A Gentleman Never Tells(8)
No longer able to hide the turmoil churning inside her, a shiver of outrage shook her. Gabrielle gasped so loudly Brutus growled a warning.
Gabrielle’s chin lifted defiantly. “Lord Austerhill, you owe me an apology. My gown was never off my shoulders.” She looked down at the bodice of her dress and winced inside when she saw the delicate lace that had edged the neckline of her dress was torn free. Hastily she added, “A bit of lace was ripped away from the fabric when it caught on the button on Lord Brentwood’s sleeve. That is all.”
“Ha!” Lord Austerhill shouted loudly. “As if any of that matters anyway. Tell the story any way you like. It won’t change what was going on here or the outcome it has now created.”
Resentment and anger at the man’s pompous attitude festered inside Gabrielle. She was the one who had been wronged by his son carrying on a tryst with her sister. Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest and tell the man the ugly truth she had discovered just hours ago at the ball at the Great Hall, but caught herself. Accusing his son would mean telling on her sister, as well, and while Gabrielle wanted to strangle the impetuous Rosabelle for her deception and betrayal, she couldn’t risk ruining her by telling Lord Austerhill and her father what had been going on between Rosabelle and Staunton.
“Now see here, Austerhill,” her father stated firmly. “That is enough of that kind of talk. There has to be a reasonable explanation for what we witnessed.”
Austerhill took the bowl of his pipe and knocked it quite firmly against his palm, sending ashes fluttering to the ground. Somehow, Gabrielle knew the man was telling her that, to him, her worth was no more than ashes to be trampled beneath his feet.
The earl looked up at her father with steely eyes and a grim expression. “Maybe you need clarification to satisfy your questions concerning your daughter’s actions, Duke, but I do not. My son is not going to marry a woman who was caught alone with a man for any reason. All I can add is I thank the saints in heaven I found out what kind of person she is before she married my son and became his wife.”
“Austerhill. There is no call to get—”
“I’m done here,” the earl said, sticking the pipe in the pocket of his greatcoat. “If my son’s wife is ever with child, I damn well want to be sure he is the father.”
Gabrielle gasped, and anger surged inside her. “You go too far, my lord.”
Lord Austerhill twisted his lips into a sneer at Gabrielle, turned, and stomped away.
“Wait,” her father called furiously to the earl’s retreating back. “You can’t leave. Where are you going?”
“To tell my son his wedding is off because his betrothed is…”
Gabrielle didn’t hear Lord Austerhill’s last words and was glad she didn’t. By the revulsion in his parting glance and the loud gasp from her father, she could imagine what he’d said.
“Damn you, man,” her father yelled and started after him. “This was not her fault, I tell you. Get back here!”
Lord Austerhill called to his servant, and the man immediately dropped his hold on the viscount and followed the earl until they disappeared into the mist.
Gabrielle’s father turned on her with rage. “By all the angels in heaven, what made you pull such a foolhardy stunt as this? I could imagine something like this from your sister, or even from your brother, but not you! You have always been my sensible daughter. Now look what you have done!”
Once again she retreated into silence. She had no answer for him.
“What in God’s name was going on between you two?” her father barked. “You have ruined everything! Do you know what you’ve done, the money this is going to cost me, girl?”
Gabrielle blinked at her father’s harsh tone. She had always known the wedding was for her father’s financial benefit and not her own happiness, but hearing him actually say the words pained her and, once again, her stomach quaked.
“Yes, Papa, I know,” she said softly, keeping her gaze locked on the viscount.
“Then explain yourself, Daughter. Have you no shame? By all that’s sacred, tell me why you agreed to meet him.” Her father threw a finger toward the viscount.
“It wasn’t planned. It just happened,” she said, knowing it was the truth but also knowing it didn’t explain anything. There was no logical answer for what she had done.
“Really?” her father asked in an incredulous voice as he threw a glance in Lord Brentwood’s direction. “Do you expect me to believe you woke before daybreak and decided you were going to take Brutus for a walk in the park and, by chance, you happened to meet a stranger, embrace him, and end up kissing him by accident?”