A Gentleman Never Tells(51)
“There was also talk that there might be a particularly vicious animal prowling the darkness of Hyde and St. James,” Matson continued. “Perhaps a wild boar. They can grow quite large.”
“But they don’t usually bother dogs,” Iverson added. “Still, strange occurrences happen from time to time. Some of the men have discussed getting a hunting party together.”
Brent didn’t want to think about the possibility of Prissy’s meeting a wild boar. That impish dog had no fear and would challenge an animal of any shape or size.
Iverson added, “I also heard the carnival that set up camp on the south end of Town last month hasn’t moved on like it usually does. Someone thought perhaps one of their big animals might have escaped.”
“If that was the case, everyone in London would be in danger, not just small dogs,” Matson said. “I can’t see anyone hiding something as dangerous as that. Besides, isn’t it late in the year for traveling carnivals and fairs to still be around?”
“Seems to me it is, but you never know what makes them linger. I suppose they have to winter somewhere and make a little money. Someone was going to pay the owner a visit and see what they could find out about their menagerie.”
“Enough about the gossip and last night, Brothers,” Brent said, not wanting to dwell on what might have happened to Prissy. He’d heard more than enough from Lord Snellingly last night. “Tell me how it is going for you two on finding a building space near the docks to house your business.”
Matson laid down his fork and pushed his empty plate aside. “We’ve found a couple of places we are interested in, but there’s one problem.”
“A big problem,” Iverson added.
“What’s that?” Brent said warily.
“No doubt they’ve all heard the rumors about you and Lady Gabrielle.”
Brent didn’t need to hear more but said, “And?”
“We think they are waiting to see what the duke has to say about you, and apparently he is out of town.”
“How much time do you have?”
“Not much,” Matson said. “As soon as we arrived in London, we sent a letter to our man in Baltimore and told him to load up all our equipment, machinery, everything, including any of the workers who wanted to leave America, and set sail.”
“But we aren’t letting anything stop us from securing a place to house our business,” Iverson said. “We’ll find something, and we’ll be ready when the ship gets here.”
Brent picked up his coffee cup and sipped. He had believed the duke when he’d told him he could keep his brothers from having a successful business in London, and throughout England for that matter. Brent had never doubted Lady Gabrielle’s father, but now his brothers had just given him proof.
***
The rain came down at a steady drizzle and so did Gabrielle’s thoughts of Lord Brentwood. Neither had stopped all day. Even though the fireplace was lit, there was a cold chill to the house as she sat by the drawing-room window, her needlework in her still hands and Brutus snoring heavily on his pillow.
She had worried herself silly wondering what had been said between Lord Brentwood and Staunton and couldn’t wait until tomorrow so she could ask the viscount. She had wanted to stay at Lady Windham’s and hear what everyone had to say about what happened between the two men, but her aunt, sensing more scandal in the making, had hurried her out of the house. Fern had sent her a note, saying she heard Staunton had punched the viscount in the mouth, but that the viscount was a perfect gentleman and had refused to be drawn into a fight in Lady Windham’s house. Gabrielle already knew that much.
She was considering the possibility of confronting Staunton and letting him know what a hypocrite she thought him to be. He had some gall to attack Lord Brentwood for being alone with her when he had been guilty of doing the same thing with her sister.
And when she wasn’t worrying about the tussle between the two gentlemen, she was smiling over the fact that Lord Brentwood had the audacity to leave her with the insufferable Lord Snellingly. She should be furious he had the nerve to smile at her after he told the earl she would love to hear more of his dreadful poetry, but she wasn’t. She was amused the viscount was so clever. She certainly hadn’t wanted Staunton to hit Lord Brentwood, but it had been useful in getting her away from the pompous earl.
Just thinking about Lord Brentwood made Gabrielle smile. He was such a striking figure in his formal evening coat, slim-legged trousers, and buckled shoes. And she couldn’t help but be impressed that no matter how many times she missed steps on the dance floor, he never once became annoyed with her. She couldn’t imagine her father or Staunton being so accepting of a lady who couldn’t dance.