She did. Very much so. But then his words sank in and she realized that she would have to be just as candid. She bit her lip, fidgeted with the skirt of her gown. Honesty in exchange for friendship. “I didn’t lie about not having any. Friends, that is.”
“I know,” he told her gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
“But you do now?” She realized then that his trusting her mattered.
“Yes.”
She expelled a sigh of relief, then thought to ask, “Why?”
“Because kind people aren’t generally deceitful. And because of your eyes. The pain in them when I accused you . . .” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
His apology made her feel lighter somehow, more relaxed and at ease. Perhaps because it showed a more sensitive side to him, a side that she was infinitely more comfortable with than the roguish charmer who made her feel as though there were worms wriggling about inside her belly. “I appreciate that.” They stared at each other a moment.
Drawing a breath, she willed herself to take courage, to be as honest with him as he’d been with her. For the sake of friendship. Nothing more. “When I was six,” she began, “I saw a group of boys crowded together in the park. They were laughing at something that I couldn’t see. So I approached without thinking, abandoning my governess with an impulsive need to know what they were about.” She hesitated, realizing all of a sudden how silly her story would probably sound. He’d been a boy too after all. “Pushing between them, I looked down, trying to find the object of their amusement. And then I did.” She took a staggering breath, hating the transparency of her emotions. “They’d trapped a bumblebee, pulled off its wings, and were poking it with twigs so it spun on its back, round and round while they stood there laughing at how ridiculous it looked.”
“It upset you to see an innocent creature tortured.” He watched her closely. Too closely.
Gabriella shifted, unable to remain still beneath such scrutiny. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so cross in my life,” she said. “I snapped. Like a twig giving way to great strain I just . . .” What was it her mother had called it when she’d heard of the incident. Oh yes. She winced. “I’m afraid I went mad for a second, shouting at them to stop and then hitting them when they refused.” She looked away, embarrassed by how she’d behaved. “Word got around of course. It always does. My parents had to send apologies to the other families.”
“What about the bumblebee?”
Gabriella blinked. Nobody had ever asked, not even her sister. He was the first. “It survived. For a bit. I brought it home in my hand.”
A chuckle rose from his throat, released into the room with a smile. He shook his head. “Of course you did.”
Of course. That was all he said, and Gabriella felt her heart melt in response to his tone of understanding. “That bumblebee led to my fascination with insects. It gave me something to do when all the other children ignored me. When my hobby eventually became known . . . well . . . whatever chance I’d ever had of becoming acceptable company dwindled. I was labeled strange—an eccentric girl who ought to be avoided. After that, there was nothing about me that they did not mock.”
“Including your appearance.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He was quiet a moment. “It hurt,” he eventually said, echoing her memories.
“Yes.” She tried to smile and almost succeeded. “So I faded away between the shadows, avoiding all attention while Victoria thrived in it. She was a perfect lady; well spoken, accomplished, beautiful and clever. My parents chose not to worry about my future. They had her, after all, a daughter who was going to marry a marquess.”
“Except she didn’t.”
“No. She did not.”
“Why?”
A question that Gabriella had asked herself countless times since. “I like to think she fell in love.” When he stayed silent, she stalwartly added. “It happens.”
“Yes. I suppose it does.” Rising, he moved toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and see what’s keeping my sisters.”
And then he was gone, out the door with a swiftness that unsettled Gabriella more than his presence had done. In fact, it hadn’t bothered her much at all this time.
Speaking with him of more personal matters had been rather nice, she decided. A pity he didn’t return with his sisters, but he’d apparently gone off to practice his dancing. The instructor, according to Amelia, was an old Italian fellow who didn’t believe in allowing partners until they’d mastered the steps, which meant that Huntley and his sisters took separate lessons, since these were not the same for men and women.
Do ye like to dance?
The question he’d asked when she’d first come to offer his sisters assistance drifted through her mind like a tendril of smoke, curling, twisting, reminding her of his daring. He’d been so different ten minutes earlier, siting right there in the chair that Juliette now occupied. And he’d listened to her. Attentively. As though he’d genuinely cared about her past and the scars it had dealt her.
Friends. That’s what they’d become—in the strangest and most unusual of ways. And as she walked home later with Anna by her side, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever have the courage to wish for more than that.
Chapter 14
When Gabriella awoke the following morning, she lay staring up at the ceiling for a long while after, trying to come to terms with yet another dream. It had been even more provocative than the last. Her pulse still raced in time with her sharp inhalations, the sheet tangled chaotically around her legs. Dear God! She’d dreamt of Huntley’s naked body pressed against hers—of her fingers creeping gently across his broad shoulders.
