Page 25 of Unmask Me My Love

“Husband? She married?” As if a veil dropped across his face, the soft light extinguished from his intense gaze.

Alarmed by this drastic and unaccountable change in his demeanor, Gabriella rushed to explain. “Oui, Your Grace. After…after you left, when she knew I would be born, she married a wine merchant of Paris, a friend of my grand-père, a Monsieur d’Aventure.”

“I thank you for giving me this news of her after so many years.” He gazed over Gabriella’s head, unseeing. “I had not heard her name in a very long time.” With a sigh, he recalled himself and looked at Gabriella once more, the planes of his face hardened. “Please give her my regards when next you see her.” Then to Lady Celinda, “Thank you, my dear. It was kind of you to think I would be interested in news of an old acquaintance.” He retrieved his hat from the sofa. “If you father is home, I shall call on him while I am here.”

The dismissal stung like a slap to Gabriella’s face. How dare he reject her with less interest than he would have for a dish that displeased him at dinner?

“Your Grace,” she spoke loudly enough that he could not ignore her. “You remember my mother well, and I hope with a fondness equal to what she has always felt for you.”

The duke turned wary eyes on her, the rim of his hat crushed in his hand. “Indeed, I do remember her well, Miss d’Aventure.”

“I have waited many years to come to England, to find you, to tell you that you have a daughter.”

His gaze narrowed, his frigid manner now complete. “I sincerely doubt that, Miss d’Aventure. Despite what your mother may have told you, I suggest you are indeed Miss d’Aventure, the daughter of a wine merchant.”

Icy fingers of rage touched the back of Gabriella’s neck. “You would accuse my mother of lying to me?”

The duke shrugged. “She would not be the first woman to do so. I will admit that I knew your mother when she was a young girl, and we spent a week together in her home. But after I left her, I heard nothing whatsoever from her.”

Gabriella’s anger rose to a white-hot flame. He had offered no hope, had told her mother they could not marry. What had he expected from her then?

“In twenty years, I have not heard one word.” His face had darkened, his thick brows almost touching his nose. “I made her swear to me that if she discovered she was with child, she would tell me. I was betrothed to another woman, but I would have broken with her if Veronique had told me there was a child. I waited…” He threw up his hand. “It makes no difference now. The past is past. I am sorry, mademoiselle, but you are not my daughter.” The duke strode past her, muttering, “I cannot think why she would have told you such a thing and sent you to find me.” He whirled toward Gabriella, sneering. “Does she need money now her husband is dead?”

Stunned by the cruelty of his words, Gabriella drew herself up as tall as possible, stared him in the face, and narrowed her eyes. “Non. My mother wants for nothing. She does not know I am here. I did not tell her because I did not think she would allow me to come.”

“You are likely correct.” Rother bowed, chilly as a winter’s night. “Good day, Miss d’Aventure. Lady Celinda.” With a fierce scowl, he marched out of the room.

Gabriella swayed. The room turned black at the edges. Then she was seated on one of the dainty gilt chairs, Lady Celinda pressing a cool glass into her hand.

“Drink this. It tastes nasty, but it will help.”

Gabriella raised the glass to her nose, inhaling the sweet aroma of French cognac, like a breath of home. She tilted the glass, allowing the rich liquor to burn all the way into her stomach. It would take many tumblers of this excellent vintage to erase the humiliation the Duke of Rother had heaped upon her and her family today.

“Oh, Miss d’Aventure.” Lady Celinda plucked the almost-empty glass from her fingers. “I am attempting to keep you from fainting, not trying to make you foxed.”

Gabriella continued to hold her hand out. “Apparently, I am the daughter of a wine merchant. Perhaps that explains my affinity.” She nodded toward the glass.

With a sigh, Lady Celinda poured another dollop of the amber spirit into Gabriella’s glass and handed it to her. “Do you believe the duke?”

Gabriella stared into the swirling liquid. “My mother has never told me anything other than that the duke is my father. But she never told me he made her swear to contact him if she found herself with child. Why would she not write to him? Unless…” Unless she were in truth not the duke’s daughter. It did not bear thinking about. She took another comforting sip, the burn now melting into a glow. “I must remember to apologize to Horace. He asked me for proof as well. No wonder there is none.”

“But there is proof, Miss d’Aventure, if only anyone would look to see it.” Lady Celinda set the decanter back on the sideboard and pressed the stopper in with a vengeance.

“Please call me Gabriella, my lady.” She sipped again, and her tension ebbed. “What proof can there be?”

Lady Celinda seated herself across from Gabriella. “The proof I saw with my own eyes. Anyone could see it just by looking at you and His Grace together.”

“What do you mean? Other than the color of our eyes, we do not resemble one another at all.”

“Au contraire,” Lady Celinda said, a secretive smile on her lips. “Just now, when you were both talking,” she motioned to the empty carpet, “it was as though I watched a person arguing with themselves. It is true you do not resemble the duke in either features or coloring, other than your eyes. However, the way you stand, the set of your shoulders, the determination in your jaw.” She shook her head. “If you appeared in public together, the gossip would spread so quickly you couldn’t poke your head out of the house the next day.”

“He will never see it, my lady. And even if it is true, why did my mother not write to him?” Mon Dieu, what a mess she’d made of her life coming to England. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

Lady Celinda shrugged. “You will have to ask her, but I assume she had good reasons.” She cocked her head. “What will you do now?”

“Return to Lady Chalgrove. I have no other choice at the moment. But,” she wiped her face with the back of her hand, “I still have Horace.” She smiled, imagining his happiness when she told him there would be no impediment to their marriage now. “We wish to marry, you see. I suppose I could open a modiste’s shop here in London. If he could continue to work as a valet for the marquess, we could build a life of our own. I had worried the duke would insist on my marrying a man of the nobility, but that is no longer a concern.”

Lady Celinda opened her mouth then abruptly shut it and smiled. “Love will always find a way, won’t it? Come, we must get you back to Lady Hamilton’s before you are missed. That would truly be the topping on the cake.”