Chapter 5
Kathleen walked into the ballroom on Cedric’s arm. She had been quite intimidated coming to the home of a duke but at least she was marrying his illegitimate son who was a mere Mister and so they could be paired up to enter the dining room together.
She had been relieved to arrive and see he was wearing silk evening breeches rather than inexpressibles. And he seemed lovely tonight. Less pompous. Perhaps Cedric had just been nervous yesterday and he had been unwell. His smile seemed softer and occasionally when she caught him looking at her it was with a gleam in his eye as if he wanted to eat her. Almost the way she eyed a cream cake when she was particularly hungry. It sent a small thrill through her which settled in her belly and a little farther down. Just the thought of it made her cheeks warm. Occasionally he had become a bit supercilious and then he seemed to forget to be so. It was almost as if it was some kind of affectation brought on by nerves, but when he was just himself, he was a thoroughly nice gentleman.
Dinner was a charming affair. She sat between Cedric and his cousin, Mr Thomas Davenport. They had kept the discussion to polite, if rather uninteresting, topics. Now she stood in a receiving line with her parents, the Duke, Cedric and Cedric’s aunt as the great and the good of high society congratulated her on an excellent match. One or two people gave Cedric second glances, and a few gave him a third glance but no one said anything untoward.
“Is something wrong, Mr Onslow? A few people have been giving you odd looks.”
“I cut my hair differently. That is all,” he said, his tone a little sharp.
“Onslow.” She looked up to see a handsome man about Onslow’s age smiling at him and shaking his hand.
“Stalwood. I did not know you had been invited.”
“Yes. The invitation arrived this morning. Not sure if Lady Christina had something to do with it or that servant Cinder-something. Untrustworthy fellow. You should give that one his marching orders. Put him back in his rightful place.”
“I can get the footmen to throw you out, you know.”
“You could, but you would never cause a scene at Miss Roberts’ betrothal ball, now would you?”
“No, I would not, for Miss Roberts is much more delightful than you shall ever be Stalwood. Now, remember to behave yourself.” Cedric’s eyes twinkled, and his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. She suspected that these men liked each other. Cedric formally introduced her to Lord Stalwood and His Lordship then took his leave. But as she was introduced to the Earl and Countess of Marven, she caught sight of Stalwood out of the corner of her eye approaching Lady Christina, Cedric’s half-sister. Was he her suitor? She had spoken but a few sentences to the other lady, but she had found her pleasant, demure and friendly. Kathleen wondered how the various relations in this awkward family would rub along together.
“Come, all the guests are now received, apart from any latecomers. The music shall start soon. Would you like a drink before the dancing starts?” Cedric’s voice was low, and he had bent to speak into her ear. His breath fluttered a curl past her ear and it made her shiver with delight. She looked up into hazel eyes. How much lighter his eyes looked in candlelight. How odd. One would have thought they would be darker. “Is there something the matter, Miss Roberts?”
“I… I think perhaps, given we are due to wed, that you should call me Kathleen.” He smiled. It was a smug, satisfied smile.
“I would like that very much. And you should call me Gabriel.”
“Gabriel?”
“Hmm? Oh!” His face turned crimson and his brows furrowed. “Uh, forget I said that. I mean Cedric. Gabriel is my middle name. I am Nicknamed Gabriel but my father hates when anyone uses it.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“It is best you stick to Cedric. I would hate for you to slip up and my father to overhear.”
“As you wish. Though I believe one should be called whatever one wishes, and one’s father should have no say.”
“Perhaps, but you shall learn that my father has an iron will and what he says goes. I suspect it is all part of being a duke.”
“And is your half-brother like that? The one who will inherit the title?”
“Gabriel? Oh no.”
“Gabriel?”
“Yes, that is his name.” He looked at her and then closed his eyes as he seemed to understand her confusion. “Gabriel is also my father’s first name. My mother wanted me called after him but because I’m a ba… I am illegitimate, he was not willing to call me after himself. My half-brother’s mother was more successful in that endeavour with his heir.”
“I see. So that may be why your father dislikes you being called Gabriel.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
“Well, I believe you are correct that calling you Cedric is for the best at present, but perhaps we can revisit that once we are better acquainted. I want you to be happy and comfortable with me.”
He looked down at her, a quizzical look in his gaze, then his frustration appeared to wane and his gaze softened as he smiled at her. “I believe I was correct when I spoke to the Dowager earlier. You are far too good for Cedric Onslow, my dear. Have a glass of champagne.” He stopped a passing footman and picked two glasses of champagne from the silver tray the man carried. He offered one to her and she accepted it with a little nod. The man seemed to speak in riddles, but he also sent warmth through her. Was this the desire she had read about in novels?
∞∞∞
Gabriel could not believe his slip. What an idiot he had been to give her his own first name. Cedric might have some explaining to do at the altar when Kathleen found out his real middle name was Peregrine. That was not Gabriel’s problem, however. He had not asked to be part of this charade. As a servant, he merely did as he was told.
But he felt bad for deceiving Kathleen. He liked the chit, as much as he had seen of her. She had made polite chit-chat through dinner, but she seemed to have picked up that he did not want to give much of himself away and had respected that. Women tended to be nosey, curious creature by nature and he was sure she was dying to find out more about her husband-to-be. But she was patiently biding her time.
Kathleen was also beautiful. Something which made him uncomfortable as he led her onto the dance floor and slipped his hand around her slender waist. As he took her gloved hand in his, her breath hitched and her blue gaze met his. Despite two layers of silk between their palms, he was aware of the heat between them. He forced himself to maintain the appropriate distance between their bodies. It had been a long time since he had wanted a woman so much. Was it because she was the forbidden fruit—another thing denied to him by his cruel father? Was it because he felt that as the legitimate heir, she should be his? Of course, having been raised both above and below stairs, he did not have the same sense of entitlement that many ducal heirs possessed, and he did not view women as property.
He smiled at her as he led her off into the waltz, twirling her down the line of dancers. She was graceful and elegant as all young ladies were taught to be, but not all achieved.
“You dance divinely, Kathleen.”
“As do you, Cedric.”
“You flatter me. Do they waltz much in New Hampshire?”
“Not much. In Boston, yes. Since I grew up, I spend more time there. That is where most of society is. Papa goes to New Hampshire because that is where his business interests are—his iron works.”
“And London is to your taste?”
“Oh yes. It is much warmer than Massachusetts and New Hampshire. The snow will be heavy there now.”
“So you would have to wrap up warm.”
“Oh yes. Carriage rides are out of the question. We use sleighs and ponies and just walk many places. That is why it is good to be in town. It is lonely in the country at this time of year.”
“I would imagine it is.” He would not mind being snowed in with the delectable Miss Roberts though. In fact, as her tongue darted out to lick the bow of her lips, he had to tamp down his reaction to her.
“Do you mind that your father found you a wife?” she asked without preamble. “I mean…” Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink and she bit her lip for a moment as he supposed she must be reconsidering the propriety of her words.
“Go on,” he urged.
“Well, is it common among the ton to arrange marriages in such a manner? For us to be at our betrothal ball when we have only met once?”
Now she bit her lip in earnest and looked over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.
“Kathleen, I do not mind you asking. And no, it is not terribly common for us not to have met and at least got to know each other. Yes, many marriages are arranged, but usually the families encourage the couple to court and see if they suit. That said, most young ladies are schooled to be rather unremarkable so they would suit most men, I suppose.”
“Rather unremarkable?”
He frowned, not knowing how to explain it in such a way that would not sound so unkind. “Society expects young ladies to behave in such a manner that they are benign and inoffensive. Their dresses are demure, they all play the pianoforte or the harp or sing. They all do embroidery. They visit the subscription library and ride during the fashionable hour. But none must stand out. Those who stand out either find love matches or end up as spinsters, bluestockings or scandalous young misses. But mostly, one young lady is much like all the others. They are all rather like buckskin breeches. Give or take a couple of inches at the waist, they all fit a gentleman perfectly and look almost the same.”
“Oh Mr Onslow, that is a terrible thing to say.” When he looked into her eyes, he could see she was rather scandalised.
“Yes, it is rather. It is true, nonetheless. The waltz is finishing, and I must take you back to your Mama. I may not claim another dance with you until the supper dance. I shall write my name on your dance card, assuming that is acceptable. But, watch the young ladies, especially the ones in white and pastel shades. You will see exactly what I mean.”
He led her over to the group of older ladies where Kathleen’s mother stood along with her young sister. The girl was not officially out yet and could not waltz, but she could do a country dance. He wrote his name on Kathleen’s dance card for the supper dance, then on Teresa’s for a country dance before just prior to the supper dance and a cotillion later in the evening. His duties done, he bowed elegantly to Mrs Roberts and her companions and set off in search of someone whom he might converse with and with whom he would not get into trouble.
∞∞∞
“She thinks I’m a god-damned monster.” Gabriel moaned to his sister and his former friend.
“Really!” hissed Christina, smiling beatifically at one of the grande dames who was scowling as she strolled by with one of her compatriots. “Polite society,” she emphasised with a gesture of her head to the now whispering ladies.
Gabriel scowled and shook his own head. “They think I’m Cedric. Honestly Chrissie, surely that is the least offensive thing he says.”
Christina rolled her eyes. “He does not take the Lord’s name in vain. He is just…” she waved her hand as if unsure how to express herself.
“Ill-mannered, as subtle as a coach and four, as demure as Prinny?”
“Something like that,” she conceded. “But he does not curse.”
“He does now.”
“Fine, so why does she think you are a monster?”
He recounted the conversation on the dance floor.
“Really, Gabe, how did we share the same space during our mother’s confinement without me throttling you?”
“Christ, you two do not understand polite ballroom conversation, do you?” said Stalwood.
“Says the man taking our saviour’s name in vain,” said Gabriel, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Touché.”
“I shall smooth things over with Miss Roberts. You two try to stay away from Cedric’s vile friends. I see Mr Lawrence Appleby heading this way. He shall try to encourage you to go to a gaming hell and a brothel after the ball if you are not careful,” said Christina.
“What do you know of broth… oh never mind.” Gabriel did not have time to ask about his sister’s knowledge of the more nefarious activities of their elder half-brother and the seedier side of London’s nightlife. Lawrence Appleby was indeed bearing down on them, his inexpressibles giving the ladies in the ballroom quite a view. It seemed Lawrence was a little aroused. And now Gabriel had that vision in his head.
“I believe Lady Stewart is calling us over,” he said to Stalwood, steering his friend in the opposite direction.
“She is?”
“She is,” he said, his voice a warning growl.
∞∞∞
Kathleen looked around and saw Lady Christina heading her way. She smiled at the woman and closed her fan then curtseyed to her. Lady Christina curtseyed back.
“Would you like to take a turn about the ballroom with me, Miss Roberts?”
“Oh, thank you. I would. No one has solicited my hand for this dance.”
They moved away from her sister and mama and once they were out of earshot Christina asked, “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“I am. Very much so.”
“And how do you find my brother?” Christina looked over towards a little nook and Kathleen’s gaze followed and sure enough, there was Cedric bowing over the hand of an elderly matron. The woman looked a little confused. Then she scowled.
“Ah, yes, he is nice.”
“I believe he is concerned that he has offended you.”
“Oh?” She could not say any more. His comments about all young ladies being like men’s breeches was a little insulting.
“He explained his comment about the breeches.” Christina rolled her eyes. “Honestly. I despair of Gabriel.”
“You call him Gabriel.”
“Uh… I...”
“He told me your father does not approve. He told me that his mother wanted to call him Gabriel but your father wanted to reserve that name for his legitimate heir, so it is his middle name and Cedric became his first name. And your other brother’s name Gabriel.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He lives in the country does he not? I heard he is in poor health. Is that not so?”
“Something like that.”
Christina was watching Cedric again.
“We were talking about Cedric comparing young ladies to breeches,” Kathleen prompted, deciding it was time to get the conversation back to the subject that Christina had come to discuss. “Yes. Well, all he meant was that in society, we are all taught the same things, we all learn the same manners and polite conversation is terribly uninteresting. I am not saying that no one has a personality. We do. But we can be moulded to fit almost any gentleman if necessary. That, sadly, is why so many young ladies end up married to men thirty years their senior.”
“I see.”
“He did not mean to be uncouth. He was just trying to explain the way of the ton albeit in a rather brutish manner.”
“I understand.”
“He worries he has offended you.”
“He has not.”
“Good, because here he is to claim you for the supper dance.”
∞∞∞
“How was your waltz?” Stalwood asked Gabriel as they stood at the buffet choosing food and adding it to plates for the ladies and themselves. Kathleen and Christina were sitting at a table together talking animatedly. Gabriel cast a glance at his former dance partner.
“Mostly it went well. I could relax and speak with her and flirt a little this time. Until she suggested we go out riding the day after tomorrow. In the park.”
“Riding?”
“Yes. On horses.”
Stalwood barked out a laugh. “Yes Cindermaine, I am au fait with the general principle of riding.”
“Perhaps, Stalwood, but when one has barely had two farthings to rub together for most of his adult life, where do you suppose one gets hold of decent horseflesh?”
Stalwood halted, a slice of beef half way between the serving salver and the plate he was holding. “Oh, I see what you mean.” Gabriel nudged him back to his task. “What about the duke? Does he not have a horse you could borrow?”
“He never rides when in town. Only in the country. He conveys his mistress about in a closed carriage—for the sake of propriety—if you can believe it. He acknowledges her bastard sons, everyone knows about them, but he uses a closed carriage for reasons that no one else can fathom. All the horses in his stable are carriage horses. Carriage horses are dreadful for riding, especially in a park full of people. They are used to harnesses, not someone on their back in a saddle. You are an excellent horseman. I need not tell you how different it would be. The last thing I want is to be thrown off a horse in front of Miss Roberts and land on my arse in the middle of the Serpentine. She already thinks I’m a dolt.”
“I can understand. You can borrow Thunder.”
“Thunder! You still have that stallion?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He likes the ladies.”
“So do I, but no one would put up with the kind of behaviour from me that your stallion exhibits.”
“Actually, they would because you are a duke’s son.”
Gabriel considered that.
“Well possibly, but half the young ladies of the ton would have broken limbs and would be increasing to boot.”
“You have missed your opportunity, old chap.”
“Mayhap, but back to the horse. I will not ride that brute. It is a damned menace. If you had any sense, you would chop its ballocks off and calm it down.”
“Here now, that is a bit harsh on the poor chap. What did he ever do to you?”
“I could not sit down for a month after he threw me five years ago. I am sure he broke something in my backside.”
“Ah, best not then. The chances of you ending up in the Serpentine are definitely increased if you take Thunder. Come, we had better get back to the ladies. They appear to be wilting for lack of nourishment.”
They hurried over to the ladies who looked up, almost surprised to see their arrival.
“Kathleen and I are arranging a visit to the modiste soon. We are also discussing which at homes we should attend, to which balls we should drag you and to what other entertainments for the rest of the Christmas season we can subject you,” stated Christina airily.
“You forget, sister, that I am indisposed for the next week.”
“No you are not. I promised Kathleen I would take her to Gunther’s for an ice.”
“An ice, at this time of year?” asked Stalwood, taking the words right out of Gabriel’s mouth. “It’s freezing, in case you hadn’t noticed. If you order an ice, they’ll cart you off to Bedlam.”
“Christina, I have that thing I must do.”
“Father will understand now you are betrothed. Do not worry. I have the situation in hand.”
Christina gave him one of her soothing looks and Gabriel was torn. He wanted to throttle his twin, but he wanted to trust her too. He glanced at Kathleen who had no idea what a tangled web was being spun around her and she sliced into her roast beef, looked up and bestowed a sunny smile upon him. Those rosy red lips were so innocent, so wet, so kissable. Could he find a secluded area to take her to? Should he? He knew this house like the back of his hand. Finding the perfect spot would not be an issue. The morality of doing it, however, was another matter.
When supper was over and Christina had finished her incessant chattering about bonnets and frills and which modiste was the best, Stalwood held him back from the ladies as they re-entered the ballroom.
“Meet me at Tattersall’s at midday tomorrow, old chap. We’ll get you a gelding. Wouldn’t want that pretty little arse of yours getting all wet and your other cheeks turning all red in front of the delectable Miss Roberts. Besides, Thunder needs someone to race.”
“Oh no. You are not buying me a horse.”
“Damned right I’m not. The duke will buy you a horse. I’m off to speak to him. I see your sister’s hand has been claimed. Keep an eye on her. I would hate any harm to come to her from some overly eager young buck. Your sister needs a proper gentleman who knows how to treat her properly.”
“What, like you?” Gabriel chuckled. But the laugh died in his throat as he saw the way Stalwood’s gaze narrowed on the gentleman kissing Christina’s hand. “You want to court my sister, Stalwood.” It wasn’t a question.
“She makes me smile,” he said simply.
Gabriel nodded. Somehow such a simple reason made sense. “Miss Roberts, would you like to take a turn about the ballroom?” he asked, before his own young lady was accosted for a dance. The colour that rose in her cheeks was delightful and she fumbled with her fan. Was she really attracted to him? Damn! Would she be more or less attracted to him if she knew he was an earl? Titles always made women swoon. What a damn shame he could not use his title to impress her.
“Thank you, Mr Onslow.” She placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and he stepped towards the edge of the room.
“Your sister is lovely. Do you mind her inviting me out to visit the modiste with her?”
“Why should I mind?”
“Well, I had been led to believe that the two sides of the family did not get on.”
“That has been the case in the past, but the family is changing. Perhaps one day I may even get on with my half-brother.”
“He is the duke’s heir. Are you and he alike?”
“Those who know my half-brother and me say that physically we are like two peas in a pod.”
“Are you alike in temperament?”
Gabriel hated where this conversation was heading. Cedric was an arse. He was sure he had some less than desirable qualities, but he was also certain that as a man he beat his half-brother hands down. But what could he say?
“We have had very different upbringings. It shaped us into different types of gentlemen.”
Kathleen frowned. “I see.” It was clear that she really did not see.
It was better just to leave the conversation where it was though and not press things any further. His sire had created this ridiculous mess, and the Duke had to accept that he would make mistakes.
They nodded at acquaintances but did not stop to speak to anyone. Gabriel tried his best to appear besotted with his bride—something that was not too difficult to achieve. She was beautiful. He could not engage in conversation with any of Cedric’s friends. They would know immediately that he was not Cedric and jig would be up.
The door to the conservatory was close. He had to get out of this crowd. Gabriel drew Kathleen to the edge of the ballroom and tried the handle of the door. It opened easily.
He touched his gloved finger to his lips and gave Kathleen a conspiratorial raise of his eyebrows. Her own lips twitched and she glanced around as if expecting someone to catch them in the act of sneaking away. Gabriel stepped into the cool room, drawing his companion with him, before catching the inside handle and closing the door with a snick.
There were candles burning in the wall sconces and floating candles in the ornamental fountain in the middle of the conservatory. His father had good taste. For all his faults, the man had style. How the family’s sense of style had so badly skipped the duke’s eldest and youngest sons was a mystery to Gabriel. Kathleen’s bright eyes and parted lips were a testament to just how beautiful the plethora of flowers was. While the number of flowers was diminished because it was December there were still many flowers for the season. Reds, yellows and oranges with a few purples and blues. Foliage hung everywhere, and the scent of pollen hit Gabriel’s nostrils.
“It is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me in here.”
“Thank you for coming with me.” Gabriel moved in front of her, blocking her view of the conservatory. She raised her face, her rose petal lips stretching into a wary smile. Oh, she suspected what was coming next but was she excited, nervous, or was she horrified?
“Kathleen, would it be very inappropriate for me to try to kiss you?”
“Try? Have you never kissed a young lady before?”
He chuckled. “Try may have been the wrong word. I assure you, I am quite practised in the art.”
“Then I apologise that I am quite untutored, Cedric.”
“Call me Gabriel, please. When we are alone.”
He did not care if she made a mistake. He would gladly take a beating from his sire in order to hear he say his name at this moment. He just could not bear her to call him the same name as his ass of a brother when he was about to taste those cherry red lips.
“I shall—Gabriel.”
“Much better,” he whispered, against her lips.
His thumb stroked her jaw, his fingers helping to angle her head as his lips caressed hers. Warmth flooded his belly, but he held himself back. Kathleen moved her lips over his experimentally and Gabriel had to quash a groan of need. For a first kiss, Kathleen needed a gentle introduction to the feelings he could draw from her, not a mauling as his brother would have given her. And then he forced the thoughts of his half-brother out of his mind and surrendered to the softness of her lips.
Kathleen sighed as she parted her lips. Gabriel allowed his hand to drift around her neck so that he did not disturb her coiffure and have people gossiping about her. He pressed his tongue inside her mouth and eased himself a step closer, sliding his free hand around her waist. Devil take it. She tasted delicious. And she learned quickly.
Her hands grazed over his waistcoat and up his chest before slipping around his neck as he swept his tongue around her mouth. She copied his movements naturally. He forced his hand to remain on her waist. The man in him wanted to move it down and urge her bottom until she rubbed against his growing hardness. But the gentleman knew this was her first kiss and his needs and desires were secondary.
Kathleen moaned and pushed herself onto tiptoes. Tilting her head and adjusting the position, deepening the kiss still further. God’s teeth. He had not been this affected by a mere kiss since… well, he never had been this affected by a kiss.
He withdrew until their lips barely touched and then he pulled away completely.
Her lips pursed, Kathleen tried to follow him. It was almost comical. Then she seemed to realise the kiss was over and she opened her eyes, looking somewhat dazed and a little disappointed. He touched his forehead to hers. His own disappointment as keen as hers. He was just better at making it. He needed a moment to recover his wits, and it had to be time not gazing into those crystal clear blue eyes.
“Was your first kiss enjoyable, Kathleen?”
“It was… wonderful, Ced… Gabriel.”
“It was wonderful. I wish we had time to prolong this assignation, but we have to get back.”
“May I just apologise for the sound I made? I do not know what came over me. The feelings…”
He lifted his head and shook it. She stopped speaking and gave him a quizzical look.
“Never apologise for any sounds you make that are borne of pleasure. A sound like that gives a man heart that the lady is enjoying a gentleman’s kisses.”
Her lips moved into a delightful little ‘o’ shape and he was tempted to pull her into another kiss. But he was not convinced that a second time he could be in such control. He was already growing hard with want and would have to think of Cedric in his inexpressibles to ensure that he got rid of the slight bulge in his silk breeches before going back into the ballroom.
Yes, the thought of Cedric’s inexpressibles was definitely working already.
“Thank you for your kindness.”
“There was no kindness involved. The pleasure was all mine. Let us take a quick turn around the flower beds so our colour can return to normal. You look a little flushed. Then I shall return you to your mama.”
“Thank you. You are obviously quite practised at secret assignations with young ladies.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. Was that jealousy he heard in her voice?
“No, not really.”
“Oh, come now, Mr Onslow. You are a very handsome gentleman. The ladies must throw themselves at you.”
“But you forget. I am a ba… I am illegitimate.”
“But the recognised son of a duke.”
“Mayhap but most mamas want at least a baron for their daughters. I shall never have a title unless I save the life of the Prince Regent himself.”
“That does seem a little unfair.”
“Ah, the vagaries of the hereditary peerage were never said to be fair, Miss Roberts.”
And with that, he opened the door to the hothouse and swept her back out into the ballroom.