“An unsightly blemish that you would do well to avoid,” Fielding remarked.
“Oh, indeed,” Gabriella’s mother breathed with unfeigned appreciation of the man’s insightfulness. “Perhaps admiring nature from a respectable distance would be best.”
Gabriella bit her lip, fighting the urge to argue, since doing so would be considered highly disagreeable. After all, men do not care for confrontational women, as her mother had so often told her. To her left, she distinctly heard her aunt say, “Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s not as though she’s asking to ride in the races.”
Fielding paled, his bone-china cup clattering against its saucer to further convey his shock. “I should hope not!”
Gabriella winced, a little embarrassed by her aunt’s outspokenness, even though it was one of the traits Gabriella admired most about her.
“Please forgive my sister-in-law,” Gabriella’s mother grit out. “She has the uncanny ability to say the most nonsensical things.”
Though her aunt did not respond, Gabriella could sense her annoyance, as though it were a ball of heat expanding beside her, just waiting to explode. Gabriella would never have the courage to tell Fielding he was wrong about something, or to thwart his wishes herself. To do so would go against her parents’ wishes and the duty that weighed on her shoulders since Victoria’s scandalous departure from Society. And since Gabriella had had the fortune of attracting Fielding’s attention—albeit with the help of her dowry—she would try not to do anything to upset the delicate balance of their courtship, lest she ruin everything by sending him running in the opposite direction.
So, rather than adding fuel to the proverbial fire, she prayed for the mood in the parlor to change for the better, while keeping her mouth firmly shut. She turned her attention to admiring Fielding’s attire instead—a gold waistcoat, embroidered with pale blue flowers beneath a navy blue jacket. He was celebrated by the Mayfair Chronicle as the most fashionable man in London. She briefly wondered how much of his time he must spend with his tailor, valet, and mirror.
“Gabriella!”
Gabriella blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Pay attention,” her mother hissed in her ear.
“I was just complimenting your beauty.” Fielding spoke gently, his voice no doubt capable of capturing any number of hearts. “May I say that you look particularly pretty today?” With his hands elegantly folded upon his lap, back straight and feet precisely placed at just the right angles, he sat as he always did—as though he were posing for a portrait. “The rose-colored hue of your gown agrees with your fair complexion in a very pleasing way.”
Dipping her head, Gabriella responded with a discreet smile that she hoped would reflect her pleasure without distorting her features. As her mother always said, one must not smile with exaggeration. Teeth are for eating, not for displaying.
“You are too kind, my lord,” Gabriella murmured.
“Not at all.” Carefully, he picked up his teacup, took a sip and returned it to its saucer. The biscuits on the plate in the center of the table remained untouched. Fielding would not eat in front of any of them, and because he wouldn’t, neither would they. He glanced toward the window before looking back at her. “It is a pleasant day today.”
Gabriella nodded. “Did you walk here, or ride?”
“I drove my curricle.” He paused for a second as if considering something. “Perhaps you would like to try it? We could take it for a drive in the park. With your mother’s permission, of course.”
“What a generous offer,” Gabriella’s mother said. “I see no reason why you cannot go.”
Setting down her teacup, Lady Everly said, “It will be your first public appearance together, will it not?” Her aunt’s implication was clear. She meant to caution Gabriella that if she accepted this offer, people would see her with Fielding, thus making their courtship official.
Gabriella hesitated, torn between duty and her lukewarm feelings for the man her parents had selected for her. Was marrying Fielding what she truly wanted? No. It wasn’t. Not in the least. But with the scandal of Victoria first ending her engagement to the Marquess of Bellmore and then marrying into the working class still looming, Gabriella was keenly aware that her family depended on her to save them. And besides, there was no one else whom she liked better than Fielding. Whether she married him or one of the other earls or viscounts who’d shown an interest made little difference. In the grander scheme of things, he was better than nothing, she supposed.
And she certainly had no illusions about marrying for love. It simply wasn’t the way of her world—a world in which all that really mattered was one’s reputation, fortune and pedigree. So rather than decline, as her aunt no doubt hoped she would since she couldn’t abide Fielding herself, Gabriella chose to please her parents instead by saying, “Certainly, my lord. I think I should like that a great deal.” At any rate, it would give them something to do beyond drinking tea and discussing trivialities. “Allow me to fetch my bonnet and shawl.”
As she rose, so did he. Offering her his hand, he guided her carefully around the furniture, releasing her when no more obstacles stood in her path. “I would recommend a blue one,” he said as they bid her family adieu and exited the parlor.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The shawl,” he said. “A blue one will match your eyes, as well as my jacket.”
“Of course.” Thankfully, she managed a smile—one that hid her inclination to hit him.
They set out ten minutes later at an easy trot, the horse’s hooves clopping against the cobbled street while their tails swayed happily from side to side in perfect synchrony. Hesitantly, Gabriella cast a look in Fielding’s direction. Too often, his pomposity detracted from his physical appearance, which was, Gabriella decided, quite pleasing to the eye. Oh, her aunt spoke of some great passion and how important it was for Gabriella to find that in order to be truly happy, but she disagreed. Right now she was only concerned with convincing him to let her continue with her entomology.
Biting her lip, she considered the task. Perhaps they could live apart? What a pleasant thought. She could spend her days cataloguing butterflies and playing with their children. She instinctively cringed at the idea of how such children might be produced, but she supposed she would simply endure the ordeal with eyes closed and good cheer while pondering . . . something else. But to fantasize about making a love match . . . well, she was not disillusioned enough to allow such fanciful ideas to distract her from her duty.
Determined to earn his good favor, lest his thoughts still lingered on her less agreeable attributes, Gabriella indicated his horses with a wave of her hand. “They are a magnificent pair,” she remarked as Fielding navigated his way along Piccadilly to where Hyde Park began.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “As you know, I take my horses quite seriously. When I saw these two beauties at Tattersall’s last week, I simply knew I had to have them. Quite a blow to the Earl of Bromwell, who was eager to buy them as well.”
“Perhaps you will allow him to borrow them one day?”
