After a long, awkward pause, he bowed stiffly. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Weatherfield.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a wicked promise, intimate and sinful…
So far, he’d lived up to his roguish reputation beautifully. Gabriella glanced over her shoulder at Julia and Mary, who watched from a distance, fans clutched to their chests in suspended anticipation. Gabriella smiled with all the self-assurance she didn’t feel. Truth be told, she felt slightly out of her depth. No, more than slightly. Enormously.
She let out a breath. She had better get this over with, and quickly, if she had any chance of success at all. With any luck, she could get the duke alone, launch herself at him, and catch him by surprise. The whole wretched thing could be over with in a matter of seconds.
Eyes wide to express urgency, Gabriella mouthed the words the pianoforte to Julia. A confused look passed over the girl’s face as she tried, in vain apparently, to read Gabriella’s lips.
The. Piano. Forte, Gabriella mouthed again, slower.
Julia’s lips formed an O as she finally grasped Gabriella’s meaning. She rushed toward the vacant pianoforte and immediately began playing a country-dance.
Turning back to James, Somerset, and his sister, Gabriella smiled tightly. “Oh, how very fortuitous,” she said with false astonishment. “It’s your favorite song, Mr. Leventhorpe.”
He frowned. “Music is vile, in all its forms.”
Gabriella elbowed him in the side subtly. “Yes, except this song.” She emphasized the last through gritted teeth. “I’m sure Lady Emmeline would be honored to stand up with you.”
James glanced at Gabriella with a mixture of concern and amusement. “Are you all right? You appear quite agitated.”
Gabriella laughed. “Too much wine, I suppose.” She gestured toward the couples now dancing in the center of the room. “Go, dance. I will keep His Grace company in your absence.” She stared at James pointedly, lips pursed.
He seemed to understand then. Clearing his throat, he offered Lady Emmeline his hand. “Would you do me the honor?”
Lady Emmeline flashed a sidelong glance at Somerset and then took James’s hand. “I would indeed. Thank you.”
When they stepped away to join the other dancers in the center of the room, Gabriella turned to Somerset and flashed her most brilliant smile. “You’re enjoying yourself, I hope.”
Somerset’s mouth curled up into a half smile. He shook his head and walked away without a word.
Gabriella just stood there, stunned. Had he truly just walked away?
She glanced over her shoulder at Mary, who was laughing behind her white lace fan. Laughing! The humiliation was too great to bear.
With her temper threatening to boil over, she followed him out onto the terrace. Cool night air brushed her uncovered arms and made her shiver. The terrace was all but deserted, save Somerset, who stood at the granite banister, gazing out over the darkened garden.
“Well.” Hands on her hips, she glared at his back. “It appears we have dispensed with civilities. And when I say ‘we,’ I mean ‘you.’”
He turned to her, and a low chuckle issued from deep in his chest. “Have you no scruples, Miss Weatherfield?”
“Very few,” she answered honestly. “I believe in getting straight to the point.”
“Then perhaps you’ll enlighten me. Why did you orchestrate that introduction? What are you after?”
She shrugged and clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m curious about you—is that so wrong? You are a young, titled, handsome bachelor who has all but removed himself from society, only to reappear at this house party. The situation simply drips with intrigue. I’m determined to get to the bottom of your motivation.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Weatherfield, but the truth is far from interesting. My sister wished to come, and I am loath to let her out of my sight.” He lifted his hands. “So here we are.”
Gabriella pursed her lips. There was more to it than that, she was certain. Just how much more…well, that was the question. The man was positively steeped in mystery, and for the first time in a very long while, she was genuinely intrigued.
“You seem like a very devoted brother.”
He smirked, as though he found her observation amusing. “Devotion is one word for it.”
“What would you call it?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he glanced away, then looked back at her, his face impassive.
Well, perhaps she could engage his interests with a subject closer to the heart. “There is rumor that you are looking for a wife. Is that true?”