Dancing with a Rogue (10 page)

How close he had come to kissing her. He restrained himself only because something told him that once he took that step, he couldn't turn back, that it would be the beginning of a long journey he couldn't take.

He walked the mile easily, enjoying the brisk London air. He wondered whether it was because he'd been a lad here; part of him felt as if he was returning home. The streets were dirtier than those of Boston but cleaner than many of the ports he'd visited.

Yet while the city streets were familiar, the strictures of society were not. Perhaps he hadn't been so aware as a lad, or perhaps his father's own connection to a titled family had protected him. But he truly disdained a system that valued name above deed, gamesmanship above industry.

He had to admit that his impressions were driven by three men, three men who had thieved their way to riches and were protected by their name and titles.

He reached his rooms and went up the steps. The door opened before he reached it, and Smythe, resplendent in new dark clothes, opened it and bowed as he came in.

“If you do that again, I might have to discharge you,” Gabriel said. He had told Smythe several times not to bow, but the man insisted on doing it anyway.

The man's face paled.

“No, Smythe,” Gabriel said. “I will not discharge you, but I wanted to make a point. No more bowing. No more curtsies from your mother or sister. I am not royalty.”

“But my lord …”

Gabriel surrendered. Smythe was a soldier through and through, and used to courtesies that embarrassed Gabriel.

Smythe took his gaudy waistcoat. Gabriel untied the cravat and pulled it off, handing it to him.

“My lord is not going out again tonight?”

“I think not,” he said.

“A letter arrived for you,” Smythe said. “I put it on your desk.”

Gabriel frowned. He hadn't been in London long enough to be sent a letter. “From America?”

“No, my lord. Delivered by a footman. I did not recognize the livery.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel said.

“Would you be having supper? My sister made a fine supper.”

“I would, indeed,” he said. “I will take it in the study.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Gabriel despaired of ever getting his one manservant to drop the “my lord.” It made him feel bloody uncomfortable. He left Smythe and went into the study. He read the elegant invitation to a soiree at the home of Thomas Kane, the Earl of Stanhope.

He sat down in the chair and stared at the invitation. The event would be in six days. A personal note was at the bottom in tight neat handwriting: “Welcome to London.”

A knock came at the door, and he said “Come.”

Smythe had a bottle of port on a tray. “My lord?”

“Please,” Gabriel said. “Then you can help me with these dratted boots.”

Smythe's stern face relaxed for the first time since he'd returned. It was clear he was still wondering at his luck in obtaining a post and terrified of losing it. He obviously worried about his skills and removing boots was an easy enough one.

Gabriel suspected that being dismissed was one of the few things that terrified the man.

If he'd fought Napoleon's armies, he certainly was no coward. Neither did he look like a man impressed by other men who had not earned his respect. Gabriel wanted to engage him about his service, but then he would be giving something of himself away.

And so he waited as Smythe helped remove the Hessian boots that were all the fashion in London.

“Thank you,” he said after Smythe had neatly pulled them off.

“Should I serve your supper now?” Smythe asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “And then you are free the rest of the evening.”

Smythe didn't move. “I could prepare a bath, your lordship.”

Gabriel realized that Smythe wanted to keep busy, that he probably felt that was the key to continued employment.

“A good suggestion. In an hour. Then I plan to retire.”

Smythe hesitated. “Are my clothes adequate, my lord? Would you prefer a uniform?”

“No, I do not. The clothing is very adequate.”

“I would not wish to embarrass you.”

“If anything, Smythe,
I
will embarrass you. You are a gentleman's gentleman, and I am not much of a gentleman. To most of London, at any rate,” he said.

Smythe didn't say a word, and Gabriel knew he'd probably heard some of the rumors about the bumpkin American.

He took a sip of port. He wanted to ask Smythe to join him, but that would probably really unhinge the man.

He put down the glass. “How are your mother and sister? Is the room adequate?”

“Yes, my lord,” Smythe said. “It is warm and comfortable.”

“Where is your sister?”

“She is reading, my lord.”

“What does she like?”

“Everything,” Smythe said proudly. He hesitated. “I bought her a book with part of the money you gave me for clothes.”

“Has she had any schooling?”

“The rector taught her to read and sums, but then he died, and the replacement did not feel a girl needed any more than that.”

“I have some books I brought with me from America,” he said. “Tell her to see me in the morning and she can borrow some.”

A muscle moved in the man's throat.

“We did not want her to bother you, sir.”

“Anyone who reads is not a bother, Smythe,” Gabriel said. “I will see about finding her someone to help with lessons.”

“I will pay it out of my salary,” Smythe said.

“We will talk about that later, and now I am well and truly hungry.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Once more, Smythe, I detest this ‘my lord' business. It's all right when someone is here, but when I'm alone I would just as soon prefer something less formal.”

Smythe looked puzzled.

Gabriel knew the man would never call him Gabriel. “Mr. Manning will do quite nicely,” he said.

“I will try to remember, my lord.” But this time there was amusement in his voice.

“Thank you, Smythe.”

Monique looked through the bouquets of flowers expressly for one from Manchester. It had been three days since he had accompanied her from the theater.

It was maddening at how much she wished for flowers from
him.

Instead, they continued to be delivered from others in astonishing numbers.

There were twelve bouquets in all today, including one from Stanhope. A small box accompanied it.

She opened it to find a fine silver comb with onyx stones. The card said, “I could not resist.” It was expensive, but not overly so.

The first gift from her father.
If he but knew.

She handled it gently, then scrawled a note, thanking him but saying she could not accept such an expensive gift.

It was meant, she knew, as a promise. This gift now. Others would follow.

She rang for Dani and showed her the comb.

Dani grimaced. “What are you going to do?”

“Return it.”

“He will not like that. He is not a man to be thwarted.”

“I am aware of that.”

“What about that other gentleman? The one in the carriage?”

Monique shrugged.

“I liked him.”

“He is a dandy,” Monique said dismissively. “Another aristocrat who believes he can take what he wants.”

“I do not think so,” Dani said.

Monique turned toward Dani, who was generally suspicious about men. “Why?”

Dani shrugged. “Small things. His courtesy for me when I meant nothing to him. And the way he listened to you. He did not sit there and tell you how important he was, nor did he try to press you when …”

“I might have allowed him,” Monique said. “Perhaps he is just more clever than most.”

“He is clever,” Dani agreed. “But I do not think in a bad way. Not like Lord Stanhope.”

“Well, he is gone now. And he has not made a call in the last few days. It was just a pleasant flirtation for him.”

“I think not,” Dani said. “His eyes …”

“I never knew you to be a romantic before,” Monique said.

“
Non
, I am not,” Dani admitted. “Still … he is interesting.”

“He was a distraction,” Monique said. “A momentary entertainment, but now we must concentrate on the matter at hand. Do you suppose Mrs. Miller can find someone to deliver this box?”

“
Oui
,” Dani said. Then she paused. “There is no rehearsal tonight. Should we stay in?”

“No, I think we will go to Vauxhall Gardens tonight. I hear there will be fireworks tonight, and booths with punch and ham. Many people will be there, I'm told.”

“I think I would like that, too.”

Dani's reply surprised Monique. Usually Dani hid inside, reluctant to go among strangers. But perhaps the tension was affecting her, too.

“Good, then it is settled. I will wear my gray muslin dress and a cloak. I can always hide under the hood if need be.”

Dani gave a rare laugh. “You can never hide. You float along the ground and every head turns.”

“Well, I shall try. For this night at least,” Monique said gaily, suddenly excited by an adventure that had nothing to do with Stanhope. A few moments of carefree fun. “And you,” she said, “you must wear something pretty, too.”

“I have nothing,” Dani said.

“Yes, you do,” Monique said. “You can wear one of mine. We are much the same size. And you would look very pretty in blue.”

“I do not want to look pretty,” Dani said, her eyes darkening.

Monique hesitated. “I will be with you every moment. You cannot hide forever.”

“I like hiding.”

“Well tonight, we will be together.… Please.”

The rebellion slipped from Dani's eyes. Then she smiled. “
Oui
.”

Vauxhall Gardens was like nothing Gabriel had ever seen before. He had never been there as a lad. His father had considered the behavior there licentious, he remembered. He hadn't known exactly what the word meant, but he'd remembered it.

But tonight there was to be an orchestra and singers and fireworks, and the night was a perfect English evening. No fog, only a cool breeze.

He would not have thought about it if he hadn't met with Elizabeth Smythe this morning.

Smythe had brought his sister down to him as he ate breakfast. She had shyly presented herself to him. Elizabeth was a thin sprite of a child with huge eyes and a reserved nature. He bade her to sit down and join him for breakfast. She obviously didn't want to do it, but he was tired of eating by himself at a large table while others served him.

“It would be a kindness,” he said.

She looked as if she wanted to escape.

“Your brother said you like to read,” Gabriel said. “I like people who read and I thought you might share some of my books.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Truly?”

“Truly,” he said.

She finally took a seat as her mother served them, her chin bobbing nervously.

But the moment Elizabeth started talking about books, and geography, her blue eyes lit like a sky filled with stars. They sparkled and glowed. “I want to go around the world,” she said. “But first I want to go to the colonies and see the Indians.”

“Some of them are very fierce,” he said.

She regarded him for a moment. “But do they not have reason?”

“Yes, indeed they do,” he said.

He'd wondered whether his small collection of books would be too difficult for her, but now he realized she had one of those rare minds that soaked up knowledge like a sponge.

“And where would you like to go here in London?”

“Oh,” she said, excitement vibrating her small body. “The fireworks at the Gardens. That would be marvelous. My uncle said he would take me when he had time.”

He looked at Smythe, who had just walked in with a steaming plate of eggs, much too much for him alone, but then Smythe and his mother seemed determined to fatten him.

“When is the next fireworks?”

“Tonight, my lord,” Elizabeth said.

“Then I think you should go.”

Smythe looked stricken, even mortified. Gabriel realized how truly desperate the family must have been.

Suddenly he too wanted to go, and not for the fireworks. God knew he'd seen enough shot streaking through the skies to ever enjoy a fireworks display. But he realized how lonely he was, and the thought of an evening with a family was suddenly very appealing.

“I would like to take you and your mother and Elizabeth,” he said.

“That … would be unseemly, sir.”

“I am an American. I can be unseemly,” he said. “Or anything else I want to be. Smythe, you have no idea how much pleasure it would give me.”

Elizabeth looked up at Smythe with pleading eyes. “Please, Sydney. Oh, please.”

Caught between his sister and employer, Smythe gave a deep sigh and surrendered. “As you wish, my lord.”

“We will leave at seven,” he said. “And Elizabeth can visit my study and borrow any books she wishes.”

Smythe nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Mr. Manning.”

Mr. Manning.
Well, he had accomplished something today.

He finished his meal, then stood. “I need your help with that blasted cravat,” he said. “I have some business this morning. I will rent a carriage for tonight.” He glanced at Smythe. “Unless you have a brother or nephew who can help us.”

Smythe allowed his lips the smallest of smiles. “No, sir. I will engage one.”

Vauxhall Gardens was all that he had heard described, and more. There was a fee at the entrance, and he paid for the four of them. They must be an odd group, he thought. He had decided he couldn't completely discard his new personality, so he wore a gaudy waistcoat of a bright pattern against a green background. He fixed the quizzing glass in his eye and chose his most elaborate cane.