For this occasion, Lady Holly’s place was at the head of the table with Lady Holbourne taking a seat in the middle. Gabriel seated her, and then nipped down the table to the seat he’d arranged at Clio’s side. She was startled, but then she smiled warmly. For a moment he forgot that they were playing parts....
He hadn’t prepared for the effect of having her by his side for over an hour. For the effect of light conversation and the brushing touches as they were served and reached for glasses. For her ease. Where had the gray ghost gone? It was as if she‘d thrown off a disguise and was revealed to be a lost princess. A pity he had fat Lady Claymott on his other side, demanding an ear for endless chatter whenever she could.
He smiled and nodded as she went on, keeping an eye on the table, though heaven knows what he could do if anything went amiss. The alluring Mrs. Tremaine was a few seats to his right, so he couldn’t tell what she was doing, but he caught one hot look from Edward in that direction that had him wanting to sound an alarm bell. There was nothing impossible about the attraction, but then why did it seem Edward was eying forbidden fruit?
Lord Holbourne, bless him, claimed Lady Claymott’s attention and Gabriel turned back to Clio.
Quietly he asked the question that had been plaguing him since the dinner began, “How is it that you weren’t snapped up in your teens?”
She blushed a little, but also laughed. “There’s no need for such flattery.”
“It’s not flattery. I’m truly curious. If not in your teens, then years ago.”
She looked down at her plate and cut through some meat. “I was. He died.”
Dolt not to have thought of that. Her dismal clothing could even be mourning. “My condolences. Military?”
“Yes. Not in a famous battle. In a skirmish somewhere in Spain. Three years ago.”
“But you still feel it.”
She looked up at him. “I always will, but I’m not sunk in grief.”
“May I know his name?”
“Michael Partington. His family lives close to mine. We’d known each other all our lives, though he was four years older.” She picked up her wineglass and sipped. “It was hard to have him gone from the world. I’d not seen him for over a year, but we wrote. His last letter arrived after the news of his death.”
He took her left hand in his beneath the table. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”
She gently disengaged. “Many did. Let’s not talk more of it or I’ll cast a pall over the evening with tears.”
He wanted to take her in his arms and let her weep, but he smiled. “We’ll be enthusiasts for Christmas frolics, then.”
As if summoned, a flurry brought Caro’s husband, Camden, apologizing but looking at his wife in a way that carried hope. The chaplain was sitting at Caro’s side. He immediately offered his place. ““There is no difficulty at all, sir, I assure you. I have eaten very well already.”
After much demurring and persuading, the chaplain left and Camden sat in his place as new dishes and cutlery were provided.
“One situation improved,” Gabriel said quietly to Clio. “Lady Caroline and her husband are at least not stabbing one another with forks.”
“Two situations,” she said. “Mr. Lupscombe does not eat large meals. He’ll be much happier away from here. Do you think Lord Brentford and Miss Hayward will make a match of it?”
Gabriel glanced their way, surprised. It would be an excellent match in practical terms, joining two large estates, but he’d never thought of it. In the past, Roxie had shown a preference for Kim, but perhaps that was over now. Was she taking Edward as substitute? That might not be good. And what of Mrs. Tremaine?
He told himself there was nothing he could do, but dammit, he cared about what happened to the Stretton family. They were his anchor in the world.
When the ladies left, the atmosphere eased a little. Were women always a cause of turmoil among men? Talk turned to politics, with local gentlemen keen to hear what Camden had to say. By the time they rose from the table, more guests were arriving for the ball. Servants were taking greatcoats and cloaks and in the room set aside for it, guests were changing their outdoor footwear for dancing slippers.
Gabriel went to the ballroom, still alert for dangers he could avert, but mostly anticipating spending as much of the night as was decent with Clio Finch.
CHAPTER SIX
The minuet was falling out of fashion, but Lady Holly’s Christmas ball always began with one. Nowadays it was particularly slowly paced so that she could take part, and she danced it with Colonel Percy, who was almost of an age with her and willing to flirt.
Gabriel led out Clio, who confessed to having rarely danced it, but managed well enough.
“An expert partner is certainly an advantage,” she said as they slid past each other, eyes locked.
“Polished in every social perfection!”
She chuckled, eyes bright, cheeks tinted by natural good spirits.
When the dance was over he had to surrender her, but there was no shortage of candidates for her hand. She was flustered for a moment, but then strolled off with a young sprig, probably because he seemed harmless. Gabriel hoped that was true.
Miss Langsdale didn’t need his help, and the other young charity case, Miss Fenton, had failed to appear. Aunt Elizabeth came over. “Will you ask Miss Kelsey to dance, Gabriel? The poor girl’s brother has deserted her and she’s rather shy.”
“Of course.”
He was duly introduced, and though Miss Kelsey seemed overwhelmed, she blushed and agreed. The dance was a lively country one, and she’d been well trained in such things, so he could work at putting her at her ease. He thought he succeeded. Certainly, she didn’t lack for partners for the next.
He was too late to claim Clio for the next set, and her partner this time was older and smiling at her dangerously, but he could hardly drag her away. Looking around, he noticed that Edward and Roxie had disappeared. He tried to be pleased, but he didn’t feel that was the right union for either.
Then he realized Mrs. Tremaine was also absent.
He was tempted to go in search, but why get himself blown up? Whatever was going on, there was nothing he could do. He partnered safe Mrs. Alsop. Then he secured Clio again. As they strolled about the room, waiting for the next set to begin, he asked, “Enjoying yourself?”
She smiled. “Yes. I determined to, you see. There won’t be many such occasions.”
“There’ll be another Christmas ball next year.”
“I probably won’t be here by then. Lady Holly is very kind, but I don’t suit her and the situation doesn’t suit me. I’d prefer to be more useful.”
“Useful? You mean, as a governess?”
“What horror!” she teased. “I don’t think I’m suited to be a teacher, but there must be truly useful work to be done. Perhaps for the poor in London.”
“Good God.”
She laughed in surprise. “It horrifies you?”
“I wouldn’t want . . .” All kinds of idiotic words almost spilled out.
“You wouldn’t want to do such work. I see that. But as I can’t take a more conventional path, I’d like my life to have purpose.”
“But you’d prefer conventional? Marriage, children, and such.”
Stop it. You can’t offer her that.
“I suppose I would. But I’d still want to help those in need. Having been in need. Not of my daily bread, but needing help, which I generously received.”
“I see.”
“I don’t suppose you do. I wouldn’t have before my life fell into pieces.”
He couldn’t help it. He paused them in a corner where no one was nearby. “What led you to it, Clio? If he wooed you, why not demand marriage?”
She turned away to look at the crowded room. “I don’t intend to talk about it, Lord Gabriel.”
Her statement was absolute, and he had to respect it. However, her position showed him the nape of her neck, where soft curls brushed
small, gleaming pearls against her creamy skin, which he desperately wanted to kiss. The gown’s neckline rode some inches lower, giving him a glimpse of her spine and inviting completely improper visions of her naked back down to her rounded bottom. She liked to walk, and she danced lightly and with ease. She’d be lithe and lovely by candlelight in his bed....
He forced sanity on himself, welcoming the summons to the next dance, and that it was a lively reel. He was in danger of doing something disastrous.
Then he saw Edward come into the room with Mrs. Tremaine, and the woman was extraordinarily dressed in an Indian sari! Outrageous, but she looked magnificent.
Edward said something to the musicians, and the music changed to a waltz. Edward and Mrs. Tremaine moved smilingly into the steps. They might as well have made an announcement then and there!
But what of poor Roxie? Had she had hopes? Was that why she’d left the company? Perhaps he should offer his battered heart to her.
But then, bright with delight, Roxie came in with Kim in his regimentals. Kim’s scars and limp shocked Gabriel, but he couldn’t feel sorrowful when his friend looked so happy as he and Roxie joined the dance. Everyone watched the two couples dance, entranced by each other, but Aunt Elizabeth sent him an urgent look.
“I assume you can waltz,” he said, and drew Clio out onto the floor. After a startled moment, she complied, and then other couples joined.
“How extraordinary,” Clio said, turning gracefully in his arms.
She probably meant the situation, but he agreed with respect to the dance. Many thought it scandalous, and perhaps it was, but he’d never found it so marvelous before.
The dance was over too soon. Gabriel should be seeking his next partner, but he took Clio with him when he went to congratulate Kim and Roxie, and then Edward and his lady.
“We were in love many years ago,” Edward said, “but we let the chance slip through our fingers. Never again.”
“Never,” Mrs. Tremaine said, looking into his eyes as if nothing else in the world mattered.
Chance slip though our fingers . . .
Then Lord Holbourne called for attention, and champagne was being brought around.
“Christmastide is a time of joy, and we are all enjoying my dear mother, Lady Holly’s, fiftieth Christmas ball.”
Everyone applauded.
“But we have even greater cause for joy. Tonight, not one but both of my sons have found a bride. Edward, Lord Brentford is to wed Mrs. Lily Tremaine, and Kimball, my younger son, is to wed our dear neighbor, Roxanne Hayward. Let us all toast to their happy futures!”
Everyone did, and Lady Holly was dabbing her eyes and looking blissful.
Gabriel joined in the toast wholeheartedly, but inside something was crying, “Why not for me?”
The music struck up again and he turned to Clio, but she’d moved away and was about to let some other man lead her into the next dance. Gabriel snatched her away and onto the dance floor.
She went, but said, “My lord?”
He didn’t try to explain, only saying, “Surprisingly good news.”
“I had wondered if Lord Brentford and Miss Hayward were truly suited, but I had no idea of an attachment between her and Mr. Stretton.”
“No one had. They squabbled their way through childhood.”
“Perhaps that’s the way it begins.”
Something in her smile made him ask, “For you, too? You said your betrothed was a neighbor.”
“For me, too.”
The dance started, but Gabriel said desperately, “I want you to be happy, Clio. You deserve that.”
She smiled as she moved into the steps, but the sad smile said, No, I don’t.
The ball ended at two and the guests from nearby departed, with lamps on their carriages and outriders carrying extra ones. When all was quiet, Gabriel walked the corridors of the house, half hoping, half fearing an encounter with Clio Finch.
He paused again in front of the picture of Stretton Manor and imagined riding home to find Clio at the door, smiling a welcome, a child or two running out to meet him. The idea in the abstract had horrified him, but now he yearned.
Even without her scandal it was too early to think of such things, but no one had told his mind or heart that. He could see it. He could feel it.
But it was impossible.
Not for his sake, but for hers, he reminded himself. She’d be shunned by his world, and probably shunned even by the worthy world she thought she’d find a place in. If she turned up in some city to help the poor, no one would ask questions. Once her story was out, however, the “good people” involved in such work would drive her away. The world was very unforgiving to a wanton woman.
And she had been wanton. Clearly, she’d encountered a clever, unscrupulous man, but to run off with him without marriage had been foolish. She was no fool, so she had to have been driven by lust. She had lusted for another man.
He turned from the picture and headed back to his room.
He’d leave tomorrow and put all this behind him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day started sleepily at Holbourne Abbey. Most of the servants had been given leave to rise late, and the guests slept on. Gabriel found himself awake at ten, however, and restless. He’d like to simply leave, especially to avoid another encounter with Clio, but he needed to take farewell of his hosts and Lady Holly, and he also needed to send for a chaise from the nearby town.
He wandered down and found the minimum of a breakfast laid out in the morning room on the ground floor. A footman brought him fresh coffee and he made do with ham and bread.
Morning had not brought sanity. He still wanted to woo Clio into becoming his bride, but the obstacles remained and he could see no way around them. He’d thought of their living abroad, but they’d be bound to encounter English people, and the curiosity would start up. Perhaps if they went beyond civilization and changed their names, but he doubted they could be happy that way.
He was finishing his second cup of coffee when someone rapped on the front door. The morning room door was open so he heard a man demand, “Is Miss Finch here?”
Gabriel rose and went to observe. The arrival was a rawboned sort of man in a heavy greatcoat of good quality. The seducer racing to correct a wrong? He appeared to be at least fifty.
The footman was uttering the standard defense. “I will ascertain, sir. If you would wait in here, please?” He indicated the reception room across the hall.
“But is she here?”
A choleric gentleman, and Gabriel had a suspicion. He couldn’t say there was a resemblance to Clio, but perhaps something....
He strolled out. “You find the house somnolent, sir, because of a grand ball last night. May I offer you refreshment as you wait? You may want to shed your outerwear?”
The man looked thwarted, but he let the footman take his greatcoat, gloves, and hat. “I’d appreciate a cup of tea, sir.”
Gabriel nodded to the footman to provide it and took the man into the morning room. “I’m Lord Gabriel Quinfroy, sir, a connection of the house. And you are?”
“Henry Finch. I’ve been told my daughter is here.”
There seemed no point in denying it. “She is, sir. She’s companion to the Dowager Countess of Holbourne.”
“Ha! So I was told. I’ll go odds the lady don’t know the truth about her.”
“I suspect you might lose that bet. Why are you here?”
Mr. Finch frowned at the tone. “My daughter. Her welfare.”
“Yet you seem to have lost her.”
“Your pardon, my lord, but this is none of your business.”
The footman brought the tea and laid it out on the table, then looked a question at Gabriel. Gabriel waved him away.
“I seem to be the representative of the family at the moment, Mr. Finch, and I am the dowager’s godson, so I can perhaps claim a spiritual connection. Miss Finch has become one of the family and is much valued. Are you come to take h
er away?”
Clio’s father stirred sugar into his tea and drank some. Gabriel didn’t like the look of him, but he knew he might be prejudiced.
“I am,” the man said at last. “She has received a very flattering offer of marriage.”
Gabriel had to take a moment to absorb that. “How very fortunate. And yet you mentioned a truth we might not know.”
“Fensham knows.”
“The Earl of Fensham?” Gabriel didn’t try to keep the astonishment out of his voice.
“Know him?”
“I know nearly everyone, Mr. Finch. He’s buried three wives.”
“Unlucky.”
“And yet you’d entrust your daughter to his misfortunes?”
Mr. Finch jutted out his jaw. “She’ll be a countess, and damned lucky to be so.”
“You think she’ll accept this offer?”
“Of course, she will,” the man growled. “What hope is there for her otherwise?”
Gabriel poured himself more coffee to buy time to absorb all this. “Lord Fensham doesn’t worry about his fourth wife’s reputation?”
“Rumors only, and if he and we deny them, they’ll blow over. Has she been sent for?”
Gabriel rose. “I’ll go and find out.”
In the hall he saw Aunt Elizabeth coming down the stairs. “I understand we have a visitor?”
“Clio Finch’s father,” Gabriel said quietly to her. “Hold his attention while I go and talk to her.”
“She’s probably still in bed.”
“Never mind.”
He ran upstairs and then realized he didn’t know which room was Clio’s. It would probably be next to Lady Holly’s. He picked the most likely door, knocked, and went in.
She sat up staring, and clutched the covers up high. She wore a plain white nightcap, but her hair was plaited. She was astonishingly beautiful. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t scream,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “Your father’s here.”
The Last Chance Christmas Ball Page 31
