’t help but think fondly of his mother. She was a firm believer in being well read, and she saw to it her three sons were, too. She was always quoting someone. She didn’t care if it was Keats, Shakespeare, Byron, or the Bible. She had even been known to use a line or two from a dreadful horrid novel. If she took a fancy to a quote she had read, she’d find a way to use it before the day was over.
But with all her loving sternness, she carried a dark secret. A secret Brent had kept for ten years and would have kept the rest of his life if he could have. But fate stole into their lives with its own plans. He had tried to spare his brothers the nasty gossip about their parentage that was now being whispered behind fans at parties and churned around the gentlemen’s clubs in London like a deadly whirlpool. Though, most of the time, it seemed the ribald rumors and high-stake wagers bothered him more than his brothers. He was thankful his mother hadn’t lived to see the day when her younger twin sons arrived in London.
When it was clear he couldn’t stop Matson and Iverson from making the move from the Americas back to the home of their birth, he’d felt duty bound to join them. Besides, at the age of thirty, it was past time he should be looking for a wife. Over the years, none of the few young ladies who lived in the villages around his Brentwood Estate had caught his fancy, not enough to propose matrimony, anyway. He decided since he had to winter in London, he would make friends among the ton so he would be ready to peruse the marriage mart come spring when the Season started.
Suddenly the mongrel stopped and started barking viciously.
“Quiet, Pris,” Brent said. “You’ll wake the hounds of hell with all that noise. Come on, let’s get this walk finished and get back to Mayfair. I promised to take you for a stroll; I didn’t promise I’d do it for any set length of time. I have better things to do today than mollycoddle you.”
They walked a few more feet, and the dog stopped again and started snarling. Her body stiffened, and she lunged forward. Her eyes fixed on a stand of trees not far away. The hairs on the back of Brent’s neck bristled, and a prickle of something he couldn’t put his finger on moved up his back. He knew Prissy detected something more than just a rabbit or squirrel rustling the bushes.
She sensed danger.
Brent’s hand tightened on the leash. A chill skittered up his spine, and apprehension caught between his shoulders. He strained his senses to see, hear, or feel whatever was alarming Prissy. And then, through the light mist he saw a figure shrouded in a black hooded cloak walking toward him.
The dog continued with a deep, warning growl. Brent’s gaze never wavered from the person. He paid careful attention to every detail and almost immediately recognized from the slight build, moderate stride, and gentle sway of shoulders it was a woman who approached him. But before he could relax, surprise rode through him when she drew closer with the biggest damn dog he had ever seen, walking calmly, unfettered beside her.
After Prissy’s own start of surprise, his mother’s dog went fiercely crazy, barking fast and loud. She half choked herself with the leash, trying to get to the huge mastiff coming toward them.
“Stop barking, and be still, you silly little devil,” Brent mumbled, holding the dog back.
The young lady stopped a respectful distance from him and regarded him warily. He could barely make out her features, but there was no mistaking her deep blue eyes, full, tempting lips, and alabaster skin so smooth it looked ethereal in the slowly brightening sky.
She took a confident step toward him, a hint of a smile pulling at her mouth. “For such a big man, I would think you’d be confident enough to know how to handle such a darling little dog.”
Brent raised a brow. “If by darling dog you mean this spawn from the gates of hell, then pray tell me, how do you suggest I get her to be quiet?”
The corners of her beautiful lips lifted even more. “You quiet animals the same way you calm people, by speaking softly to them.”
He realized he had somehow managed to amuse her. That didn’t sit well with Brent.
“Not this one,” he said, moving the leash from one hand to the other while he continued to assess the lady.
Her smile widened, and his irritation grew.
His voice was a little more than testy when he said, “Don’t try to tell me her shrill barking isn’t piercing to your ears, too?”
She seemed to consider what he’d said before walking even closer. He watched her with deep interest. She was tall; the top of her head reached his chin. Her frame was hidden beneath her heavy cloak, but he had no doubt she was slender and not boyish in her figure. Her gaze stayed boldly on his face, and for some reason, that show of confidence sent heat pulsing through his body.