Free The Perfect Mistress by Betina Krahn Page A

house into a beacon of light, hoping her wayward daughter would see it and find her way home.
    "Madam—she is home!" Gunther called, propelling Gabrielle quickly across the polished marble floor.
    Rosalind rushed from the drawing room, accompanied by her friend Clementine Bolt and a uniformed constable carrying his hat in his hand.
    They met Gabrielle just outside the doors. Rosalind seized her shoulders and thrust her back an arm's length to make a frantic assessment of her.
    "Dearest heaven, Gabrielle—are you all right?" She stared at her daughter's bedraggled hair and the voluminous man's cloak she wore. "Are you hurt? Ill?"
    "I'm fine, Mama, truly. I've never been better," Gabrielle said, smiling with what she hoped passed for romantic bliss. Rosalind's maternal relief was short-lived.
    "Then you've a great deal to answer for, young lady—flying out the door without a word to anyone—unescorted and unprotected!" Rosalind felt the several pairs of eyes trained on them and abruptly halted, releasing Gabrielle and reclaiming her legendary poise. She turned to the constable, and her voice and manner gentled. "Thank you, Sergeant, for coming so quickly to my assistance. You may call your men in. It appears my daughter is home, safe and sound, and that is all that matters to me."
    He murmured something about it being a pleasure to assist her and, with a dubious glance at Gabrielle, departed. When the door had closed behind him, Rosalind turned on Gabrielle once again with rising indignation.
    "Do you have any idea how many people you have inconvenienced with your thoughtless, headstrong behavior? I've had my friends, the constables, even the servants, out combing the streets for you. You haven't the slightest notion of the dreadful things that can befall a young g-girl—" She stammered to a halt, for at that moment Gunther lifted the black cloak from Gabrielle's shoulders, revealing her ruined dress and stocking-clad toes.
    "Good God. You look like a street urchin." True horror crept into her face.
    "Your dress is ripped—and where are your shoes? What's happened to you?"
    "Oh, Mama… the most wonderful thing in the world." Gabrielle broke into a beaming, rapturous smile. "Tonight I fell in love."
    Of all the possible explanations for Gabrielle's appalling state, "fell in love"
    was absolutely the last thing Rosalind expected to hear. It took a moment to register, then she swayed and seized both Clementine's hand and Gunther's sleeve, to steady herself. For a moment she stared at Gabrielle, blinking, unable to believe her senses. Then she came to life, issuing distracted orders for sherry and a warm blanket and clamping an arm about Gabrielle to drag her into the drawing room.
    "Love? In the streets? And looking like a drowned rat?" She pulled Gabrielle before the massive marble fireplace, motioning Gunther to bring her a chair. "This had better be good, my girl—this had better be good!"
    "Oh, Mama, it is better than good… it is wonderful ." Gabrielle let her eyes unfocus, as if she were staring into some cherished memory that required only inner vision. "He is so handsome and strong and noble. He rescued me from some foul and depraved beasts who tried to abduct me—tried to steal me right off the street."
    Rosalind clutched her diamond-studded throat.
    "Oh, but you needn't worry," Gabrielle quickly assured her. "He was there, and he sent the wretches packing. You see, I got caught in the rainstorm and was lost—when a carriage swooped down on me, out of nowhere." She warmed to her dramatic tale, embellishing as she went along.
    "I screamed and fought as those hideous monsters tried to pull me inside—
    and suddenly he appeared, dashing from his carriage to come to my rescue."
    She clasped her hands over her heart, as if to constrain its wild response, and her mother pushed her down onto the chair Gunther had carried to the fire for her.
    "Sherry, Clementine—quickly." Rosalind motioned her friend along while