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“Mrs. Jane Travis,” Evie said with a smile.
“Mrs. Jane…” The young woman’s eyes widened. “Widow Jane? We did not know she had family.”
“Very distant,” Gabriel assured her. “Gabriel Swift,” he said, inclining his head. “And this beautiful young lady is my wife. Mrs. Swift.”
“You don’t say.” The young woman eyed them jovially. “It is rare we get fresh, young blood around here. I’m Molly,” she said, straightening her hair with one hand. “So, you’re married. What a pity.” She smiled up at Gabriel, and out of the periphery of his vision, he saw Evie roll her eyes.
“A pleasure, Miss Molly.” He took her hand and bowed over it.
The young woman giggled. “Are you coming to the dance, then?” she asked, still looking at Gabriel and completely ignoring Evie.
“The dance?” he repeated, raising a brow.
“Yes, there is a dance at the inn tonight. You should come.” She giggled again.
“Thank you for the invitation; we wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He took Evie by the arm and inclined his head toward giggling Molly. “My dear wife loves to dance.”
* * *
They arrived at the dance fashionably late. The villagers didn’t seem to know of the fashion because the old inn was crowded to the ceiling. Evie wore what Gabriel assumed was her best gown of the three she’d brought on this journey. It was a green gown with a square neckline, high bustline, and gathered puffy sleeves. He could see that she even wore a corset, as her bosom was thrust higher than usual. The only thing different from the usual Evie he knew was the turban she’d carefully woven around her head.
Gabriel knew she was beautiful, but with a bit of polish, she was simply breathtaking. Gabriel, on the other hand, had opted to wear all black, except a green waistcoat, white shirt, and crisp white cravat. He’d pulled back his hair, and Jane had even shined his boots. He looked to all the world like the haughty aristocrat he was.
Jane refused to go to the dance, citing her age and being weary of large crowds, but she admonished them to bring gossip.
As soon as Evie and Gabriel showed up at the inn, the entire ballroom’s attention was riveted to them. They stayed apart from the main crowd for a moment before the woman who’d invited them, Molly, found her way through the crowd and took it as her job to introduce them to everyone. Although Gabriel tried his best to adopt his least sophisticated accent, nobody was fooled. The villagers quickly realized they were dealing with an aristocratic couple and surrounded the newcomers, asking them millions of questions.
Evie was quickly commandeered for a dance, and from then on, she never left the dancefloor. She was a graceful dancer, as well as a remarkable conversationalist from what he saw. Anyone dancing with her was all smiles and laughter, and after the dance, they looked at her with a love-struck expression on their faces. Gabriel was tempted to find a looking glass to check if he was wearing the same idiotic expression on his face as everybody else. Evie was simply charming.
Gabriel turned away from her and went to ask Molly to dance. As they danced, the woman openly flirted with him, while others winked and batted their eyelashes in an invitation from the sidelines. Gabriel was used to it. Women always pursued him. The only difference, this time, was that they thought he was married, and it didn’t seem to matter.
“I don’t mean to be too forward, but would you like to step outside with me?” Miss Molly said as the dance finished, and he escorted her to the edge of the dancefloor. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes batting in seductive invitation. For a moment, Gabriel was tempted to say yes. But when he raised his head, he saw Evie on the arm of a gentleman, laughing as she walked back to the dancefloor for another dance.
No, he couldn’t do it to her. A quick rut in the shadows would feel good for a moment, but then this woman would look at Evie with pity and contempt. She would gossip, and the entire ballroom would be giggling behind Evie’s back for the rest of the evening.
“I would love that,” he said, “but perhaps some other time.” Gabriel turned on his heel and stalked to the card room. At least there, he would be less likely to be accosted by eager women.
He played and chatted with the townsmen, quickly realizing that Widow Jane’s predicament wasn’t a solitary case. Since the new Baron of Bingham had inherited the village of Forton, he’d raised the rent and endeavored to drive early settlers away since he couldn’t do the same to them. The estate was in shambles.
Gabriel knew that the economy had suffered after the war, and while progressive landowners did their best to care for their tenants, the wastrels such as Bingham and probably Montbrook saw to capitalize on them instead. Not for the first time, Gabriel wondered which kind of master he would become upon inheriting the earldom. He’d avoided his father and his responsibilities long enough, but could he do it for much longer? Would his vendetta against his father result in causing suffering to innocent villagers?
A few hours later, he peeked his head out of the card room and saw Evie winded, aggressively fanning herself and looking about for an escape. She was encircled by a great number of men from the ages of sixteen to about one hundred.
He made his way to her and stopped by her elbow.
“I apologize, gentlemen,” he said loudly. “I’d like to steal my wife for a moment.” He gave them a charming smile and led Evie away from the crowd.
As soon as they exited the inn from the side door onto the balcony, Evie breathed in heavily.
“Oh, thank God,” she said on an exhale.
“Gabriel is fine.” He grinned at her.
“That’s blasphemous!” She gave a burst of choked laughter.
“Not a believer, don’t care.”
“You are a heathen!” Her eyes widened in surprise.
