Hesitating, she eyed Amelia and Juliette, wondering if they might have noticed that their brother’s proposition meant more than a simple request for tutelage. But the sisters seemed oblivious to the charged atmosphere that threatened to unravel Gabriella at any moment. Instead, they urged her to do as Huntley asked, claiming an interest in seeing how a real lady ought to walk with a gentleman.
Inhaling sharply, Gabriella felt her throat constrict as her gaze dropped to Huntley’s upturned palm. Of course he wasn’t wearing gloves—he was at home, for heaven’s sake. Not that it made much difference, since he probably wouldn’t have worn them even if he’d been out. And oh, just looking at that hand, she recalled what it had felt like last night, clasped against her own. Could she really endure such exquisite torture again? Now, with his sisters present? For she’d removed her own gloves in order to eat the madeleines the maid had brought with the tea. Eyeing the lengths of fabric that lay draped across the armrest, she considered putting them back on for the duration of this exercise. It would be the proper thing to do—the safe thing to do.
Her decision came a second too late as Huntley leaned forward, his large hand closing about hers before pulling her to her feet. “Huntley!”
“I grew weary of watching you ponder your options,” he said, facing her with a stormy expression that made her wonder if her legs would carry her the necessary distance. It only got worse when he scraped his callused thumb across the edge of her hand, producing a scorching collection of sparks against her bare skin. Lord help her.
“Your Grace, I—”
“Raphe,” he amended, raising an eyebrow. “Just let me guide you.” Turning sideways, he lifted her hand, arranging it neatly against the crook of his arm.
A muscle flexed beneath his jacket as she curled her fingers over him, and she realized then with startling awareness that in spite of his nonchalant manner, he was just as affected by her as she was by him. Her heart took flight, scattering her composure like the seeds of a dandelion blown away by a gust of wind. As a result, it was something of a miracle that she managed to step forward without tripping, her posture as rigid as a slab of granite.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured when they’d gone a few paces.
Unable to be anything but honest, she said, “I’ve missed you too.” Just a few hours, that was all it had been, but it had felt like an eternity.
“Will you dance with Fielding at the ball?”
“It is expected,” Gabriella replied, her breath hitching slightly when he placed his opposite hand over hers, trapping it against his arm.
“I don’t like it, Gabriella. I can’t stand the thought of him holding you in his arms the way I did last night.”
Swallowing, she did her best to remain calm. “Oh, I can assure you that it will be nothing like that.” They continued for a bit before she had the courage to say, “Fielding has been courting me for two months. He is by all accounts an excellent match. But then I met you and everything changed.”
“How?” His muscles strained beneath his sleeve, flexing and tightening to match his voice.
Glancing sideways, she met his dark brown eyes, more vulnerable now than she’d ever seen them before. They compelled her to say what was in her heart. “I fell for you, Raphe, and I fear there’s no getting up.”
They’d reached the windows. Stopping, they paused for a moment, pretending to admire the thick foliage of rhododendron in the garden.
“I’ll ask your father for permission to court you. This thing between you and Fielding, it cannot continue.”
Her heart gave a happy bounce. The possessiveness with which he spoke was thrilling. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t solve all their problems. “My father will never allow it. He doesn’t approve of you, Raphe, and with Victoria’s mistake in mind, I’m afraid he’ll see my attachment to you as a repetition of the past.”
“There has to be a solution.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as if to say, We’re in this together, you and I. We’ll find a way. Out loud, he said, “One thing is for certain—I will not stand idly by and watch Fielding make you his wife.”
Chapter 18
He needed time. They needed time. Time in which to explore this relentless pull between them—time for them to fall in love. It was the only way any of this would ever work, he realized. Because in spite of his protestations, Amelia had been right: he would never marry for anything less. “Tell me what I need to do,” he told Gabriella, almost desperately.
Sighing heavily, she said, “You must prove yourself worthy—a superior match to Fielding.”
“He may be an earl, but I am a duke.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but it’s more than that. Your reputation needs to be impeccable.” She was silent a moment before saying, “The ball will be your best opportunity to alter my parents’ opinion of you. If you can gain the high regard of other respectable members of Society, perhaps then you will stand a chance. And—”
“Yes?” He held his breath.
“One whisper of scandal attached to your name and we’ll lose our chance. They cannot discover your past.”
Reminded of St. Giles and of his recent encounter with MacNeil, Raphe felt his lungs constrict. His heart thudded painfully against his chest. To win her hand would be impossible. He’d known it since the moment the notion had entered his head. Stubborn fool that he was, he would try, anyway—he would turn his back on his deep-rooted fear of marital misery, on the knowledge that he came not only from gentry, but from the shameful slums of London, and on the fact that he was as undeserving of her as a beggar would be of a princess.
“And there’s something else,” she added. “Something that might work in our favor.”
“What is it?”
Lifting her chin, Gabriella glanced up at him, meeting his stormy expression. “My father has a particular fondness for Rubens. He’s been especially interested in acquiring The Three Graces—a painting that you just happen to have in your library.” She’d noticed it the first time she’d come to call.
He was silent for a moment, lips firmly set in contemplation. “I don’t like the idea of trying to buy you with a painting, Gabriella, and I doubt your father will either.” Drawing her away from the window, he led her further about the room at a moderate pace.
“You wouldn’t be trying to buy me. Just permission to court me. There’s a difference.”
“None that I can see.”
“And besides,” she added, trying to make him see reason, “it’s not so terrible a thing when I’m the one suggesting it and we’re both in agreement.”
“Your father won’t know about that. He’ll just see me as a mercenary, and frankly, I don’t blame him.”
It was true. She knew he was probably right, but she also knew that if there was one thing that might tempt her father to comply with their wishes, it was that painting. “I can think of no other way—not if we’re going to stop sneaking around. For that to happen, we’ll need my father’s permission.”
“And you’ll need to stop seeing Fielding.”
Yes, she would. But doing so would not be easy, and her parents’ reactions . . . Her stomach was already rolling over, agitated by the thought of what was to come. But if it meant having Huntley instead, then it would surely be worth every struggle she’d have to endure.
Over the course of the next few days, Gabriella continued tutoring Amelia and Juliette in preparation for their debuts. Her encounters with Raphe became fleeting, but she knew that he was keeping busy with his own lessons—a necessity if they were to have any chance of ever being together.
“I am completely devoted to this endeavor,” he told her one day in passing when she told him how much she missed him. “I am completely devoted to you.”
Her heart swam with joy and the possibility of a brighter future filled her vision.
When she returned home on Saturday, Gabriella was met by her aunt. “You look as though you had a healthy walk,” Aunt Caroline said. “I can�
��t recall ever seeing you so flushed before. Mind that your dear mama doesn’t see you like that, or she will reprimand you for overexerting yourself.”
Rolling her eyes, Gabriella untied the bow of her bonnet and set it on a nearby table. “Mama puts too much weight on appearances.”
Aunt Caroline’s eyebrows went up. “Does she really?”
“Yes,” Gabriella told her decisively.
“You sound rather mutinous,” Aunt Caroline said. A smile slid into place. “I quite like it. Might I ask about the cause of this startling transformation?”
“Oh, I am not so terribly transformed, Aunt. My views have always differed from my mother’s. I just wasn’t aware of how much until recently.”
“How interesting. I cannot help but wonder if this newfound clarity might have something to do with our handsome neighbor.” Leaning slightly forward, Aunt Caroline narrowed her gaze on Gabriella. “Tell me, where exactly did this walk of yours take you?”
“To the garden, and—and beyond,” Gabriella told her irritably. “Anna was with me.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she said with a nod. “And in case you’re wondering, I don’t disapprove.”
“You don’t?” Gabriella thought for certain that her aunt would at the very least have advised her not to repeat the outing—that it would be her duty to inform Gabriella’s parents so that any future efforts to see Huntley could be thwarted.
“Of course not.” Aunt Caroline waved her hand dismissively. “I’m surprised you would think otherwise, or have I not made my position on Fielding clear to you?”
“Well yes, but that doesn’t mean you might encourage me to seek out Huntley instead.”
“Ah, so you were rendezvousing with him!”
“I’m helping his sisters prepare for their presentations at court.”
“Of course you are, dear.” Aunt Caroline’s eyes twinkled. “Frankly, I think Huntley is quite a catch, but then again, I’m a widow, so my view on the matter is going to be quite different from your parents’. They want the best of the best for you, however misguided their idea of what that is might be. Which reminds me—Fielding is waiting for you in the parlor.”
Air whooshed from Gabriella’s lungs. “And Mama and Papa?”
“They have not yet returned from their respective outings.” Studying Gabriella, Aunt Caroline quietly asked, “Would you like for me to come with you?”
“No,” Gabriella said. “That won’t be necessary.” After all, she’d been alone with Fielding several times before. But that had been before she’d decided not to marry him—before Huntley had kissed her. Would Fielding see the betrayal on her face? Would he even care?
Numbly, she approached the parlor and entered. He was standing by the window, perfectly straight and with his hands folded neatly behind his back. “My lord. What a surprise.”
Turning, he regarded her with restrained appreciation. “I know you weren’t expecting me today. I’m sorry if I’ve upset your plans.”
“No, no.” Crossing to the sofa, she tried to calm the quaking of her nerves as she lowered herself onto it. She addressed Fielding. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“Of course.” He claimed the spot beside her so quickly it almost made her head spin. She tried to smile, and almost managed it until he said, “I think it is time for us to announce our engagement.”
A squeak was all Gabriella could manage. She’d known this moment would come, and yet it still caught her by surprise. Blinking, she tried to meet his gaze. “Did you just propose?”
With a wince, he shifted closer. “Forgive me.” He took a series of breaths before saying, “I have always striven to excel at every task. When I decided to choose a bride, I never considered anyone but you. Nobody else is as . . .”
He seemed to struggle a bit, so she added dryly, “Rich?”
“No!” He had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “I was going to say, ‘Exceptional.’”
She had to admire the smoothness with which he delivered such a compliment. Had it come from Raphe, she’d have believed him, but Fielding? Not a chance. The man was only interested in one thing.
“With you by my side,” he continued, “I shall be—” Able to buy all the horses in England, Gabriella imagined him thinking. “Truly happy,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“I—” Gabriella’s mind whirled. She wasn’t prepared, but she knew it was time for her to break her attachment to Fielding.
A crooked smile emerged in the confines of her mind, accompanied by dark, piercing eyes.
Raphe.
A man who, in the space of two weeks, had managed to make her doubt every aspect of her life—of the person she was, and more important, of the person she wanted to be. He’d blown into her life like a thunderstorm, stirring the very foundations of everything she’d ever known. She cared for him, and she believed he cared for her too. It might not be love, but it was more than what Fielding was able to offer. And in that moment, Gabriella finally understood how Victoria must have felt. It wasn’t easy, swimming upstream instead of flowing with the current. And Raphe was the Duke of Huntley—rich and powerful, no matter how one chose to look at it. She’d want for nothing except perhaps Society’s approval—an artificial attainment that she’d learned to live without years ago.
As for her parents, Gabriella knew they would likely resent her, but she’d already decided that she would accept that when she’d spoken to Raphe earlier. After all, they’d had their chance to live their lives. It was her turn now, and to marry a man she didn’t even like when the one she cared for was ready to take his place, would be monumentally stupid.
With this in mind, she gave Fielding her full attention. “You are exceptionally kind, my lord, but I fear that I must refuse your offer, as much as it pains me to do so.”
He sat back with a jolt. “I beg your pardon?”
“I cannot marry you,” she clarified. Seeing his lips thin as he clenched his jaw, she hastily added, “You deserve a wife who shares your interests. A woman you can grow to love and who—”
“Love?” He stared at her. Incredulous. “Marrying has nothing to do with love, my lady. It is a business transaction that I have every intention of following through to the end.”
“But—”
“What’s happened? What’s changed?” He studied her as she drew back a bit, not liking his tone in the least. “It’s him, isn’t it? You’ve gone and lost your head over that rotten scoundrel who lives next door to you.”
She shook her head, frightened now by his anger. “He’s a duke,” she tried.
“He’s not fit to clean your shoes, and you want to cast me aside for him?” He scoffed at her as if he thought her a pathetic imbecile. “If you imagine that I’m just walking away without a fight—that I will allow him to encroach on what is mine—then you don’t know me at all.”
“But . . .” Her heart was beating frantically against her chest while she fought to find the right words—a solution to this mess she’d created. “You cannot force me to marry you.”
He rose then, standing over her like a threatening shadow. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”
And then, without the slightest warning, he swooped down and kissed her, hard and angrily, and with no consideration for her feelings.
Stepping back, he glared at her a moment, then executed a swift bow and left. Gabriella remained where she was for a long while after, unable to move. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, the violation of Fielding’s advance and the cruelty with which he’d executed it tightening her throat and making her tremble.
His message was clear. He was not a man who liked to lose, and he did not take kindly to sharing what he believed to be his. Raphe had intruded on Fielding’s “property.”
Gabriella winced. She knew now that this was how Fielding saw her. Which meant that he would do everything in his power to keep her. She considered her options and immediately decided to tell her
parents. If they discovered how calculating Fielding actually was, then they might just change their minds about him.
But when they eventually returned home that afternoon it was already late in the day and with little time left to prepare for the Coventry ball. Both of her parents were in a rush to bathe and dress, insisting she tell them whatever was on her mind later. Agreeing, Gabriella succumbed herself to waiting for a more appropriate time, even if that meant having to dance with a man whom she now detested.
Lord help her, she was in trouble!
Chapter 19
Standing to one side of the Coventry ballroom, Raphe snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman and took a sip. He was not oblivious to the whispers or the inconspicuous glances being sent his way, but as tempting as it was to do something shocking for the sake of provoking all these pompous nobs, he refrained, staying on his best behavior just as Gabriella had advised.
While she’d been preparing his sisters for their presentation at court, which was due to take place in only one week, according to the invitation that had arrived two days earlier, he’d shut himself away with Richardson, Pierson and Humphreys. The three trusty servants had applied themselves to teaching Raphe everything he needed to know in order to make the right impression at the ball. Hell, he’d even allowed that silly little Italian man who called himself a dance instructor to teach him the quadrille and minuet just as Gabriella had suggested. The memory made him shudder. But, nothing was going to deter him from the chance he had of winning her for himself.
So, when he saw her arrive with her parents and aunt, he set his glass aside with purpose, straightened his back, squared his shoulders and began making his way through the crowd. “Lord Warwick,” he said, drawing the man’s attention. “What a pleasure it is to see you again. And Lady Warwick.” Executing an impeccable bow that had taken no small amount of exasperation to perfect, he reached for the woman’s hand and raised it to his lips. Straightening, he then said softly, “I can see where your daughter has gotten her beauty from.” Addressing Gabriella, who was quietly gaping at him as though he’d just fallen off the back of a carriage and hit his head, and her aunt, who was eyeing him with a smirk, he simply said, “Ladies. The evening is saved with your arrival.”
A Most Unlikely Duke Page 18
