A Gentleman Never Tells

by Amelia Grey

  “It’s all right,” he whispered against her lips. “Remember, you knew it might hurt the first time.” He kissed her gently and moved slowly. “Stay with me, Gabrie, and it will get better. I promise.”

  And it did.

  He made love to her with gentleness that overwhelmed her. His movements were slow, sensual, and reverent. He kissed her, stroked her body, and moved so gently on top of her that, before she knew what was happening, she once again gave herself over to an indescribable pleasure that kept mounting between her legs.

  She joined the hungry rhythm of his hips meeting hers, his body moving in and out of her with long, sure strokes that grew stronger, fuller, with delicious sensations, until she stopped and cried out, breathless with exquisite gratification.

  She heard Brent’s breath quicken, felt him tremble, and she gloried in pleasing him in this way. Brent covered her mouth with his in a bruising kiss. As her body shuddered, he slid his arms under her back and cupped her to him.

  He lay still and heavy upon her, breathing deeply. Her hands made a slow trail over his back, down to his buttocks and up to his shoulders again. She wanted to hold him forever in this moment but knew she couldn’t.

  Gabrielle was the first to stir. “I’ve never felt such extraordinary feelings,” she said on a contented sigh. “It was so much more than I expected.”

  “For me, too, my love,” he answered. “And all I can think right now is I want to enjoy the same feelings over and over again. But we can’t. Your aunt and sister will return soon.”

  She cupped his cheek with her hand. “I know.”

  He rose on his elbows and looked down into her eyes. “Are you all right with what we did, Gabrie?”

  She smiled. “I’m very much all right.”

  He nodded and rolled away from her and started straightening his clothing. Gabrielle sat up and started the task of tidying her clothes as well. They worked quietly until he saw her trying to tighten the lacing at the back of her bodice and he said, “Let me do that.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered and turned her back to him.

  “While you repair your hair, I will get Muggs to help me with Brutus.”

  Instantly, fresh tears flooded her eyes. A lump formed in her throat. Reality returned. She faced him and said, “Thank you.”

  “Is there a special place you would like for us to take him?” Brent asked.

  She tried to swallow, but it was too difficult. He reached for her hand and helped her to stand. “There’s a place in the back garden Brutus was fond of and he can rest at peace there. I’ll show you and Muggs. I should like to have a short service for him. Will you come back tomorrow morning? Maybe just before noon?”

  “I’ll be here.” He lightly squeezed her fingers. “Gabrie, we need to talk about us.”

  She nodded. “We will, but not now, please. First I need time to bury Brutus.”

  “I understand.”

  Brent walked over to her father’s sideboard and poured brandy into a glass and brought it back to her.

  “Drink this while I get Muggs,” he said. “Drink another before you go to bed tonight. You will sleep more easily. I’ll see you tomorrow. This will be the last time I see you alone tonight, since Muggs will be with us, but remember I love you, Gabrielle.”

  She had such an overwhelming tenderness for this man she loved so deeply. He had given all she had asked for, all she needed—love, passion, and consolation during her grief. She would never make him sorry he put his trust and love in her.

  Twenty

  There is no instinct like that of the heart.

  —Lord Byron

  “I don’t think I’ve been to a service for a person that was any sweeter than the one you had for Brutus, Gabby,” Auntie Bethie said, taking off her gloves as she walked into the drawing room.

  Gabrielle and Brent followed her aunt into the room while the servants, who had attended the short ceremony Gabrielle had prepared for her long-time companion, dispersed to do their daily duties.

  Gabrielle had cried off and on throughout the night and she had been weepy most of the morning, but now that Brutus was at his final resting place, her healing had begun. The few words she spoke over him came more easily for her than she had expected.

  “I agree with you, madame,” Brent said. “Whenever it’s my time to meet My Maker, I hope whoever conducts the service makes it as short and sweet as Gabrielle did for Brutus.”

  Gabrielle gave him a grateful smile but made no comment. She would tell him one day soon how much it had meant to her to have him with her yesterday, to have him love her as he did at the time she needed it most. He hadn’t wanted to at first, and she understood that. But his loving had helped her cope with losing Brutus. She had felt so lost, so alone and abandoned, that his touch, his kindness, his loving her had somehow grounded her and lifted her above her grief to a thankfulness she’d had Brutus with her for many years.

  “And I agree with you, Lord Brentwood,” her aunt responded. “Now, what do you say to a glass of port to warm your bones?”

  “I say: Shall I pour or will you?”

  Auntie Bethie laughed. “Sit down, and I’ll get it. How about you, Gabby. Will you have a glass with us?”

  “Of course,” she said with a heavy heart. “I think lifting a glass in celebration of Brutus’s life is fitting.”

  “That we will,” her aunt agreed as she busied herself at the sideboard. “I do have to say I’m not surprised Rosa didn’t make it down to join us. In fact, I’m glad. She was quite fidgety yesterday afternoon, talking as fast as a shooting star across the night sky one moment and quiet as a church mouse on Sunday morning the next.”

  “I tried to speak to her last night before I went to bed,” Gabrielle said, “but she wouldn’t even let me in her room.”

  “She has no constitution for things that do not center on her and what she wants, that’s for sure.” Auntie Bethie brought over a small tray with three glasses on it, and they each took a glass and sipped.

  Gabrielle started to take a seat on the settee when she heard a commotion at the front of the house.

  “Someone’s at the door,” her aunt said.

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Gabrielle heard her father’s booming, grumbling voice and his heavy footsteps coming down the corridor. Gabrielle glanced at Brent.

  His brows lifted. He angled his head and asked, “Did you know your father was coming back today?”

  “Today? No, I had a letter earlier in the week telling me to expect him soon but not when.”

  The duke walked into the drawing room and stopped in the doorway, looking at the three.

  “Welcome home, Papa,” Gabrielle said, immediately wanting to run into his arms, bury her face in his chest, and pour her heart out to him about Brutus. But instead, old feelings of trying to please him pushed those thoughts aside and she greeted him the way she knew he wanted her to. With a bright smile and a low curtsey, she said, “I hope your trip was pleasant.”

  “Thank you, Daughter, it was,” he said, walking farther into the room. “My lord,” the duke added and nodded his head toward Brent. “Looks like you’ve been in another fight.”

  “Your Grace.” Brent touched the corner of his lip before he bowed. “Trouble seems to follow me.”

  “Mmm,” was all the duke said and turned his attention to Auntie Bethie. “Mrs. Potter, you can pour me a glass of whatever it is you have in your hand, and then start packing.”

  “Papa!” Gabrielle exclaimed.

  Auntie Bethie winked at Gabrielle and laughed low in her throat as she walked over to the sideboard. “Pay him no mind, Gabby. I certainly don’t. I started packing the moment you told me he was coming back.”

  “Glad to hear it,” the duke replied.

  “I won’t be gone for long this time, Duke.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he grumbled.

  “I’ll tell you at a later time. You just got in, and I’m sure you want to h
ear all the latest from your daughter.”

  “Yes, I’ll hear from her in due time, too, but it does seem it’s my good fortune you are here, Brentwood. I want to talk to you and Gabrielle.”

  Gabrielle tensed. She glanced over at Brent, who gave her a questioning look and moved to stand closer to her.

  The duke took the glass of port from Auntie Bethie. “Earlier this week, I received a letter from the Earl of Austerhill. The old chap came to his senses. He wrote to say he has decided to forgive Gabrielle for the sake of our financial plans and let Staunton marry her.”

  “No,” Brent and Gabrielle said in stunned unison as they looked at each other.

  “Yes, so you are off the hook, as they say, Brentwood, and Staunton is back on.”

  Brent set his wine glass on the mantel. He gazed deeply into Gabrielle’s eyes and asked, “Do you want to marry him, Gabrie?”

  Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “No,” she said, stepping closer to him. “I will not marry him. I’ve never wanted to marry him. I was only trying to please my father until I found out—”

  “Found out what, Gabrie?” Brent said. “Now is the time to tell what you have been reluctant to say all these weeks.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the duke said. “You’ll do as I say, Daughter.”

  “No, Your Grace, she will not,” Brent said, taking a step toward her father. “Gabrielle loves me and I love her. We’ve already—”

  “Had this discussion,” Gabrielle interrupted, suspecting he was going to admit they had already anticipated their wedding night. “It’s time I told the truth, Papa. I could never marry Staunton because Rosa loves him. She admitted it to me after I saw them in a passionate embrace.”

  Brent’s eyes narrowed in comprehension. “That’s why you were walking in the park with Brutus the morning we met.”

  Relief at finally admitting what happened slid down her as cool and cleansing as a spring waterfall. “Yes, I was trying to figure out how I was going to get out of marrying Staunton without compromising Rosa’s reputation.”

  “So you decided to save hers and ruin your own.”

  There was no accusation in Brent’s voice, only understanding; still she worried he might be angry at her. She took a hesitant step toward him. “I swear it wasn’t intentional, Brent. And I swear I wouldn’t have been so bold with anyone else, but I knew there was something different about you the moment my eyes met yours. Something inside me was drawn to you. I think I fell in love with you the moment you told me you were walking your mother’s dog.”

  She saw him swallow hard. Her name was the only word he got out before her father spoke up harshly and said, “Are we back to that, Gabrielle? Love? Forget about that and tell me more about Rosa. Where is she?”

  Gabrielle was trembling with her need to be alone with Brent. She wanted to explain everything to him without her father and aunt listening to every word.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Lathbury said from the doorway. “I hate to disturb you, but Lord Austerhill is here to see you. He says it’s about an important matter that can’t wait.”

  “Well, bring him in,” the duke barked.

  Brent looked down at Gabrielle and smiled. “Don’t be frightened, my love. Your father cannot change our plans. We will be married.”

  Gabrielle stared into Brent’s eyes and marveled that he could be so confident against her father, and she loved Brent all the more.

  Austerhill walked in, pulling on the front lapels of a coat that didn’t quite meet around his bulging middle. “Your Grace.” He bowed to the duke. “My lord, Lady Gabrielle, and Mrs. Potter.”

  Everyone politely greeted him in return.

  “I must say,” the portly earl uttered, “I didn’t expect to see the four of you calmly drinking port at a time like this.”

  “We are drinking, Austerhill,” Brent said, “but not calmly at the moment.”

  “I should think not,” he barked and then turned to the duke. “I assume you’ve sent someone after them too.”

  Her father blew out an exasperated breath. “What are you talking about, Austerhill?”

  The earl’s gaze darted to each one in the room. “Don’t tell me you don’t know yet that Staunton and Lady Rosabelle have eloped to Gretna Green.”

  A collective gasp of “no” sounded around the room.

  “Has anyone seen Rosa this morning?” the duke asked.

  “No one is ever allowed to disturb Rosa until after noon,” Gabrielle answered.

  “I’ll go check her bedchamber,” Auntie Bethie said and hurried from the room.

  “Papa, we’ve got to stop her,” Gabrielle said, rushing over to him. “Staunton doesn’t love her. She’ll never be happy with him.”

  “I’ve already sent my oldest son to try to overtake them and bring them back,” Austerhill said.

  Her father drank heavily from his glass, and then, with no emotion in his voice, asked Gabrielle, “Why should I go after them? If Rosa has been so foolish as to run off with Austerhill’s son, so be it. You obviously don’t want to marry him. She does. I don’t see this as an outrageous turn of events. I’ll do nothing to stop them.”

  “You are content with their marriage?” Austerhill asked, seeming surprised by the duke’s laissez-faire attitude about their children’s elopement.

  Gabrielle watched in stunned silence as the duke walked over and added wine to his glass. He then poured another glass and handed it to the earl. “As long as you are, my lord.”

  “Well, Your Grace, er—” The earl blustered for a moment. “We’ll have to renegotiate the marriage contract, you understand. There has to be consideration because Staunton will no longer be marrying, or that is, married to your eldest daughter.”

  “Of course, I agree we will have to make some changes in the contract, but I think we’ll be able to work everything out satisfactorily, don’t you?”

  Auntie Bethie came rushing back into the room. “Rosa’s bed hasn’t been slept in. Here’s a note addressed to Gabrielle.”

  She handed the note to Gabrielle, and she opened it and read aloud:

  “I wanted to talk to you yesterday because you are at times so sensible about things that make no sense. But you were too consumed with your precious dog, and later when you came to my room, it was too late to talk. I had already made my decision to accept Staunton’s offer to elope and take the decisions about our lives out of our fathers’ hands. We can’t trust our fathers to allow us to marry, so we must do this on our own. Be happy for me, Gabby. This is what I want. I will see you when I return.”

  A peace settled over Gabrielle. This was what Rosa wanted, and Staunton had admitted to Gabrielle that he found passion in Rosa’s arms. How could she be unhappy for them?

  “That child has always had a mind of her own,” Auntie Bethie said.

  “Here,” the duke said, pushing his half-empty glass toward Auntie Bethie. “As long as you’re still here, you might as well fill my glass again.”

  “With relish, Duke. Now that I’ve decided to move to London, I will often be here.”

  “What? What do you mean, Elizabeth? You know I won’t allow that.”

  “What about a new marriage contract?” the earl asked.

  “Yes, yes, we’ll get to that in a moment,” her father said.

  Gabrielle and Brent smiled at each other. “Let’s take a walk in the garden, shall we?” he said.

  “I’ll lead the way,” she answered, knowing Lord Austerhill and her aunt would keep her father busy for a long time.

  As soon as they stepped outside and Brent closed the door behind them, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The air was cold, but his lips and embrace were warm. She felt heavenly.

  When he broke from the kiss, she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rosa. I didn’t want—”

  “Shh.” He silenced her with another kiss. “There are only two things I want to know, all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Do
you love me?”

  Gabrielle smiled. “Yes.”

  “Do you want to marry me as soon as I can get a special license?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, entwining her arms around his neck.

  “That is all I need to know, my love. Now kiss me again.”

  Brent claimed her lips for his own, and Gabrielle thrilled to his touch.

  Epilogue

  I am my beloved’s and his desire is toward me. Come, my beloved.

  —Song of Solomon 7:10-11

  “Gabrielle?”

  She felt light, feathery kisses on her cheek, her forehead, and her eyes. Was she dreaming?

  “My sweet love. It is time to wake.”

  Gabrielle opened her eyes only for a second and then closed them again and turned over. She wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck.

  He kissed her long and thoroughly. “Are you ready to wake up, my darling wife?”

  “No, not yet,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “Perhaps you should kiss me some more.”

  “I promise I will later, but not right now. Sit up. I have something for you.”

  She opened her eyes and stretched her arms up in the air. “You are already dressed?”

  “I had an errand that needed to be done first thing this morning, and while I was out the mail coach came. You have a letter from London, from your sister’s address.”

  “Oh, from Rosa? She’s finally answered one of my letters.”

  Gabrielle sat up in bed, brushed her hair away from her face, and straightened her long-sleeved night rail across her shoulders while Brent settled himself on the edge of the bed beside her.

  Taking the letter, she opened it and read aloud:

  “Dearest Gabby, I have the most wonderful news to share with you. I am expecting a babe. I knew you would be thrilled for me and Staunton. When are you coming to visit so we can talk?

  Your loving sister”

  Excitement filled Gabrielle, and she looked up at Brent and smiled. “Rosa is going to have a child.”