“How do you know?”
“Mrs. Beasley’s housekeeper told Lady Creighton’s cook, who told Lady Creighton’s maid, who told Lady Creighton.”
“Who is Lady Creighton?”
In answer, Lady Lillian gestured toward an elderly lady surrounded by other elderly ladies across the room.
“But… when?” And then, “Why?”
And where was Gabriel? Was he heartbroken?
“Miss Shipley has gone to work at Miss Primm’s Seminary full time. Apparently, she came into a small fortune and was able to invest in the school and become part owner.”
Which, from what Olivia had seen of the girl, sounded like something that would make her very happy. She never had expressed much enthusiasm when it came to her nuptials. At the time, Olivia had thought this was simply her natural reserve, but upon hindsight…
Poor Gabriel. And then a tingling danced down her spine.
“There’s the jilted groom now. Doesn’t he look tragically handsome with his cane?” Lady Lillian exhaled on a sigh.
Olivia slowly turned around.
It took not even a second for her hungry eyes to locate him.
Leaning on a magnificent-looking cane, he had come to the ball dressed to the nines. White cravat and waistcoat, black jacket and even lace at his wrist. His hair had been styled with pomade—Fritz’s handiwork, no doubt—but that wayward lock of hair had fallen to rest along his jaw.
He looked thinner, his eyes a bit more sunken than usual, and a pallor remained.
But he was here.
And he did not look as though he’d been crossed in love. No.
Gabriel was smiling at her.
Nothing could have stopped her from smiling back.
He lifted the cane and walked purposefully in her direction, his gait only a little halting,
He looked magnificent. Especially considering the last time she’d laid eyes upon his dear foolish self, he’d been resting peacefully, his fever only just having broken.
When he was still four or five feet away from her, he stopped and bowed. “Miss Redfield. Am I too late to claim the next dance?”
* * *
Hadshe always been this beautiful?
But Gabriel knew the answer to that. Absolutely. And yet, she was more beautiful to him every time they met.
“I’m told it’s a waltz.” He lifted a fist to his breast.” Alas, don’t tell me it’s been promised to another.”
Her delicate brows furrowed. “You never dance.”
“But you said I had promise, remember? You said there was hope for me yet.” He took one step closer to her. “Please tell me there’s still hope.” His voice came out ragged.
He did not deserve her. He knew that.
“You don’t have to dance with me, Gabriel.” She looked as though she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry.
“Yes, Olivia. I do.” And then he rested his cane against one of the chairs lined up against the wall. His leg had been getting stronger and stronger. He sent up a silent prayer that he would not embarrass them both.
