His Favorite Mistress (14 page)

Julianna set down her cup. “About entering the marriage mart? No, to my knowledge, the duke has not changed his mind on that score. If I were you, I would not pin any hopes on tonight’s entertainment.”

“Nor would I, Lenora,” Countess Sefton advised. “I have long had to count Wyvern as a lost cause. Now, if he starts frequenting Almacks, perhaps you might have some reason to hope.”

Lenora huffed out an indignant breath, giving her daughter’s hand a brief squeeze as if in consolation. “Well, I do not understand.
All
men have need of a wife and an heir. One would think he could put aside his distaste of marriage in order to propagate his line.”

“Unlike us ladies, men have the luxury of being able to delay these matters,” the countess said. “Besides, I have heard he doesn’t mind if the title goes to a cousin.”

“Despite all manner of pleading from his mother on the subject, I understand,” confided another of the ladies. “Apparently the dowager asks him every year if he has reconsidered, and every year he says he has not.”

“Well, I refuse to give up,” Lenora declared. “One day he will change his mind and marry.”

But only for a special woman,
Gabriella realized.
The question is, could I be that woman? More importantly, do I wish to be?

Not long after, the conversation moved on to other subjects, the remainder of the visit proceeding at an easy, undemanding pace. At the end of their allotted time, she and Julianna stood to make their farewells, moving with the countess toward the drawing-room door. Just past the threshold, Lady Sefton drew Julianna slightly to one side, but not far enough away that Gabriella could not hear.

“Your niece seems a charming, unassuming girl, Lady Pendragon,” the countess said. “And despite the obvious flaws in her lineage, I believe she will take quite nicely. You may count on receiving vouchers for Wednesday next. I look forward to seeing you and Miss St. George at Almacks very soon. And perhaps your husband as well. We always have need of gentlemen for the dancing, even married ones.”

Julianna paused, a twinkle visible in her eyes. “I believe I may be able to persuade him. I shall make a point of trying.”

“Well, I cannot ask for more than that, now can I? Husbands being what they are and all.” Turning, she smiled at Gabriella. “Until we meet again, Miss St. George.”

“Yes, your ladyship.” Gabriella dipped her knees in a curtsey. “Thank you for the lovely afternoon.”

Lady Sefton’s smile broadened. “It was my pleasure. Such a sweet girl you are! A shame your father turned out to be a villain and that your mother was an actress. But alas, we cannot choose our parents, now can we?”

Gabriella’s shoulders stiffened, a defense of her family springing to her lips. Instead, she forced herself to keep a pleasant smile on her face, lowering her gaze slightly so as to conceal the anger she knew must be burning in her eyes. “No, my lady, we cannot.”

“Adieu, then,” the countess called with a happy little wave.

Before Gabriella had time do anything further, Julianna stepped forward and hooked an arm through hers, drawing her out the door that was being held open by a waiting footman.

Only after they were down the stairs and inside their coach did Gabriella dare to speak. “Of all the nerve!” she said, fiery color warming her cheeks. “Did you hear her?”

“Yes, and I am very sorry for it. But I do not think she truly meant to be unkind.”

“Do you not? Well, perhaps so, since she was good enough to grant me a voucher. Still, her remarks about my parents were rude.”

“She was thoughtless in her choice of words, I agree.” Julianna paused a moment as the coachman set their vehicle into motion, the wheels rumbling quietly against the Mayfair street. “But I would be remiss if I did not warn you that you may hear far worse this Season. The Ton can be quite severe in its opinions and cruel to those whom it deems lacking in matters of bloodline or wealth.”

“Well, if those are the sorts of people with whom I must associate, then perhaps I do not care to keep their company after all. They can find someone else to ridicule and deem
lacking.
”

Julianna reached across with a reassuring touch. “But you are not lacking, not in the slightest. You are a fine young woman for whom I have already come to care. And while it is true that you may encounter a few pompous sticklers who thrive on being hateful to others, do not ever let them hold sway over you. There are just as many people in Society who possess a good and generous nature. Seek them out and do not let the sour apples spoil your fun. And you
will
have fun, unless you quit the game before you have even begun it.”

On an exhale, Gabriella released the worst of her temper and hurt.
Julianna is right,
she thought.
Why toss away my opportunities because of a few inconsiderate words?
And to be fair, Lady Sefton had spoken nothing but the truth.

Handsome and aristocratic as he may have been, she knew that her father had been guilty of some heartless and brutal acts, as much as the knowledge might still pain her to admit. As for Mama—well, she
had
been an actress; that was a fact. But though Society might look down on the profession, that did not mean she must do the same. She would always remember her mother as beautiful and kind, a woman with a healthy appetite for life who had shared that gift with her daughter and everyone around her. If she were still alive, Mama would have told her to be proud and do whatever it took to succeed.

“Just look at you, Gabby,”
she would have said.
“My little girl rubbing elbows with the nobs like she were one of them. Going to fine parties and fancy balls, wearing gorgeous gowns and living in a big, grand house, and all without having to turn so much as a bit of ankle for the gentlemen folk. Now, there’s the life, I’ll say.”

No, Gabriella decided, she was made of far sterner stuff than to let the Lady Seftons of the world deter her. Anyway, Julianna would be crushed if she did not follow through and participate in the Season. And she would feel horribly guilty over all the expense and trouble to which the Pendragons had already gone on her behalf should she withdraw. She couldn’t let them down—or herself, she realized.
I shall stay,
she vowed,
regardless of what people may think or say of me.

Glancing across the coach, she saw Julianna watching her with a concerned expression. “So, when do those vouchers arrive? I hope in time for me to wear my new gown with the seed pearls on the bodice. The dressmaker’s sketch of the ensemble looked utterly divine.”

A relieved smile broke over Julianna’s face. “You’re going to look a dream in that gown, I agree. The gentlemen won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”

Hopefully, Wyvern will be among them. Perhaps he might even experience a twinge of jealousy should enough men look my way,
Gabriella mused.
Now wouldn’t that prove interesting?

“So, what are you wearing tonight?” Julianna continued. “The pink polonaise or the cream chiffon?”

Tony had missed the receiving line, the dancing long since underway by the time he strolled into the Hoxleys’ crowded ballroom just a few minutes shy of midnight that evening. Keen as a fox, he had planned his arrival with premeditated precision, wanting to be able to slip into the party in a manner designed to attract the least amount of notice or bother.

And so far, his plan appeared to be working. All the eager, matrimony-minded mamas were ensconced in chairs as they busily gossiped with their friends, while their daughters whirled across the ballroom floor in the arms of their current partners, the girls’ quota of available dances already promised for the remainder of the night. Which left Tony free to have a drink, talk to friends, and play a hand or two of cards—all without the nuisance of fending off unwanted feminine overtures.

Scanning the crowd, he looked for a few of his cronies, wondering if Ethan had decided to put in an appearance tonight. Or if Rafe might be there, ready to engage in their promised rematch at piquet. As his gaze roved over the sea of faces, though, his eyes stopped abruptly when he came across one countenance in particular.

Lord, she’s even lovelier than I remember,
he thought, allowing his eyelids to droop low so he could indulge in a long, surreptitious stare at Gabriella St. George’s vivacious, raven-haired beauty. An answering heat formed in his loins, one he ruthlessly forced himself to suppress.

He supposed he should have known she would be in attendance tonight. Crossing paths with her here in Town was inevitable, and long overdue, he admitted. Since leaving the Pendragons’ estate nearly a month ago, he’d kept himself busy, thoughts of Gabriella growing fewer and farther between, just as he’d assured himself they would.

For two weeks he’d gone home to Rosemeade, immersing himself in all manner of estate business—working with his secretary to review the accounts and answer correspondence, meeting with tenants about their various concerns, and answering a request from his mother to increase her quarterly allowance again. Once he’d finished with that, he’d literally rolled up his sleeves and set about the messy business of clearing a dam that had formed in one of the nearby riverbeds after a recent, violent rainstorm.

He could have let his groundskeepers see to the task, he knew, but he liked engaging in a bit of hard, physical labor every now and then, both as a way to clear his mind and to keep his sense of hubris in check. Having acceded to the dukedom at age ten, he knew how easy it could be to lose one’s way among all the fawning posturers and false aggrandizements that came with the title. Clearing a dam or thatching a roof went a long way toward making everything seem less complicated and not nearly so important, after all.

The following week, he’d journeyed south to London, spending his time riding and driving, going to his clubs, and visiting with friends. And although he could have called at the Pendragon townhouse in Bloomsbury, he had decided to let matters remain as they were, with Gabriella St. George out of his sight—and thus, out of his mind.

But now here she was again, dancing only a few feet distant, the mere sight of her enough to resurrect forbidden urges and dark longings that were best confined to private alcoves and candlelit bedchambers.

Angel or siren, he couldn’t decide, Gabriella’s dark, vibrant beauty and pert violet eyes a genuine rapture to behold. Draped in a length of pale pink silk, her slender figure showed to stunning perfection, a healthy wash of color gracing her cheeks as she performed the intricate steps of a country dance. Unaware of his observation, she tossed back her head on a laugh, obviously appreciating whatever remark her partner had just made.

He clenched, then unclenched his jaw, telling himself he was glad to see her so plainly enjoying herself. Just as he had known she would, she had let go of her initial infatuation with him and turned elsewhere. With all that London had to offer, she was clearly caught up in the whirl of the Season, relishing the chance to make new friends and strike up flirtations with gentlemen other than himself. Gentleman far closer to her own age; men who had marriage on their minds.

At least those young men’s intentions had better be honorable,
he thought. If they weren’t, they would soon find themselves rethinking the matter—and seriously—or else face the consequences of his wrath. For in spite of his recent absence from Gabriella’s side, he had by no means forgotten his promise to watch over her. True, he might do most of his watching from a distance, but he would watch nevertheless.

Shaking open the fist he found squeezed tight at his hip, he turned and strode away, knowing she was well occupied for the next few minutes with the dance.

When the set ended, however, he tossed back the last of the wine he’d been drinking, handed his empty glass to a passing servant, and crossed the ballroom to where she now stood conversing with Julianna.

“Ladies, how do you do this evening?” he greeted, offering a bow.

The women turned, Gabriella’s gaze immediately lifting to meet his own. “Your Grace,” she murmured, a smile curving her lips as she curtseyed.

“Tony,” Julianna said, accepting a friendly kiss on the cheek. “When did you arrive? I was beginning to think you were going to stay away tonight and make liars of all the gossips. You slipped in like a phantom.”

He grinned, in no way hiding his lack of repentance. “Precisely.”

“That is very bad of you, you know.”

“Well, I strive to never be accused of being too good nor too predictable.”

“Well, you succeed admirably on both counts. Do you not agree, Gabriella?”

“Oh, yes. His Grace enjoys teasing and taunting us all. Perhaps that is why we have seen so little of him of late despite his having been in the city for several days.”

He raised a brow at her undisguised reprimand, seeing she hadn’t lost the free use of her tongue since their last meeting. “Forgive me, Miss St. George. You are quite right to scold me for the omission. Though from what I hear, you’ve had no lack of callers since your arrival in Town.”

“Thanks to Julianna’s generous intercession on my behalf, that is quite true,” Gabriella said.

“Oh, you don’t do yourself enough justice,” Julianna said. “I know the gentlemen certainly haven’t been dropping by the house and sending flowers because of any urging on my part. Gabriella is taking splendidly. I won’t be surprised if she has more than a few offers of marriage by the end of the Season. Whether or not she wishes to accept any of them is another matter.”

Involuntarily, his hand tightened at his hip. “I am sure she will be greatly in demand. After all, Miss St. George is an exceedingly lovely young woman whom any man would be lucky to win.” He met Gabriella’s gaze. “Which is why I assume your dance card is completely filled this evening?”

“Actually, Your Grace,” Gabriella said, “as it would happen, I have the next set free. And if you will recall, you did promise to stand up with me when we next met in Town.”

Adroitly hoist on his own petard, he could do nothing but agree. Although, to be honest, he found he didn’t at all mind the idea of dancing with Gabriella. “So I did. Miss St. George, may I have the pleasure of this next dance?”