Chapter Twenty #3
Ambrose, who’d drunk the best part of a bottle of brandy even before leaving home, was well on his way to losing a small fortune.
Deciding he’d rather not watch money being lost which he could have used to save God knew how many more children, Gabriel, holding his glass of lemonade, wandered through into the main ballroom, hardly daring to hope he might spy Phoebe there.
Her absence, and his own jumbled feelings for her, had been the reason he’d gone into the card room with Ambrose in the first place.
No sign of her. But then, she was the epitome of a wallflower, and he wasn’t expecting to spot her straightaway.
He scanned the room more carefully. There, wasn’t that her dragon-like aunt dancing with the rotund and balding Duke of Hexham?
So if she was here, so must Phoebe be. And of course, her Amazonian cousin whom he’d thought the duke was interested in.
It seemed he preferred his meat well hung.
Keeping to the edge of the room, Gabriel began to slowly skirt the dancers, who were participating in a lively Scottish reel.
Someone, probably Lady Radnor, whose origins were Scottish, had provided the orchestra with a bagpipe player, and the skirling music rose to the chandeliered ceiling. Very rousing.
One or two people greeted him as he passed, but he was as short with them as it was polite to be. For some reason he couldn’t work out, he was sure he needed to find Phoebe as quickly as possible. His heart began to speed up in anticipation of seeing her lovely face.
As he passed a group of older ladies seated in conversation around a low table, one of them glanced up at him.
Her face lit up for a brief moment as her eyes met his, only for her gentle expression to be replaced by one of deep sadness.
He paused to bow to her, as was only polite.
“Lady Mandeville.” The Earl of Mandeville’s widowed sister-in-law.
Possibly she was thinking of her awful nephew.
She bowed her head slightly and turned back to her friends.
Perhaps she’d been looking for someone and mistaken his step.
But he forgot this immediately as he spotted Phoebe, a little further along and in conversation with the nephew himself, Viscount Evesham, the rather unpleasant heir to the equally unpleasant Earl of Mandeville.
Not a nice family. Phoebe did not look happy.
But then, at the ball where he’d met her, she’d not looked happy for most of the time, so nothing was that different.
Having deposited his lemonade glass on a table, he approached in full view of Evesham, whose gaze met his with a distinct air of hostility.
Unfazed, Gabriel kept going. “Evesham, good to see you. Lady Phoebe, you look charming as ever.” He bowed to them both and was pleased to spot a flash of what might have been pleasure in Phoebe’s dark eyes.
If he wasn’t mistaken, she was happy to see him, but also a little confused.
“Wycliff,” Evesham said, a distinct coldness about his voice.
Not that he and Gabriel had ever been friends.
Evesham had been four years ahead of him at Eton and left within a year of Gabriel’s arrival at that hallowed institution.
Which had been a relief, as he’d been one of the worst bullies in the school.
“Lord Gabriel.” Phoebe executed a decidedly clumsy curtsy.
No doubt Evesham hadn’t yet experienced the pleasure of her trampling, or he might not be looking quite so proprietorial.
Or maybe he’d decided her fortune worth the toe damage.
That seemed more likely. Or maybe there was more to it than that.
If there was, Phoebe did not look as though she was party to it.
Gabriel smiled benevolently on them both, no doubt partly thanks to the laudanum-induced euphoria.
He let his gaze come to rest on Phoebe, who suddenly seemed to be glowing as though a fire burned within her, and said the first thing that came into his head.
“I just saw your sainted aunt, and she asked me to fetch you to her if I were to find you. I believe she said she needs to tell you something. What it is, I have no idea, but she sounded as though she thought it quite important. Shall I escort you to her?”
“I thought I saw her on the dance floor?” put in Evesham, but Phoebe was already moving away from him.
“The dance will be over very shortly,” she said, with aplomb. “That will be when she needs me.”
Gabriel held out his arm, smug that he’d got his offer to escort her in before Evesham had time to do so, and his rival shot him an angry glare.
Gabriel smiled sweetly back, walking on air, mainly thanks to the laudanum.
Whether Phoebe believed his fib or not he had no idea, but she performed a wobbly curtsy to Evesham. “I hope we shall have the opportunity to speak again later, Lord Evesham. However, when my aunt calls, I must hasten to her, whatever the cause, as a dutiful niece.”
There wasn’t much Evesham could say to this, so he stepped back out of the way, more than a little begrudgingly. “I shall look forward to that moment. And do not forget that you have promised me the quadrille.”
She nodded. “I have it on my dance card.” Then she turned to Gabriel and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Lead on, Lord Gabriel. I cannot wait to hear what my aunt needs me for.”
The hint of irony in her voice betrayed her lack of belief in his story, but by now Evesham had moved away, presumably in search of further prey.
The man made Gabriel’s skin crawl, and had done since their school days.
Even Ambrose, who usually liked most people, didn’t care for him.
That he was interested in Phoebe just for her money was all too obvious.
He felt a growing urge to plant the man a facer but wasn’t certain he could do so left-handed.
However, as soon as they were out of Evesham’s hearing, he looked down at Phoebe with a grin. “She doesn’t really want you.”
She raised her eyes to meet his, for once bold despite the crowds.
“You surprise me. I had already worked that out. It was very kind of you to rescue me from Lord Evesham’s clutches.
I was feeling much as a fox must when run to ground by the hunt.
” There was something guarded about the way she spoke.
No doubt she was angry that so long had passed since their visit to the rookery without him calling on her.
“Would you care for some refreshment?”
“I would indeed. I haven’t yet danced, and have no intention of doing so if I can avoid it, but I’m quite thirsty. Lemonade would be most refreshing.”
At the refreshment table he passed her a glass and guided her towards where the long glass doors opened out onto the rain-washed terrace.
They were closed, of course, and small groups of people clustered in most of the alcoves the long curtains had created.
These were places where more intimate conversations could take place, and, if one dared to draw the curtains across, one could become more familiar with one’s dance partner. Not that he had that in mind…or did he?
Gabriel stepped into the only remaining alcove. They were not hidden from view, but they had the illusion of privacy, and it would have been difficult for anyone to have come upon them unnoticed.
Now to take the bull by the proverbial horns. “Your offer,” he said, watching her reaction. “I would like to know why you made it.”