A Gentleman Never Tells(24)
Looking down at her dress, Gabrielle said, “Yes, you’re right. It was careless of me to forget to put on my apron, but I really want to be by myself right now, Pet. So whatever it is you thought to do here in my room, could you come back later?”
Petra gave her a sad smile. “Mrs. Potter told me about your wedding being canceled and that I shouldn’t disturb you this afternoon.”
“And I appreciate that.”
“I’m very sorry for you, my lady.”
“Please, Pet, it isn’t the canceled wedding that is bothering me. You know better than anyone it was not a love match between me and Staunton. It’s what’s taking place downstairs right now that has me in a dither, and Auntie Bethie was right, I’m not good company for anyone, so shoo!”
Petra walked over to Gabrielle’s wardrobe and pulled out a drawer. “Can’t do that for you. Your papa sent me up here to fetch you.”
Gabrielle tensed and laid her brush down on the paint-smeared palette. “Papa wants to see me?”
“Not exactly,” Petra said, pulling out a dark wine-colored shawl trimmed with gold fringe. “I think this one will go nicely with what you have on, don’t you?”
Gabrielle pursed her lips in frustration. “I’m not cold, Pet.”
Petra walked over and wrapped the shawl around Gabrielle’s shoulders. “You will be.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“I’m following His Grace’s orders. He said for me to tell you Lord Brentwood is in the garden waiting to speak to you and you may have a few minutes alone with him before he leaves.”
Gabrielle’s shoulders sagged a little. Though she knew what that meant, she didn’t want to believe it. If her father was allowing her a few minutes alone with the viscount, then another marriage contract was in the works for her.
“The sun is about to set, and the wind has whipped up,” Petra said, “and it’s bone-chilling out there, but this shawl should be enough to keep you warm for no longer than you will be in the garden.”
Gabrielle’s stomach lurched. What would she say to Lord Brentwood? Should she apologize to him again for getting him mixed up in this debacle?
No, she was through with apologies, worries, and concern.
Perhaps if her aunt had already been here, Gabrielle would have gone to her this morning instead of the park… but there was no use thinking about what might have been. She had to think about the future. No matter what her father and Lord Brentwood had decided, she had plans of her own, and she was prepared to go forward with them.
“Where is Papa?” Gabrielle asked, hooking the ends of the shawl around her elbows.
“He said he will be in his book room, where he can look out the window and see into the garden.”
“And where are Aunt Bethie and Rosabelle?”
“Lady Rosa has been in her room all afternoon, just like you, and after a long visit with your father, your aunt has been in the parlor, writing notes or letters or something.”
Gabrielle’s heart was suddenly filled with gratitude once again. She was glad her aunt had insisted on taking care of everything concerning canceling the wedding. “I’m so glad Auntie is here,” she whispered.
“Me, too,” Petra said with her usual bright smile, “because that usually means your papa leaves for a few weeks, and we all breathe easier when the duke is away.”
“Petra, you are being far too fresh with your comments,” Gabrielle admonished, knowing Petra was only voicing what all the servants had thought for years. Her father was a difficult man, but Gabrielle couldn’t allow such freedoms from servants. “You cannot be so disrespectful of my father and your employer.”
Petra’s smile evaporated quickly. “I truly meant no harm.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, but you must never be that familiar again.”
“Yes, my lady, I agree, and I beg your pardon a thousand times. I’m very grateful to the duke for allowing me to be in your service.”
“I know. Now, I better get out of here before Papa thinks you are the reason I’m late.”
Gabrielle left her room and hurried out the door and down the back stairs to the rear of the house. Her chest tightened as she walked. For some strange reason, she was filled with the feeling of wanting to see Lord Brentwood, yet not wanting to.
She stopped and peeked out a small window of the china-and-crystal storeroom and saw him. He sat on a bench in their small garden, one booted foot propped on his other leg. His side profile showed a high brow, straight nose, and strong chin. There was an arrogant tilt to his head, and his light brown hair fell attractively just below his collar. Gabrielle stared at him until, as if sensing someone watched him, Lord Brentwood turned his head toward the window. She quickly ducked down and flattened herself against the wall.