* * *
Adelaide watched him go, her brow knitted in worry. She hadn’t a clue as to what was wrong with Lord Wesley, but the colour had flooded from his face as if sudden pain had consumed him and he had swayed so markedly she had thought he would faint.
If Aunt Eloise and Aunt Jean were here they would have probably known his troubles exactly, but they were long gone.
Milly stood watching him, too, puzzlement on her face. ‘Perhaps his lordship is still hurt from the incident with the horse in the park the other day, ma’am, and is not telling us.’
Or he is truly sick, she thought, her worry growing. The botanical she had seen him reading in Lackington’s was a sign of something not being right and his symptoms here underlined that fact.
She had enough experience to also know some men loathed discussing any ailment they suffered with a woman, and the knowledge that she was not a trained healer would be a further deterrent. Still, a small sense of sorrow stirred in such a lack of trust.
‘Say nothing of this to my uncle, Milly. I am certain once the earl is feeling better we can continue the lessons.’
Chapter Seven
Once home Gabriel helped himself to a stiff brandy and sat down to mull over his afternoon.
He had felt something there in the parts of him that had been numb and dead for a full six months. He could barely believe it. Was he cured? Was this the beginning of a healing he had been so certain was beyond hope?
It had begun the moment he had laid his fingers down across hers and felt an answering tug that had been soft and gentle. Unexpected. Impossibly real. Not the full-blown nakedness of practised courtesans or the come-hither sexual play of a country whore. Just a gentle quiet gesture in the middle of a busy park.
He closed his eyes and breathed in hard.
How was that even possible?
A knock on the door had him standing as his butler announced there was a visitor. Not just any visitor, either, but Mrs Cressida Murray and newly returned from the north. Cressie and he had once been lovers before she had left for Yorkshire and a marriage with a local landowner of some note.
Her face, as she came into the room, was as beautiful as he remembered it to be, though her eyes were somewhat reddened. ‘I am sorry to bother you, Wesley, but I had no one else that I could turn to and I need help.’
She removed her coat when he failed to reply and her breasts almost sprang from the very low neckline of a deep red day dress. Then she flung herself into his arms and kissed him full on the lips.
Nothing. He felt nothing. His stomach did not turn with the sickness and his heart failed to pound with the closeness. A new development, this. A further difference in the reactions of his body. Today was one of such constant surprise he could barely keep up.
‘It is so very good to see you again, Gabriel.’
Smiling through unease, he extricated himself from her grasp and turned to pour them both a drink. The strong brandy made him feel less edgy.
With the intimacy of Cressida Murray’s kiss, and after his encounter with Adelaide Ashfield, he might have expected some warming, but there had been none. Another problem. A further disquiet? One moment hot and the next cold and no middle ground where compromise could result in a cure? Shaking away the thought, he made himself concentrate on what his unexpected visitor was saying.
‘I have come because I need a partner for the Whitely ball and I want him to be you.’
‘Why?’
‘My husband has cheated on me and I have reached the conclusion that if he wants to play at this game then he needs to know I can, too.’ Her voice wobbled as she went on. ‘I think he needs to know that I am a beautiful woman whom he is lucky to be married to, a woman whom he should not leave alone up in the wilds of Yorkshire whilst he cavorts with others here.’
There was something in her voice that held Gabriel’s attention, some quiet and vulnerable honesty. After his shock today he was more in tune with the nuances in others. He waited as she went on.
‘I love him. For his good points and his bad, but this...dalliance in London needs to stop. He needs to come home to Yorkshire and give our marriage a chance again.’
Without warning Cressida went to pieces, her tears and sobs filling the room. With trepidation Gabriel moved forward to hold her, till the storm had passed and she had quietened, pleased again when her closeness did not seem to affect him in the slightest. After a good few moments she looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.
‘You were always the sort of man that women truly liked, Gabriel, and not only for the way you look. Gavin and I are...having problems and I could not think of anyone else to come to for help without it being all over town come the morning. I need a companion who is attentive and well regarded by the ladies. One who might make my husband jealous without expecting anything in return.’
‘So you want me to...?’ He stopped, leaving the question in the air.
‘Flirt with me at the Whitely ball and dance at least twice with me.’
He began to laugh. ‘And will I be called out at dawn by this husband of yours because of it?’
‘Oh, if he did do that it would be wonderful, but I wouldn’t like you to shoot him or anything.’
Gabriel had to smile at her convoluted reasoning. ‘He’s a big man, if I recall...’
‘But clumsy with it.’
‘And he has numerous brothers?’
She nodded. ‘Four, but I cannot envisage him ever hurting a soul. Please, Gabriel. You owe me this one favour at least.’
‘I do?’ He tried to think of why.
‘You left me with barely a word. That hurt. A lot. And the one promise you did make before you disappeared was that you were sorry and that if there was anything you could do to make things easier...’ She stopped. ‘This is the thing you can do to make it easier. I am calling in the favour.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you? You broke my heart once and Gavin put it back together again. You have no idea of your effect on women and you have never once really been so much in love that you care.’
Her words cut into the quick of truth. Henrietta Clements had said almost the same thing to him and the guilt stung. He couldn’t ever make it up to her, but here with Cressida he had the chance of redemption.
‘God. I can think of a hundred reasons why this scheme of yours will not work.’
Warm fingers came into the cold of his palm. ‘But you will try?’
* * *
Adelaide and her uncle and chaperon arrived a lot later at the Whitely ball than they had intended to, Lady Harcourt’s brother having visited in the afternoon and staying on until well after dinner.
The theme of the soirée was an underwater one with long strands of shiny green silk hanging from the ceiling around all the four walls of the room. With the lighting dimmed and the chandeliers painted blue the whole place appeared almost unreal. Huge statues of sea gods graced the room; Neptune seated in a shell pulled by seahorses, the goddesses behind with the Tritons and other various nymphs. Fish sculpted from blocks of ice sat on the many scattered tables.
Adelaide had never seen anything remotely like this excess before and even Imelda was speechless as they walked through into the throngs of people.
‘Lady Whitely has quite outdone herself this year, I think. Rumour has it that it might be their last big party so we are so lucky to be a part of it. Something to remember with a thrill, I think, my dear. I know I shall.’
The crush tonight was far more noticeable than it had been all Season and it was hard to even move from one side of the room to the other.
‘Should you not miss this sort of excitement if you do decide to return to Northbridge, Adelaide?’
Her uncle asked the question, his interest in her answer obvious.
‘Indeed, there is something to be said of the scope and wonder of the London soirées. But perhaps after a while a certain indifference might set in.’
Alec laughed and gestured to a passing footman to bring them each a drink.
Adelaide looked around to see whether the Earl of Wesley was in attendance, but she could not see him at all. The room was a large one, but partitions divided it into two and she wondered if he could be further down towards a band she could hear playing. Standing on her toes, she tried to see if she could find him.
‘Who are you looking for?’ Imelda Harcourt raised her lorgnette. ‘Ahhh, there is Berrick, my dear, and he does look well tonight. Why, I do believe he is coming our way. Smile, Adelaide. Men like to see a welcoming face, not a dour one, and you look so much prettier when you are happy.’
If Eloise or Jean could have heard such advice they would have been far from pleasant, but the guileless and earnest way her chaperon expressed such a sentiment made Adelaide smile. Lady Harcourt honestly believed that she was helping, that a woman’s role was as an adjunct to a well-connected and wealthy man and that a good marriage made the whole world right.
This was the way of London society. A way to survive and prosper and never let those from the strata below gain a foot up in the world. Solidarity and isolation buoyed by the cohesiveness of the ton.
As the Earl of Berrick joined them Adelaide took in breath and made a conscious effort to be at least polite.
* * *
She did not see Lord Wesley until almost halfway through the night and any joy that she had from noticing him was snatched away by the beautiful girl beside him, his hand resting lightly on the sway of her back.