front of her bodice. One of the upstairs maids had already brought word that Lord Sandbourne had arrived. Now Gabrielle looked at the clock and realized a quarter of an hour had elapsed and her mother still hadn't sent for her.
"What could be taking them so long?" She paced back and forth. "What could she find to talk about with him for a quarter of an hour?"
"She is la maman . She speaks of you, naturellement ," Rue answered, with a very French shrug.
"I don't want her to speak of me." Gabrielle lost some of the color in her cheeks. "She is supposed to be impressed with the earl, call me down to tea, see how enraptured we are, and…" She scowled, deciding just what the next logical step in their passionate affair should be. "… and then release us with her blessing for a carriage ride or a walk in Hyde Park."
"Since when does your maman do what she is supposed to do, eh?" Rue wagged her head. "She is a mistress of the game, non? "
Gabrielle stumbled back against the divan and sat down, heedless of the fragile flounces that trailed down the back of her skirt. Rue had a point.
There were a few things Gabrielle hadn't had time to consider in her plan…
chiefly, her mother's shrewdness in matters of romance. With rising concern, she thought of the tidbits of erotic wisdom Rosalind had tossed off in her presence. Her mother probably couldn't have achieved the pinnacle of London's demimonde without learning how to read the lust in a man's eyes and gauge the sincerity of his promises, whether passionate or financial.
Adding to Gabrielle's anxiety was the possibility that, if pressed, the worldly and libidinous Lord Sandbourne might prove a less than convincing suitor. Just now she was having some difficulty recalling what it was about him that made her think he would appear to be the perfect lover. What if, in her desperation, she had misread him?
"He's down there with her right now," she said with a groan, as the magnitude of her attempted deception came crashing down on her. Her mother was "mistress of the game," and Gabrielle was a mere novice… who would prefer not to learn the game at all.
Just as she pushed to her feet, Gunther appeared at the door to summon her to the drawing room. She hurried to the pier glass for one last rehearsal of a "besotted" smile. The maid was at her heels in an instant, pinching her cheeks and clucking over the silk violets she had flattened by sitting.
"Really, Rue." Gabrielle tried to shield herself from the maid's primping fingers.
"But, you must be glowing—pink with delight, non? ' Rue said, leaving no room for dissent as she batted Gabrielle's hands away and pinched on.
"As if anyone would notice," Gabrielle grumbled, wincing through the rubbing that followed, then ducking away and hurrying for the door.
But they did notice. The moment she appeared in the drawing room doorway, four pairs of feminine eyes fastened on her rosy cheeks and nervous smile, evaluating their sincerity and potential allure. Quickly, those perceptive gazes slid downward over her person, assessing the display of her ripe young curves and predicting the earl's reaction to them. He should find her seductively girlish dress and torrent of blond curls nothing short of riveting, they decided, nodding covertly to one another and settling back on their seats, awaiting the coming encounter.
Gabrielle paused in the doorway, feeling their scrutiny and donning her best distracted-by-ecstasy smile. But as she surveyed the room, her heart sank at the sight of an all too familiar circle of fancy figured silk and feathered hats… juxtaposed against one lone chair.
"Here she is now," her mother said, rising with a smile that had more maternal admonition than indulgence in it. The earl was on his feet in an instant, turning to her. For a moment Gabrielle was struck dumb.
He was tall, broad shouldered, and surpassingly elegant, clad in a finely tailored black double-breasted morning coat, charcoal gray trousers, and
"What could be taking them so long?" She paced back and forth. "What could she find to talk about with him for a quarter of an hour?"
"She is la maman . She speaks of you, naturellement ," Rue answered, with a very French shrug.
"I don't want her to speak of me." Gabrielle lost some of the color in her cheeks. "She is supposed to be impressed with the earl, call me down to tea, see how enraptured we are, and…" She scowled, deciding just what the next logical step in their passionate affair should be. "… and then release us with her blessing for a carriage ride or a walk in Hyde Park."
"Since when does your maman do what she is supposed to do, eh?" Rue wagged her head. "She is a mistress of the game, non? "
Gabrielle stumbled back against the divan and sat down, heedless of the fragile flounces that trailed down the back of her skirt. Rue had a point.
There were a few things Gabrielle hadn't had time to consider in her plan…
chiefly, her mother's shrewdness in matters of romance. With rising concern, she thought of the tidbits of erotic wisdom Rosalind had tossed off in her presence. Her mother probably couldn't have achieved the pinnacle of London's demimonde without learning how to read the lust in a man's eyes and gauge the sincerity of his promises, whether passionate or financial.
Adding to Gabrielle's anxiety was the possibility that, if pressed, the worldly and libidinous Lord Sandbourne might prove a less than convincing suitor. Just now she was having some difficulty recalling what it was about him that made her think he would appear to be the perfect lover. What if, in her desperation, she had misread him?
"He's down there with her right now," she said with a groan, as the magnitude of her attempted deception came crashing down on her. Her mother was "mistress of the game," and Gabrielle was a mere novice… who would prefer not to learn the game at all.
Just as she pushed to her feet, Gunther appeared at the door to summon her to the drawing room. She hurried to the pier glass for one last rehearsal of a "besotted" smile. The maid was at her heels in an instant, pinching her cheeks and clucking over the silk violets she had flattened by sitting.
"Really, Rue." Gabrielle tried to shield herself from the maid's primping fingers.
"But, you must be glowing—pink with delight, non? ' Rue said, leaving no room for dissent as she batted Gabrielle's hands away and pinched on.
"As if anyone would notice," Gabrielle grumbled, wincing through the rubbing that followed, then ducking away and hurrying for the door.
But they did notice. The moment she appeared in the drawing room doorway, four pairs of feminine eyes fastened on her rosy cheeks and nervous smile, evaluating their sincerity and potential allure. Quickly, those perceptive gazes slid downward over her person, assessing the display of her ripe young curves and predicting the earl's reaction to them. He should find her seductively girlish dress and torrent of blond curls nothing short of riveting, they decided, nodding covertly to one another and settling back on their seats, awaiting the coming encounter.
Gabrielle paused in the doorway, feeling their scrutiny and donning her best distracted-by-ecstasy smile. But as she surveyed the room, her heart sank at the sight of an all too familiar circle of fancy figured silk and feathered hats… juxtaposed against one lone chair.
"Here she is now," her mother said, rising with a smile that had more maternal admonition than indulgence in it. The earl was on his feet in an instant, turning to her. For a moment Gabrielle was struck dumb.
He was tall, broad shouldered, and surpassingly elegant, clad in a finely tailored black double-breasted morning coat, charcoal gray trousers, and
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