Page 8 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

The dance moved on, leaving him more than puzzled by the conundrum he’d asked to dance.

He tried again. It wasn’t like him to be lost for words, but something about this odd mix of shyness and ferocity had him intrigued. “I know your cousin, Toby Hughenden, well, as we were at school together, although he’s four years my junior. I don’t, however, have the pleasure of having been introduced to your other cousin, Miss Matilda Nicholson.”

Phoebe pursed her lips as she moved away from him in the dance and he had to wait until she returned. “My cousin Matilda is my greatest friend and my dear cousin.”

How odd that was. A somewhat defensive declaration, and yet, he wasn’t sure she was telling him the truth. It sounded more as though she were reciting a catechism learned off by heart. Or perhaps her cousin was her only friend. That seemed more likely.

“How pleasant, then, for you to be able to attend balls with Miss Nicholson.”

She nodded. “It is most convenient.” But again, he had the impression this wasn’t quite true. Perhaps she’d rather attend all by herself. After all, the statuesque and beautiful Miss Nicholson would not be someone he’d advise any young lady to stand beside for fear of unfavorable comparison. Not that he himself was stirred by young ladies of Miss Nicholson’s dimensions, despite his own height.

He frowned, puzzled for a moment before realization dawned, and with it the uncomfortable sensation that he was being obtuse tonight when he couldn’t afford to be. Of course, it was Lady Phoebe, but her cousin was only a miss because her father had died before he could inherit the earldom. He’d only ever gone by the courtesy title of Viscount Brockwood. Whereas Phoebe’s father, although also deceased, had been earl for, what was it? Fifteen years. And on top of that she had a sizeable inheritance to come to her—presumably on her marriage. Might Lady Brockwood, and her overly tall daughter, possibly be a little jealous of Phoebe’s title and inheritance? And might Phoebe be aware of it?

He favored her with another of his most charming smiles, something more than a few women had told him he possessed. “And do you like it in Town? Is it how you expected it to be?”

She pursed her lips again before answering. “It is indeed much as I expected to find it.” She managed to sound unimpressed. No doubt she’d not had high hopes of London.

He’d ask her anyway. “But do you like the balls?”

But now they danced away from one another, and he had to wait for her reply. When they were back together again, she looked him in the eye, a challenge in her own. “No, I do not like them, and nor do I care for London itself.” She kept her voice lower, no doubt not wishing to be overheard by the other dancers, but there was determination in it.

At least she was being honest. Quite refreshing to find a young lady who could be. And more than that, someone who might just feel the same way about the social whirl of the Season as he did. However… “Most young ladies very much look forward to their debut and attending all the social events of the Season.”

“Not this one.” Just for an instant a touch of irony tinged her tone. “You must, after all, have noticed that I cannot dance. That I was, in fact, born with the proverbial two left feet.”

He smiled. “It would be ungentlemanly of me to agree with you.”

“Just as it is unladylike to trample on the feet of the gentleman who partners one.”

“Shall we dispense with that formality? And I shall say I don’t mind being trampled on, but rather that I find your honesty refreshing?”

The becoming blush was back. “And now you are back to teasing me.”

He smiled again. “But I’m not. I find you a most interesting dance partner, Lady Phoebe. And now, as the dance is ending, perhaps you would care to promenade about the room on my arm. I feel my feet could stand up to that.”

And there it was. A twitch of her lips that might, if it were allowed to blossom, become a smile. “That is most kind of you, my lord.” She met his gaze with what looked like a challenge. Yes, there was a lot more to this young lady than met the eye.

Chapter Three

With the excruciatingly embarrassing dance at last over, Phoebe found Lord Gabriel had drawn her hand neatly into the crook of his arm, whether she wanted it to be there or not, and that he was now walking her sedately around the edge of the dance floor. Just for the moment, no one was dancing but, nevertheless, a horde of people, all unknown to her, milled about, chattering in couples. Every single one of them looked a hundred times more at home than she felt. And she was quite sure they were looking at her and thinking she shouldn’t even be there. The sensation of sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb was enormous.

But…a gentleman, her perfect gentleman in fact, had asked her to dance, just like all the other young ladies. And now he hadn’t just escorted her back to Aunt Fanny but was intent on ignoring the fact that his toes must be bruised and instead was promenading her about the room as though it was something he truly wanted to do. As though he viewed her as the sort of young lady he wanted to be seen with.

But did he really, or was he just performing a duty?

How silly she was being just because the handsomest man in the room had asked her to dance. She was in danger of allowing herself to get carried away. Of course he was just being polite, as she knew full well she hadn’t distinguished herself well in either the dance or the required conversation. Aunt Fanny had better not get her hopes up.

She cast Gabriel a shy upward glance. He was at least a foot taller than she was. Not a difficult feat as she was barely an inch more than five feet tall. She thought again how handsome he was with his curling golden-brown hair and his perfectly formed features. Of course, she’d noticed all that about him straightaway when she’d been observing him from her position beside Aunt Fanny.

Who wouldn’t have?

She might be small and insignificant and appallingly clumsy with everything she did, but she wasn’t blind. And nor was she immune to a handsome gentleman showing interest in her, even if she did suspect it might be either because of her fortune, or because he felt sorry for her. Probably the fortune, but, whatever the reason, he was a feather in her cap to boast to Mattie about later, as he was far more handsome than Lady Chatteris’s son. Not to mention at least six inches taller and with a slim but muscular build.

“Do you find this less alarming than dancing?” he asked, his tone a little amused.

She might as well go on as she’d begun and be honest. After all, he’d said he liked her honesty, hadn’t he? She had to assume he’d meant it. She took a breath. “Yes, thank you. I much prefer it to having to strut and bob and skip like some performing monkey while being watched by my aunt in case I put a foot wrong. Which of course I do, and she knows very well that I will. So why she bothers to watch, I really don’t know, as it’s a foregone conclusion.” Quite a relief to get this off her chest as Aunt Fanny would have silenced her after the first few words and been shocked by the reference to the performing monkey. Would have reached for her smelling salts, most likely.

Those blue eyes of his danced with amusement. She could have drowned in them. “Are you this self-conscious when you practice at home?”