Page 7 of A Winter Scandal

“It wasn’t so bad.” Sir Myles propped his elbow on the mantel and grinned at the other men. His eyes, usually twinkling with merriment, and his close-cropped curls were almost the same golden-brown color. Though not as tall as Gabriel, he was powerfully built, with the wide chest and muscular arms that denoted his devotion to the gentlemanly art of pugilism. “There was dancing. Young ladies. And the Squire served a damned fine hot punch back in his smoking room.”

“Yes, but did you look at the ladies?” Alan countered. “All those Cliffe girls! There must have been ten of them.”

“Four, I believe,” Gabriel Morecombe offered as he poured healthy amounts of brandy into their glasses. “It only seemed like more because they were so uniformly alike in looks, dress, and general silliness.”

“I have to endure that sort of rural festivity whenever I am home,” Ian said. “I had no intention of subjecting myself to it here. I shall be eternally grateful that Father sold this place—though I cannot conceive why you agreed to buy it, Gabriel.”

“Come, now.” Gabriel made an expansive gesture, a smile lighting his handsome features. “Look around you.” He turned and handed their drinks to Alan and Myles. “Where else can I obtain such peace and solitude as I have here?”

“And such lack of civilization,” Ian drawled.

“Civilization is overvalued. I far prefer owning a house to which I can retreat without having to deal with tenants and my estate manager or worry about whether I offend my stepmother’s sensibilities.”

“Well, if you didn’t want obligations, why’d you go to the Squire’s Christmas ball?” Ian asked.

“A good question.” Gabriel grimaced. “One which I asked myself as Mrs. Cliffe dragged me across the room, introducing me to every single woman who lives in the area. In truth, I suspect she imported a few from another village. After the first five minutes, I could scarcely have told you my name, let alone any of theirs.”

Ian let out a crack of laughter. “I warned you! I knew every marriage-minded mama in the county would be there to introduce you to their eligible—and stultifyingly boring—daughters.”

“Since you are already married, Ian, that would have presented no problem for you,” Myles pointed out.

“True. Wouldn’t have kept me from perishing from ennui, however.”

“Well, I think you are all too harsh on the fair village of Chesley,” Myles said lightly. “I, for one, enjoyed the evening of dancing. And while the Cliffe sisters were trying on the ears, it was more than made up for by the treat to the eyes that is Mrs. Howard.”

“She is a beauty,” Gabriel agreed.

“D’ you mean the black-haired lovely?” Alan asked. “She was a peacock among pigeons, wasn’t she?”

“Who?” Ian asked as he stood up and went to the sideboard to set down his glass. “A beauty here in Chesley? Sounds like a Banbury story to me. I would have remembered a raven-haired temptress.”

“She moved here only a few months ago, I believe,” Gabriel said.

“Good heavens. Why?”

Gabriel laughed. “Perhaps she was looking for peace and solitude, too.”

“She’ll get an ample amount of that,” Ian retorted sardonically, turning and leaning back against the sideboard. “Now, gentlemen … are we going to proceed to any actual entertainment this evening?”

“What did you have in mind?” Gabriel asked.

“Loo, whist, vingt-et-un—whatever suits your fancy. Your butler told me he found several bottles and casks in the cellars. Lord only knows when they date from. I thought I’d go down and see if there was anything we might want.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Be my guest.”

“I’ll go with you.” Alan took a candlestick from the sideboard and the two men left the room.

Gabriel poured another drink for himself and Myles, and they settled down in the chairs in front of the fire, stretching their legs out toward the warmth.

“Hope the evening wasn’t too much of a bore,” Gabriel offered. “I thought it would be good to meet the locals.”

Myles chuckled. “I didn’t mind. Clearly I do not require the level of sophistication Ian does. When one grows up with five sisters, one becomes accustomed to attending such affairs. It helps make it more bearable, I suppose, that a sir is not as coveted a marriage prospect as a lord.”

“Do you ever think about marrying?” Gabriel asked thoughtfully.

“As little as possible.” Myles grinned. “Why? Don’t tell me some girl’s caught your fancy?”

“No. Not at all. I suppose I shall one day, but …” Gabriel shrugged. “It doesn’t seem a very alluring prospect.”