When Gabriella rose the morning after the Coventry ball, she got dressed and made her way downstairs with one sole purpose—to tell her parents that she meant to call off the engagement. Lord help her, she’d never been so furious with another person as she was with Fielding right now. How dare he do what he did?
Arriving in the dining room, she didn’t even bother wishing her parents and her aunt a good morning, saying instead, “I will not marry him.”
A rustling of paper and a clattering of china brought everyone’s attention to where she stood, cross-armed and rigid. “I beg your pardon?” her father asked.
“I said,” Gabriella bit out, “that I will not marry him.”
“Nonsense, dear,” her mother said, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course you will.”
Aunt Caroline gave Gabriella a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps she’s changed her mind.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Warwick growled. Folding up his paper, he set it aside. “Fielding is an excellent match, Gabriella. The very best match. You ought to be thrilled that he even bothered looking in your direction.”
Stepping further into the room, Gabriella glared at her father. “He forced my hand, Papa, announcing an engagement that I never agreed to.”
“A minor detail, since you would have done so eventually,” Lady Warwick said. She took a sip of her tea. “Now, if you’ll stop complaining about being the luckiest girl in London for just one second, I would like to discuss our plans for today. There are arrangements to be made now, after all. I thought we might—”
“No,” Gabriella snapped. “I am not going to plan for a wedding that isn’t going to take place.”
A hush fell over the room, and then Warwick slowly pointed to one of the empty chairs and said, “Sit. Down.”
His tone was hard—more terrifying than Gabriella had ever heard it. So although she didn’t feel like complying, she did. Albeit, with great reluctance. “Marriage is forever, Papa,” Gabriella tried, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Do you really want me to spend forever with the wrong man?”
The moment the words were out, she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Her father’s face tightened, reddening until it looked as though it might explode, and then he quite unexpectedly slammed his fist against the table, rattling the china and making his family jump. “I am tired of dealing with spoiled women!” Warwick narrowed his gaze on Gabriella. “First your sister, and now you.”
“Victoria married the man she loved,” Gabriella shot back.
“And almost ruined this family’s reputation in the process.”
“Mr. Connolly is a successful businessman who—”
“I know precisely the sort of man he is, Gabriella, but that doesn’t make him appropriate marriage material for an earl’s daughter. And it doesn’t excuse your sister from breaking her engagement to Bellmore just so she could run off and do as she pleased.” Shaking his head, Warwick expelled a tired breath. “If it’s Huntley who’s making you hesitant about marrying Fielding, then you ought to know that he isn’t who you think he is. I’ve had him investigated.”
“You’ve what?” Gabriella couldn’t hide her shock.
“What I have discovered so far is that he has not been living with relatives close to the Scottish border as he says.”
“I know,” Gabriella said. “He’s told me so himself.”
That seemed to shut everyone up. But only for a second.
“When?” Her mother asked.
“At Fielding House,” Gabriella blurted, thinking up an acceptable explanation as fast as she could. “When we went for dinner.”
Her father looked confused. “Why lie to the rest of us then? What possible reason can he have unless the answer is something completely unacceptable? If you know the truth about him, Gabriella, then I must insist you tell me what it is for all of our sakes. We cannot—”
“He is a duke, Papa!” She could feel a tension growing inside her, building up and threatening her control. It was the bumblebee all over again. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not to me,” Warwick told her seriously. “Are you also aware that he has ties to Carlton Guthrie?”
A chill swept down Gabriella’s spine. Carlton Guthrie—an immigrant worker from Ireland whose accumulation of wealth could not be explained—was reputed to run all kinds of illegal operations, though he’d yet to be charged with any crime. She’d read about him in the Mayfair Chronicle, though the articles had been nothing more than speculation. Witnesses had apparently been hard to come by. People either denied knowing him, or disappeared before they could testify against him. If Raphe was involved with him somehow . . . She shook her head, unwilling to believe it.
Her father didn’t wait for her to answer. “My fear is that you will end up losing your chance with Fielding over this, only to be disappointed by Huntley.”
“Your father does have a point,” Aunt Caroline said, speaking up for the first time. “Tell me, do you think you’ve fallen in love with Huntley? Is that why you’re insisting on him?”
The question made Gabriella’s cheeks burn. She shook her head. No. She was not in love with him. Was she? “I like him a great deal.”
