‘Gabrielle? Gray? What is this?’ Aunt Henrietta was staring at them, not her trembling protégée. George stared blankly from his mother to Gabrielle.

  ‘You must wish us happy, Godmama,’ Gray said. ‘We had not intended to make such a precipitate announcement of our betrothal, though. My Gabrielle is nothing if not impetuous.’ He laid his free hand over hers on his arm and gave her an unseen pinch. His eyes narrowed when Gaby smiled sweetly at him. Now that expression she could read as clearly as if he had spoken. He wanted to give her a good shake.

  ‘But...but, Gabrielle, this is so...’

  ‘I know, Aunt. But the feeling was mutual, at first sight almost. Thank you so much for sending him to me. Now, we have come upon you unexpectedly and you have a guest. Gray will take me back to my hotel and Miss Moseley, my companion, and just as soon as I have found a house you are all invited to dinner. And George must bring a partner, because I am certain you are courting some eligible young lady, cousin.’

  ‘Er...no, not exactly.’ George sent his stepmother a look of confused appeal.

  ‘A hotel?’ Aunt Henrietta demanded. ‘Your own house? What are you saying, Gabrielle?’

  ‘Of course I cannot impose upon you, Aunt, especially as I have business to transact in London and I know you would not wish anything hinting at trade to be carried on from this house. Darling Gray’s man is finding me somewhere suitable and a staff and, of course, I have Miss Moseley with me to add countenance.’

  ‘We really should be going to inspect that first property, my dear,’ Gray said to her. ‘We will be late, but you would insist on calling on Godmama as soon as possible.’ The intense look he gave her was almost enough to send Gaby off into giggles, but she kept a straight face throughout a brisk exchange of farewells.

  Gray bundled her into the carriage, snapped something to the driver and climbed in beside her. He fell back against the squabs and turned his head so he could meet her gaze. ‘Has my hair turned white? What the devil are you about, Gabrielle?’

  ‘Saving you from that child, of course. Aunt has been filling her head with dreams about you. Then you turn up unexpectedly, looking precisely like any girl’s dream lover, and do nothing to repel her in those first vital seconds.’

  ‘Dream lover?’

  ‘Titled, handsome, free. All your own teeth, remember? That girl is like a flawless peach—almost ripe, ready to be bruised for ever by the wrong handling. You’d be a disaster for each other and it would be almost as bad if she was to have her expectations and dreams reinforced by your gentlemanly reluctance to snub her. This is much kinder. She will have a little weep for a few days, then emerge unscathed except for the delightful memory of a tragic love with no reality to it to damage her.’

  ‘And meanwhile—and you must forgive me for seeming ungallant if I do not seem ecstatic at the thought—you and I are to be leg-shackled? You have forgotten, perhaps, that I told you I had no intention of marrying again?’

  ‘Of course I had not forgotten. Before the end of my visit you will realise that I am quite hopeless for you. I will be driven to distraction by your disapproval and attempts to curtail my business concerns and we will agree we do not suit. Aunt will not say anything to anyone until she absolutely has to because she will hope just such a thing will happen and George will follow her lead. Miss Henderson is unlikely to say anything, given her own disappointed hopes. You are quite safe, Gray. Provided you steer well clear of Miss Henderson once you are free again, that is.’

  He studied her face, his own set in a thoughtful frown. ‘And you had every confidence I would play along with your outrageous scheme?’

  ‘Of course. Did you not tell me that Wellington, no less, called you impudent and impetuous?’

  ‘Do not forget the improvident,’ he growled.

  The sharp vertical line between his brows was just too tempting to resist. Gaby reached up and smoothed it with her thumb. ‘Don’t scowl at me, Gray. You look as though you want to box my ears.’

  ‘No. What I want to do is this,’ he said as he pulled her towards him and kissed her full on the mouth.

  Chapter Ten

  Surprise warred with instant arousal. He still wants me?

  Gray sat back, released her almost before she could complete the thought. ‘Damn.’

  They stared at each other, then Gaby put both hands around his neck, knocking off his hat in the process, and kissed him back, slowly, thoughtfully and with great care. ‘We cannot carry on like this,’ she observed when she, too, subsided back into the seat, breathing heavily. ‘I believe we have established that we have no desire to marry each other.’ It was quite difficult to manage a sentence of that length—and number of syllables—without panting.

  ‘You want an affaire?’ She was not the only breathless one.

  ‘Yes.’ Brazen, immodest. Honest. ‘I am not a virgin, and neither of us is committed to anyone else. I am here for only a short time. What harm can there be?’

  ‘You are certain?’ Gray looked at her intently, every ounce of his formidable attention focused on her.

  ‘Yes.’ It was foolish in the extreme, of course, and not for any reason that a moralist would give her for avoiding such behaviour. How could she seek for a father for her child, her heir, if she was enmeshed in an affaire with Gray? But surely this was simply a flare of passion, an instinctive desire? Satisfying that desire would end the compulsion, it would burn itself out and his presence would no longer fill her senses and disturb her dreams and she would be able to think clearly about what—and whom—she wanted.

  ‘Then come with me now?’ She could not escape the heat in those eyes she had thought so hard, so cold. When she nodded, he knocked on the carriage roof and, when it halted, dropped the window glass, leaned out and called something up to the driver. ‘My town house,’ he said as he slammed the glass back up and reached for her again.

  Gaby slid her hands under the lapels of his coat, felt his heat and the hard movement of his muscles under her palms, arched into his kiss as his hand slipped up her leg, over silk, over the ribbons of her garter, over bare skin towards her heat and her secrets.

  The windows were unshielded, and they were trotting demurely through fashionable, crowded Mayfair and this controlled, disciplined man was giving way to his desire for her in the most uninhibited, dangerous manner. She loved it. Her hands pushed at his coat, wanting him, wanting to touch his skin as he touched hers, burning.

  Her skirts were heaped in her lap now, there was cool air on her thighs, his hand—

  The coach turned a corner, slowed and they fell apart.

  ‘I’ve lost my mind.’ Gray closed the blind beside him with a jerk, leaned across her as Gaby fought her skirts into decency and dealt with the other, then tugged his coat back into place and pushed his hands though his hair. ‘And, what’s worse, I cannot seem to care.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. She found her bonnet on the floor, put it on and pulled down the veil that, thank goodness, Jane had insisted she pin to it. ‘Am I fit to be seen?’

  Gray released a blind, letting some more light in as the carriage came to a halt. ‘Yes, we will pass muster.’

  Considering that she was trembling like an aspen leaf in a faint breeze, Gaby thought that she managed to dismount from the carriage and climb the front steps of Gray’s town house with admirable composure. She had no idea where they were, the view through her veil was blurred and she was too agitated to ask.

  The door was opened by a small man in a butler’s formal black with a striped waistcoat. ‘My lord. Madam.’

  ‘Fredericks, this is Miss Frost, Lady Orford’s niece visiting London from Portugal. I am assisting Miss Frost in finding a house for a few months, so doubtless you will be seeing a great deal of her.’

  ‘Miss Frost, welcome to England. My lord—’

  ‘Miss Frost and I have business to discuss. Please have refreshments sent to the study and then see that we are not disturbed.’

  ‘My lord,’ the butler said again with enough emphasis to stop Gray’s march down the hall. ‘Mr Pickford is in residence. He arrived last week and, as you told me before you sailed that you had offered him open house, I did not hesitate to accommodate him in the Chinese suite.’

  ‘Gray!’ A cheerful voice floated down from the landing, followed by a pair of long legs in pantaloons and Hessian boots which belonged, Gaby saw, to a younger, fairer, shorter version of Gray. ‘You see, I made up my mind to take the plunge and hazard my new future and I am heartily glad of your offer to stay while I put it all in place.’ He stopped in front of Gaby, who had flipped back her veil. ‘Ma’am.’

  ‘Miss Frost, my cousin Mr Pickford. Henry, Miss Frost, Lady Orford’s niece from Porto. Lady Orford, you will recall, is my godmother.’

  ‘Who can forget?’ Henry Pickford thrust out his hand and shook Gaby’s. ‘Are you staying with the old battleaxe, Miss Frost? Or...er...perhaps she is your favourite relative, in which case I apologise most heartily for the description.’

  ‘Please, do not apologise, Mr Pickford. I quite agree, Lady Orford can be...demanding. Lord Leybourne is assisting me to find a house in town for a few months so I can live there with my own household and companion.’ She managed a smile and to put warmth into her voice and could only hope that he was a very unobservant young man. If he wasn’t, then the best she could hope for was that he might think that her colour was naturally high and that she suffered from some kind of breathing complaint.

  Beside her, when she glanced up, Gray was wearing one of his most deceptive smiles. So much for an afternoon of sin amid the teacups on the desk in the study... Or perhaps there was a sofa in there. Or his bedchamber led off it.

  She was not going to find out today. Perhaps she never would if the pair of them came to their senses and pretended this had not happened, that Gray had not had his hands on her bare thighs in the carriage, that she had not been trying to tear off his coat and scratch her nails down his naked chest.

  Somehow she found herself in the drawing room, making polite conversation with this member of Gray’s family. Or rather, she was making polite conversation—he obviously felt a pressing need to unburden himself to anyone who would listen.

  ‘I am definitely going to America to make a fresh start there, in Boston. My father left me heavily in debt when he died last year, you see, Miss Frost.’

  ‘I, um... I am so sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thank you. We were not close, far from it.’ He grimaced. ‘It has taken me all this time to sort matters out, everything was in the most appalling state and there was such a scandal.’

  Gaby cast a frantic glance at Gray, but he merely shrugged.

  ‘Father embezzled money from the bank, you see.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said faintly.

  ‘But I have sold up everything and it is completely paid off and I have just enough to relocate and leave all this behind me. I hope to find employment where my name is not known. I’m not afraid of honest hard work, you see.’ He smiled at her, suddenly shy. ‘I’m sorry, I have embarrassed you, storming on about my ghastly family troubles, And money, which makes it all worse.’

  He’s young, she thought. My age, but inexperienced and not worldly-wise.

  Suddenly she felt at ease with him. ‘I do not think money makes anything worse, Mr Pickford. Clearly embezzling someone else’s money does, but it sounds as though you have acted in great good faith and with energy. I produce port and I certainly do not find discussing matters of trade embarrassing.’

  ‘Port?’ He sat up even more alertly. ‘I am exceedingly interested in wine.’ Before she knew it she was immersed in a blizzard of questions about young growths and vintages and bottle maturation.

  * * *

  Gray settled back in his chair, drank tea and let them talk. He liked his mother’s nephew Henry, who had been faced with a hideous situation when his father had shot himself. The only hint of a silver lining to the cloud was that Mr Pickford’s wife had died many years before and Henry had no brothers or sisters, so he had only himself to extricate from the mire his parent had left behind for him.

  Henry had refused offers of financial help, but had clutched gratefully at advice and moral support. Gray could wish that he had not been quite so open-handed in his invitations to come and stay at any time, for as long as Henry needed. Tea and biscuits were absolutely no help at all in combatting intense sexual frustration.

  It might be for the best, of course. It had been passion and impulse that had brought them there and his own anger at his godmother’s blatant attempt at matchmaking. He found himself thoroughly in sympathy with Gabrielle’s resistance to Lady Orford’s schemes now, when before he had felt that she was right and that Gabrielle’s life needed organising in a way that reflected what society expected of a young lady.

  Having the tables turned so that he was being manoeuvred into doing what society expected of an unmarried earl, however... That was something else entirely. Gabrielle was right, Miss Henderson was an innocent little chick and utterly unsuitable for him in every way. Just as he would make her a dreadful husband.

  That said, it was something of a turnaround to find himself shifting from advocating a respectable marriage for Gabrielle to taking the young lady in question as a lover. Contact with Miss Frost was beginning to turn his view of the world on its head and he was struggling to find his balance. Was he doing what he wanted because he could, or was he doing what they both wanted and it was something that would do neither of them harm, might even enrich their lives for a short while?

  He did not know, all he did know was that once before when he had been faced with understanding what a woman wanted, truly needed, he had offered what had seemed right and proper without thinking it through. Then he had turned away, left for the army again, avoided the issue by simply not being there.

  There was nothing he could do about Portia now, but Gabrielle was his responsibility for the moment, although he could imagine what she would have to say if he told her that was how he regarded her.

  He watched now as she talked to Henry, completely immersed in the conversation, listening intently to his mixture of confidences, questions and plans. She was beautiful, desirable and yet not, he would have said a few weeks ago, his type. He had always favoured blondes, sweetness. Intelligence, yes, but not challenge.

  Gabrielle’s dark eyes challenged with every look. They offered debate on every topic and disagreement with his opinions, his observations, his desires. She wanted to lock horns with him because she could, because she enjoyed sparring with him. And he enjoyed being challenged, which was a surprise to him. Cavalry officers, especially those raised as heirs to earldoms, did not, as a general rule, find themselves flouted and defied very often, let alone teased.

  It was refreshing as well as arousing. He ate a biscuit, then another, and applied himself to convincing his body that it was getting no satisfaction that day and probably not until Gabrielle was established in her own house. By that time she would probably have thought better of it.

  He doubted he would be having second thoughts. Gabrielle was unlike any woman he had ever encountered and he feared that she was becoming increasingly addictive. Perhaps making love to her would satisfy both of them, satisfy their curiosity, remove the mystery. That would be best.

  ‘My lord?’ Fredericks had come in without Gray noticing, in itself an indication that he needed to get his brain disentangled from thoughts of smooth skin, strong limbs, the haunting scent of jasmine-scented woman and back to the present.

  ‘Yes?’

  The butler was offering a salver with one unfranked letter in the middle. ‘Lady Orford’s footman brought this, my lord. He is waiting for a reply.’

  Gray broke the seal, read, mentally rolled his eyes and coughed. The two deep in conversation broke off and looked up. ‘Miss Frost, your aunt has sent a note to say that should you wish to attend Lady Altringworth’s soirée this evening, her dear friend is only too pleased to welcome you and that she and George are at your disposal as escorts.’

  ‘I do not have anything fashionable to wear for evening yet, not by London standards.’ Gabrielle bit her lip in thought. ‘I could be Portuguese and eccentric, I suppose. I would certainly like to go. Will you accompany me? I can write and thank her and say I would not dream of taking them out of their way to collect me, but I will be most grateful for her chaperonage at the soirée.’ She smiled mischievously at him. ‘That sounds suitably dutiful, doesn’t it? Then we can escape if it is too tiresome.’

  ‘It sounds like a good compromise. I have no doubt of being acceptable as your escort at the Altringworths’ house, even uninvited. They’re a hospitable family. The footman is waiting and the writing desk is over there if you want to pen a note.’

  He strolled over to take the seat next to Henry. ‘How are the plans shaping up?’

  ‘Well, I thank you. It really is exceedingly helpful having this house as a base in London because I have several possible contacts here and having such a good address is a great help. Meeting Miss Frost is a stroke of good fortune.’ Henry sat forward, hands clasped between his knees. ‘I was interested in the wine trade, but had no focus for that. Now I am wondering if I can find an opening in Boston, which was the city I most favoured trying my fortune in. Miss Frost is being most generous with advice, but there is so much I would like to ask her. She has promised me a letter of introduction to someone she corresponds with in Boston, you know.’

  ‘Has she agents in America?’

  ‘Apparently not. There are issues about shipping port such distances, apparently, but Miss Frost says—’

  ‘You must tell me later. Now I must take Miss Frost back to her hotel and return here to change.’