by Brenda Hiatt
"Lady Pinhurst thought he was a viscount," confessed Brie, ready to tell all now that the worst was over. "But I set her straight. I'm afraid she also assumes that I am some sort of heiress, though, and I was unsure how to go about silencing such a rumour."
The look the Duke turned on her seemed more amused than concerned. In fact, if it did not seem impossible, she might even think his expression admiring. "You really can't," he said after a moment. "If people wish to make unfounded assumptions, that is their right. After all, they can hardly expect you to introduce yourself by saying, 'Hello, I am Miss Gordon, and I have no dowry,' can they?"
"I suppose not," she conceded, with a reluctant chuckle at the thought of what reaction such an introduction might provoke.
The music ended at that point, and the Duke suggested that they step out of one of the open French windows for a breath of air, "well within sight of the ballroom, of course. You may trust me to take better care of your reputation than you do yourself."
Brie regarded him suspiciously for a moment, suspecting a reference to Sir Frederick, but consented without making a retort. The evening was warm, but still much cooler than the overcrowded ballroom. Brie gulped in the fresher air gratefully.
"Now what was it you wished to tell Elizabeth and me in the carriage earlier?" asked the Duke, leaning against the balustrade next to her.
The absurdity of her previous fears suddenly struck Brie forcibly, and she began to laugh. "I just... I mean... oh, never mind," she said between giggles. "It turns out it wasn't so important."
The Duke regarded her with a frown, clearly curious, but after a moment he silently extended his arm to her. "Very well, then," he said rather stiffly. "I shall certainly not pry. If you have nothing to say after all, we had better rejoin the others."
Her eyes still dancing with amusement at her own expense, Brie nodded. Though she knew that the Duke was offended, she decided that the lengthy explanation necessary could wait. Just now, she was so relieved to have the imagined ordeal so easily over— and with an actual promise of seeing the him again at his sister's ball— that she felt she was walking on air for the rest of the evening.
* * *
CHAPTER 15
Brie awoke the next morning with a marvellous sense of well-being; her worst fears had been laid to rest and she could look forward with pleasure to the rest of her London Season. She felt an outpouring of gratitude to her sister for inviting her here and to her mother for insisting that she come.
Her mother! Suddenly, she recalled that Angela had no doubt invited her to Town by now, and that her coming might well curtail her season by forcing her to accept Lord Timothy's offer. Now, more than ever, she was determined to stand firm against her relatives. Gabe, at least, would take her part. On sudden inspiration, Brie scrambled from under the blue counterpane and began to dress herself before her abigail appeared to help her some five minutes later, having been told by a chambermaid that there were signs of life in Miss Gordon's room.
Once downstairs, Brie lingered over her breakfast, waiting for her sister to put in an appearance. She seemed to be seeing less of Angela recently, she thought, though for the most part that was probably for the best. At any rate, Sir Seymour seemed to be seeking out his wife's company more and more often, and Brie hoped this might signal an improvement in a marriage which had stood in great need of it.
Now that she thought on it, her brother-in-law appeared to be drinking a great deal less than he had a few weeks ago (and for the past few years, according to Angela), which might account for much of the change. When sober, Sir Seymour was almost likable, though still too dandified for Brie's taste.
These musings on the state of her sister's marriage were interrupted by the entrance of Angela herself. She hummed softly to herself as she loaded her plate from the sideboard, giving Brie further cause for speculation.
"Good morning, Angela," she said as her sister seated herself across the table. "You seem to be in excellent spirits."
"Yes, I suppose I am," replied Angela with an air of surprise. "Seymour and I went to the Glastons' dinner party last night, as you know, and we had a better time than I can remember since... well, for quite some time, anyway. And that even though we left rather early." This was said with a secret sort of smile which hinted that the best part of the evening had occurred after their return home.
"How nice," said Brie rather lamely. While happy for her sister, she had no desire to pry into the intimacies of her married life. Quickly, she changed the subject.
"Angela, I have been thinking. You invited Gabe to Town along with Mother, did you not?"
"Now why would I have done such a shatterbrained thing as that?" responded her sister. "What on earth would a fifteen-year-old child find to do in London at the height of the Season?"
"He might manage to make some connections which could be valuable to him later on." Brie kept her tone reasonable, fearful that Angela would completely reject the idea, in spite of her improved mood. "Of course, with him here, Mama might feel obliged to stay home with him in the evenings rather than chaperoning me about." She waited to see what effect this might have.
Angela's brows drew down in thought. "There is that, I suppose. It is not as though you need her as a chaperone to your fine affairs, you know. I can accompany you just as well."
"Of course." Brie's tone was noncommittal.
Angela's brow cleared somewhat. "I suppose there would be no real harm in it. As a matter of fact, since I did not specify one way or the other in my letter, she may well bring him, anyway, rather than leave him home alone with the servants. I can send off a note inviting him, I suppose."
Returning to her previous happy mood, Angela went on, "I can't help noticing, by the bye, that you have been receiving a flattering amount of attention from several extremely eligible partis in addition to Lord Timothy. If you are truly determined not to have him, perhaps I should give you some sisterly advice on how to bring a gentleman to the point. Have you made a choice yet?"
"No!" exclaimed Brie in alarm. "That is, there are still several more weeks in the Season. There is no hurry, is there?" At least it appeared that she might not to be forced to wed Lord Timothy against her will. With her heart still hammering in her breast, she realised that she had made a choice— but could see no real hope of bringing that particular gentleman "to the point". Somehow, she doubted that any of Angela's practiced wiles would have much effect on the Duke of Ravenham.
She had observed his behaviour closely at the ball last night. He had been perfectly amiable and attentive, but she had seen no real evidence that he felt anything stronger than friendship for her. Indeed, she had observed him behaving with equal, if not greater, gallantry towards one or two other young ladies, both more attractive (and undoubtedly more wealthy) than herself. With them, he flirted. With her, he discussed his sister and her cat— when he was not lecturing her about propriety.
Mentally, she shook herself. Did she not prefer it that way? She had often despised the coquettish wiles of the majority of young ladies "out" in Society; she was not about to join their ranks in order to "captivate" the Duke— or any man!
"No, I suppose there is no hurry," her sister finally replied. "But it will not do to whistle a fortune down the wind just because you want to take your time, either. Take my advice, Gabriella—"
She was interrupted by a stentorous throat-clearing from the doorway of the dining room.
"Yes, Madsen, what is it?" asked his mistress impatiently.
"The Duke of Ravenham is without, enquiring whether Miss Gordon might wish to go driving this morning," he intoned. The presence of high nobility always intensified his pompously important air.
"Well, do not leave him standing on the doorstep, you dolt!" Angela exclaimed. "Show him into the parlour and tell him we will join him in a moment."
"Y
es, my lady," replied Madsen, leaving the room with unimpaired dignity.
"Did you hear that?" Angela turned to her sister excitedly. "He must have formed a tendre for you, Gabriella, for why else would he be here? Unless," she said, suddenly sobering, "it is merely to verify that the terms of his wager are up. But let us go and see!"
She left the room at once and Brie followed more slowly. Could Angela be right? Could the Duke have possibly formed a tendre for her? As she remembered the number of beauties she had seen flocking about him on numerous occasions, it hardly seemed likely, but still, he was here....
"Good morning, Miss Gordon," said the Duke cheerfully as she entered the parlour. "I am glad to see you so chipper after such a late night. I was just telling Lady Platt that you were the belle of the ball."
Brie blushed deeply. "Hardly that, your grace," she protested. "You are too kind." She noticed the speculative look Angela was giving her and rushed to change the subject.
"Did I understand correctly that you wish to take me driving, your grace?" Though he had given her permission to use his Christian name last night, she was not about to do so in her sister's presence, or she would very likely find an announcement in the papers the next morning.
"Did I not promise to give you another driving lesson at a later date, Miss Gordon?" The Duke kept his manner strictly formal as well, she noticed. "I am nothing if not a man of my word."
So that was it. Of course he would never back out of a promise he had made, though no doubt he had intended to complete her instruction before the agreed-upon term of the wager was completed.
"Oh, of course, your grace." She silently chided herself for her vague sense of disappointment. This was still more than she had expected, was it not? "I'll get my bonnet and be down in a moment."
* * *
It was a sparkling morning (though now nearer to noon) for a drive through Hyde Park. The flowers were in full bloom and their perfume filled the air. Brie found it impossible to be anything but cheerful in such a setting.
"If you are going to trust me with the ribbons, your grace, it had best be while the Park is still relatively empty. I cannot believe it will remain so for long on such a day," she said smilingly.
"Perhaps you are right. We don't want you careering into another curricle now, do we?" he teased. "In truth, you are already skilled enough to make such a mishap unlikely in the extreme, but even the best of drivers has the occasional accident." He paused, then added, "And now that we are alone, perhaps we can revert to Dexter and Brie?"
"Certainly," agreed Brie her heart suddenly even lighter. "I can well understand your wish not to be too familiar before my sister, for I share your sentiments fully." There— that should assure him that she had no intention of forcing herself upon him.
How fresh this girl was, and how natural, thought Dexter. As the Duke of Ravenham, he had, for the past few Seasons, been one of London's most sought-after beaux and could have had his pick of several crops of young, hopeful beauties. But, though he had occasionally felt amusement, or even desire, when in the company of this or that unexceptionable debutante, none had ever affected him like this dowerless country girl from Gloucestershire, with her love for animals and bright good humour.
He regarded her questioningly for a moment, trying to divine her thoughts, but then shrugged slightly and handed her the reins. "Let us see if you remember what I taught you last week" was all he said.
For the next several minutes, Brie concentrated on her driving, for she was conscious of a desire to gain the Duke's approval, if nothing else. Gradually, as the feel of the reins in her hands grew more comfortable, she began to relax.
"Good," remarked the Duke, breaking the silence. "You were a bit tense at first, but I didn't like to say anything for fear of having the opposite effect to what I intended." Then, as though to prevent that very problem, he changed the subject.
"You never did answer my question last night, you know," he said.
"Which question was that?" asked Brie, her eyes not leaving the trotting pair of blacks.
"About your father... ah, ah, relax your grip a bit. That's better. If you recall, I asked whether he received his education here or abroad."
"Oh, mostly abroad," replied Brie easily, now that her sudden alarm had subsided. She was not sure what she had expected him to ask, but this was not it. "You see," she continued, "the London Veterinary College didn't open until the early nineties, which was too late to be of much use to him, though he did come to Town to confer with Professor Saint Bel once or twice after the college was established. Of course, much of his learning came from experience with the animals themselves, which, I suppose, it must for most doctors, veterinary and otherwise."
"Very true," agreed the Duke. "I firmly believe that there is many a country housewife who is a better healer, given her raw experience, than the best-educated physician who has not yet had time to amass much practical knowledge."
They continued expounding their similar theories on that subject for some time, and then Brie suddenly recalled the obligation she had determined that morning to discharge.
"Your grace— Dexter— did I mention that I have a younger brother?"
"Elizabeth told me, I believe. His name is Gabriel, after your father, is it not?"
"Yes, we call him Gabe at home. He wishes to follow in our father's footsteps —to be a veterinary surgeon, that is— and I promised before I left for London that I would do all I could while here to further his ambition. But I fear I have little idea what I might be able to do for him. Could you advise me, perhaps?"
"How old is Gabe now?"
"Fifteen."
"Has he been to school at all?"
"No, he's never been out of Gloucestershire. He did the rounds with father, though, just as I did, and has already acquired quite a lot of experience."
"Hmm." The Duke considered the matter for a moment in silence. "I should think the best thing he could do now would be to go to one of the good public schools for a couple of years— Eton, perhaps— and then see about entering the London Veterinary College. I'll make some enquiries, in any event, and let you know. I fear I am hardly an authority on the subject."
"You're very kind, your grace. I really do appreciate this," said Brie sincerely, finally taking her eyes off the horses to favour him with a grateful glance.
A man could quite easily get lost in those eyes, thought the Duke irrelevantly. "You are quite welcome, Miss Gordon, though I have done nothing as of yet."
They continued to gaze at each other, the horses slowing to a walk. It seemed to both that they were on the verge of some deeper understanding. At that inopportune moment, the Duke became aware of the sound of rapid hoofbeats catching them up and glanced round. He immediately recognised the horse, a roan gelding, as one of his own and next realised that the agitated rider was his second groom.
"Hold up!" he said sharply to Brie, and within seconds the man drew level with them.
"Oh, your grace, thank the good Lord I've found you!" panted the groom. "It's Diana!"
Brie glanced quickly at the duke and saw an expression of anguished concern come over his face. Whoever Diana was, it was obvious that she meant a great deal to him. Could she possibly be the woman she had seen him with at the Ruby Crown —the one he had gazed at so longingly in the Park? A pang assailed her at the thought, but she did not have time to dwell on it.
"What is it, Stevens?" the Duke was demanding. "Out with it! Is she hurt?"
"Not exactly, your grace. She's begun whelping, a full three days early, and she seems to be in trouble. I went for old Farrington, but he wouldn't come when he heard it was a dog, so I come after you."
"Fool! You shouldn't have told him which animal it was until he was already there!" Then, after a pause, "I'm sorry, Stevens, you weren't to know. Since the Prince had him doctor one of the royal horses, Farrington's been putting on airs and will see nothing but prime bloods
. I'll come immediately; you had best go try to find another veterinary surgeon —or even a physician, if he's not too high in the instep to take my money."
His face was drawn with worry and frustration as he took back the reins. "I'm afraid we will have to cut today's lesson short, Miss Gordon," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "I'll take you home directly."
"No!" Brie exclaimed. Then, when he looked at her in surprise, she added, "I mean, there's no time to lose, if you want to save the pups. Is this her first litter?" The Duke nodded, clearly bewildered at her attitude. "Might I come along? I . . . I don't mean to intrude, but I may be of some use, especially if your man fails to find another surgeon."
He hesitated for only a moment. "Certainly," he said with sudden decision. "Diana is the best foxhound I have, and if your presence might make the difference, I'd be a fool to refuse your help."
Expertly turning the curricle, he whipped up the team and left the Park at breakneck speed.
* * *
CHAPTER 16
Diana was stretched out on a pile of clean straw in an empty stall when they arrived a few minutes later. It was obvious even to the Duke of Ravenham that she was in distress, and Brie, who had seen whelping bitches in much the same condition before, knew at once that she had made the right decision to come.
"Quickly!" she said to the groom, who had followed them into the stall. "Get some clean linens and warm water. Also some string or twine. Your grace," she said, turning to the Duke, "might there be an apron or smock about that I can put on? This may be rather messy, and I would as lief not have to explain the condition of my gown to my sister. She did, after all, pay for it."
"Certainly, certainly!" he exclaimed, hurrying away after the groom. Brie was certain he was not at all used to taking orders from young ladies, but his concern over Diana had clearly thrust every other thought out of his mind.
Alone with Diana, a dainty black-and-brown foxhound, Brie first set about calming the bitch's fears and winning her confidence. Crooning softly, she laid one gentle hand on the dog's head and, with the other, felt along her side. There was no doubt that she was labouring to birth the first pup, and that something was preventing her from doing so. The very daintiness of the hound's build gave Brie a clue as to what it might be.
