More accurately, it had been the smothering condescension of some of the guests that had made her flee. That and the fact that her dance card was nearly empty. Her potential suitor, the gruff and unapproachable Viscount Carlisle, had done his duty, partnering her in a quadrille, but his expression had betrayed his impatience with the task. Carlisle’s interest in her was motivated by his financial circumstances, but as her father had succinctly put it, “Beggars can’t be choosers, girl.”
Is it wrong that, for once in my life, I want a choice?she thought dejectedly.
Her dreams were simple: all she wanted was a husband to love. He didn’t have to be handsome or rich, just nice and understanding. A comfortable sort of man who wouldn’t mind her flaws and who would enjoy spending time with her, doing ordinary things. She wanted to make a home with him and bear his children. To have a place where she would feel safe and always belong.
“Perhaps you would care for a stroll, Miss Billings?”
Mr. Garrity’s invitation reclaimed her attention. Her jaw slackened; surely a man as important as he was wouldn’t think her worthy of his time? The realization struck her: he must be acting out of obligation because he was her father’s colleague.
“That’s ever so considerate of you to ask, sir,” she said earnestly. “But it’s unnecessary. I’m sure you have much more important matters to attend to.”
“None more important than what I’m attending to now.”
She tilted her head, not following. “What are you attending to?”
“You, Miss Billings,” he said simply.
“Oh.” The startled sound popped from her lips.
His gallantry flooded her with a foreign, pleasurable warmth. Her heart pounding, she hoped the moonlight hid her furious blush. She didn’t need red cheeks to go with her red hair.
Then her common sense chimed in. As tempting as it was to spend time in the company of this charismatic man who deemed her worthy of his attention, the current circumstances wouldn’t permit it. Social rejection at one’s own party was bad enough; she didn’t need to add ruination to the list of her night’s accomplishments.
“I’d like to stroll with you, sir, ever so much, but I have no chaperone—”
“I’ve made arrangements.” He raised his hand, snapped his fingers.
A pair of burly guards emerged from the shadows onto the graveled path, an auburn-haired matron between them. Gabby recognized Mrs. Sumner, one of the guests. Over supper, she’d been a bit intimidated by the widow’s bold and provocative manner. Although, Gabby thought ruefully, she could stand to learn a thing or two from Mrs. Sumner’s ease with the opposite sex.
Flirtation, like most social skills, wasn’t Gabby’s forte.
“Mrs. Sumner has volunteered her chaperonage,” Mr. Garrity said.
“I’m glad to be of service, Mr. Garrity,” Mrs. Sumner called out in simpering, deferential tones.
With a wave of his hand, Mr. Garrity sent the guards and widow retreating back to a discreet distance. Then he offered Gabby his arm. “You have my word that this will be a short, perfectly respectable interlude. Shall we?”
“You think of everything, don’t you?” Gabby asked, bemused.
“I want you to know that your reputation is safe with me.” The stars reflected in his eyes, which were darker than the sky and so deep that she had the sensation of losing herself in everlasting midnight. “That you, Miss Billings, will always be safe with me.”
Mesmerized, she felt her fingers lift of their own accord, landing on the plush sleeve of his jacket. He led the way along the path. Given her short stature, she often had to hurry to keep up with others, which added to her general aura of inelegance. Yet with Mr. Garrity steering her, she seemed to float along, perfectly in step.
“May I compliment you on your fine looks this eve, Miss Billings?”
Now Gabby was aware of her frumpiness. It wasn’t the fault of her white silk gown, which wasau courantwith its fitted bodice, billowing sleeves, and full, flounced skirts. The problem was her. Her figure always strained seams in the wrong places, causing a surfeit of rumpling and bunching. Even stays weren’t a solution. While tight lacing reduced her fleshiness in one place, it made her bulge unbecomingly in others. Voices from finishing school assailed her, reminding her of her many shortcomings:
“Look at Gabriella…she’s a walking sausage stuffed in a corset.”
“And her manner? I’ve never heard anyone chatter so much about so little.”
“My mama says nothing is more common than red hair and freckles.”
Gabby shut out the painful memories of rejection. She told herself that it was kind of Mr. Garrity to compliment her. To take notice of her at all.
“You’re ever so nice to say so,” she said, her voice trembling.
“First you say I’m kind. Now I’m nice?” He lifted his brows. “Have a care, Miss Billings, lest you do irreparable damage to my reputation.”
