She turned back to the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life, unsure what to do now. He took her hand and led her around the house and back inside through a different door. They wound their way through the darkened hallway, bypassing the servants. She would have to ask him how she knew her house so well.
“Who are—” she started.
He shook his head, leaned in, and brushed his lips lightly over hers.
The sensation shook her to her bones. Before she could gather her wits, he’d silently melted away, leaving her heart pounding loud as a drum in her chest and her questions lodged in her throat.
~~~
James Winthrop, Earl of Huntley, hunter of the dregs of society, seeped into the darkness behind him. His dark clothes would shield him. His pulse throbbed in his ears in perfect synchronization with his inner chastisement: stupid, stupid, stupid. Her liveliness was in direct contrast to the black in his heart. Why had he come here? He was in no position to offer for a wife. Certainly not a green girl straight from the schoolroom.
She stared into the depths from which he stood as if those brilliant emerald eyes of hers could see straight through to his black soul. He stepped back farther, his shoes silent in the thick rugs beneath him. He kept moving until he could no longer see her, slipping into the duke’s private office and out the terrace doors. Back to the life he was destined for. One with no light, or lively green eyes.
PART 1
One
1822 Wedding of the Season
Another year, another season. Never in Gabby’s life would she have believed she would tire of dancing or of the glittering ballrooms. But… she had. They sickened her. Since her come-out seven years ago, each of her siblings had married. Not Sebastian, he was more skittish than her. Which was a source of great amusement, had she been able to laugh.
Unlike the early years since she’d debuted, tonight’s gown didn’t resemble any shade of white, instead was a soft seafoam green with a cream satin sash that tied in the back. It was a flattering look that hid the flare of her too-wide hips. Her gloves and slippers were a perfect match to the seafoam.
Seven years! At four and twenty, she was skirting the proverbial shelf. A shelf to which she had no intention in consigning herself. Every season she traipsed through the slog of hopefuls, while doing her utmost to rein in her own hope—would this be the year he reappeared? But year after year, her secret savior remained as elusive as the lure of that light kiss they’d shared that long ago eve. Despite the many proposals she’d received, she’d never been able to erase that night from her memory. Over the course of time, she’d come to an inevitable conclusion: she was more like Rebecca than she’d ever dreamed. What need had she to marry? Truly. There was no need, not if she would be forced to give up hers and Rebecca’s aspirations to help those in need.
“The gathering is surely not that boring, Lady Gabriella.”
Gabby cut her gaze to the popinjay sidling up next to her. “Good evening, Shufflebottom. It is rather.”
He turned the full of his attention on her and she resisted the urge to step away. “Walk with me in the garden and I shall be happy to relieve you of your tedium.”
They’d been through this over the years. In all honesty, Gabby couldn’t resist attending in the event she might catch sight of her mysterious rescuer all those years ago. She half feared she wouldn’t recognize him. If only she’d been able to talk Rebecca into attending too. But her friend had been furious that night, believing Gabby had deliberately pushed her into Sebastian’s arms. Not only had Rebecca refused to listen to her explanations, but her brother had stifled any word regarding the matter as well. “So you say, my lord. Please excuse me—” She turned to walk away but he clasped her wrist.
“You dare to mock me, my lady, when all I wish is to marry you?”
Even as a shudder of revulsion rippled through her, Gabby’s shock was so complete, she was left momentarily speechless. Yet not for long. Never for long. She dropped her eyes to her clasped wrist and speared him with sheer condemnation. “Forgive me, sir, I hadn’t meant to come across as mocking. That was my hobbling attempt at rejection.”
He released her as if her skin burned his hand through the layers of each of their gloves.
She spun around and slammed into a solid wall of pure masculinity.
“Good evening, my lady. I believe this set was reserved for me.”
Her gaze snapped up and drowned in the pool of navy eyes, stymying her for the second time within the span of seconds. Her wrist clasped, also for the second time. Yet, the heat from this touch was not one of distaste, but rather searing awareness that coursed through her blood. There was no opportunity to object, and she was whisked onto the parquet floor into an energetic waltz.
Emotions roiled through her with the force of torrent waves out of control on a distant shore. She, being the distant shore. She feared she might not recognize him, but she’d been wrong. Not his voice—for they hadn’t spoken all those years ago. It struck something hot and liquid deep within her.
“We’ve not been introduced, sir. This is highly improper.” Her voice was unaccustomedly and aggravatingly breathless.
“A minor inconvenience,” he responded. “You don’t recognize me?”
“No.” An outright lie. There had been whispers all those years ago of the Earl of Huntley slithering in and out of London, but she’d never been quite sure he was the man who’d saved her from Shufflebottom’s nefarious intentions. She’d shared nothing of that night with anyone. Not even Rebecca, holding it close to her heart. How else was she to keep the memories unsullied and picked apart from her perfect do-gooder siblings?
His lips curled, as did her toes, which had to be the reason she stumbled. Her face flamed in a way it hadn’t since Sebastian had pulled her from Miss Greensley’s school when she was but sixteen. They finished the set in silence, where he deposited her near her eldest sister, Rose, and promptly disappeared. She narrowed her eyes on his departing figure as he skirted the outer throng of the crowd until he was waylaid by the prime minister himself.
Interesting. “Who was that?” she asked, mostly to keep Rose from realizing she knew exactly who he was.
Rose’s teeth gnashed. “Honestly, Gabriella. You danced the waltz with a man you hadn’t even had a proper introduction to?” Her sister didn’t bother waiting for an answer. And, why should she? Gabby had an unfortunate reputation for impulsive behavior. “Earl Huntley. It’s been years since he’s shown his face in Society.”
