Elizabeth caught the strain enter his muscular frame when Aunt Millie referred to him as Phoebe’s ‘papa.’ His inner struggle, so apparent, pulled at Elizabeth, cutting through her resentment at his less than eager offer to dance. She never could stay vexed with him for long.
The soft melody began to fill the room and Gabe moved closer to her. Without a word she stepped into the frame he’d created, one hand resting on his strong shoulder while the other settled lightly alongside his palm.
The moment their gloveless fingers touched, a bolt of awareness—unlike she’d ever felt before—flashed through her, settling in her lower abdomen.
Her eyes flicked to his, but he gave no sign he’d felt what she had. What did she expect? For him to touch her and declare his undying love?
She’d never been a featherbrained chit before and she certainly wasn’t going to become one now. She gave herself a mental shake, settled her gaze on the knot of his cravat, and focused her attention on the steps of the dance.
Through the years, she and Gabe had shared numerous dances. There were even times when she’d been young and practicing with her dance instructor when Gabe had, much to Marcus’s ire, offered to be her partner. She could easily recall how her heart would soar each time a dance would bring them close together.
In all those times, never had they danced a waltz.
Her hand continued to tingle where it touched his. The steady strength of his grip on her waist warmed her through her dress. Some deep, unknown desire had her wishing his hand wasn’t separated from her skin by layers of material.
The respectable distance between their bodies didn’t keep her senses from being surrounded by him. She inhaled deeply and filled her nose with the scent of Gabe—a trace of soap mixed with what she could only describe as a masculine fragrance. The heat of his body seeped into hers, summoning her closer. Slowly, the world around them disappeared into a hazy mist, the two of them all that remained.
Almost as if compelled, she lifted her head a fraction and locked onto his eyes, nearly stumbling at the dark intensity shining back at her. His look of disinterest had been replaced by a fever that set her aflame.
Gabe easily handled her misstep and continued to waltz as if nothing had happened. For Elizabeth each step was a struggle.
And yet, each one pure bliss.
The final notes of the song chimed and slowly dissolved into the silence of the room. Still fixated on the deep intensity of Gabe’s eyes, Elizabeth didn’t notice they’d stopped moving until Phoebe’s giddy laughter and clapping pulled her from the trance.
At the interruption, Gabe closed his eyes for a brief moment and when they reopened the warm glow was absent. Instead, a remoteness so distant she had to repress a shiver, reflected in those dark orbs. The abrupt change sent her back a step, chilled to the bone.
“That was excellent,” Aunt Millie praised from her chair. “Makes me wish I were twenty years younger.”
Completely composed, Gabe addressed the older woman. “I believe the current misses of the ton are thankful you are not. Possessing such beauty and grace, you already tempt gentlemen young and old. If you were a day younger, no one would be able to resist your various charms.”
“Now, now, boy, such honeyed words will rot your teeth.”
“If that is the consequence of offering you sweet compliments, I’ll take my chances.”
Elizabeth regarded the teasing exchange with only half her attention, her body too occupied with sorting through the layers of sensations that had enveloped her while he’d held her in his arms. Not to mention the look that had filled Gabe’s eyes.
Never had he viewed her with such awareness. It had been as if he’d looked into her, seeing her in a way no one had before. Her body flushed simply thinking of how it felt to be the object of his focus.
“My turn to dance with Papa,” Phoebe piped from Aunt Millie’s side.
Silence at his daughter’s declaration altered the easy atmosphere set by music and dancing. Elizabeth’s heart ached for the child. So much of Phoebe’s straightforward, loving nature became exposed with the short phrase. She had never addressed Gabe as ‘Papa’ before. Phoebe had no reservations using the word around Elizabeth or Aunt Millie, but she turned quiet in Gabe’s presence. Not that she ever had the chance to converse with him. He’d been so absent the last few days, only showing for a few minutes here and there.
As for Gabe, Elizabeth could tell by the strain vibrating from his body he hadn’t a clue how to answer the tiny ball of excitement standing at his feet.
Aunt Millie stood behind Phoebe and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Deary, I believe your father might have somewhere else to be. He may not have time to dance with you today. You and I could give it a try if you’d like.”
Phoebe’s pixie face fell.
When would the man stop being so self-centered? Anger crushed Elizabeth’s incipient feelings of tenderness. Would it be too much for him to dance with his daughter? To show her a smidgen of affection?
About to tell him so herself, Elizabeth was surprised when Gabe gave Phoebe a bow that would have impressed even the queen before he extended his hand. “Miss Phoebe, would you please honor me with the next dance?”
Phoebe’s crestfallen features transformed into a beaming smile. The child barely restrained herself long enough to give Gabe a nod of her head, sending her erratic curls bouncing, before she placed her miniature hand in his.
Gabe had always been a master of masking his thoughts. Now was no different. His face remained unreadable as he took hold of his daughter. But the composed mask didn’t conceal the slight tremble in his long fingers as they gently closed around Phoebe’s pudgy hand.
“Come, dear, let’s give them some room.”
Elizabeth hadn’t realized she stood frozen, watching the story of new father and long-lost daughter unfold before her. They quickly cleared the floor and returned to the chairs placed by the table with the musical box, which Aunt Millie promptly wound, sending a fresh wave of melody through the room.
Elizabeth continued to stare at the two figures, so opposite in stature but so similar in most everything else, as they began to dance something that hardly resembled a waltz. Her heart thudded in her chest and a tear formed in the corner of her eye when Gabe altered his larger steps to accommodate Phoebe’s smaller stride.
It was a remarkable sight. It brought forth visions of the man Gabe had been. The one who had stolen her heart.
Noticeable unease broke through Gabe’s cloak of calm, making what he’d done for his daughter count for even more. He still had a long way to go before he embraced being a father, but Elizabeth would take it as a solid step forward.
If she hadn’t already been in love with him, she could easily find herself falling for him over again.
Chapter 8
Two days after the dancing lesson, Elizabeth glanced from the stack of references sitting on the desk to the young girl playing on the carpeted floor of the morning room. She couldn’t stop the smile that curved her lips as Phoebe fussed with the ever-present dolls.
Wherever Phoebe went, she toted the dolls. And good luck putting the child abed without Victoria and Jacqueline snuggled in with her. The strength of the attachment that had developed in such a short time said a lot about the tot’s emotional state. She obviously used the dolls as a source of security.
But Elizabeth understood. Even though Phoebe didn’t display overt signs of distress, there still were times when unhappiness flashed through her blue eyes. Other times, Elizabeth sensed a sorrow within Phoebe that echoed her own grief when she had lost her parents and her life had changed so drastically. Because of that, Elizabeth felt a kinship with the child. It couldn’t be easy for a three-year-old to move into a strange house filled with unknown people, but Elizabeth would take a few chil
dish displays of displeasure and bouts of silence if it would help Phoebe through the transition.
It amazed Elizabeth how she’d grown to care for the tiny girl in such a short time. And if it continued, she was afraid the child would soon possess her entire heart. Then what would she do? How could she ever walk away from Phoebe if Gabe never returned her feelings? If anything, she was setting herself up for greater heartache.
Phoebe peeked at Elizabeth and gave a wide smile, then returned to her dolls. Too late. There would be no way to extract Phoebe from her heart. It only increased her resolve to ensure Gabe came to love her.
Her smile vanished. It had seemed so simple. All she’d needed to do was insert herself into Gabe’s life and he would come to love her as she loved him. A task that might actually succeed if she managed to ever be in the exasperating man’s presence.
After the day they’d danced and the ice had been broken between him and his daughter, she’d been sure he’d stop avoiding them. Except the opposite had happened. She saw even less of him. And she never thought that would have been possible.
If she didn’t know what he was capable of, she’d abandon him. But she did know and she wasn’t about to surrender and thus give up.
Elizabeth turned back to the stack of references. The same as yesterday, her eyes glazed over as she studied the first one. With the Season in full swing, there were not many highly qualified governesses available at short notice, and under no circumstances would she allow someone without impeccable qualifications to care for Phoebe. With so few prospects, the entire task was rather daunting.
Elizabeth retrieved the top letter, about to get on with it, when Wilkes appeared in the doorway. “My Lady, there is a Miss Dawkins here to see you.”
Her smile instantly returned. She hadn’t spoken to Emma since the Hampshire ball.
“Please send her in, Wilkes.”
Guilt ran through Elizabeth. Her days had been so consumed with Phoebe, she hadn’t had an opportunity to get word to Emma about her change in residence. With a life packed full of unabashed chaos, who knew what her friend’s creative imagination had concocted after not hearing from Elizabeth?
Emma entered the morning room. Always perceived as a proper lady, most would be surprised at the amount of spunk contained in Emma’s petite frame. After years of being her friend, Elizabeth was fully aware.
“You know I’ll be facing Father’s wrath if he finds out I visited the Duke of Wesbrook’s home.” A smile spread across Emma’s face. And the smile usually indicated trouble for someone. “Luckily, he rarely finds out about my transgressions.”
Emma’s mother had died in childbirth, leaving Viscount Sumpter, Emma’s father, with a young daughter to raise. Being an only child merely ensured Emma had her father wrapped even tighter around her petite finger.
Not that any of Emma’s so-called transgressions had ever crossed into scandalous behavior, but they would be enough to cause trouble for her with the strictest members of the ton.
Elizabeth stood to greet her friend. “You know, one of these days, you will manage to do something you won’t be able to talk yourself out of.”
Emma crossed the room to stand by Elizabeth, her smile wider, lightening her brown eyes. “Yes, but until then, I’m going to enjoy life. Eventually my father will realize I’m not his little girl anymore, and when that happens, he’ll want grandchildren. The only way for that to happen is for me to marry. Something I’m determined to circumvent.”
Elizabeth observed her friend. She never understood Emma’s desire to avoid marriage. Whenever she tried to broach the subject, Emma would brush it off as nothing.
Elizabeth gestured to the sitting area off to the side, all the while aware Phoebe examined every move Emma made. Once they were seated, Elizabeth turned to her friend, pulling Emma’s attention from Phoebe. “How did you know I was here?”
“After not hearing from you for a few days and all the rumors that you were residing here, I called at your home. Marcus confirmed everything. Do you want to tell me why you are here or should I guess?” Emma cast a sidelong glance toward Phoebe.
Since Emma would persist until she found out everything, Elizabeth might as well reveal all. Besides, she needed the support of her friend. “Phoebe, sweet, come here, please.”
Suspicious of the new arrival, the child stayed where she sat.
“It is all right. I promise,” Elizabeth coaxed.
The girl’s expression remained skeptical but she still came to Elizabeth’s side.
“Poppet, I’d like to introduce to you to my friend, Miss Emma Dawkins.” Afraid of Emma looking at her with pity, Elizabeth hesitated a moment. “Emma, this is Miss Phoebe, my new friend . . . and Gabe’s daughter.”
Emma was rarely at a loss for words, but she remained silent as she peered at the child. Elizabeth wasn’t surprised when Phoebe did the same. She might be wary but she still had a boldness she’d undoubtedly inherited from her father.
Elizabeth never doubted Emma would accept Phoebe, but even so, her muscles relaxed when Emma spoke to the child. “It is very nice to meet you, Phoebe. You know, since Lizzy and you are friends and Lizzy has only the best people for friends, I hope you and I can be friends someday. Do you think that might be possible?”
The prospect of more playmates must have appealed to Phoebe since a smile lit her face. She didn’t answer but Elizabeth knew Emma had won her over just that quickly.
“Phoebe, Emma and I are going to talk for a bit. If you play with Victoria and Jacqueline until we are done, I’ll take you to the park.”
After Phoebe moved back to her dolls, Elizabeth gave Emma her attention. Her friend still watched Gabe’s daughter.
“It’s amazing. She looks just like Wesbrook,” Emma murmured.
“Yes, she does.”
Emma suddenly frowned. “Do you know what you are doing?”
Elizabeth gave an uneven chuckle. “Why does everyone ask me that?”
Concern etched deeper into Emma’s features. “It’s because we care about you and don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I don’t want to be hurt either, but if I don’t risk it, I could possibly lose something far more important to me.”
“If you are sure of what you are doing, you know I’ll always stand behind you.” Emma smirked. “Besides, if anyone is going to rush into a situation before thinking it through, you know it will be me.”
Elizabeth laughed. She could always rely on Emma’s support, probably because she had always returned the favor.
Emma settled back onto the settee. “Now, fill me in on all the details. And don’t forget any indecent parts. If I’m going to get into trouble for being here, it had better be worth it,” she said with a wink.
Being her confidant for many years, Emma knew of Elizabeth’s feelings for Gabe. But where to start? So much had happened the last few days, some seeming so strange that she wondered if she’d imagined them. Such as when Gabe’s hand had started to reach out to her the first day she’d arrived.
Her mind replayed the moment endlessly while her body relived the sensation of him so close. It had felt as if he surrounded her. She knew if he had reached for her, it wouldn’t have been with brotherly affection. Instead it would have been a touch between a man and a woman. The very thing her body craved.
To her horror, in that moment when all she’d ever hoped for was in front of her, she’d panicked. She hadn’t moved forward to welcome his embrace and thus taken what she’d only ever dreamt about.
No, she’d foolishly broken the spell by spouting mere words. Erasing any current of desire between them.
Gabe had returned to his aloof self, leaving her to question her sanity and if she’d fabricated the entire incident. Especially considering Gabe had never shown her anything but friendly interest before
that day.
As for what to tell Emma, Elizabeth decided to start at the beginning, leaving out the moment that probably hadn’t actually happened. “The morning after the Hampshire ball, Gabe—” Elizabeth broke off when Aunt Millie entered the room.
From the doorway, her aunt glanced at Phoebe before addressing Elizabeth and Emma. “Good morning, girls. I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation.” Aunt Millie raised her voice a notch and sent a subtle nod to Phoebe. “I wanted to see if my favorite poppet would care to join me in the garden. Do either of you know who that might be?”
Before Emma or Elizabeth could speak, Phoebe sprang from the carpet and raced to Aunt Millie’s side. Excitement burst from every step she took. “Me! It’s me!”
Gently, with no indication of her age, Aunt Millie crouched and affectionately patted Phoebe’s cheek. “You are so right, precious. It is you.” She stood. “What do you say? Shall the two of us grace the beautiful flowers in the garden with our even lovelier presence?”
Phoebe giggled at Aunt Millie’s exaggerated tone and nodded. Millie glanced back to Elizabeth and Emma. “Then, it is settled. If any suitors call on Phoebe or me, you may inform them we are too busy to be bothered.”
More giggles erupted from Phoebe as Aunt Millie took her hand and they exited the room.
“I believe Phoebe has won over your aunt,” Emma said.
“My aunt was lost from day one. Phoebe’s appeal can be as devastating as her father’s.”
The Duke's Temptation Page 7
