by Jenna Jaxon
Gabriella couldn’t summon the courage to look the duke in the eyes. She stared instead at the polished table before him, a starred pattern inlaid in the wood. Why had Halford brought them here? And where was he?”
“No, Halford has not put in an appearance, and I demand to know what this is about.” Rother banged his fist on the table, making Gabriella jump.
The clock on the mantelpiece ticked so slowly, she wished it would stop. Time crawled by, and any second, she expected another explosion from the duke. If something didn’t happen soon, she’d turn and run as fast as she could back to the carriage, assuming she could find her way out of the house. Anything to escape the duke’s ominous expression.
At last, the duke came from behind the table, his tall form seeming to tower over them as he stalked closer. “Ladies, I am a busy man. I do not know what Halford is playing at, but I beg you to excuse me—”
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” Hal’s voice boomed as he entered the duke’s study.
Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Neither could she take her eyes off the dashing figure he made, like a fashion plate come to life in a blue jacket, buff pantaloons, shiny Hessians, and, of course, his tall D’Orsay hat. And coming to her rescue at the most necessary moment.
“I apologize for my tardiness, but the traffic was slower coming from the docks than I’d expected when I sent the notes.” Hal didn’t slow until he stood directly before the duke.
“The docks?” Rother gave him a puzzled frown.
“Yes, we arrived only this afternoon.” He glanced back at the open door.
Gabriella craned her neck and froze, a gasp trapped in her throat.
A small woman walked forward, dark hair piled under a stylish hat. Dressed in a gray silk gown and spencer, she carried her head regally until she stood before the duke. Her gaze never wavered from his face.
“Veronique.” The duke’s face drained of color, his lips alone keeping a pink tinge.
“Maman,” Gabrielle whispered.
“Your Grace.” Veronique d’Aventure curtsied and returned her gaze to him. “Lord Halford informs me you have a question to ask me.”
Gabriella caught her breath. Would her mother dare to provoke the duke? She started forward. Somehow she must help.
Hal grabbed her arm. “Let them work this out between them, my dear.”
She nodded, and he released her. Very well, she would see this scene played out to the end.
“Veronique, my God.” The duke came toward her, stealing out his hand, as though afraid to try to touch her. “Is it really you? You are still so beautiful.” He touched her cheek. “Just as I remember you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Her mother’s tone was gentle; her eyes were not. “The years have been kind to me.” She seemed to see him for the first time, and her face softened. “To us both.” She straightened and raised her chin. “You have a question for me concerning Gabriella?”
Color flooded back into his cheeks. “Because you did not contact me.” He glared at her, piercing her with his intense blue eyes. “You promised me, swore upon the cross, if you found yourself increasing, you would tell me.”
“You were betrothed.” She laughed mirthlessly, as cold as his eyes. “We knew you could do nothing. Consequences of a broken betrothal are not light in English society. I did not wish to burden you with the knowledge of a child you would never know.”
“But I would have—”
“Would have what? Thrown away your reputation and married a French woman?” Her mother’s eyes flashed. “Our countries were at war. How could you have explained your marriage to the enemy?”
“I would have sent for you. I postponed the wedding for months, praying for word from you that you were carrying my child. I could have made the argument that I must do the honorable thing and marry you.” The sadness in Rother’s face sent a shiver of sympathy through Gabriella. “Especially when it was the thing I desired most.”
“And I would not have let you make such a sacrifice of yourself. The scandal would have ruined us both. One of us needed to be strong, Gabriel.” She cupped his cheek. “Even if you were the one I desired most as well.”
“Gabriel?” Gabriella stared hard at Hal and Celinda. “Why did you not tell me his Christian name? I was named for him.”
“I have only ever known him as Rother.” Hal shrugged apologetically.
“I may have known it at some time growing up, but I certainly forgot it, my dear.” Celinda patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you swear to me that Gabriella is my daughter and not Monsieur d’Aventure’s?” The duke clutched her hands, squeezing them until they turned white.
Veronique eased his grip and gave a little laugh. “I do not need to swear, mon chéri.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Gabriella. Venez ici.”
Gabriella inched forward, as if she were young once more and found with the pastries in her hand. “Oui, maman.”
“Stand still, ma chérie.” Her mother pulled her right sleeve down, baring her shoulder.
“Maman!” What was she doing?
“Fais ce que je dis.” Veronique turned her, so the duke could see her back.
“Ahh.” Rother sucked in a breath and his eyes widened.
“You know that star-shaped mark quite well, I believe, although yours is in a somewhat more interesting place.” She pulled Gabriella’s sleeve back up. “If you needed proof, there it is.” She glanced from Rother to Gabriella. “However, anyone with an eye can see it.” She took his hand. “Believe me, Gabriel. She is your daughter.”
Stunned, the duke looked from one woman to the other then nodded slowly. “Yes, she is.” He stared at Gabriella so long, she suddenly wished herself back across the room beside Hal. At last, he put his arms around her and drew her close. “Gabriella. Oh, my child.”
She slid her arms around him in return, a careful embrace that eased into a true one as tears started from her eyes.
He released her, only to grasp her mother around the shoulders, hugging her, then grabbed her head and kissed her. Lips firmly pressed to hers, he cradled her to him.
“Uhh, Your Grace?” Hal appeared by her side. “If you remember the question I put to you two weeks ago? May I please have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
The duke released Veronique, though he kept hold of her arm. His face was flushed, his eyes dark as night. He stared at Hal then Gabriella.
Best make sure he knew her choice. She gazed up at Hal, anchoring herself to his arm. Just try to part them now.
“I have just this minute found her, Halford. I should make you wait at least as long as it takes to read the banns.”
“I will agree to that, Your Grace, if you will write to my father with your acknowledgement of Gabriella today.” Hal lay his hand on top of hers. “We will need the time to plan the wedding and introduce her to society as your daughter and my future wife.”
“I have one other condition.” The duke’s stern countenance dropped back into place in less than the tick of the clock. “Promise me you will remain in England.” He ran his thumb down her jaw, a soft warmth that penetrated to her heart. “I need to get to know my daughter.”
“Why must they remain in England?” Veronique cocked her head at the duke, one delicate eyebrow raised. “What if they wish to come visit me and my father in Angouleme?”
“Because you will be here, in England, my dear. There is one more proposal I wish to discuss with you.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her again.
“I will take that as permission as well.” Hal pulled Gabriella to him. “To the bride and groom.” He pressed his lips to hers, sweet and wonderful beyond belief.
“Well, Hal,” Celinda said, sounding very far away, “now I’m surely holding you to your promise about Lord Finley. I need to have my happy ending as well!”
* * * *
The bell of St. Georges’s had been pealing for a solid hour, its music calling all the guests to witne
ss the somewhat sensational wedding of the Marquess of Halford to Gabriella d’Aventure, recently acknowledged daughter of the Duke of Rother.
Walking sedately down the aisle on her father’s arm, seeing Hal standing at the end of the aisle, Gabriella thought her heart would burst from happiness.
Her father slipped her hand into Hal’s, kissed her cheek and whispered, “I love you, Gabriella.” His duty done, he made his way to the second pew, where Veronique, the new Duchess of Rother, waited for him, eyes shiny with tears.
The ceremony that made them man and wife sped by too quickly for her to savor it. Luckily, she would have plenty of time to savor her marriage, which would be long and happy if Gabriella had anything to say about it. As she and Hal returned down the aisle, she nodded to the few friends she’d made, searching for the one face she longed to see.
Lady Celinda sat toward the middle, her escort a handsome, dark-haired man in an elegant morning coat. Beaming at her, Celinda mouthed something as they passed that Gabriella didn’t catch.
As she and Hal left the church for the wedding breakfast at Rother house, she turned to Hal, kissed him long and lovingly then asked, “What did Celinda say to you?”
“Quid pro quo.” He laughed, and kissed her again.
THE END
About the Author
Jenna Jaxon is a bestselling, multi-published author of historical romance in periods ranging from medieval to Victorian. She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager. A romantic herself, she’s always loved a dark side to the genre—a twist, suspense, a surprise—and tries to incorporate all these elements into her own stories. She lives in Virginia with her family and two rambunctious cats, Marmalade and Sugar. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director. She often feels she is directing her characters on their own private stage.
Jenna is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America and is very active in Chesapeake Romance Writers, her local chapter of RWA.
She equates her writing to an addiction to chocolate, because once she starts she just can’t stop.
Connect with me online:
Blog: Jenna’s Journal
Twitter: @Jenna_Jaxon
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Jenna-Jaxon/146857578723570
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4960704.Jenna_Jaxon
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005CHPBD2
More Works by this Author
Handful of Hearts series:
A Kiss Beneath the Mistletoe (Book 1)
Heart of Desire (Book 2)
Other titles:
Only Scandal Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 1)
Only Marriage Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 2)
Time Enough to Love
(Betrothal, Betrayal, Beleaguered, Beloveds)
Excerpt from Heart of Desire, Book 2 of Handful of Hearts
Chapter 1
London, May 5, 1820
Packed to the gills, Lady Hamilton’s ballroom glittered with candlelight, fine silks and satins, and every type of precious jewel known to the world. The music had a lively air, the first dance being a waltz, and Miss Katherine Locke would’ve thought herself fortunate to be out again in Society after a long, cold, dull winter in Somerset save that her partner, Lord Haversham, was the rudest man in London. Well, his lordship was about to discover that Kate Locke was not one to suffer fools lightly.
“So you refuse to allow your sister to waltz, yet you are quite willing to stand up with me and dance this, according to you, most scandalous of dances.” Kate smiled into the odious wretch’s face. “My lord, I should say that smacks of hypocrisy.”
“Indeed.” Lord Haversham turned them skillfully at the end of the floor. “I would say it showed a want of character in your brother for allowing you to dance it with me. The waltz should be danced by married couples and no one else.” He pulled her close against him, so their bodies almost touched.
She gasped at her proximity to the rogue. How dare he make a spectacle of them on this crowded dance floor?
“You see?” he whispered, peering into her face, his gaze intent upon her mouth.
All she could see were his dark eyes, as the crisp scent of his sandalwood cologne filled her nose.
“Ainsley should be horsewhipped for allowing it.”
“I’ll see to it he horsewhips you if you don’t let me go.” Kate gave a hopping step and smashed her foot down on top of his.
Lord Haversham lurched forward, actually falling onto her.
For the briefest moment, they stood pressed together in a warm embrace that made Kate tingle all over. Then outrage swept through her, and she pushed him away. “How dare you,” she seethed, trying to pull away from him.
“That was your fault, and you know it. And if you make a scene that results in me having to marry you, I swear I will lock you in the tower at my grandfather’s castle and throw away the key.” Lord Haversham righted himself and smiled at her with clenched teeth.
“Of all the students at Oxford, my brother had to befriend you?”
“He had you for a sister—his luck was due for a change.”
“Well, I wish mine would change, Haversham. If I have to endure you for five more minutes, I will fall down in a dead faint just to get away from you.” Kate wanted to scream in frustration at her brother’s best friend, but the man was right. Any scandalous behavior could end with her compromised and married to Haversham before the month was out. The Season had just begun. She refused to let it end in a single night with the man who’d been the bane of her life for years.
“Luck must be on your side tonight, as the dance has, mercifully, come to an end.” He dropped her hand as though it burned him and offered his arm. “Shall I see you to your brother?”
“Lord, yes.” She barely touched his proffered arm. The less contact with him the better. “Nathan must see that I completed the dance with you.” She avoided his eyes. “Ah, there he is, talking to our cousin, Lady Celinda.”
“Do you think she will be slighted if I don’t ask her for the next dance? I am weary of having my toes stepped on, although she may have better dancing form than my last partner.” Lord Haversham didn’t break a smile, but his walnut brown eyes twinkled with merriment.
“I think she’ll be delighted to escape having a conversation with you about your antiquated views on the social graces.” Beyond caring who heard her, Kate allowed her voice to rise above the hubbub of conversation. “And if your poor sister isn’t allowed to waltz before she is married, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
They stopped in front of her brother and cousin, the one trying to contain his laughter, the other glancing about the room with an alarmed expression on her face. Kate could only thank goodness they were not at Almack’s. She might very well lose her voucher. Lord Haversham always knew exactly what to say to goad her into inappropriate behavior.
“There, Nathan. My forfeit is completed.” Kate jerked her hand from the crook of her escort’s arm. “Come, Celinda, let us retire to the refreshment room. I’m absolutely parched and must have some lemonade. Sadly, when a gentleman has no idea how to lead his partner, the dancing is much more exhausting.” She sent an arch glare at Lord Haversham as she snared Celinda’s arm. She simply couldn’t escape the wretched man quickly enough.
“Please allow me to fetch you some refreshment, Miss Locke. I would not want you to suffer one bit more than necessary.” Haversham’s sickeningly sweet tone set Kate’s teeth on edge.
“Oh, God forbid I put you to work, Lord Haversham.” Kate smiled and returned his saccharine attitude. “It would be the on-dit of the night.”
According to a conversation she’d overheard between her brother and Celinda’s father, the Haversham fortunes were failing and Marcus, Lord Haversham hadn’t lifted a finger to help with his family’s estates. Apparently not even the severe downward spiral of the famil
y finances after his father’s death had prompted him to busy himself with the management of the properties.
Lord Haversham’s cheeks paled then flushed with bright spots of color. He clenched his jaw then bowed. “It’s no trouble at all, Miss Locke. Delighted to assist you.” He turned to Celinda. “Would you like something to drink as well, Lady Celinda?”
Her cousin cast her a disapproving look and shook her head. “No refreshment, I thank you, Lord Haversham. I would, however, enjoy some exercise. May I accompany you to the refreshment room?”
“But, Celinda—” Kate tried to protest, but her brother’s warning hand on her arm made her bite her tongue.
“I would be delighted with your company, Lady Celinda.” Lord Haversham smiled broadly, offered his arm, and they strode away without a backward glance.
“You are without a doubt the rudest woman in Christendom.” Face like a thundercloud, her brother snatched her to him, his voice low and menacing. “Haversham is my friend, and I will not allow you to taunt him with accusations of things beyond his control. You will be civil to him or you will stay home.” Nathan’s slate-gray eyes reminded her of a rain-soaked pavement.
“Then tell him not to come near me.” Kate pulled her arm from his grasp and smoothed her skirts.
“You danced with him. Social engagement demands you respect your partner.”
“I only danced with him because of that stupid wager, and you know it.” Her brother could be absolutely maddening. “If Calabree had been a nose faster, you’d be dancing with Miss Carmichael instead.”
“I, however, backed the winning horse, dear sister. If you want to wager, you must learn to lose with good grace.” Nathan’s mouth twitched, his irrepressible good humor reasserting itself.
“Humph.” She really should’ve known better than to wager with her brother. His ability to assume a completely expressionless face when playing cards or placing bets had become extremely annoying. “No one could lose with good grace if they had to put up with Lord Haversham for even five minutes during a waltz. It is quite impossible to fathom. Even you, dear brother, would not take it well.”
