His Favorite Mistress Page 11
“Do you not? Well, perhaps so, since she was good enough to grant me a voucher. Still, her remarks about my parents were rude.”
“She was thoughtless in her choice of words, I agree.” Julianna paused a moment as the coachman set their vehicle into motion, the wheels rumbling quietly against the Mayfair street. “But I would be remiss if I did not warn you that you may hear far worse this Season. The Ton can be quite severe in its opinions and cruel to those whom it deems lacking in matters of bloodline or wealth.”
“Well, if those are the sorts of people with whom I must associate, then perhaps I do not care to keep their company after all. They can find someone else to ridicule and deem lacking.”
Julianna reached across with a reassuring touch. “But you are not lacking, not in the slightest. You are a fine young woman for whom I have already come to care. And while it is true that you may encounter a few pompous sticklers who thrive on being hateful to others, do not ever let them hold sway over you. There are just as many people in Society who possess a good and generous nature. Seek them out and do not let the sour apples spoil your fun. And you will have fun, unless you quit the game before you have even begun it.”
On an exhale, Gabriella released the worst of her temper and hurt. Julianna is right, she thought. Why toss away my opportunities because of a few inconsiderate words? And to be fair, Lady Sefton had spoken nothing but the truth.
Handsome and aristocratic as he may have been, she knew that her father had been guilty of some heartless and brutal acts, as much as the knowledge might still pain her to admit. As for Mama—well, she had been an actress; that was a fact. But though Society might look down on the profession, that did not mean she must do the same. She would always remember her mother as beautiful and kind, a woman with a healthy appetite for life who had shared that gift with her daughter and everyone around her. If she were still alive, Mama would have told her to be proud and do whatever it took to succeed.
“Just look at you, Gabby,” she would have said. “My little girl rubbing elbows with the nobs like she were one of them. Going to fine parties and fancy balls, wearing gorgeous gowns and living in a big, grand house, and all without having to turn so much as a bit of ankle for the gentlemen folk. Now, there’s the life, I’ll say.”
No, Gabriella decided, she was made of far sterner stuff than to let the Lady Seftons of the world deter her. Anyway, Julianna would be crushed if she did not follow through and participate in the Season. And she would feel horribly guilty over all the expense and trouble to which the Pendragons had already gone on her behalf should she withdraw. She couldn’t let them down—or herself, she realized. I shall stay, she vowed, regardless of what people may think or say of me.
Glancing across the coach, she saw Julianna watching her with a concerned expression. “So, when do those vouchers arrive? I hope in time for me to wear my new gown with the seed pearls on the bodice. The dressmaker’s sketch of the ensemble looked utterly divine.”
A relieved smile broke over Julianna’s face. “You’re going to look a dream in that gown, I agree. The gentlemen won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”
Hopefully, Wyvern will be among them. Perhaps he might even experience a twinge of jealousy should enough men look my way, Gabriella mused. Now wouldn’t that prove interesting?
“So, what are you wearing tonight?” Julianna continued. “The pink polonaise or the cream chiffon?”
Tony had missed the receiving line, the dancing long since underway by the time he strolled into the Hoxleys’ crowded ballroom just a few minutes shy of midnight that evening. Keen as a fox, he had planned his arrival with premeditated precision, wanting to be able to slip into the party in a manner designed to attract the least amount of notice or bother.
And so far, his plan appeared to be working. All the eager, matrimony-minded mamas were ensconced in chairs as they busily gossiped with their friends, while their daughters whirled across the ballroom floor in the arms of their current partners, the girls’ quota of available dances already promised for the remainder of the night. Which left Tony free to have a drink, talk to friends, and play a hand or two of cards—all without the nuisance of fending off unwanted feminine overtures.
Scanning the crowd, he looked for a few of his cronies, wondering if Ethan had decided to put in an appearance tonight. Or if Rafe might be there, ready to engage in their promised rematch at piquet. As his gaze roved over the sea of faces, though, his eyes stopped abruptly when he came across one countenance in particular.
Lord, she’s even lovelier than I remember, he thought, allowing his eyelids to droop low so he could indulge in a long, surreptitious stare at Gabriella St. George’s vivacious, raven-haired beauty. An answering heat formed in his loins, one he ruthlessly forced himself to suppress.
He supposed he should have known she would be in attendance tonight. Crossing paths with her here in Town was inevitable, and long overdue, he admitted. Since leaving the Pendragons’ estate nearly a month ago, he’d kept himself busy, thoughts of Gabriella growing fewer and farther between, just as he’d assured himself they would.
For two weeks he’d gone home to Rosemeade, immersing himself in all manner of estate business—working with his secretary to review the accounts and answer correspondence, meeting with tenants about their various concerns, and answering a request from his mother to increase her quarterly allowance again. Once he’d finished with that, he’d literally rolled up his sleeves and set about the messy business of clearing a dam that had formed in one of the nearby riverbeds after a recent, violent rainstorm.
He could have let his groundskeepers see to the task, he knew, but he liked engaging in a bit of hard, physical labor every now and then, both as a way to clear his mind and to keep his sense of hubris in check. Having acceded to the dukedom at age ten, he knew how easy it could be to lose one’s way among all the fawning posturers and false aggrandizements that came with the title. Clearing a dam or thatching a roof went a long way toward making everything seem less complicated and not nearly so important, after all.
The following week, he’d journeyed south to London, spending his time riding and driving, going to his clubs, and visiting with friends. And although he could have called at the Pendragon townhouse in Bloomsbury, he had decided to let matters remain as they were, with Gabriella St. George out of his sight—and thus, out of his mind.
But now here she was again, dancing only a few feet distant, the mere sight of her enough to resurrect forbidden urges and dark longings that were best confined to private alcoves and candlelit bedchambers.
Angel or siren, he couldn’t decide, Gabriella’s dark, vibrant beauty and pert violet eyes a genuine rapture to behold. Draped in a length of pale pink silk, her slender figure showed to stunning perfection, a healthy wash of color gracing her cheeks as she performed the intricate steps of a country dance. Unaware of his observation, she tossed back her head on a laugh, obviously appreciating whatever remark her partner had just made.
He clenched, then unclenched his jaw, telling himself he was glad to see her so plainly enjoying herself. Just as he had known she would, she had let go of her initial infatuation with him and turned elsewhere. With all that London had to offer, she was clearly caught up in the whirl of the Season, relishing the chance to make new friends and strike up flirtations with gentlemen other than himself. Gentleman far closer to her own age; men who had marriage on their minds.
At least those young men’s intentions had better be honorable, he thought. If they weren’t, they would soon find themselves rethinking the matter—and seriously—or else face the consequences of his wrath. For in spite of his recent absence from Gabriella’s side, he had by no means forgotten his promise to watch over her. True, he might do most of his watching from a distance, but he would watch nevertheless.
Shaking open the fist he found squeezed tight at his hip, he turned and strode away, knowing she was well occupied for the next few minutes with the dance.
“Ladies, how do you do this evening?” he greeted, offering a bow.
The women turned, Gabriella’s gaze immediately lifting to meet his own. “Your Grace,” she murmured, a smile curving her lips as she curtseyed.
“Tony,” Julianna said, accepting a friendly kiss on the cheek. “When did you arrive? I was beginning to think you were going to stay away tonight and make liars of all the gossips. You slipped in like a phantom.”
He grinned, in no way hiding his lack of repentance. “Precisely.”
“That is very bad of you, you know.”
“Well, I strive to never be accused of being too good nor too predictable.”
“Well, you succeed admirably on both counts. Do you not agree, Gabriella?”
“Oh, yes. His Grace enjoys teasing and taunting us all. Perhaps that is why we have seen so little of him of late despite his having been in the city for several days.”
He raised a brow at her undisguised reprimand, seeing she hadn’t lost the free use of her tongue since their last meeting. “Forgive me, Miss St. George. You are quite right to scold me for the omission. Though from what I hear, you’ve had no lack of callers since your arrival in Town.”
“Thanks to Julianna’s generous intercession on my behalf, that is quite true,” Gabriella said.
“Oh, you don’t do yourself enough justice,” Julianna said. “I know the gentlemen certainly haven’t been dropping by the house and sending flowers because of any urging on my part. Gabriella is taking splendidly. I won’t be surprised if she has more than a few offers of marriage by the end of the Season. Whether or not she wishes to accept any of them is another matter.”
Involuntarily, his hand tightened at his hip. “I am sure she will be greatly in demand. After all, Miss St. George is an exceedingly lovely young woman whom any man would be lucky to win.” He met Gabriella’s gaze. “Which is why I assume your dance card is completely filled this evening?”
“Actually, Your Grace,” Gabriella said, “as it would happen, I have the next set free. And if you will recall, you did promise to stand up with me when we next met in Town.”
Adroitly hoist on his own petard, he could do nothing but agree. Although, to be honest, he found he didn’t at all mind the idea of dancing with Gabriella. “So I did. Miss St. George, may I have the pleasure of this next dance?”
Her lips tightened. Just for an instant, he thought she was going to refuse him, but then she smiled and inclined her head. “Thank you, Wyvern. I would be delighted.”
“Julianna,” he said, “I trust you will forgive the two of us for abandoning you?”
She waved a casual hand toward the dance floor. “Of course, go on and enjoy yourselves. It will give me an opportunity to find out where Rafe has gone. I suspect he is either playing cards or talking politics. Bonaparte is the most likely topic of conversation now that the little tyrant has escaped Elba and started the war raging again on the Continent. Have fun and I shall see you both in a bit.”
With a parting smile, she walked away, leaving him and Gabriella alone—if one could view standing in a crowded ballroom as being alone. Yet oddly enough, that is how the moment felt, especially when she raised her gaze to his. The extraordinary depth and color of her eyes sent a rush of hot and cold over his skin, his pulse giving a hard kick as an unbidden fist of arousal once again lodged where it had no place being.
Tearing away his gaze, he held out his arm. “Shall we?” He waited while she laid a small palm against his black coat sleeve, then led her forward.
“So how are you finding the Season? Is it everything you had hoped?” he inquired as they took their places among the other couples assembling for the set.
She arched a brow. “Since I harbored no particular expectations from the outset, I must say it is everything I could have dreamt and more. I am continually amazed, much like a sparrow who finds herself thrust into a cage full of canaries.”
He flashed her an amused smile. “You are hardly a sparrow.”
“Well, don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I feel like one masquerading in her fine new feathers. The Pendragons may have provided me with an array of gorgeous silks and satins, but I still remember when I had nothing but plain, serviceable cotton to wear.”
“Silk or cotton, you look equally beautiful in either.”
A warm gleam came into Gabriella’s gaze and she opened her mouth to reply. But the moment she did, the music began and seconds later, the dance.
Due to the required movements, she found him moving away from her as often as he came near, her hands clasped inside his own for a few brief moments before he released her and stepped away. The experience was as frustrating as it was satisfying, a kind of sanctioned public titillation. At least that is how it seemed to her as she danced with the duke. Although she had to admit she had never felt this way with any of her previous dance partners.
“You owe me a ride, you know,” she said when their hands were joined again. “Considering how you had to hurry home that last day in the country.”
His brow shot skyward. “I had business, if you will recall.”
The dance forced them apart. Gabriella bided her time until they came together again. “It’s all done now, I assume?” she commented in a lilting voice.
His eyes twinkled. “For the moment, though one never knows when it will once more rear its head.”
“An ugly head, too, I would imagine,” she quipped.
A laugh escaped him. “At times, though not all business is bad. On occasion it can be quite pleasurable.”
“Many things can be pleasurable. Riding, for instance. I packed my blue habit, by the way. Though since arriving in Town, I’ve added a very smart lavender one to my wardrobe as well. Lord Carlow and Mr. Hughes both informed me the shade complements my eyes.”
Wyvern’s hand tightened around hers before he had to step away. She hid a smile, her heart thudding beneath her breast as she forced herself to continue dancing. From the opposite side of the line of dancers, she could feel his gaze, her skin tingling with awareness.
“So you’ve gone riding already, have you?” he demanded in a deep rumbling tone when the dance again brought them near.
“Just once. I have yet to christen my blue gown, though. You could help me break it in. Otherwise you never know who might be willing to do the deed.”
His hand squeezed hers again, a heated flash darkening his eyes. “Be careful in choosing your admirers. Some of them may seem harmless but possess a set of hidden motivations underneath their exteriors.”
“What of you, Your Grace? What hidden motivations do you have? Since a less harmless man I have never met.”
A slow smile curved his mouth, the music and the dance coming to an end. Yet he didn’t immediately release her, his gaze locked upon her own. “You are right. I am far from harmless and you would do well to remember that. Don’t play with tigers unless you’re prepared to get scratched.”
A shiver ran over her skin. “I’ll do my best to take care. Though to my way of thinking, tigers are nothing more than great, big cats in wont of a bit of taming.”
Another laugh rumbled from his throat before he offered her his arm. “Is that so? Come, minx. Let us find Rafe and Julianna.”
“As you will, Your Grace,” she demurred before laying her palm on his sleeve.
Chapter Eight
T HREE DAYS LATER, Tony called at the Pendragon townhouse. As Gabriella had so aptly pointed out, doing otherwise would be rude. Rafe and Julianna were his friends, after all, and if he ceased visiting them in their home, they would surely begin to wonder why. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was paying a specific call on Gabriella—since he most assuredly was not—but rather on the family as a whole. That’s why he’d chosen late morning, the hour being too advanc
ed for breakfast but too early for a regular social call.
Word had it the house filled with gentlemen in the afternoons, a collection of them gathering like a pack of hounds—all come to pant after Gabriella. The idea alone was enough to keep him away at that particular hour, since despite his promise to look after her, he had no intention of subjecting himself to such an appalling display. Julianna, he felt confident, was more than capable of acting as chaperone inside her own home. He certainly didn’t need to add his efforts. Anyway, if he took to dropping by while Gabriella’s coterie of suitors was present, Society might get the mistaken impression that he was one of them!
As he strode up the stone entrance steps, the door swung open, held wide by the Pendragons’ butler.
“Hello, Martin,” he greeted as he walked inside. “How are you this morning?”
“Very well, Your Grace. Thank you for inquiring. And yourself?”
Tony doffed his hat. “Excellent, all in all. Is Rafe available? In his office, I presume?”
“No, Your Grace, he left some time ago for a meeting at the Exchange. Bond merchants, I believe I heard him say.”
“Ah. What of her ladyship, then? Is she receiving?”
“I am sorry, but her ladyship is out as well, along with Miss St. George and Lady Vessey. A breakfast party, was my understanding.”
“Oh. Well, it would appear I have chosen a poor time to drop by.” Placing his hat back onto his head, he reached into his coat’s breast pocket for the small silver case that contained his calling cards. “Pray inform the family of my visit,” he said, withdrawing a single white rectangle with his name engraved in black.
Martin had just taken possession of the card when a lilting laugh tinkled in the air beyond the open door. Tony turned at the familiar sound.
“You were right, my lord,” declared Gabriella from outside. “Your carriage is exceptionally well sprung.”
“You must allow me to take you out again, Miss St. George,” came a deep male reply. “There is nothing better than an excursion around Mayfair on a sunny spring afternoon.”