Page 38 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

Gabriel shrugged. “I have a feeling he might be busy.”

“I shall send him the invitation nevertheless,” the duchess said. “He knows better than to refuse me.”

As this produced a snort of unladylike laughter from Cecilia, her mother glared at her and Gabriel had to smother his own chuckle. All of them knew what would be keeping Ambrose busy.

Chapter Twelve

The invitation arrived at number 27 Hill Street on the day following Phoebe’s walk in the park with Gabriel. Bowles brought it to the breakfast table himself on a silver salver. Aunt Fanny, eyebrows raised, took the missive and slipped the opener under the seal.

Phoebe and Mattie, arrested in their consumption of tea and toast, fixed enquiring eyes on Lady Brockwood as she skimmed the contents. She read it twice, her eyes taking on an expression of delighted satisfaction.

“Girls, we are invited to tea with the Duchess of Sherborne, no less. In two days’ time. She asks if that will suit us. Of course it will. This is a veritable honor, I can assure you. A social cachet. She is quite an arbiter of the ton and only the most fashionable and favored people are invited to her little parties. They’re very select, and attending one puts the seal on a young lady’s standing for the entire Season. You will both be deemed to have been marked as a success thanks to this.”

“The Duchess of Sherborne?” Mattie echoed. “Isn’t she the stepmother of Phoebe’s handsome admirer? The one who took her to the park?” As she had now secured an invitation to walk in the park with Mr. Wade, her jealousy, small though it had been, had abated. She must be feeling as though she’d regained her position as the most desirable of her mother’s charges. Which pleased Phoebe who didn’t like it when strife of any kind arose between them. Not that Mattie had ever said anything, but the feeling had been there, between them, that somehow Phoebe had usurped Mattie’s position in the family.

Aunt Fanny seemed to swell with pride. “She is indeed Lord Gabriel’s stepmama, and this must be the seal of approval for her stepson’s association with your cousin.” She beamed at Phoebe. “Well done, my dear. You must appreciate the great honor Her Grace does us.”

Phoebe, blushing hotly for more than one reason, kept her eyes lowered as she nodded her head. “I do indeed, Aunt Fanny.”

“Good,” her aunt said with relish, and turned back to Bowles who was waiting with the empty salver. “Did the messenger wait for a reply?”

Bowles inclined his head. “He did, milady.”

“My notepaper.”

When Bowles had fetched it and her pen for her she proceeded to scribe a short, and probably gushing, thought Phoebe, acceptance to the duchess, which Bowles then hastened off to give to the messenger.

Phoebe looked down at her now cold tea. She had no appetite now for the toast still on her plate, but if she tried to leave it, Aunt Fanny would surely reprimand her. All she could think of was that they were going to Sherborne House in Grosvenor Square where the Duke and Duchess of Sherborne lived. Where Gabriel must have spent a good part of his childhood. Of course, she was curious to see it, but there would be people there. People she didn’t know who would try to engage her in conversation. And because it was just for tea, there wouldn’t be enough people for her to hide herself away in a corner and pretend she was somewhere else. Someone would be sure to notice if she tried.

Was this Gabriel’s doing? She could only think it was, otherwise, it would be too great a coincidence. Aunt Fanny was clearly not one of the duchess’s intimates or she wouldn’t have been so excited and flattered by the invitation. Oh dear.

Mattie was showing no such lack of appetite. “I wonder who else will be there?” she mused. “I do hope she’s invited some handsome gentlemen. Of course, I’m sure your Lord Gabriel will be there, and he’s very handsome indeed, but he seems to have eyes only for you. So I shall need at least two gentlemen to dance attendance on me.”

Phoebe blinked. Did he indeed have eyes only for her? That produced a giddying sensation and she had to breathe deeply and blink again. Or was Mattie just exaggerating?

“Any young gentleman who attends will be sure to want to talk to you,” Aunt Fanny said to Mattie, with complacent confidence. “You’re already being talked of as the beauty of the Season, and it’s not yet the end of February.”

Mattie preened herself. “I am? How do you know, and what have they been saying?”

Aunt Fanny launched herself into a description of who had told her this but Phoebe didn’t listen. She’d heard praise of her cousin enough times. Instead, her thoughts returned to Gabriel. He’d said he would manage to find a way to get her into St Giles to see it for herself. Was this invitation part of his plan, or just as a consequence of his friendship? She couldn’t quite decide. But she rather hoped he felt more than just friendship for her, even though it seemed a remote possibility, what with his bruised toes, damaged face, and broken arm.

*

Two days later, having seen neither sight nor sound of Gabriel, Phoebe, along with Mattie and Aunt Fanny of course, traveled the short distance to Grosvenor Square in Aunt Fanny’s carriage. There’d been much argument about what gowns she and Mattie should wear. Mattie wanted to wear her favorite muslin gown, but Aunt Fanny had firmly declared it unsuitable for the middle of winter, even if they were traveling door to door by carriage. Instead, she’d persuaded them both, although Phoebe had taken little persuasion, into merino walking dresses and their best new velvet Angouleme pelisses. Mattie’s pelisse was flatteringly almost the same shade as her eyes, while Phoebe’s was a cheery red. With bonnets trimmed in matching colors, and fur muffs to keep their hands warm, they looked both smart and warm, according to Aunt Fanny.

“It’s not fair,” Mattie whispered to Phoebe before her mother joined them in the carriage. “That muslin shows off my figure far better than this fusty old gown.”

Phoebe was spared having to answer by her aunt’s arrival, but she couldn’t help thinking that she’d rather be warm than show off her figure. In fact, she’d rather do anything than show off her figure. The thought of strange gentlemen ogling her was unsettling in the extreme. Not that this seemed to bother Mattie at all.

It was indeed only a few streets to Grosvenor Square and the imposing building Gabriel had pointed out to Phoebe on their walk. They could easily have gone on foot, especially as there was again no rain, but Aunt Fanny had insisted on arriving in style. “I don’t want Her Grace thinking I can’t afford a carriage,” she said, tutting. “That would not be a wise idea.”

It often seemed to Phoebe that Aunt Fanny rather resented having never become a countess. And that she held some sort of a grudge against the husband Phoebe couldn’t even remember for having had the temerity to fall off his horse and break his neck before he could inherit his father’s earldom. It was as though her aunt felt she’d been cheated out of not just becoming a countess, but everything that went with it, including becoming chatelaine of Coakham Hall. And somehow she thought she had to make up for what she saw as her relatively low standing in the society she was a part of.

Phoebe pressed her lips together. Aunt Fanny should try looking at how other people lived. Gabriel having opened her eyes, Phoebe now found the only people she noticed on Hill Street were the poorest ones: the ones selling things for pennies, the loitering beggars, the ragged children. Although the servants in the big houses like Aunt Fanny’s often saw these people off, not wanting them spoiling their masters’ streets with their presence. She might have been echoing Gabriel when she formed the thought that one could not simply chase away these people and pretend they didn’t exist as long as one couldn’t see them. But she wisely didn’t impart her feelings to her aunt. Doing so would undoubtedly have shocked her deeply.

On their arrival at Sherborne House they were shown into a large upstairs parlor where what looked to Phoebe like far too many people were already ensconced. Men in their smart, if rather uniform attire, women in fine gowns, servants discreetly making sure no one’s glasses were empty. Wasn’t this supposed to be a tea engagement? No one appeared to be drinking that beverage.

Nerves tingling and heart pounding with anxiety, Phoebe scanned the room, longing to retreat into a corner, but Aunt Fanny propelled her forward, alongside Mattie, who needed no propelling whatsoever.