“Should we expect any coded messages tonight?” he teased.
“I make no promises,” she returned, smiling and refusing to be baited. “Did Lady Liverpool appear somewhat pale to you last night? By the time she and I made our way to the drawing room, the poor woman was so winded, if a breeze had blown through the hall, she would have been whisked away. I was most concerned.”
“She’s always appeared frail to me.” Huntley’s forehead creased. “I doubt it’s anything to worry over.”
“I suppose so. He seems quite devoted to her though. Do you imagine we’ll be like that someday?”
“I know we will.” His whispered words trilled over her skin were a promise she held fast to her heart. “I feel we are well on our way.”
“What did you and Liverpool speak of?”
His face quickly shifted to an implacable mask of stone. “More than I can share, unfortunately.”
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Perhaps a later time, then,” she said lightly.
He brought her hand to his lips. “For certain, a later time,” he murmured.
His gaze moved over her, exposing the rake she’d fallen for years before their marriage. “That dress is most becoming on you.” He leaned in and leered. “I’d like to peel it off with my teeth.”
Bumps raised over her skin. “That sounds deliciously exciting.”
His hand splayed across his chest. “Where are the days when one was not required to attend silly galas?”
His words stunned Gabby. “You were, um, instructed to attend tonight?”
His hesitation caught her attention, but then he surprised her. “Yes. I was.”
Gabby dropped his arm and rapped his hand with her fan in a teasing manner. “Go play cards, you heartless rogue. I see Rose and I must speak with her. Damn.”
“Madam?” Huntley’s brows lifted at her profanity.
“Stanford is here too. I swear, I could kill the libertine myself.”
“If anyone needs killing, my dear, I shall take care of the matter for you. Run along and speak to your sister. I’ll watch Stanford.”
Gabby glanced at him, unsure he was toying with her, but his gaze was on Stanford. The last of her doubts dissipated like the fading fireworks at Vauxhall. He meant it. He would kill for her. It was an unnerving realization. The sting of tears hit her, and she blinked quickly. There was nowhere to hide, her heart was exposed for all to see.
His gaze cut to her. “Gabriella, what is it?”
Flames crawled up her neck at the seriousness of his expression. She dropped her gaze and fumbled in her reticule for her handkerchief. No one appeared to have paid her any mind. “I-I’m, my lord.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you. No one’s ever offered to kill someone for me before.” Her reach for a teasing quip fell miles short.
After a long second, her fingers were pushed away. He found the piece of fine linen and pressed it in her hand. “Are you sure?” Light humor colored his tone.
Her breath left her in a rush, leaving her dizzy, and the flames on the myriad candles wavering dangerously.
“Gabriella?”
She couldn’t very well tell him in the middle of the Peachornsbys’ ballroom that she’d just been pierced with an arrow delivered straight from Eros’s quiver. She loved him. She swallowed hard. “Yes,” she whispered. “Off with you, my lord. You are excused.”
“If you’re sure…”
She couldn’t speak, just nodded and prayed her smile didn't appear as false as she feared it was.
“Huntley. Gabs.” Rebecca had managed to sneak up on them.
Gabby hugged her. “You look lovely.”
Rebecca wrinkled her nose, eyeing Gabby’s new dress. “You outshine us all, Gabs. As usual.”
