His Favorite Mistress Page 13

  The stranger’s lips pinched together. “Yes, you should beg my pardon, girl, and for far more than your graceless ineptitude. I suppose you did that deliberately.”

  Gabriella stared for a moment, her lips parting in astonishment. “No, ma’am. I am afraid I did not see you as I passed.”

  Tilting her elegant coiffure of light brown hair, the woman sniffed, then wrinkled her nose as though a foul stench hung in the air. “So you say. And I suppose next you will claim not to know who I am.”

  Gabriella stiffened, a mixture of confusion and insult traveling in a greasy slide through her system. Her senses tingled, alarm bells ringing out as she more closely studied the woman’s face. Obviously, she thought Gabriella should recognize her, but to her knowledge, she’d never seen the woman before in her life.

  Mayhap she is mistaken? Gabriella puzzled. Mayhap she has confused me for someone else?

  But as she studied the woman—older than she by a decade or more—she began to see past the whole to the various features. Sandy-colored hair, blue eyes, and a nose that…Good heavens, she has a nose that looks exactly like my father’s! Gabriella determined. A nose that looks remarkably like mine!

  “Ah,” the woman drawled, “Is recognition now beginning to dawn?”

  “Are you…are you my aunt?”

  The woman’s lips pinched even tighter. “I most certainly am not, even if you may claim to have my brother’s blood running through your baseborn veins.”

  So this was one of her paternal relations. One of her two aunts, and who knew how many assorted cousins, who had never expressed so much as a passing interest in acknowledging her existence.

  “I do not claim it,” Gabriella said with quiet resolve. “My father was Burton St. George, Viscount Middleton. I have no doubt of that fact, since he visited my mother and me over the years while I was growing up and freely acknowledged me as his own. The last time I saw Papa was only a few months before his death.”

  Her aunt gave a soft hiss. “How dare you speak of the late Lord Middleton in such familiar terms! And how dare you have the temerity to use the St. George name as if it were your own! You haven’t the right. Whatever your whore of a mother was called, that is how you should be called.”

  A collective gasp came from the people standing nearby. Until then, Gabriella had not known anyone else was listening. She felt her cheeks pale, her ears ringing suddenly as if she’d been slapped hard across the face. Before she knew what she meant to do, she heard herself speaking. “I am as much a St. George as you. Aunt!”

  The other woman looked like the one who had been slapped this time, her eyes narrowing with obvious displeasure. “You are an affront to polite Society, you little guttersnipe. I cannot countenance why you have been allowed to parade yourself among the good people of the Ton as if you belong. Despite your important friends, you should be cast out. I, for one, will never acknowledge you, nor will any other St. George. You, girl, have no family.”

  “She has plenty of family,” interjected a commanding voice from just over Gabriella’s right shoulder. She didn’t need to glance around to know that Wyvern now stood at her side. Despite her recent pique with him, relief swept through her, along with the wish that she could turn and lean into his strength. Instead she held herself steady, her spine proud and straight.

  “The Pendragons quite consider her one of their own,” Wyvern continued in her defense. “As for the other, you are correct. Miss St. George does enjoy the protection of many influential friends, myself included.”

  Pausing, he gave her aunt a look of such arrogant ducal condescension that his expression made Gabriella want to shiver—Wyvern staring down the length of his long, patrician nose as if he’d suddenly discovered something repellent in his path. “You know, Lady Munroe,” he drawled in a bored tone. “I cannot recall the last time I noticed you at one of the same entertainments as myself. I had rather imagined the Aptons to have better taste. Perhaps I shall need to take more care in choosing the invitations I accept in future.”

  A fresh round of gasps rose into the air, an entire sea of eyes now upon them.

  As Gabriella watched, her aunt’s face turned a telling shade of plum, her mouth opening and closing like a just-caught trout. “Your Grace, that is most unfair—”

  Ignoring her, he turned and extended his arm to Gabriella. “Miss St. George, shall we take a turn around the room? I find the air on the other side far more refreshing.”

  Deciding that silence would be the most effective response, she laid her hand on the sleeve of his black evening coat and allowed him to lead her away. Once they were safely out of earshot, she leaned closer. “My thanks, Wyvern. It was very good of you to come to my aid.”

  “From what I observed, you appeared to be holding your own rather well, but you are welcome. I feel I must warn you, though, that your thanks may be a tad premature.”

  She lifted an inquiring brow. “Oh, how so?”

  He angled his head toward her. “Your Aunt Phyllis is not without power in Society. Should she wish, she could cause you a great deal of trouble.”

  “But why? Heavens, before tonight I had never even met her.”

  Rounding a corner, he continued strolling with her along the room’s periphery. “I suspect she sees you as a threat to her reputation. A visible reminder of her brother’s indiscretions made public. That and the fact that she is an unpleasant, mean-spirited dragon.”

  As they walked, she couldn’t help but notice the looks directed their way. Her way.

  Wyvern apparently noticed as well. “Chin up and smile,” he urged in a low tone. “It won’t do for anyone to think you were affected by her venom.”

  Deliberately, she forced her lips to curve upward, showing him her teeth for good measure. “There! How is that?”

  He laughed. “Excellent. Though if you aren’t careful, you may blind some passerby with that amount of illumination.”

  “Very funny, Your Grace.”

  “The moment seemed in need of a spot of levity.” His gaze met hers, warmth shining in his dark blue eyes. This time the smile she gave him was genuine.

  “Now that’s lovely.” Reaching across, he squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. “Don’t worry, Gabriella. You have done splendidly so far this Season and your success shall continue. We will not let tonight’s incident be your undoing, I promise you that.”

  “Do you, Your Grace?”

  He nodded. “Yes. If we act immediately, I feel confident we can quash whatever difficulties your aunt or her friends may try to stir up. My title alone lends me significant influence among the Ton. With support from a few other well-placed individuals, tonight’s dustup should fade from Society’s collective memory soon enough. I propose we begin tomorrow with a ride in the park.”

  A ride, is it? she thought. I have barely seen him in the past several days and now he wants to ride with me in the park. Despite knowing she should simply accept his offer and be grateful for his help, a sliver of her earlier annoyance returned.

  “Ah,” she stated, “am I to assume then that your social calendar has suddenly developed a few additional openings? I could not help but take note of how extraordinarily busy you have been of late.”

  A weighty pause followed, her statement obviously having caught him out. “My…um…schedule has been full recently. Yours as well, I must say. From my observation, you are never without your choice of escort.”

  She lifted her chin in a kind of silent retort. “No, I am not. Lord Carlow continues to call.”

  A scowl lowered over his brow. “Does he?”

  “Indeed,” she declared, striving for a breezy tone.

  His jaw tightened perceptibly, his gaze hardening.

  “I am taking care, however,” she amended, “to avoid finding myself alone with him or any of my other suitors. As you so aptly demonstrated, such situations have a way of quickly getting out of control.”

  Memories of just how out of control matters had gotte
n between them when they’d last been alone flashed inside her mind. She wondered if such thoughts were replaying inside his head as well, since abruptly he stopped and turned her so his broad-shouldered body shielded her from the room. Maneuvering her back toward the wall, he created a veil of privacy.

  “Exactly so,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping. “I am relieved to hear you are exercising prudence.”

  Her blood beat faster, the noise and crush of the ballroom fading from her awareness. “Yes. It seemed wise.”

  Wyvern leaned nearer, his whiskied voice sliding over her like a caress. “Well, then, shall we take that ride tomorrow?”

  For a second she wondered to what sort of ride he was really referring. Horses, of course, she admonished herself. Nothing but horses. Her lashes swept downward for a brief moment as she steadied herself. “Yes. All right.”

  He gazed into her eyes for another long moment before he slowly eased away. “If I am not mistaken, supper is about to begin. Why do we not share the meal together and plot our strategy?”

  “So it is to be a battle, then?”

  “Of course. If a thing isn’t worth fighting for, it isn’t worth doing.”

  She considered the sentiment, wondering if he would also apply it in the case of love. Shaking off such musings, she again took his extended arm. Together, they resumed their stroll.

  Chapter Nine

  “DID YOU SEE that?” Gabriella remarked the following afternoon as she walked her horse beside Tony’s along Hyde Park’s Rotten Row. “That woman ahead just turned her mount around rather than ride past us.”

  Yes, Tony thought, I did see, taking full note of the snub. Outwardly, however, he let none of his concern show, giving a nonchalant shrug. “She must be a friend of your aunt’s. I wouldn’t let it trouble you.”

  But that reaction, although by far the boldest, was not the only one to be cast in Gabriella’s direction since their arrival in the park half an hour ago. Obviously Gabriella’s aunt, Lady Munroe, had wasted no time in spreading more of her vitriol, aided no doubt by rampant gossip about last night’s encounter between her and Gabriella.

  While it was true that Gabriella’s parentage had never been kept secret, neither had her illegitimacy been pushed so forcefully out into the open. The Ton as a group didn’t like having their noses rubbed in scandal or impropriety, and being publicly reminded of both gave some of those previously willing to look the other way an excuse to rethink their opinion. Tony knew he could count on the support of his friends and those acquaintances who didn’t dare risk his censure. But there were others—a few very influential and independent others—who had the power to either lift Gabriella above the fray or crush her beneath Society’s heartless boot heel. Those were the people he and Gabriella needed to meet and win over to their side.

  Whatever the gossip, however, Tony knew no one could find fault with her appearance nor claim she didn’t look every inch a lady. Attired in a riding habit of willow-green satin, she looked as regal as a princess, her translucent complexion aglow with healthy color, her eyes soft as rain-washed violets. A dashing cut-straw hat with an impish white feather sat atop her lustrous upswept sable tresses, a few strands left to curl beguilingly against her forehead and cheeks.

  What a beauty she is! he thought. And not only on the outside. As he well knew, her spirit was every bit as lovely as her face and figure, with the warmth and vibrancy of a perfect summer day. For that reason alone, he refused to let her suffer her aunt’s wrath or endure Society’s censure. After all, people don’t choose their parents, only how they decide to conduct themselves throughout their life. And from his observation, Gabriella was doing an admirable job conducting hers.

  Just then, she glanced over and caught him watching her, a small, intimate smile lifting the corners of her winsome pink lips. He smiled back, the impact of her innocent response shooting through his vitals. Hunger coursed through him rushing low to stiffen the flesh between his legs. Still gazing at her mouth, he fought the impulse to lean across and kiss her.

  Now wouldn’t that give the tattle mongers something to talk about!

  Controlling himself, Tony straightened in his saddle and looked ahead, idly scanning the crowd of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen gathered in the park for Fashionable Hour. That’s when he noticed Dickey Milton riding their way.

  A rising arbiter of fashion, Milton prided himself on being the new Brummell, now that the once great man had fallen from Prinny’s favor and departed for the Continent. If Gabriella could earn Milton’s support, his influence would go a long way to resecuring her place in Society. After a brief pause to speak to a couple promenading past, Milton reached them and drew to a halt. Tony and Gabriella did the same.

  “Wyvern,” Milton greeted, inclining his dark blond head. “How do you do on this fine day?”

  “Quite well, thank you, Milton. I trust you enjoy the same.”

  “Oh, I’m in the pink as always, particularly now that Weston has finished tailoring my new coat.” He tugged at a single dark blue cuff. “A quality cut, I tell you, that’s the key. A man can’t go wrong if he has a solid base on which to conduct his affairs. But enough about me when there is a lady present. Pray introduce us, Wyvern, if you would be so good.”

  Tony could tell by the gleam in Milton’s eye that the other man was well aware of Gabriella’s identity—and the whirlwind of gossip swirling around her. For her sake, however, he decided to play along. With a minimum of fanfare, he made the introductions. Once they were done, Milton raised his quizzing glass to his eye and swept his gaze over Gabriella from head to foot. Tony saw her stiffen slightly but maintain her composure with admirable equanimity.

  “Do I pass inspection?” she inquired once Milton let the glass fall away from his eye to dangle at the end of a matching blue ribbon attached to his waistcoat. Up arched one of Dickey’s censorious eyebrows. Tony wondered if her blunt comment had gone too far, half expecting a comeback cold enough to inflict frostbite, and the need to say their farewells and quickly move on.

  Instead, Milton gave her another long stare. “That green is exquisite against your brunette coloring, brings out the pink in your cheeks. The style of your dress is excellent as well. You may give your mantua maker my compliments on her efforts.”

  Gabriella inclined her head. “Thank you. I shall convey your approval to her at my earliest convenience.”

  “So your mother was an actress, was she?” Milton continued.

  “That’s right, she was,” Gabriella stated, pride ringing clearly in her voice.

  “Hmm. Always been partial to actresses myself, don’t you know. I find them full of fun and mischief, traits that I suspect may have been passed down to you. No aspirations to tread the boards yourself then?”

  “No.” She paused for an instant, her gaze unwavering from Milton’s. “Actually, I find Society a great enough acting challenge all on its own. The stages at Drury Lane and Covent Gardens fairly pale in comparison.”

  A notable silence fell before Milton tossed back his head and released a booming laugh. “Quite so, m’dear. Quite so.” He shifted his gaze to Tony. “This one’s got wit as well as pluck, unlike the usual crop of dull-as-dishwater misses. I can see why you like her, Wyvern. I believe I like her, m’self.”

  Under Tony’s watchful gaze, Milton tossed Gabriella a grin, then added an extravagant wink.

  Gabriella laughed in reply.

  Tony’s fingers tightened fractionally on his reins. “You’re right, Milton. I do like Miss St. George, which is why I hope you will do what you can to assist her. I presume you have heard the talk.”

  The smile eased from Milton’s angular face. “Oh, I hear all the talk, however small or large it might be. Sorry business that, what happened last night. My sympathy for any distress it has caused you, Miss St. George.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriella said.

  Milton inclined his head, then turned his attention once more toward Tony. “Of course I shall be
glad to do what I can. Lady Munroe is a humorless sort for whom I’ve never particularly cared. Any opportunity to take a bit of the wind out of her sails sounds a fine idea to me.”

  “You believe it can be done?” Gabriella questioned.

  Milton puffed out his chest with affronted pride. “I don’t believe it, I know it. Never fear, Miss St. George. With Wyvern and myself here to lend you the combined strength of our consequence, your aunt doesn’t stand a chance. Her efforts against you shall soon be put to rest.”

  Relaxing visibly, Gabriella sent Milton a smile.

  The three of them chatted for another couple of minutes before Milton bid Tony and Gabriella a cheerful farewell. Once he had gone on his way, they urged their horses into a walk and continued their ride.

  After only a few feet, Gabriella turned her head and met Tony’s gaze. “Thank you.”

  He raised an inquiring brow. “Whatever for?”

  “For everything. For accompanying me here today and for making a point of introducing me to someone like Mr. Milton. Given the chilly reactions I’m receiving today from some quarters, it would appear your concern about my aunt’s influence is by no means exaggerated. No matter the outcome, though, I shall not forget your kindness.”

  Tony shook off the comment. “As I believe I once told you, I am never kind, so your gratitude is entirely unnecessary. As for the other, all will come right, you will see. Besides, any young woman brave enough to have once held me at gunpoint and who can shoot arrows with the skill of an Amazon queen is a woman perfectly capable of withstanding a bit of rough social weather. You will come clear of this. I shall make sure you do.”

  At Almacks the following Wednesday evening, Gabriella sat on a chair and watched the assembled couples whirl by. As they did, she assured herself she didn’t mind sitting out the dance. Nor was she upset about her lack of a partner for the set that had preceded it. She’d danced several times tonight, and was in no way being relegated to the role of a wallflower.

  Still, she couldn’t help but notice the desertion of certain gentlemen over the last several days, her usual group of callers having dwindled to a numbered handful—a loyal handful—that included Lord Carlow and four slightly wild young men who were known for disdaining Society’s edicts. And of course there was Wyvern and Mr. Milton, both of whom championed her at every opportunity. Were it not for their efforts on her behalf, she very much suspected her vouchers for tonight’s entertainment would have been withdrawn.