A Gentleman Never Tells(56)
“I beg your pardon, Lord Brentwood, for taking so long,” she said, walking into the room.
Lord Brentwood laid his cards on the table, rose, and let his gaze linger on her face, causing a shiver of awareness. She saw appreciation in his eyes for the way she looked, and she liked that he let her know. She wore a dark beige carriage dress with a dark brown velvet pelisse covering most of it. She held a matching bonnet in her hand, and her brown velvet reticule dangled from her gloved wrist.
The viscount looked amazingly handsome in a dark blue jacket over a pale blue waistcoat adorned with ivory-colored buttons. His slim-cut, fawn-colored trousers were stuffed into shiny black boots that had decorative silver buckles at the ankles and emphasized his long, powerful legs. She swallowed hard when she noticed the jagged cut and swelling at the corner of his mouth where Staunton had hit him. The injury made him look all the more handsome, roguish, and unattainable. But she was most captivated by how relaxed and casual he seemed in her home, playing cards and conversing with her aunt.
Gabrielle had the unusual urge to stomp her foot in frustration. Why wasn’t he upset and irritated that she was so late? Her father would have been red-faced with anger and pacing at the bottom of the stairs, shouting for her to hurry. Obviously, she was going to have to try harder in order to displease the very likable Lord Brentwood.
“Your tardiness wasn’t a problem for me, but the wait was made better when fortune smiled on me. Mrs. Potter came along and saw me sitting here alone. We started talking about cards.”
“Yes,” Auntie Bethie said, picking up the story. “And Lord Brentwood was kind enough to show me a few pointers.”
“Nonsense, Auntie,” Gabrielle said with a smile and then reached down and kissed her aunt on the cheek. “You may have fooled Lord Brentwood for a time with your cunning ways, but you know you cannot fool me. You are an excellent card player and need no instruction from anyone.”
“I can always learn a thing or two from a handsome gentleman.”
“Not at cards.” Gabrielle smiled. “No doubt you were trying to win some blunt off him, and if you did, you must give it back right now.”
“Never, my darling. The money I won is all mine.” Her aunt laughed, reached up, and patted Gabrielle’s cheek affectionately. “And if that is the kind of disrespect you are going to show your favorite aunt, you can put on your bonnet and leave for the park straightaway.”
“Perhaps we should, before you have the viscount thinking you are a helpless lady in need of rescuing.” Gabrielle turned to Lord Brentwood. “Shall we go?”
“I’m ready,” he said to Gabrielle and then turned to her aunt. “Thank you for a lovely visit, Mrs. Potter.”
“Remember, if you’re not back in two hours, I’ll come looking for you,” her aunt called in a friendly tone as they left the room.
“We certainly don’t want that, Auntie,” Gabrielle threw over her shoulder.
Lord Brentwood paused at the doorway and said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Potter, we won’t be late.”
“See that you aren’t. I’m growing quite fond of you and I don’t want that to change.”
Gabrielle and Lord Brentwood stopped in the vestibule to pick up her parasol, cape, and gloves, and his coat, hat, and gloves. While he donned his outer clothing, Brutus came walking down the corridor. Her heart went out to the lumbering old dog as she tied the ribbon of her rush-brimmed bonnet under her chin.
On impulse, she turned to Lord Brentwood and asked, “Would you mind terribly if Brutus came with us?”
Lord Brentwood looked at Brutus and then back to Gabrielle. She saw the corner of his lips twitch just a bit as he hesitated before answering. She held her breath.
She could see it was on the tip of his tongue to deny her request, but instead he put a smile on his face, looked down at the dog, and said, “Of course not. Brutus and I are old friends now, aren’t we?”
Gabrielle let out her breath and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, my lord. He won’t be any trouble at all.”
When they reached the carriage, which was parked on the street in front of her house, he helped her step up and into the curricle. While she seated herself, he looked down at Brutus and said, “Come on, boy, you’re next. Up you go.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, my lord,” Gabrielle said with concern. “Brutus is too old to climb steps without a boost. I’ll go get Muggs to help him into the carriage for us.” She started to rise.