At the Bride Hunt Ball

by Olivia Parker

  Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and raised a winged brow. “Let us not forget, madam, Miss Haywood is your niece.”

  With some satisfaction, Gabriel watched Lady Beauchamp blink in apparent astonishment, realizing she had just insulted herself. If she weren’t inebriated, the woman would have surely caught her error in judgment before it spilled from her lips.

  “Again, I believe you are mistaken,” he cut in when it looked as if she might expire on the spot.

  She blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. “If you don’t believe me, young man, just take a look at them.” Stepping aside, she waved her fan in Madelyn’s direction.

  Lo and behold there strode Rothbury, his arm linked with Madelyn’s as they strolled toward the open doors farthest away from where Gabriel stood. No doubt the earl’s intentions were to lure Madelyn out into the garden for a mauling.

  “Look at him!” Lady Beauchamp beamed. “Has he not the very appearance of a man in love?”

  As the words tumbled from the viscountess’s mouth, Rothbury leaned down and pressed two lingering kisses on Madelyn’s gloved knuckles. And then…Madelyn smiled…or was that a grimace? He couldn’t tell from this far away, and neither was he ready to make an opinion on the matter of her alleged engagement. But he planned to find out right now.

  All the muscles in Gabriel’s body tightened, especially his forearms and fists, and he fought to restrain himself from lunging across the ballroom and shoving aside anyone who got in his way.

  “If you’ll excuse me, madam,” he muttered. Not waiting for her consent, he shouldered his way through the crush of guests.

  “If you kiss my hand again, I will bite your arm,” Madelyn said through a fake smile.

  “My, my. Usually a statement such as that would have quite the effect on me, sweetmeat. However,” the earl’s grin deepened, “I find your ill mood makes me question why I even thought to help you in the first place.”

  “Let me assure you, I don’t need nor want your particular style of assistance.” Catching him off guard, Madelyn managed to pull free from the tight hold he had of her fingers. “Just what are you hoping to do anyway?”

  “Inspire a tempest of jealousy.”

  “In who?”

  “The duke.”

  She sighed in exasperation. “Whyever would you want to do that?”

  “You might think it little of me, but I don’t like the fellow. I want his sister, and he is determined to keep her from me. Torturing him a bit, dangling what it is he wants, who it is he wants, just above his reach brings me great pleasure. An eye for an eye, so to speak.” His sharp gaze flicked off her face and into the crowd for a fleeting moment. “And look, apparently he hasn’t an ounce of willpower, for here he is right now.”

  Madelyn had barely enough time to place a mask of indifference on her features before Gabriel came to an abrupt halt before her. She looked up at him, but he only had a scowl for Rothbury.

  To the earl’s credit, he held Gabriel’s stare without flinching. If she were Rothbury, Madelyn mused, she’d have turned tail and fled into the night. Gabriel’s expression was that intense.

  At the top of the room, the orchestra played a series of harmonized notes to signal the commencement of a waltz. In reaction, Madelyn glanced about the room and found Charlotte being led to the dancing area on Lord Tristan’s arm. From the look of it, she hadn’t found the retiring room and therefore hadn’t been able to remove the wads of silk from her bodice. Madelyn inwardly cringed. She should have gone with her, but then Rothbury had come along and muddled up her mind.

  “Wolverest,” the earl said in greeting. “I see you’ve chosen to mingle with your guests this evening. Quite shocking, really.”

  Gabriel responded with a heavy sigh and continued to stare Rothbury down.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Lord Rothbury said, finally showing some good sense. He bowed slightly over Madelyn’s gloved fingers. “Although I long to dwell in the presence of the enticing Miss Haywood, I’ve promised this dance to one Miss Belinda Fairbourne and would not have her accuse me of an incivility by hastily retrieving her for the dance. Until we meet again, Miss Haywood,” he finished, his predatory gaze unashamedly raking her from top to bottom. And with his lips twisting with a grin of smug satisfaction, the earl sauntered away.

  Tension hung heavy and thick as Madelyn and Gabriel were left with no other distractions but one another. Unable or unwilling to meet his stare—she wasn’t sure which—Madelyn swallowed and found a strange interest in the small section of parquet floor between her and Gabriel.

  When he finally spoke, his low voice washed over her. “You look exceptionally beautiful this evening.”

  Her head jerked up at his softly spoken words. Warmth, pleasant but uninvited, enveloped her as she stared into his sparkling blue depths. She loved him, of that there was no doubt. But there was something new and strange in his eyes that spoke to her. It was something she’d never seen before, and her mind searched to give it a name. In another moment it came. What she discerned in his gaze was vulnerability. And she didn’t like what it did to her insides. Feeling disarmed, his expression made her want to embrace him and forgive him for his insulting proposal instead of stomp on his toes and call him a pompous cad.

  Instead she said, “You look quite handsome.” And she smiled like a ninny when he acknowledged her compliment with a small nod.

  Actually, saying he looked handsome was the understatement of the year. He was so austerely striking in his formal black evening wear, it almost pained her to look at him. Indeed, it was a good thing he’d never be her husband. He was so sinfully attractive with those eyes and ink-black locks, she’d probably stare at him all day and end up walking into walls and closed doors.

  “I must admit,” he began, taking a step closer to her, “I didn’t expect you to be here this evening.”

  “Thought I’d hide in my room, I suspect,” she said coolly.

  “Quite frankly, yes.”

  “Well,” she said, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug, “as long as we are being frank, I didn’t expect to see you here either.”

  “At my own ball?” he asked incredulously. He ducked his head close to her ear. “You expected me here. Admit it, love. You’ve been scouring this ballroom for a glimpse of me ever since you set your pretty little foot inside it.”

  She rolled her eyes. Arrogant man. Perceptive, but completely arrogant.

  Gabriel presented her with his right hand. “Will you do me the honor, Madelyn, and dance with me?”

  A familiar prick of alarm skittered across her nerves, just as it always had when some brave and sympathetic soul asked her to dance. And, as in the past, her gaze sought and unerringly found Priscilla in the crowd. She was speaking with Bernadette Fairbourne, but her stepmother’s eyes were on her. Hope flared in Priscilla’s gaze as it flitted back and forth between herself and Gabriel.

  Turning his head, Gabriel followed her gaze. Priscilla bowed her head in acknowledgment of his attention, but he ignored her, turning back to Madelyn.

  “Don’t you dare do this for her,” he muttered. “If you take my hand, do it because it is your desire and your desire alone.”

  Looking up at him, Madelyn wanted to refuse him, but that accursed vulnerability was lingering in his gaze. Reaching out, she placed her hand inside his large one. But the pain of his words the day before clanked in her ears like a hammer on a brass bell.

  Gabriel led her across the room to where the other dancers awaited the first strains of a waltz. The crowd parted before them. Onlookers gaped with curiosity, chaperones and hopeful mamas of the ton crowded behind their fans, whispering, speculating.

  “Are you sure you want to tempt the odds, sir,” Madelyn asked, her voice tight. “Chances are most unfavorable for you and your toes.” She felt him grow rigid at her side, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Would you like to consult your aunt before we proceed?” She smiled sweetly at him when he turned h
is head to look down at her, his light eyes smoldering with a dark promise. She paid it no heed and went on. “Perhaps Lady Eugenia could suggest a dancing instructor.”

  The music began as soon as they reached the other dancers. Scowling, Gabriel turned to face her, a dark lock tumbling forward to partially cover one of his eyes. Taking her hand in his left, he settled his right hand at the small of her back instead of her waist and gave her a little, unnecessary, push. She managed to stop herself just short of pressing against his tall, lean-muscled form.

  As he eased her into the steps of the waltz, he smiled at her, his lips holding about as much warmth as a frozen pond. “My tactless aunt’s comments were trifling compared to how society could, and most probably would, shred your spirit.”

  “Humph. They would hardly say such things to a duchess.”

  “Perhaps not in your presence, but definitely behind your back.” His expression softened. “Their comments would come to you, and the pain they would inflict would be no less than if they said it to your face.” He stared at her for a long moment. “I was only trying to protect you, Madelyn.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, but she did know what his words did to her resolve and her stand on why she could not marry him. Annoyed with herself, she looked away.

  All around them the paired dancers twirled and spun in perfect precision. A wave of light-headedness nearly shook Madelyn off balance as she took in the sight. The ballroom had quite suddenly turned into a swirling kaleidoscope.

  She blinked back a surge of dizziness. The faces of the guests observing the dance melted into indiscernible blurs.

  “Gabriel,” she whispered frantically, “I’m going to stumble.”

  “I won’t allow it,” he assured her.

  “No, Gabriel. I’m really going to fall.” Her knee seemed to give out for a moment, but his unwavering support never faltered and she maintained her rhythm. To her, it was nothing short of a miracle.

  “Look into my eyes,” Gabriel murmured. “Trust me, Madelyn.”

  Reluctantly, she complied, knowing he was asking her for much more than to have faith in his ability to keep her from falling flat on her face.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlotte spiral past with Lord Tristan, her friend giggling in delight.

  “Your brother is going to break Charlotte’s heart. The girl will cry for days, no doubt, and forever shy away from the idea of finding true love. And it will be all your fault for holding this ridiculous ball.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’re desperate to hit upon a reason to hate me, but you cannot find one.” He gripped her waist a little tighter. “Miss Greene is an intelligent woman. She certainly knew the consequences regarding her heart before she made her decision to fall for my brother…unlike you.”

  “So now I’m stupid,” she offered harshly. “Did you realize how expensive having me for wife would turn out to be? Now that you’ve discovered I’m an idiot, you’d have to hire a tutor for my schooling.”

  “What if there is a child?”

  She very nearly stopped dead in her tracks. “I will know in a sennight if I carry…” Her voice trailed away as she quite suddenly felt deflated. Honestly, everything was happening so fast, she hadn’t even considered that they might have conceived a baby. A baby. She hadn’t realized until that very second that she even wanted one.

  Rothbury and Miss Fairbourne twirled by too closely and almost crashed into them.

  Gabriel gave the earl a frightening glare before returning his attention to Madelyn. “I do not care for the company you keep,” he stated, a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice. “Tell me you have not promised a dance to him.”

  How dare he display such an act of jealousy! He had no claim on her. She had refused him. And if he should ask again, her answer would remain the same. He had certainly stolen her heart, but he had handed it back to her, trampled and misused by his careless words in the pergola.

  Something inside her clicked. Be it from his tone of voice or the way he stared down at her with overt possessiveness shining in his eyes, she suddenly wanted to hurt him.

  Hurt him the way he hurt you.

  “I have promised the earl so much more,” she replied, swallowing a twinge of regret at the hastily spoken words.

  The dance came to a sudden end, and just as abruptly, Gabriel released her, his eyes cold and hard. He gave her a stiff bow and then strode away, leaving her with a swiftness that took her breath away.

  “Gabriel, wait,” she called out, ignoring the few shocked gasps from those who surrounded her. But he continued walking and was soon out of the room and off to who knew where.

  Her chest rising and falling rapidly, Madelyn stood there alone, tears brimming in her eyes. What on earth have you done, you stupid, stupid girl?

  She raised her chin, preparing to face the scandalized faces of the guests who had heard her utter the duke’s given name. But once she gathered the courage to look around, everyone’s gazes seemed to be fixed on a point across the room. Standing on tiptoes, Madelyn watched a stone-faced footman hand Lord Tristan a bouquet of dark red roses.

  “Midnight. It’s midnight,” Madelyn muttered. She searched madly for Charlotte’s face in the crowd and finally spotted her standing next to Harriet Beauchamp. The sultry brunette grinned and fluttered her lashes, her high cheekbones rosy apples in the candlelight.

  Charlotte didn’t look as composed. She kept giving Harriet’s bodice side glances and then looked to her own, as if comparing. In the end, Charlotte stood a little straighter and puffed out her chest.

  Madelyn reached her friend just as Lord Tristan approached the row of brides-to-be. In reflection, Madelyn realized that she too was supposed to be standing here as a potential bride. But somehow along the way her reason for being here had nothing to do with Lord Tristan and everything to do with Gabriel.

  The various levels of murmurs and whispers in the expansive ballroom lowered in unison, then completely faded into a dreadful silence. Madelyn held her breath.

  Holding the bouquet at his waist, Lord Tristan passed the Fairbourne twins without sparing them a single glance. They didn’t seem to mind, Madelyn mused. The twins seemed preoccupied, craning their necks like a pair of swans to see where the duke had gone off to.

  Next in line was Madelyn. He paused to give her a crooked, brotherly smile. She didn’t return it, but her heart seemed to jump in her throat as his next step brought him before Charlotte. He faced her and smiled down at her while she beamed up at him. Madelyn placed a reassuring hand at her friend’s back.

  Then Lord Tristan looked down into the bouquet of roses almost as if he longed to pluck one bloom from the tangle of the others and present it to Charlotte. And it was that very hesitation that incensed Madelyn. He was torturing the sweet girl with his simulated indecision. Beneath her hand, Charlotte’s heart thumped at a wild pace, making Madelyn want to wrest the blooms from Lord Tristan’s hold and smack him with them.

  One more second of this nonsense and she just might do it. And then, before Madelyn could ponder it a moment further, he took a step to the left.

  And handed the bouquet to Harriet Beauchamp.

  Chapter 20

  An hour later Madelyn sat opposite Charlotte in the cushioned window seat in her friend’s guest chamber.

  Having recently alleviated their coiffures of hundreds of poking pins and traded in their constricting ball gowns for the soft coziness of their dressing gowns, the friends shared a comfortable silence, each lost in her own thoughts.

  An emptiness, cold and hollow, had stretched in the pit of Madelyn’s stomach ever since Gabriel had walked away from her in the ballroom. The chasm grew still, leaving her to float in painful regret of her hastily spoken words. She had behaved like a vengeful schoolgirl, and she longed to go to him and apologize. Only she was too afraid he would send her away.

  And why should you care? The man is a heartless, critical, insensitive oaf. He should be apologizing to you!


  Charlotte let forth a loud yawn, breaking the silence and spurring Madelyn into a yawn of her own.

  “Is your mother overly disappointed?” Madelyn asked softly, hugging her knees to her chest.

  “Not at all,” Charlotte answered, snuggling deeper into the thick blanket she had wrapped around herself. Her nose was red from crying and her voice still held a nasal quality. “Don’t know what my father might say. Truth be told, now that it’s over, I’ve become more worried about him than the state of my own heart.”

  “I feel simply wretched for you,” Madelyn declared. “The most important part of my purpose here was to keep you from getting hurt, to make you see Lord Tristan’s true character, and I failed miserably. I’m sorry, Lottie.”

  “Please,” Charlotte replied with a small laugh. “You must quit apologizing. I knew my chances were slim all along. That’s why I ventured to try new ways to…revise myself, so to speak, all in the name of competition.”

  “I think, my dear, you should find a man who thinks you’re perfect just the way you are,” Madelyn remarked.

  “Oh please.” Charlotte waved her words away. “All is not lost, Maddie.”

  “Go on,” she said, eyeing her friend with trepidation.

  “If I’ve come away with anything from this whole affair, it is a renewed sense of urgency and competition. They are so many of us and so few eligible bachelors. Well, at least so few who aren’t covered in age spots and old enough to be our grandfathers, anyway.” Charlotte took a deep breath, the sort one took just before revealing a particular juicy tidbit of gossip. “This evening, after Lord Tristan picked Harriet to be his bride and they started the next waltz—and you were nearly dragged to the dance floor by that young lad who wore his riding breeches—who should come to my immediate rescue but Lord Rothbury.”

  “You say rescue,” Madelyn scoffed, “I say he’s a lowly scavenger who spotted a wounded creature.”