A brief hesitation followed until he eventually did as Gabriella asked, allowing her to tutor his sisters in their responses. Huntley then tucked Juliette’s hand against the crook of his elbow and proceeded to walk with her, speaking to her in low, inaudible tones as they went.
“He makes a dashing duke, don’t you think?” Amelia asked as she lowered herself to the spot on the sofa that Huntley had recently vacated. “Quite imperious.”
Watching his progress, Gabriella couldn’t help but agree, even though she didn’t dare voice such thoughts. Instead she said, “You have all improved significantly since your arrival. It has been an honor helping you with that.”
“And it has been our honor getting to know you,” Amelia said. “Our situation would have been quite hopeless without your help, you know.”
Gabriella chuckled. “I’m sure you would have found a way to manage, though it might have taken a bit longer.”
“Perhaps, but then we would have missed out on a new friendship.”
The impulsive response warmed Gabriella’s heart. “Thank you,” she said, while wondering if Amelia realized how much her words meant to her.
A smile passed between them and then Amelia said, “Oh look, they’re back.”
Returning her attention to Raphe and Juliette, Gabriella regarded the way in which they parted ways, observing how well Huntley applied the advice she’d given him earlier. But there was still one thing . . . “When you wish to extricate yourself from a lady, Huntley, it is important that you take her hand and gently remove it from your arm first, rather than immediately pulling away.”
“Why?” He looked as though he was trying not to roll his eyes or sigh with belligerence.
“Because the last thing you want to do is to accidentally drag a lady after you as you turn away. That would cause a scene, which would hardly be to your advantage.”
Studying her with the intensity of a marksman, he quietly murmured, “No, I don’t suppose it would.” The way he looked, a few stray strands of hair falling against his brow and that infernal cravat of his missing as usual, was almost piratical.
Her heart made a funny little leap inside her chest, while tingling heat crept across her skin. Good heavens!
She watched in amazement as his lips rose with mischief, as if he knew precisely what he was doing to her—how unsettled he was making her feel. “Perhaps you ought to demonstrate,” he said. Stepping toward her, he extended his hand. “Please allow me to escort you about the room.”
Hesitating, she eyed Amelia and Juliette, wondering if they might have noticed that their brother’s proposition meant more than a simple request for tutelage. But the sisters seemed oblivious to the charged atmosphere that threatened to unravel Gabriella at any moment. Instead, they urged her to do as Huntley asked, claiming an interest in seeing how a real lady ought to walk with a gentleman.
Inhaling sharply, Gabriella felt her throat constrict as her gaze dropped to Huntley’s upturned palm. Of course he wasn’t wearing gloves—he was at home, for heaven’s sake. Not that it made much difference, since he probably wouldn’t have worn them even if he’d been out. And oh, just looking at that hand, she recalled what it had felt like last night, clasped against her own. Could she really endure such exquisite torture again? Now, with his sisters present? For she’d removed her own gloves in order to eat the madeleines the maid had brought with the tea. Eyeing the lengths of fabric that lay draped across the armrest, she considered putting them back on for the duration of this exercise. It would be the proper thing to do—the safe thing to do.
Her decision came a second too late as Huntley leaned forward, his large hand closing about hers before pulling her to her feet. “Huntley!”
“I grew weary of watching you ponder your options,” he said, facing her with a stormy expression that made her wonder if her legs would carry her the necessary distance. It only got worse when he scraped his callused thumb across the edge of her hand, producing a scorching collection of sparks against her bare skin. Lord help her.
“Your Grace, I—”
“Raphe,” he amended, raising an eyebrow. “Just let me guide you.” Turning sideways, he lifted her hand, arranging it neatly against the crook of his arm.
A muscle flexed beneath his jacket as she curled her fingers over him, and she realized then with startling awareness that in spite of his nonchalant manner, he was just as affected by her as she was by him. Her heart took flight, scattering her composure like the seeds of a dandelion blown away by a gust of wind. As a result, it was something of a miracle that she managed to step forward without tripping, her posture as rigid as a slab of granite.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured when they’d gone a few paces.
Unable to be anything but honest, she said, “I’ve missed you too.” Just a few hours, that was all it had been, but it had felt like an eternity.
“Will you dance with Fielding at the ball?”
“It is expected,” Gabriella replied, her breath hitching slightly when he placed his opposite hand over hers, trapping it against his arm.
“I don’t like it, Gabriella. I can’t stand the thought of him holding you in his arms the way I did last night.”
Swallowing, she did her best to remain calm. “Oh, I can assure you that it will be nothing like that.” They continued for a bit before she had the courage to say, “Fielding has been courting me for two months. He is by all accounts an excellent match. But then I met you and everything changed.”
“How?” His muscles strained beneath his sleeve, flexing and tightening to match his voice.
Glancing sideways, she met his dark brown eyes, more vulnerable now than she’d ever seen them before. They compelled her to say what was in her heart. “I fell for you, Raphe, and I fear there’s no getting up.”
They’d reached the windows. Stopping, they paused for a moment, pretending to admire the thick foliage of rhododendron in the garden.
