A Gentleman Never Tells(65)

“Church every Sunday?” he asked, playing along with her.

“Well, almost every Sunday,” she said innocently, tying the ribbon of her bonnet under her chin.

“All right, Sunday at church it is.” He bent on one knee and started putting their things in the basket. He took the leftover bread and gave it to Brutus, who finished it off in two bites.

He handed Gabrielle her gloves and reticule, and then wrapped his scarf around his neck. “I don’t see your poetry here. I think the wind must have blown it away while we were otherwise occupied.”

“No matter,” she said with a teasing smile. “I have plenty more. I try to write a few lines of poetry every day. After we’re married, I shall read poetry to you every morning when we wake and every evening when we sit before the fire.”

“Church every Sunday and poetry twice a day would make me a blessed man indeed,” Brent whispered under his breath as he closed the lid on the basket and took it to the carriage.

Gabrielle picked up the blanket and shook it. “And there’s one other thing,” she said.

He could hardly wait to hear what nonsense she was going to come up with next. “What’s that?” he said, taking the opposite ends of the blanket and helping her to fold it.

“Perhaps after church you would be kind enough to take me to the fair I’ve heard about. Papa never had the time. It’s on the south side of Town. I’ve heard they have an albino hawk, an Indian juggler, a tiger from Bengal, and all the acrobats’ feats are exceptional as well.”

Brent chuckled to himself as he laid the blanket in the carriage. She was the exceptional one, surprising him with talk of going to church one moment, madness and ghosts the next, and then reading poetry and wanting to go to exotic events at a carnival.

“I think I can manage that.”

“That would be lovely.”

He took her hand and lightly squeezed her fingers as he helped her into the carriage. “Come on, Brutus, your turn.”

It was a bit of a struggle, but with lifting the old dog’s hind legs and pushing, Brent finally got Brutus into the carriage. Brent jumped up beside Gabrielle, leaned his thigh next to hers, and then picked up the ribbons.

He looked at her, and she smiled so sweetly at him he almost dropped the ribbons and kissed her.

“Auntie Bethie absolutely adores fairs,” Gabrielle said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “She will be thrilled to hear you are taking us.”

“So Mrs. Potter will be joining us, and I assume your sister, too, since she will be with us at church.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Brent looked at Gabrielle and suddenly it was as clear as a blue sky to him what she was doing. She was trying her best to annoy him and to make herself seem an unsuitable match for him. But what she didn’t know was the harder she tried to make herself unappealing, the more appealing she became.

He reached over and kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s your outing, Gabrie, you may invite whomever you wish.”

He released the brake handle and clicked the ribbons on the horses’ rumps. The carriage took off with a jolt and a rattle of harness.





Thirteen



None are so fond of secrets as those who do not mean to keep them.

—Charles Caleb Colton

Gabrielle and Brutus walked into the house after a brief good-bye to Brent at her front door. Brutus didn’t stop but continued down the corridor. Gabrielle knew he was heading for his pillow by the fireplace. She took her time removing her bonnet, cape, gloves, and pelisse. She was more confused than ever.

The problem was she had enjoyed every invigorating moment with the viscount. She enjoyed looking at him, talking to him, and kissing him. She found it stimulating to match wits with him, frustrating to try to astonish him, and humbling to commiserate with him over Prissy’s disappearance.

Her hands stilled when she caught sight of herself in the mirror that hung over one of the side tables in the vestibule. She was smiling, smiling because being with Lord Brentwood made her happy. He had many good qualities to recommend him. He was handsome, dashing, and pleasant. She had never enjoyed her time with Staunton. The earl’s son was handsome, but Gabrielle couldn’t ever remember smiling with him over a shared pleasure, lying awake at night and longing for his kisses, or praying some turn of events would happen so she could see him before the day was over.

Lord Brentwood was exciting and very appealing to all her senses. And already she missed not being with him.