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Jane made a sound that in any other woman would be a giggle. ‘Asleep on his feet? My dear Gabrielle—what had you done to him?’
‘I suppose I had better explain. I had dinner at Gray’s town house with his cousin Henry. If you recall, I told you that Gray had left suddenly for his Yorkshire estate? As I was leaving I met him coming in. Just outside his bedchamber door.’ She explained about little James and Gray’s long journeys and lack of sleep. ‘I think his mother will arrive with the children tomorrow.’
‘So now you will have Lord Leybourne, your aunt and his mama all expecting the match.’
‘I am sure he will not have said anything about me to his mother and she can hardly approve of a bride for him who is in trade. That might help.’
‘You are no more in trade than he is, selling the agricultural produce of his estates. You are hardly operating smoke-belching factories or coal mines. Your lineage is impeccable, your upbringing that of a lady,’ Jane said in a tone that brooked no argument.
‘I am going to have to return to Portugal. That is the only way out of it.’
‘Run away?’
‘A strategic retreat,’ Gaby countered. Yes, run away.
‘And what about all the things you—we—planned to do while we were in London? Do you want to sacrifice the theatre, the opera, the exhibitions and the shopping just because you cannot say no firmly enough to a suitor? And how will it appear if you arrive back home within weeks of leaving?’
‘You are quite right,’ Gaby said with a sigh. I must be fair to Jane even if I don’t care what the neighbours will think. ‘I will speak frankly to Gray this afternoon if he proposes. Refuse him without any ambiguity.’ Break my heart.
* * *
Gray was at the front door at three o’clock, quite the correct time for a morning call should anyone have observed him. He was turned out in the most elegant outfit of dark grey pantaloons, glossy black Hessians with silver tassels, a swallowtail coat of darkest blue superfine and every appropriate accessory in restrained good taste.
If it were not for the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of strain between his nostrils and the corners of his mouth no one would think anything was wrong. Anyone seeing him, and the tasteful bouquet of roses and ferns he carried, would have deduced that this was a gentleman setting out to court a lady, Gaby thought.
She made herself smile and greet him as though the night before had not happened. When Gray presented her with the flowers she exclaimed with pleasure, rang for the footman to take them and place them in water and bring them back directly. He shook hands with Jane, made polite conversation, accepted a cup of tea.
The flowers were brought in arranged in a silver vase and Jane admired them. Gaby continued to smile and wondered if she was going to scream. She felt like it.
And, finally, he turned to her. ‘Miss Frost. Gabrielle. I wonder if I might beg a word alone with you?’
‘Of course, Lord Leybourne. If you will excuse us, Jane?’ She rose, he rose, Jane sipped her tea without comment. ‘If you would like to come through to the—’
‘Lady Orford, Miss Frost.’
‘Gabrielle, my dear. And Gray.’ Her aunt looked rather less pleased to see him. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Moseley.’ She sat down, took a cup of tea with a vague word of thanks and plunged straight in. ‘Now, my dear, it is a positive age since I saw you and I know you have not attended a single one of the events for which I obtained invitations on your behalf after the first one, so what have you been about?’ She took a sharp bite out of a biscuit and fixed Gaby with a reproving stare.
Gaby, with a despairing look at Jane, sat back down again. Gray was left with no option but to sit in the only free chair next to his godmother.
‘You are not shy of society, surely? Or has Leybourne been taking up all your time? It is too bad of you, dear boy, if that is the case.’ She leaned across and tapped Gray on the forearm with one beringed finger.
Gaby was conscious of her gaze flicking between them and smiled with more determination, avoiding Gray’s eye.
‘Now, you must have advanced your plans, the two of you. You are very wicked to keep me in the dark, Gabrielle. You know I would dote on the chance to arrange a wedding, especially as I have no daughter. Sons are not the same.’
‘We hope to make some decisions soon,’ Gray said. ‘At the moment we are at that stage which my friends tell me is almost inevitable—we cannot agree on anything from the venue to the date, let alone the guest list or the organ music.’
‘Or even which country,’ Gaby added.
Gray sighed, the very picture of the put-upon betrothed man, she thought as she suppressed an entirely inappropriate giggle. It was probably hysteria. ‘Portugal would mean a saving on the wine bill, I agree,’ he added and she had to bite the inside of her cheek.
She must stop enjoying this mutual teasing of Aunt Henrietta. It made him seem like an ally, a friend. She must not find more things to like or her defences against him were going to crumble like a pile of sand in front of the incoming tide.
‘How is Cousin George?’ she asked before Gray could add any more embellishments.
‘He is not your cousin, dear.’ The firming of Aunt Henrietta’s lips were clear proof that she had not given up on her plans for Gaby. ‘He is very well and has taken to squiring Miss Henderson about. Such a charming unspoilt girl and her uncle is Viscount Worthington, of course.’
Miss Henderson? Ah, yes, that pretty child Aunt was trying to pair up with Gray. Is she trying to make me jealous? Surely not, no one would think I would rather have George than Gray, even his besotted stepmother. Or perhaps she is dangling the girl in front of Gray in the hope of detaching him from me.
