A Gentleman Never Tells(36)
Prissy was Brent’s first thought. He picked up his pace.
“No, sir,” the man answered, turning to walk away. “I was just admiring your fine horse and carriage. I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait,” Brent said, gaining on the man. “Are you holding something underneath your coat?”
The man stopped and faced Brent. “Yes, sir,” he said in a calm voice and showing no fear of being caught doing something wrong. “But I didn’t steal anything from your carriage.”
Brent didn’t know what the man carried but now realized it couldn’t be Prissy. She would have started barking like a fiend the moment she heard Brent’s voice. But he was curious as to what the stranger held.
“I believe you, but do you mind showing me what you are holding on to?”
“Don’t mind at all. Got nothing to hide.” The man unfastened the one large button on his coat and cautiously opened it.
Brent saw the wild black beaded eyes of a gray rabbit.
“Got yourself a pet, I see,” Brent said, realizing he was disappointed the animal wasn’t Prissy.
The man shook his head. “On a cold morning like this, I hold them underneath my coat to help keep me warm. I catch them in the park and sell them to taverns, inns.” He shrugged. “I sell to anyone that’s buying. Are you interested in it for your supper?”
“Not today,” Brent said, and climbed up on his curricle and headed out of the park.
Seven
Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him.
—Aldous Huxley
She couldn’t get him off her mind.
It was frustrating for Gabrielle that most of her waking moments she was thinking about Lord Brentwood or his poor dog. It had been several days since she’d seen the viscount, and she hadn’t received a note from him saying Prissy had been found. She had managed to drag her aunt to the park twice more to look for the dog, with no luck. She hoped with all her heart the Pomeranian was back home and the arrogant viscount had just failed to notify her. She would make a point to ask him about Prissy tonight.
Every time Gabrielle thought about seeing Lord Brentwood at Lady Windham’s party later in the evening, her stomach would quiver excitedly. She didn’t understand why her attraction to him was so great. She only knew she had never felt this way about any other man.
Gabrielle stood near the fireplace in the drawing room, sipping her second cup of afternoon tea. Brutus lay on his big pillow, so deep in sleep he was snoring, and other than the sound of the crackling fire, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her aunt was spending the afternoon with a friend. Her father, knowing his solicitor was working on dissolving her first engagement and planning the particulars for her second, had left for his hunting trip, thus continuing his tradition of never being in residence when Auntie Bethie was visiting.
Gabrielle had probably thought more about Lord Brentwood in the past five days than she had about Staunton the entire six months she was engaged to him. It had crossed her mind that she could quite possibly see Staunton at Lady Windham’s party tonight. It wouldn’t bother her one bit to see him and talk to him. She had wondered why he hadn’t done the expected thing and approached her father about marrying Rosa, but it could be that his father had put a stop to that.
Should she let him know she knew about him and Rosabelle, and she would help them in any way she could in dealing with their fathers? Though at present she had very little clout with her father and absolutely none with Staunton’s, so her help might be limited.
When Gabrielle wasn’t thinking about the dashing Lord Brentwood and his dog, her sister was on her mind. Rosabelle hadn’t come out of her room since the morning she came running into the book room to ask if what she’d heard about Gabrielle’s broken engagement was true. Gabrielle had tried several times to talk to her, but she would either pretend to be asleep or pull the covers over her head and say she was too ill to talk.
And while Gabrielle had enjoyed having her vivacious aunt all to herself since their father left, she knew it wasn’t good that Rosabelle was avoiding her. Gabrielle had a feeling it was because her sister was riddled with guilt. Even though there was only thirteen months difference in their ages, Rosabelle had always seemed much younger.
Rosa was highly emotional and way too impetuous at times. Gabrielle knew she had to take some of the blame for that. Since their mother died, they had been raised mostly by governesses, and Rosabelle had often let her fears and insecurities surface. Gabrielle always took up for Rosabelle and sometimes even took punishments for her.