Free Velvet by Jane Feather

feel sorry for the fox.”
    The conversation rapidly became general, and when Gabrielle went into the dining room on Nathaniel’s arm, the strange and disconcerting moment of intimacy was forgotten by most of the guests, if not by its participants.

4

    “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that sound,” Miles observed to Simon as they entered the drawing room after dinner.
    Simon needed no expansion of the remark. The deep, warm sound of Nathaniel Praed’s laughter seemed to fill the corners of the long, high-ceilinged room. He was leaning over the back of Gabrielle’s chair; her head was tilted upward, turned against the taffeta cushions as she spoke to him. Whatever she was saying seemed to be amusing his lordship mightily.
    “He says she’s trouble,” Miles continued thoughtfully. “But I’m getting the impression the gentleman doth protest too much.”
    “Does it surprise you, my friend?” Simon chuckled. “If I weren’t happily leg-shackled to Georgie, I could almost be tempted myself.”
    “Not I,” Miles said. “Gabby’s too much of an enfant
terrible
for me. A man would never know whether he was on his head or his heels with her. She’s got the devil’s own sense of humor, always mocking. Half the time I don’t know whether she’s serious or not.”
    “But one would never be bored,” Simon commented. “Perhaps that’s what Nathaniel needs.”
    “Perhaps.” Miles took snuff with an indolent flick of his wrist. “It certainly won’t hurt him to cross swords with someone who can give as good as she gets. A lesson in humility might be the saving of him. Gabby’s not one to be intimidated by Nathaniel’s particular brand of arrogance.”
    Simon laughed. “She has more than her own share of imperiousness—much as I love her. Maybe they’ll take each other down a peg or two.”
    “Well, it’ll certainly be an interesting spectator sport. Let’s suggest a game of whist. I’d dearly love to see them partner each other.”
    They sauntered over to the engrossed pair and Miles said cheerfully, “Gabby … Nathaniel … you have to rescue us from certain disaster. Lady Alsop and Colonel Beamish are looking for another pair to make up a whist table. If you don’t agree to play with us, Georgie will volunteer us the minute she looks in our direction.”
    Gabrielle examined Lord Praed with an air of speculation that was as mischievously inviting as it was challenging. “How well do you play, sir?”
    “Well enough, ma’am,” he responded without a blink of an eyelid. “But I might ask you the same question.”
    “I play as well as I hunt,” she asserted glibly.
    “But not, I trust, as recklessly.”
    “I take no unnecessary risks.”
    “You’ll have to forgive me if I doubt that.” His eyes held hers and that charmed circle enclosed them again.
    Simon cleared his throat. “I can vouch for Gabby’s cardplay, Nathaniel. She’s not a conservative bidder, certainly, but she’ll not leave you in the lurch.”
    “No,” Gabrielle agreed with a sweet smile at her prospective partner. “I am an utterly reliable partner,Lord Praed. In whist as in other things. Perhaps it’s time I proved it to you.”
    Nathaniel’s head was whirling, his scalp tight, as if he were in the grip of a fever. And perhaps he was, he thought distantly. The woman was drawing them both to the brink of the devil’s own inferno. Somehow he had to keep from toppling in. He looked for the cold, formal response so much a habit with him.
    For a moment nothing would come to his lips, and he knew he was smiling and his eyes were warm. Gabrielle’s crooked smile and dark eyes hung like the moon in a mist before his rapt gaze, wisps of dark red hair escaping from the diamond comb. She was scarlet and black—she was trouble. Helen’s soft features came suddenly to his rescue—the liquid eyes, the tentative expressions, the gentle hand.
    “I’m not in the mood for cards,” he said, his voice clipped, his