by Adele Clee
Rebecca flinched, as though ice-cold fingers were creeping slowly up her spine. Mr. Ingram was not the first gentleman to compliment her this evening. He was not the first gentleman to ogle her like a prized bit of beef. Thankfully, the man’s portly stomach prevented him from stepping any closer.
“My sister has been rusticating in the country,” Lord Wellford said quickly, no doubt fearing she would tell another man she actually worked for a living.
Mr. Ingram’s gaze followed the line of her throat, down to the plunging neckline of her mother’s only white gown, where he proceeded to move the eyeglass back and forth in an attempt to determine the best view.
Rebecca thought to inform him that market day was on a Thursday, but George coughed into his fist to wake the gentleman from his musings.
“I trust you have a place left on your dance card for me?” Ingram asked.
Rebecca shook her head. Even if she’d wanted to be friendly, she refused to dance with a man who wore rouge.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Ingram,” she said ignoring George’s frustrated sigh.
George put his hand on her elbow and turned her away from a disappointed Mr. Ingram. “You must dance with someone,” he whispered.
Rebecca ignored him.
Her father was the only gentleman she had ever danced with. As soon as she turned sixteen, he insisted on hiring a dance tutor. But feeling awkward and clumsy, Rebecca had begged and pleaded with him to tutor her himself. She loved those moments alone with him. She loved the attention, loved his devotion and often feigned ignorance in learning the steps in the hope of extending the lesson.
When Mr. Ingram finally departed, Rebecca felt the rush of relief quickly turn to anger. “I did not agree to accompany you so you could parade me about like a debutante desperate for a place on the marriage mart.”
In truth, she did not really know why she’d agreed to accompany him. The words had just tumbled out of her mouth. Her thoughts had been jumbled, plagued with guilt, her nerves teetering on a precipice and George reminded her so much of her father. When she’d sensed Gabriel Stone step behind his wall of indifference, she felt an overwhelming urge to prove that her life was perfectly fine without him in it.
“Rebecca, you need to start living in the real world, instead of being stuck in some stuffy room surrounded by objects belonging to the dead.”
It was rather sad he felt that way. Perhaps there was no room for passion in his life; perhaps the chains of duty and responsibility hung too heavily around his neck. The Egyptian museum was as much a part of her as her heart or her lungs. And nothing would ever change that.
“I am beginning to distrust your motives for asking me here,” she said, deciding his burden of duty included seeing her wed. “Mr. Ingram is the fifth unmarried gentleman you have introduced me to this evening. Does living in the real world not extend to meeting other young ladies, too?”
George sneered. “Your future is all that is important to me, Rebecca. Despite being beautiful you have no fortune, and there are some men who will shy away from the circumstance of your birth. Marriage is not a curse. It is an aspiration shared by all ladies living in the real world.”
What a fool she was. George was only concerned with marrying her off. Her brother professed to have her interests at heart, yet he managed to say and do the wrong thing at every turn. Indeed, she had made another mistake in trusting him.
“My museum is the real world to me,” she said, determined to make it clear she wasn’t some pawn to be sacrificed for the greater good. “This … this place is just a cesspit of inequity. Perhaps I should pin a tag to my gown that says — one hundred and fifty guineas, but beware of minor defaults.”
George waved his hand in the air. “You’re being ridiculous. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“Happy?” she mocked. “Can you not hear the hypocrisy in your own words? You wish me to marry a man I do not love, so long as he can provide material comforts and overlook the nature of my birth. To you, that is an admirable choice: to sell one’s soul for wealth and respectability. Well, I would rather join the urchins scouring the streets, begging for scraps.”
“You cannot condemn me for trying to legitimise your position.”
Rebecca sucked in a breath.
There was no reasoning with this man, she thought. “I am suddenly relieved I am illegitimate. The irony of legitimacy is that it appears to be defined by a lack of morals and a severe lack of integrity.”
Without another word, she pushed past him and stormed out through the open doors onto to the terrace, pacing back and forth until her breathing slowed to its usual rate.
Thankfully, George chose not to follow and so she took a moment to look out over the garden, placing the palms of her hands on the stone wall and relishing the feel of the cool breeze.
She should never have agreed to come.
Her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the day, to the way Gabriel Stone had devoured her with his sinful eyes, to the way her body responded so eagerly to him. Tonight, numerous gentlemen had looked at her in a similar way. Yet it felt different, unnatural.
It felt wrong.
Gabriel affected her like no one else before. He had found a way into her heart and even though she was alone on the terrace it felt as though a part of him was still with her.
Was it possible to develop deep feelings after just a few short days, she wondered?
The thought that he would not be lounging on her chaise when she returned home, caused a pain in her throat, making it feel uncomfortable to breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure an image of him.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Wellford.”
A deep, husky tone penetrated her reverie, the image of Gabriel’s mischievous grin dissolving into nothing as she opened her eyes.
Rebecca swung round to face the gentleman who, with his black hair and hawk-like eyes, had all the appeal of Satan.
“My name is Miss Linwood,” she said haughtily.
“Then accept my apologies, Miss Linwood.” He stepped forward in the slippery way men do when their words are not in accordance with their lecherous intentions. “I saw you were alone and thought you might like to dance.”
He moved closer and took her gloved hand, brought it to his lips and held it there for longer than deemed appropriate.
“I’m afraid I do not dance,” she said, pulling her hand free, struggling to keep her tone even, as his eyes appeared cold and detached, despite his friendly protestations. “And my brother is waiting for me.”
As she stepped aside to walk around him, he moved to block her exit. “Your brother is otherwise occupied. I, on the other hand, am not.” His beady, black eyes fell to her lips before dropping to the exposed curve of her bosom.
“As I have already told you,” she said swallowing away her fear. “I do not dance.”
“Good. As it was not really dancing I had in mind.”
Rebecca lifted her chin. “It is not prudent to be so forward with a lady, sir.”
He gave a devilish grin. “Now, Miss Linwood, can you really call yourself a lady? In my experience, those with questionable lineage tend to have questionable morals.”
This man was a scoundrel, a rogue. Suddenly, the glittering lights and crowded ballroom seemed much more the better option.
When Rebecca tried to push past him, he grabbed her arm. “Come now, there is nothing to fear. I suggest we go out into the garden and find something to titillate our fancy.”
“What I suggest is that you remove your hand from the lady’s arm,” Gabriel Stone growled, his threatening tone slicing through the air. “Unless you’re happy to choke on your own teeth.”
Rebecca’s desperate gaze met Gabriel’s and she drank in the glorious sight of him, let the warm feeling flood her body, banishing all her doubts and fears.
The gentleman turned round to face him. But on surveying the breadth of Gabriel’s chest loosened his grip to let Rebecca pull her arm free.
Gabriel held out his hand to her, and she wanted to run into his strong embrace, wanted to fling her arms around his neck and lay her head upon his chest. Instead, she drifted towards him. When he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, the intoxicating feel of his hard body next to hers caused a momentary stumble.
“Come, let me escort you home,” he said, supporting her as they walked back into the ballroom. “It is either that or I am going to murder the man.”
The first few strains of a waltz drifted through the air. The sound rousing memories of her father’s excitement on his return home from Vienna, eager to show them the dance popular all over Europe. Indeed, she could still hear him humming in tune as he took her in his arms and they glided about the room. She missed him terribly, the ache in her heart never really fading.
But there was only one man who could ease her pain now.
She gripped his arm a little tighter, looked up into those welcoming eyes. “Dance with me, Gabriel,” she whispered.
Chapter 11
Gabriel looked down into the most enthralling pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen and found, despite all his reservations, he could not refuse her request.
“You do dance?” she asked, her gaze drifting over his face as she waited for his reply.
“I do, but often under duress and on very rare occasions.”
Rebecca smiled. “I have only ever danced with my father,” she said, her eyes brightening as though recalling a happy memory. “But I would like to dance with you, Gabriel.”
Her words caused a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach; the feeling flooded his body, relaxing his rigid shoulders. He forgot he wanted to throttle the dissolute rogue and kick him across the garden until his fancy truly was titillated.
“Then it will be my pleasure to dance with you, Miss Linwood.”
“Rebecca,” she whispered, and the corners of her mouth curled up into another sweet smile. “Call me Rebecca.”
He had no time to think, no time to prepare for how it would feel to hold her in his arms, as the music was in full stride, the floor littered with circling couples. With a firm grip, he drew her closer, felt a jolt of desire shoot through his body as he took her hand in his and led her out onto the floor.
That first dance, his for longer than he could remember, should have been awkward, their movements lumbered and untutored given their lack of experience. Yet their bodies were in perfect tune, gliding effortlessly about the floor. Indeed, he forgot he was in a crowded ballroom amongst the elite of Society. His only thoughts were of her.
Rebecca looked up at him, her soft bosom heaving with excitement, her moist lips slightly parted, her eyes glazed with a look of euphoria. Heaven help him. He could think of nothing other than her naked body writhing beneath him as she moaned his name in the wild throes of passion. His eager manhood stirred in response, and he knew that if he were to survive the next few minutes, he would have to find a way to distract his mind.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said hoping conversation would ease his predicament, but his choice of words did nothing to dampen his desire. “You should not have gone out onto the terrace alone,” he was quick to add.
He’d seen her from the other side of the ballroom, seen the rakish gentleman stalk after her like a wildcat on the prowl and the memory helped to cool his heated blood.
“I should not have agreed to come,” she said honestly. “Regardless of what George believes, I do not belong here with these people.”
No, Gabriel thought, she was far too good for them all.
“Neither do I,” he said, and he could still hear the low hum of desire evident in his voice. “I have always felt more comfortable with my books.”
Rebecca smiled. “I had it on good authority you were a recluse,” she said as her dress swished around his legs just to tease him. “Now, here you are at your second ball in the matter of a few days.”
He heard the question — why did you come? — buried implicitly within her words.
He could have said it had always been his intention to attend. Lord Chelton had been a friend to his father. Or said her information about him was incorrect. But he found he could not lie to her as this madness that had taken hold of him seemed determined to drag him through an emotional version of hell.
“I came here because I wanted to see you.” Instead of feeling awkward, it felt quite liberating to convey some sense of what plagued his thoughts. Although he chose not to add that jealousy had played its part, too. “I should not have left you alone with Lord Wellford. Despite the fact he’s your brother, I do not trust his intentions.”
There was an odd look on her face, one of pleasure mixed with intrigue. “You are right. He seems determined to see me wed and has introduced me to a whole host of bizarre characters.” She gave a sweet sigh. “He looks so much like my father I forget I hardly know him. Perhaps now you understand why it suits me to think of him as my father’s son.”
“Well, your father’s son is standing on the edge of the ballroom watching us dance. His glare of disapproval is unmistakable.”
Gabriel noticed her examine the crowd as he twirled her around the floor. “Oh, he is just grumpy because I refused to dance with all the gentlemen he introduced me to. I stated quite categorically that I do not dance.”
Gabriel slid his hand further along her back. He firmed his grip before swinging her around a little too quickly, forcing her to suck in a deep breath. When her fingers gripped his shoulder and her vibrant gaze met his, she laughed.
“Then let us show him the reason why you chose to dance with me,” he said, aware of the hint of possessiveness in his tone.
“It was me who asked you to dance, remember,” she said with some amusement.
“Yes, but I have wanted to ask you from the moment I met you and so you must have read my thoughts.” If only she could truly read his thoughts, as he would like her to ask him to do something far more lascivious than dance.
Rebecca did not answer him, but the flicker of desire in her eyes told him all he needed to know. He did not take his eyes off hers for what remained of the dance; locked together they moved about the room, forgetting everyone and everything.
He felt her gaze like a lover’s caress, calming and soothing, penetrating his soul and he matched it with the same level of intensity. When a mischievous grin threatened to play at the corners of her mouth, he felt the flames within burn brighter and he wondered if he would ever sate this overwhelming need for her.
When the music stopped, a sense of disappointment fell over him. And as he escorted her from the floor, he struggled to shake it.
“Thank you for dancing with me. I know how much it must have pained you.”
The only pain he felt was an ache in his groin. “It was my pleasure.”
“Would you mind escorting me home?” she whispered, the words meant for his ears alone. “I do not want to ask George as he will taunt me with my father’s smile, and for some strange reason, I do not feel strong enough to fight it tonight.”
“Of course,” he said inclining his head. He understood what she meant. He did not have the strength to fight this attraction anymore. “But we will need to tell Lord Wellford you intend to leave.”
She nodded solemnly. “Very well.”
They did not need to seek Lord Wellford out, as he moved towards them as soon as they left the dance floor. “I would like a word, Rebecca. If you can drag yourself away from your friend, Mr. Stone.”
There was no mistaking the vehemence in his voice.
“Miss Linwood and I are leaving,” Gabriel said deciding to offer no further explanation. Wellford could not offer a rebuke or deem their decision inappropriate. Rebecca had been without the protection of her father for a few years and in his opinion, Wellford had left it too late to attempt to step into the role.
“Then go fetch your cape, Rebecca. I shall keep Mr. Stone company until you return.”
She looked up at Gabriel uncer
tainty clouding her eyes, and so he nodded towards the hall.
As she walked away, Lord Wellford led him to a quieter corner of the room. “I do not know what understanding exists between the two of you,” he snarled, “but I doubt it is simply a case of friends and business associates.”
“And what leads you to that conclusion? Is it the fact the lady danced with someone of her own choosing?”
Wellford looked over his shoulder. “You may fool yourself, Stone, but I doubt there is a person in this room who doesn’t know how much you want her. And I’m sure the prospect of owning an Egyptian museum is a rather attractive incentive.”
Gabriel thought of grabbing the lord by his fancy cravat and throttling him with it. “Perhaps I should provide you with an extensive list of my assets. Perhaps then you would know I have no need to make decisions based on financial gain. My only motivation is her safety and to offer my protection.”
“As her brother, it is my responsibility to offer her protection.”
“Protection?” Gabriel sneered. “Where were you when I saved her from being ravished in the garden? Where were you when she was scared out of her wits? Oh, that’s right. You were the one responsible for letting her believe she was cursed.” Gabriel took a step closer, his height giving him the advantage to look down on Wellford. “I don’t care who you are,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you hurt her again, you will have me to answer to.”
Gabriel stepped back and scanned the gentleman from head to toe. “Good evening, Lord Wellford,” he said, turning on his heels.
“You’re no good for her, Stone,” Wellford mumbled behind him. “You’re even more obsessed with the dead than she is.”
Gabriel ordered his coachman, Higson, to take Miss Linwood home and gave the impression he should return for him later. Although certain allowances could be made due to Rebecca’s circumstances, Gabriel did not want to draw undue attention to her or be the topic of conversation in the best salons. So after stepping inside to have a brief conversation with his host, he slipped back out and made his way to the bottom of Berkley Street before turning the corner to find Higson waiting in Manchester Square.
