‘Now you see what we men have to put up with, ladies revealing expanses of flesh we are forbidden to touch.’ Gray looked at her more closely. ‘Are you sure it is not just the dance? You seem very pale.’

  ‘It must be, I feel quite well.’ But she didn’t, Gaby realised. She felt a little faint and somehow...strange. ‘It must be the strain of everything, that’s all.’ He had said nothing about love. He must have realised he had been mistaken. Perhaps that burst of anger had cleared his thoughts, shown him his true emotions. She should be happy about that.

  ‘Would you like something to eat? The supper room is not open yet, but I can ask one of the footmen for some biscuits? Or a glass of wine?’

  ‘No, nothing, truly. I will sit quietly until the next dance in the set.’

  ‘And we will do the most sedate waltz ever seen, I promise you.’

  Gaby felt better by that dance and she almost laughed out loud as her dangerous Barbarian waltzed sedately, as promised. She found an appetite for supper, but oddly her favourite lobster patties did not appeal in the slightest and instead she wanted to try all the sweets, much to Gray’s amusement.

  ‘I think sugar is good for me,’ she confided as they swept into the next set of waltzes. ‘I feel so much better.’ And I still want to kiss you. All of you...

  Her gaze met her aunt’s as she circled in the arms of a grey-haired gentleman of military bearing. Aunt Henrietta’s raised eyebrows signalled more than a question. ‘We are scandalising Aunt.’

  ‘Excellent, it will do her no end of good. Where is she? Oh, yes, I see. Is she disguised as a sofa, by any chance?’

  ‘Er...no. I think she just kept draping herself in the hope of looking both exotic and entirely decent.’

  They retreated to their alcove while the next set of country dances formed up, but Gaby was not entirely surprised when her aunt arrived.

  ‘Godmama.’ Gray stood and promptly had his chair occupied. ‘Er...do make yourself comfortable. I’ll find another seat.’

  By the time he returned with a spindly gilt chair, Aunt Henrietta was in full flow. ‘One waltz after another and all with Gray! Have you no discretion? There are Patronesses of Almack’s present—all of them, I believe. You will find your vouchers have been withdrawn.’

  ‘I have no intention of attending,’ Gaby said. ‘It really doesn’t matter. I only want to dance with Gray.’

  ‘But waltzes are so fast.’

  ‘I danced a very slow one for the second,’ Gray pointed out.

  ‘And with you dressed like that, too—as if it isn’t bad enough to have all these indecent footmen without you exposing your chest and your forearms. And you need a shave, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘I’m one of the Varangian bodyguard. A Barbarian.’

  ‘Which means bearded,’ Gaby explained.

  ‘Latin barba.’

  ‘I despair of the pair of you. And do not go sounding like a bluestocking, Gabrielle. It is not appropriate for a young lady.’

  ‘No, Aunt.’

  ‘Where has George got to? You should dance with him, at least.’

  ‘I have promised only to dance with Gray. I’m sorry.’

  Over her aunt’s shoulder she saw Gray roll his eyes at her fib.

  ‘Well, all I can say is that when the scandal sheets and the gossip columns pick this up and you both become notorious, do not blame me.’ Lady Orford got to her feet and swept off.

  ‘Have a glass of champagne and drink to routing the enemy.’ Gray raised a hand to summon a footman with a tray of glasses. ‘Good God, there’s Henry. How the devil did he get an invitation?’

  Gaby hadn’t seen Henry since the evening she had fled from his embrace and his offer to father her child. She knew it was cowardly, but she’d been glad of it—what on earth was the etiquette under such circumstances? She ought to speak to him, reassure him that he had done nothing to offend her. She should have written the next day, she thought guiltily.

  ‘Gabrielle? What is wrong?’ Gray was looking between her and Henry who was making his way towards them.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said so hastily it sounded guilty, although what on earth there was to feel guilty about, other than neglecting poor Henry, she couldn’t think.

  ‘You won’t want to speak to him after what passed between you last time,’ Gray said. He was on his feet and ready, she saw, to intercept his cousin who was attempting to get past two overweight pashas. Henry himself was in a similar kind of costume, although looking slim and really rather dashing.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Gaby said. ‘What is the matter? You didn’t say anything to him that time when we—’

  ‘I kicked him out,’ Gray said, apparently from between gritted teeth.

  ‘You what? When you knew he was only trying to help me? No wonder he hasn’t been to see me.’

  ‘Good, because I warned him not to.’

  ‘Gray, I am not your possession and Henry did nothing—nothing—that I did not want him to do. Or do you think I lied about that?’

  Carrying on a furious quarrel in hissed whispers on the edge of a crowded ballroom was not easy. In fact, they were beginning to attract attention.

  ‘Henry, have you come to ask me to dance?’ Gaby stepped away from Gray and put her hand on Henry’s arm. He came to a halt, smiling at her, but with a wary eye on Gray.

  ‘If you have one free, I would be honoured. I only wanted to ask how you were.’

  ‘Oh, look, the next set is starting.’ She was on the floor in the midst of the dancers, Henry looking confused but pleased, before Gray could do anything.

  ‘I am so sorry Gray has been disagreeable,’ she said the moment the figure brought them together. ‘I thought he believed me that nothing had happened. I had to tell him because otherwise I don’t know what conclusions he might have jumped to.’

  ‘I think he did believe you.’ The progress of the dance meant Henry had to join hands across the circle and ended up on the far side.

  Gaby kept a bright smile on her face until her own turn left her once more beside him.

  ‘Or, rather, his head tells him to trust me, but his heart—that’s another matter,’ Henry said, as though there had been no break in the conversation.

  ‘He’s an idiot,’ Gaby said fiercely, then retrieved her slipping smile. ‘Where are you living now? Forgive me asking, but I know your resources are limited. It isn’t eating into your passage money to get to America is it?’

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ Henry said, as the gentleman opposite stepped forward and she had to join hands and be whirled down the set.

  ‘Where are you living, then?’ They both arrived breathless at the end of the set, marking time while everyone else had their turn at promenading down.

  ‘Drab but decent rooms off Fleet Street.’

  ‘Give me your address, please. I do not want you disappearing again.’

  The music came to a resounding conclusion. Gaby curtsied, Henry bowed and led her off the floor. They were on the far side from Gray, who was making his way round to them.

  ‘Oh, bother the man, he is determined to be possessive. Quick, scribble it down for me.’

  ‘May I borrow your pencil?’ Henry dug a card out of his breast pocket, turned it over and scribbled on the back with the little pencil Gaby should have been using to note partners on the ribs of her fan.

  ‘How did you get an invitation?’ Gaby asked, taking the pencil and slipping it into her reticule.

  ‘Your aunt, Lady Orford. I bumped into her in the Strand outside Ackermann’s the day before yesterday. She asked if I was still staying with Gray and I told her not. I suspect she realised something was amiss—I pokered up a bit, I’m afraid. Anyway, she said I simply must enjoy a great ball before I vanished to the other side of the world and promised me I would be admitted.’

  ‘Did she indeed?’ Gaby said. So, her wretched aunt suspected that Henry and Gray had fallen out and was now using poor Henry to drive a wedge between Gaby and Gray. ‘Oh, dear, here comes Gray and he looks thunderous. You’d best slip away.’

  ‘I don’t like to—’

  ‘And I don’t like to have the pair of you brawling over me in public. Shoo!’ She gave him a little push and, thankfully, he had the sense to do as she asked.

  ‘What the devil is going on?’ Gray demanded as he reached her side. She cast a harassed look behind her, but Henry’s turban was lost in a sea of exotic headgear.

  ‘I was apologising to your unfortunate cousin for him being tossed out of your house because you are jealous and unreasonable.’

  ‘Me? Unreasonable? He’s a guest in my house and he offers to bed my—’

  ‘Will you be quiet?’ Gaby saw a door standing a ajar, took Gray’s arm and towed him through it. ‘If anyone overheard you, what would they think?’

  ‘No one would hear, not in that racket.’ Gray’s voice sounded loud in the deserted service corridor as the door swung closed on the ballroom.

  ‘I am not your anything, Gray. Henry made his offer when I was even less to you and you know it. I told you nothing happened and I do not appreciate you failing to take my word for it.’

  ‘I apologise.’ He did not look apologetic, not with the frown on his face and the darkness in his eyes and his mouth—oh, that mouth—set in a severe line. ‘I was not at my best the next morning and he guessed what had happened and he was...judgemental and far too protective of you for my liking.’

  ‘You believe us now?’ Gaby realised that she was feeling too hot, even though the corridor was cool. The lamps set along the wall seemed to flicker strangely. For a ghastly moment she thought she might be about to faint.

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ Then Gray’s tone changed. ‘Gabrielle? Are you all right, you’ve gone quite pale.’

  ‘I don’t think I am. Gray, could you take me home? I feel rather strange again.’

  ‘Of course.’ He stood and held out his hand. ‘I have upset you. I’m sorry.’ He pulled her gently to him and looked closely into her face. ‘Or are you ill?’

  ‘Just rather tired. Who would have thought that waltzing was so exhausting?’

  ‘I’m not so sure. And it was a little upsetting, arguing about Henry and then the dance with him was rather energetic.’ Gray tugged off his glove and laid his long fingers against her forehead. ‘I hope you haven’t caught anything—a cold, perhaps. You are not used to English weather and we sat outside for a long time the other evening. Here, let me just check no one is watching.’ He opened the door, steered her out into the noise and heat of the crowded room, sheltered her with his body as they made their way out.

  It was good to be cared for like this, Gaby thought as she let herself be handed over to a solicitous maid in the ladies’ retiring room and wrapped in her cloak and seated in a comfortable chair while Gray called the carriage. It was weakening, of course, because she was not used to it and she would have to go back to looking after herself before very long. But the way he protected her was almost as pleasurable as his kisses. Perhaps more so.

  He loves me and he is letting me go. Or perhaps he does not guess how very close I am to surrendering, to marrying him, to risking everything on trust.

  ‘I worry about you,’ he murmured as they settled into the carriage, a rug across her knees. ‘I should have kept my temper with Henry and I should not have spoiled your evening with my suspicions.’

  ‘I know you worry. And there is no need. Kiss me goodnight, Gray.’

  It wasn’t fair to ask him to kiss her and leave her, but Gaby knew, with sudden clarity, that this would be a final kiss. None of this was fair and she was the one who had to make the break. Gray thought she was strong, thought, perhaps, that she was ruthless.

  How wrong he is.

  It was a sweet kiss, a gentle, quite unsexual kiss. A caring kiss from a man who wanted to love her and cherish her and she broke it as soon as the carriage came to a halt.

  ‘Goodnight, Gray. Don’t call tomorrow. I think I will rest.’ It was wrong to lie in the last words she’d speak to him. It was wrong that a letter would have to serve as both goodbye and apology. But perhaps it was best. Safest. It would take so little to push her into surrender, into doing what her heart pleaded for her to do, not what her head told her was right. Sensible. Wise.

  * * *

  Jane was in bed when Gaby arrived back in Half Moon Street, but light showed under her bedchamber door. Gaby blew her nose and dabbed under her eyes before she tapped on the panels.

  ‘Are you awake? May I come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Jane put down her book and peered at Gaby over her spectacles. ‘I did not expect you home so soon. Was the ball a disappointment?’

  ‘It was lovely, but I felt rather tired and a little faint. Jane, I know I said we would stay longer, but I need to go home, I cannot manage with seeing Gray any longer. There is no need for you to come and break your own commitments—I will hire a respectable maid for the journey and you can keep this house and the staff on for as long as I have committed myself.’

  ‘Nonsense. I will come, too. I have seen and talked quite enough, I promise you.’

  ‘Thank you, I do appreciate it more than I can say.’ Gaby’s eyes were beginning to water again and she dabbed at them. What was the matter with her? She was turning into a positive watering pot.

  Oh, to the devil with being wise, to hell with being prudent, I just want this to stop hurting.

  ‘What does your aunt say about this sudden departure? And Lord Leybourne?’

  ‘I haven’t told either of them. I will write just before we leave. There is a ship for Lisbon in six days’ time, I saw it advertised in the Morning Post yesterday.’ She only had to hold out for less than a week and then she would be beyond the temptation to yield and spend the rest of her life regretting her decision, making Gray regret his, betraying her inheritance and her family. For love.

  ‘I will tell the staff that I am not at home to callers—that I have a severe head cold. We can make the booking, do our final shopping—even if I have to do it veiled in case anyone recognises me.’

  She would have to write to Gray and her aunt, organise the balance of payments on the house and make sure the servants received references with an explanation for their short period of service. But it could be done in the time available. She would be busy, but that would help. And if it didn’t... No one died of a broken heart, did they?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘I regret that the first post has been delayed, my lord.’ Fredericks delivered the news in much the same tone as he might have used to announce the downfall of civilisation as he knew it.

  Gray told himself that it was ridiculous to be anxious over a late delivery. The ladies at Half Moon Street were confined to their beds with heavy colds, apparently. The footman who had answered the door had regretted that he had no information other than that Miss Frost and Miss Moseley felt unable to receive visitors, but that their affliction was nothing to cause their friends concern.

  He had sent flowers and fruit, of course, and an offer to assist in any manner required, but had received nothing in return but brief notes of thanks, and not even that yesterday. Surely by today a cold, even a heavy one, should be yielding to bed rest? It would be just like Gabrielle to make light of a more serious illness, he thought, if it would stop people making a fuss over her.

  ‘What is the problem with the delivery?’ he asked.

  ‘I sent James to ascertain, my lord. A carriage accident on Piccadilly has jammed the streets around. It is quite outrageous that it should cause the postman, who is on foot, to be delayed. Doubtless he has been gawping at the scene which James tells me is one of significant disorder. That does not excuse the delaying of your lordship’s correspondence. I shall make a complaint—’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Fredericks. I am sure it will arrive sooner or later.’ And I must develop some patience. Muffled sounds penetrated from the hall. ‘Someone is at the door now. That is probably the post now.’

  ‘Mr Pickford, my lord.’ James, the footman, opened the door on Henry, who strode in, face grim.

  Hell. On top of everything else he had been unfair to Henry, Gray knew that. He should have written and apologised after the ball, but it had slipped his mind in his general anxiety about Gabrielle. His cousin had presumably had enough and wanted to have it out and he couldn’t blame him. Only not just now.

  ‘You damned idiot! What have you done to drive her out of the country?’ He brandished a crumpled sheet of paper under Gray’s nose.

  ‘My lord,’ Fredericks said urgently. ‘Perhaps Mr Pickford—’

  ‘It is all right, Fredericks. You and James may leave us.’ Whatever Henry was ranting about he did not want it spreading round the entire household. ‘What are you talking about?’ As the door closed behind the butler Gray took the letter and smoothed it out.

  Dearest Henry,

  I cannot thank you enough for what you have given me, for your understanding. This is goodbye. I have to go back to Portugal, I cannot stay—the situation with Gray is impossible. I sail on the twenty-third on the dawn tide.

  With much affection,

  Gabrielle

  He stared at it, trying to tell himself what it said was impossible. Dearest Henry...what you have given me...the dawn tide.

  Today. She had gone. She had not been sick with a cold, she had been avoiding him for a week. She had not been well at the Terringtons’ ball, she had exchanged a note with Henry, he had seen the surreptitious manner something had passed between them. Henry had got her with child, she had been sure that evening of the ball—and now she was gone, back to the quinta.

  Gray was not aware of getting to his feet, of clenching his fists, of lashing out. But Henry staggered back, his hand to his face, blood between his fingers.