A Gentleman Never Tells(42)
“Oh, I wasn’t alone, Brutus was with me. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and I was troubled about my upcoming marriage. I decided to dress and take a walk.”
Gabrielle continued the story, sticking to the facts when she could, but being careful. The last thing she wanted to do was mention anything about Rosabelle’s secret or the passionate kiss she shared with Lord Brentwood.
“So you were just standing there in the park, talking with him, when your father and Lord Austerhill found you?”
Leave it to Babs to ask for more details than Gabrielle wanted to share.
“Well, we were talking about our dogs,” Gabrielle said, feeling a little guilt at skirting the truth, or at least the timing of it.
“Oh, I’ve heard about Lord Brentwood’s combing the park every day for his dog,” Fern said. “And just tonight I heard that some people think Lord Pinkwater’s ghost picked up the viscount’s dog and is keeping her for himself.”
“Some people actually think a ghost has Prissy?” Gabrielle asked.
“Forget the ghost and the dog,” Babs said. “After all I’ve heard, I was hoping for a more scandalous story than you were helping Lord Brentwood look for his dog. Especially since all the gossips had your cloak lying on the ground and your dress hanging off your shoulders!”
Gabrielle gasped. “Babs, no such thing occurred.”
“How can you even suggest that?” Fern said, turning to Babs with a firm expression. “Shame on you for even repeating such rubbish. You know how tightly Gabby is laced.”
Gabrielle was a little taken aback by Fern’s strong defense.
Babs frowned at Fern. “No, obviously we don’t know that. But I do know how quickly and easily a handsome, sweet-talking gentleman can sweep a lady off her feet, no matter how tight her stays!”
“The only thing I know for sure—” Gabrielle stopped as two elderly ladies walked very close to her. As they passed, one of them said quite loudly, “In my day, when a young lady was involved in a scandal, she didn’t show her face in public for years.”
“If ever again!” her companion added haughtily.
“And it didn’t matter if she was a duke’s daughter.”
“The nerve of those ladies,” Fern whispered.
“It was all gossip meant to ruin her,” Babs called after the ladies. “She was in the park looking for her dog.”
One of the ladies turned around and said, “I’ll make sure you three are never admitted into Almack’s again.”
“You can try,” Babs returned.
“Babs, please, don’t antagonize those ladies,” Gabrielle said. “I don’t want you getting into trouble because of something I did.”
“Why not?” She smiled mischievously at Gabrielle. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you have all the pleasure of being the most talked about young lady in London?”
“You are much too self-assured for your own good,” Gabrielle said with a smile. “And it wasn’t my dog that was lost. Brutus would never run away from me. It was Lord Brentwood’s dog.”
“Excuse me, ladies.”
Gabrielle’s breath caught in her throat at the sound of the viscount’s voice. She turned, and her gaze fell on a broad chest covered by a crisp white shirt and a black tufted waistcoat. She saw wide, straight shoulders that fit perfectly into a black cutaway jacket. Her gaze continued up a strong, cleanly shaved neck, sailed over a smooth, slightly square chin, and lingered on sculpted masculine lips, before resting on intriguing golden-brown eyes that seemed to reach down into her very soul and softly greet her there.
Her heartbeat faltered and then raced. Lord Brentwood was a magnificent-looking man. He stood perfect in stature and impeccable in dress, letting her stare at him. And she did so without guilt, shame, or hesitation. Everything about him awakened and stimulated her senses like no other man ever had.
Lord Brentwood bowed, then picked up her hand and kissed it. Her breath caught in her throat at the excitement that coursed through her at seeing him. His fingers boldly caressed the inside of her palm. Even through her gloves, she felt the heat of his fingers. A shiver of something wonderful skittered through her fingertips and exploded inside her. His gaze fluttered intently down her face, lingering on her lips before lifting back to her eyes again.
He smiled. “I believe you promised the next dance to me,” he said.