“You’re… a good friend, Gabriel.”Henley spoke softly, and Gabriel’s conscience twitched, knowing he was not being as open regarding his intentions.
Honesty… the word resurfaced, and he pushed the realization to the back of his mind.Her voice at Drury Lane echoed in his memory—it’s remarkable how little it’s used and how often it will fix most problems—and he wondered if he could ever be brave enough to bare his heart as she did.
“The Smythe ball tonight, that is where we’ll attend.”
“I shall see you there, then.”
Later that night, as Gabriel’s carriage approached the Smythe residence, he adjusted his cravat for the second time, reminding himself that he was likely doing more damage than rectifying any misstep his valet made.No, he was just merely twitchy, needing to do something with his hands.The earlier conversation with Henley still rang in his ears, and he felt caught between what was honorable and what he desperately wanted.To combine the two was possible, but would take a deft hand, and an unusual insecurity filtered through his mind.As he stepped from the carriage, he took in the landscape.
The Smythe family’s London residence stood like a monument to old wealth, its Portland stone façade gleaming under the glow of gaslit streetlamps, the windows ablaze with candlelight that spilled onto the cobblestones below.Inside, the ballroom was a spectacle of opulence, its high ceilings adorned with intricate plasterwork, gilded with gold leaf that shimmered in the light of crystal chandeliers.The polished parquet floor reflected the swirl of silk gowns and black tailcoats, while the air carried the scent of beeswax, lavender, and ambition.Footmen in crisp livery—dark blue coats with silver braiding, their buttons polished to a mirror shine—moved silently, offering trays of champagne and orgeat to the ton’s glittering assembly.
Gabriel stood at the edge of the ballroom, his heart a traitor as it pounded in anticipation of her arrival.He was here under the guise of friendship, a shield to protect her reputation, but his thoughts were far from platonic.How could he pursue her without betraying Henley’s trust or risking her honor further?A public camaraderie, Henley had said, but Gabriel planned subtle gestures—a dance, a walk, a whispered jest—to test her feelings, to see if the spark he felt at Drury Lane was mutual.The memory of her hand in his, the way her eyes had softened when he offered to chase her mother’s shadow, fueled his resolve.He would tread carefully, but he would not retreat.
His gaze swept the room, restless, until it landed on her.Lady Peregrine entered, her arm linked with Anna’s, her periwinkle gown catching the candlelight like a jewel, its hue a bold echo of her spirit.Her dark hair was swept up, a few curls teasing her neck, and Gabriel’s fingers itched to trace their path.His breath caught, a reaction that annoyed him—he was no green boy—yet she unraveled him with a glance.As she bantered with Henley, her lips curving in that wry smile he adored, he felt a pang of something fierce, something possessive.He pushed it down, schooling his features into his usual charm as he approached.
“Lady Anna, Lady Peregrine,” he greeted, bowing with a grin that masked his racing pulse.“Henley, old chap, I see you’ve survived the carriage ride with your sister’s wit intact.”
Henley snorted.“Barely.”His tone was gruff, but his eyes held a fond exasperation, a brother’s love that Gabriel envied for its simplicity.
Lady Peregrine arched a brow, her eyes meeting his with a spark that set his heart pounding—an irritating reaction, given how many times they’d danced.“Lord Hawthorne, I trust you’re here to rescue my reputation, as per my brother’s summons?”Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but the playful glint in her gaze suggested she was testing him, daring him to match her.
He took her hand, his gloved fingers brushing hers, and the contact sent a jolt through him, his body responding with a heat he struggled to temper.Her touch was a spark, reigniting the memory of Drury Lane’s forbidden intimacy, and he wondered if she felt it too.
“May I have the honor of a waltz, Lady Peregrine?”he asked, his voice low, the words carrying a weight he couldn’t disguise.
Her eyes locked with his, a charged moment where time seemed to pause, the ballroom’s hum fading to a distant murmur.
She tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips.“If I must.”
He leaned down, not close enough to be scandalous, but enough to whisper for her ears alone.“The choice is always yours, Lady Peregrine.However, a willing partner is far more enjoyable than a reluctant one.”
Her eyes met his, and a hint of a blush pinked her cheeks.“And am I so often held in duress when dancing with you?”
“That is a question only you can answer,” he replied, still searching her gaze.
“Not every time.Just some,” she teased.“Only when you use that charm against me…” she alluded to their first dance.
“And if I dare use it again?”Gabriel flirted, darting his eyes from her gaze to linger on her lips and then back.
He took a step back from her, mindful of propriety and the tongues that were already wagging.
“That is your choice, but I doubt it will be as effective.”
“It pleases me to know you’re not immune.”
“You flatter yourself,” she shot back, tipping her chin in a jolly defiance.
“Actually, that was your own words.I merely accepted them as the compliment they were.”He shrugged and then offered his arm.
She took it and followed him.
As they waited for the music, he leaned closer, his voice a whisper meant only for her.“Care to take a turn about the room first?We should discuss… recent murmurs.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded.“If I must.”The pressure of her fingers was light yet deliberate, a silent acknowledgment of their shared secret, and it sent a thrill through him.
They strolled along the ballroom’s edge, the crowd parting like a sea.“So, Lord Hawthorne,” she began, her tone lighter than he expected, “it seems the ton thinks we’re far cozier than friends should be.How do you propose we silence them?”Her words were a challenge, but her sidelong glance, almost flirtatious, ignited a spark of hope.
Was she flirting more than usual?
