A Secret Love c-5 Read online

  Alathea smiled. "Cecile! How lovely to see you."

  Suppressing a frown, Gabriel exchanged a terse nod with Montgomery. They both waited with feigned patience while the ladies exchanged far more detailed greetings. From references the countess made, Gabriel gathered she and Alathea were contemporaries; their acquaintance dated from Alathea's aborted Season eleven years before. From Montgomery's smug expression, Gabriel surmised his lordship imagined his sister's connection would put him on a closer, more personal footing with Alathea.

  "And Mr. Cynster!" The countess turned to him with an arch smile.

  "Madam." Gabriel accepted the hand she offered him, bowed easily, and released her. Alathea's fingers slid from his sleeve. Without looking, he caught her hand, enclosing it within his grasp. She stilled. He could all but hear her wondering what he was about.

  "Perhaps," the countess continued, ignoring the byplay, "we could stroll together?"

  Alathea smiled. "Indeed-why not?"

  Gabriel pinched her fingers, then made a great show of tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. She shot him a sharp glance, then turned to Lord Montgomery. "Is your mother well?"

  Feeling distinctly unsocial, Gabriel turned to the countess. "How's Helmsley these days?"

  The countess colored and slid around his wicked question. She paid him back by describing her offspring and their illnesses, a subject guaranteed to send any sane gentleman fleeing. Gabriel mentally gritted his teeth and refused to yield. As they strolled on, he noticed that Alathea kept her gaze fixed on Lord Montgomery, paying no attention whatever to all the gory details about the countess's three children. Knowing her as he did, knowing how closely she'd been involved with the care of her stepsiblings, he at first found that odd. Then they reached the Serpentine and he glanced at her face.

  She kept it averted; he couldn't see her eyes. He could see the underlying stiffness in her features. Smoothly, he turned to the countess. "Do you plan to attend Lady Richmond's gala?"

  The abruptness of the question made the countess pause, but she took to the new topic with alacrity. With a query here and there, he kept her engrossed in the social whirl, well away from the subject of children. His awareness centered on Alathea, he sensed the gradual easing of her tension. She had, indeed, given up a lot to save her stepfamily, far more than she would willingly let anyone know.

  "I say! Lady Alathea!"

  "My dear lady!"

  "Countess, do introduce me."

  A bevy of five gentlemen, including Lord Coleburn, Mr. Simpkins and Lord Falworth, swept up to them from behind; if Gabriel had been able to see them, they wouldn't have managed it, but now he and Alathea were caught.

  Alathea sensed his increasing irritation. She glanced at him; he was regarding Lord Falworth with an impassive expression and a dangerous glint in his eye.

  "Don't you think so, Lady Alathea?"

  "Oh-yes." Recalling Falworth's question, she quickly amended, "But only in the company of close friends."

  Dealing with her would-be suitors while knowing Gabriel was considering annihilating one or all of them played havoc with her normally unassailable nerves. Her relief was quite genuine when he closed his hand over hers, still tucked in his elbow, and halted.

  "I'm afraid," he purred, at his most urbane, "that we must shepherd Lady Alathea's sisters and mine back to our mothers' carriages. You'll have to excuse us."

  That last was said with enough underlying command to convince even Lord Montgomery that bowing and making extravagant adieus was the better part of valor.

  Gabriel drew her ruthlessly away. He caught his sister Heather's eye and with one brotherly gesture redirected the group now well ahead of them back toward the avenue.

  Side by side, strolling easily, their long legs a match for each other, they brought up the rear. Alathea sighed with relief.

  Gabriel shot her a dark glance. "You could try to discourage them."

  "I haven't encouraged them in the first place!"

  They walked on in silence. As they neared the point where Serena's and Celia's carriages would come into view, Alathea slowed, expecting Gabriel to make his excuses and leave her. He tightened his hold on her hand and drew her on.

  She looked at him in amazement. He cast her an irritated glance. "I'm not escorting them." His nod indicated the four girls and Esher and Carstairs ahead of them. "I'm escorting you."

  "I don't need escorting."

  "Let me be the judge of that."

  His expression grimly resolute, that was all he deigned to say. Alathea was too surprised that he'd risk alerting his mother to any particularity between them to marshal any argument, and then they were within sight of the carriages.

  With an inward sigh, she kept pace beside him. "This is not going to make things any easier, you know."

  She thought he wasn't going to reply, but just before they reached his mother's carriage where Serena and Celia sat in matronly splendor, he murmured, "We left 'easy' behind long ago."

  Then they were at the carriage, joining with the girls and Esher and Carstairs. Over the heads, Gabriel fielded a glance from Celia; Alathea, watching closely, could interpret with ease-Celia wanted to know why he was there. Gabriel returned her gaze impassively with a slight lifting of his shoulders, giving Celia to understand he'd simply come upon them and walked them back. Nothing particular at all. His performance was so smooth, if she hadn't known better, Alathea would have believed that, too. Gabriel nodded and Celia smiled, waving him away.

  He turned to her-their gazes met. In the folds of her gown their fingers brushed. With a brief nod, he turned and strode away.

  Alathea watched him go, a frown in her eyes, an increasingly insistent question revolving in her mind.

  Chapter 15

  That question was answered two nights later. The Duchess of Richmond's gala was one of the highlights of the Season. The Richmonds' house on the river was thrown open; everyone who was anyone attended. Alathea arrived relatively early with Serena, Mary, and Alice. Her father, out to dinner with friends, would look in later. Leaving Serena on a chaise with Lady Arbuthnot and Celia Cynster, Alathea hovered until the circle about Mary and Alice was established, Esher and Carstairs to the fore, then headed for a quiet nook by the wall.

  Her attempt at self-effacement was frustrated by Lord Falworth, who spotted her in the crowd. Seconds later, her "court" closed in.

  To Alathea's relief, not five minutes passed before Chillingworth joined them. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, the earl settled by her side, displacing Falworth, who sulkily shifted back. As large as Gabriel, Chillingworth had a similar effect on her admirers; challenged, they exerted themselves to converse intelligently.

  By the time the orchestra struck up for the first dance, Alathea was feeling in considerable charity with the earl, very ready to grant him her hand. He did not, however, solicit it, calmly standing back while Lord Montgomery begged the honor. With no excuse ready, Alathea was forced to accede to his lordship's fervent plea but as the dance was a cotillion, she was spared most of his pompous declarations.

  When at the end of the dance Lord Montgomery returned her to her circle, she was somewhat surprised to discover Chillingworth patiently waiting. Her gratitude bloomed anew as under his direction, the conversation remained light-hearted and general. Then the musicians struck up a waltz, and she realized why the earl was waiting.

  The look in his eyes as he bowed before her was flatteringly intent. "If you would do me the honor, my dear?"

  Alathea hesitated, another large gentlemen very clear in her mind. She looked up-and found him watching her, waiting to see what she would do, ready to step in and claim her if she didn't fall in with his decree. His intent reached her clearly as the circle of her admirers, noticing him, parted like the Red Sea.

  Tamping down a spurt of rebelliousness, accepting she dared not bait Gabriel in his present mood, she glanced at Chillingworth. "I'm afraid, my lord, that I'm already promised. To Mr. Cynster."
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  That last was redundant; Chillingworth's gaze had fastened on Gabriel's face. Primitive challenge flashed between them, then Chillingworth bowed. "My loss, my dear, but only a temporary one. There'll be many more waltzes tonight." Even more than his words, his tone signalled his intention.

  With a grace to match Chillingworth's, Gabriel bowed and held out his hand. Alathea placed her fingers in his, conscious to her toes of the restrained strength in his grasp. He drew her to him, turning as she joined him, effectively cutting off her court. The dance floor was only a step away, and then she was whirling in his arms.

  Alathea inwardly frowned. She was aware the outcome of that little scene had pleased him. It hadn't, however, pleased her. "You're drawing too much attention to us."

  "In the circumstances, it's inevitable."

  "Then change the circumstances."

  "How?"

  "Your insistence that I waltz only with you is ridiculous. It's going to cause comment. It's hardly something one can explain on the grounds of long-standing acquaintance."

  "You want me to let you waltz with other men."

  "Yes."

  "No."

  He whirled her through the turn. Alathea gritted her teeth. Why did he imagine he could dictate such things? Because of the hours she'd spent with him in the dark. She bundled the recollections aside. "It isn't wise to attract the attention of the gabblemongers. People are starting to wonder."

  "So? They're not wondering anything that will reflect adversely on you."

  Yes, they were-if he kept on as he was, the whole ton would soon believe that he and she would marry, but that wasn't going to happen. By the time they'd dealt with Crowley and his company, Gabriel's attraction to her would have waned and he'd be off laying seige to his next conquest. Raising expectations destined never to be fulfilled was not a good idea. Worse, these were the sorts of expectations guaranteed to fuel the gossips' fires. She was too old-far too old-to be eligible.

  Alathea seethed through the rest of the waltz, her temper not improved by the speculative glances thrown their way, or by his continuing-and she was quite sure deliberate-rasping of her senses.

  By the end of the dance, she was ready to be returned to the safety of her court. He, it transpired, had other ideas. The reception rooms opened one into the other; on his arm, he paraded her through them. Only the increasing crush prevented them from being the focus of far too many eyes.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Somewhere less crowded."

  She could hardly argue with the wisdom of that; tall though she was, she was feeling hemmed in. The small salon to which he took her had palms and statues breaking up the space. Consequently, it boasted areas in which one could converse, not private but protected. Gabriel led her to a nook created by a trio of potted palms and an ornamental arch.

  A footman passed with a tray. Gabriel collected two glasses of champagne. "Here-it's only going to get hotter."

  Accepting the glass, Alathea sipped, relaxing as the bubbles fizzed down her throat. She scanned the room, then she sensed Gabriel stiffen. When she turned, her gaze collided with Chillingworth's as he joined them in their retreat.

  "I count myself fortunate to have found you again, my dear."

  Gabriel snorted derisively. "You followed us."

  "Actually, no." Chillingworth snared a glass as the footman hove within reach. He sipped, his gaze on Alathea's face. "I assumed, after that little display in the ballroom, that Cynster would retreat to some area more conducive to his purpose."

  "A tactic you would know all about."

  Chillingworth looked at Gabriel. "That point has been puzzling me. You are, after all, a friend of the family. Your present tack is one I would never have expected."

  "That's because you have no idea what my present tack is."

  Chillingworth smiled tauntingly. "Oh, no, dear boy. I assure you I'm far from being that unimaginative."

  "Perhaps," Gabriel returned, sharpened steel beneath the words, "it would be wiser if you were."

  "What? And leave the field to you?"

  "Hardly the first time you've owned to defeat."

  Chillingworth snorted.

  Glancing from one to the other, Alathea felt giddy. Despite her height, they were talking over her head, arguing over her as if she wasn't there.

  "It would be more to the point," Chillingworth opined, "if, given the circumstances, you'd cease your present act and get out of my way."

  "Which act is that?"

  "Dog in the manger."

  "Excuse me!" Eyes flashing, Alathea silenced first Gabriel, who'd opened his lips on a retort, doubtless equally graceless, then she rounded on Chillingworth. "You will pardon me if I find this exchange somewhat less than gratifying."

  They both looked at her. She doubted either blushed readily, but slight color now graced their cheeks. The crude nature of their remarks was out of character for both, far from their usual unfailingly elegant poses.

  "I am appalled." Glancing from one to the other, she held them silent. "It appears you believe I'm not only unimaginative, but deaf as well! For your information, I'm perfectly well aware of both your 'acts'-permit me to tell you I approve of neither. Like any lady of my age and experience, I will be the arbiter of my actions; I have no intention of succumbing to the practiced blandishments of either of you. What, however, I find unforgivable is your propensity to single-mindedly pursue your own agendas, oblivious to the fact that your attentions are focusing unwanted and unwarranted attention on me!"

  She ended glaring at Chillingworth. He had the grace to look contrite. "My apologies, my dear."

  Alathea humphed, nodded, and turned to Gabriel. He looked at her for two heartbeats, then his fingers closed about her elbow. He handed his glass to Chillingworth, then took hers and handed that across, too. "If you'll excuse us, there are a few pertinent details we need to clarify."

  "By all means," Chillingworth returned. "Once you've clarified the nonexistent nature of your claim, I'll be able to clarify my position." He bowed to Alathea.

  Gabriel frowned. "Believe me, in this case, you don't have one."

  Before Chillingworth could reply, before Alathea could even see how he reacted, Gabriel drew her forward. Alathea fumed but didn't try to break free; a steel manacle would have been easier to break than Gabriel's hold on her arm. He marched her across the room to where a door stood ajar, giving access to a corridor.

  "Where now?" she asked as they stepped through the door.

  "Somewhere private. I want to talk to you."

  "Indeed? I have a few words to say to you, too."

  He led her up a flight of stairs, then back along a quiet wing. The door at the end stood open; beyond lay a small parlor, curtains drawn against the night. A fire burned in the grate. Three candelabra shed golden light on satin and polished wood. The room was empty. Drawing her hand from his arm, Alathea swept across the threshold. He followed. Reaching the fireplace, she swung to face him, and heard the lock fall home.

  "This ridiculous situation has got to end." She fixed him with an irate glance. "The countess is no more. She has faded into the mists, never to return."

  "You, however, are here."

  "Yes, me. Alathea-who-you've-known-all-your-life. I'm not some delectable courtesan that you have any real interest in seducing. You're annoyed because as the countess you thought I was-you now know better. And you know perfectly well that once you get over being annoyed, you'll be off after some other lady, one more suited to your tastes."

  He'd remained by the door; head tilted, he regarded her. "So my interest in you is fueled by annoyance?"

  "That, and perversity. A response to Chillingworth and the others. It's almost as if, having relinquished your silly watch on the twins, you've transferred your attention to me!"

  "And what's wrong with that?"

  "You're obsessively protective! If you'll only stop and think, you'll realize there's no need. I need to be protected even less than the twins. Wors
e, hovering over me is exceedingly unwise. It calls attention to us-you know what people will make of it. Before you know where you are, the ton will have imagined into existence something that simply isn't."

  A moment passed, then he asked, "This something that isn't-this illusion you claim the ton will think it sees. What, precisely, is that?"

  Alathea huffed out a breath. Across the room, she met his eyes. "They'll imagine we have an understanding, that in the near future they'll read an engagement notice in The Gazette. As Chillingworth so sapiently stated, it's widely known that our families are close, that you and I have known each other for years. No one will imagine any illicit connection-they'll imagine we'll wed. Once that idea gains credence, there'll be hell to pay."

  "Hmm." He started to walk toward her. "And that's the bee that's buzzing in your bonnet?"

  "I have absolutely no desire to spend the rest of the Season explaining to the interested why we aren't about to marry."

  "I can guarantee that won't occur."

  "Indeed?" She bridled at his patronizing tone. "And how can you be so sure?"

  "Because we are going to many."

  Gabriel halted directly before her. A full minute passed while she stared at him, speechless. Then her eyes clouded.

  "W-what?"

  "I agreed to defer discussion of the matter until after we'd dealt with the company-that, however, is clearly not to be. So it may as well be now. As far as I'm concerned, we're getting married, and the sooner the better."

  "But you never had it in mind to many me. Not when we spoke after Lady Arbuthnot's ball."

  "Thankfully, you never did learn to read my mind. I decided to marry you when I knew you as the countess. The morning after Lady Arbuthnot's ball, I was still adjusting to the startling discovery that it was you I'd decided to make my wife. As you might imagine, that was something of a shock."

  "But… you must have changed your mind. You don't want to marry me."