CHAPTER
Twenty-One
“That was a beautiful wedding.”
Gabriella exchanged a smile with Daphne and looked around the Linwood ballroom, delighted for Jennette, who was now Mrs. Duncan Linwood, and who was currently standing with her new husband in front of the orchestra.
“Jennette looks happy,” Gabriella said.
“So does Duncan, and we had a part in helping them on their way to their happily-ever-after.”
“That we did.”
Daphne’s gaze suddenly sharpened on something across the room. “It appears Maryanne found Nicholas. She seems to have quite the hold on his arm, probably because Ann let it be known that Mrs. Kaffenburgh has left the city again.” She frowned. “I’m still not certain why Nicholas asked us to spread the tale that Mrs. Kaffenburgh has removed herself to yet another destination. Since he decided those three ladies you thought would suit him weren’t going to work, he might need more ladies vetted. Mrs. Kaffenburgh is the perfect lady to do so.”
“I tried to tell him that,” Gabriella said, her gaze lingering on Nicholas, who was looking very dashing indeed, something Maryanne apparently appreciated as well, given how brightly she was smiling at him. “And it might be my imagination, but he’s been acting rather peculiarly the past few days, ever since we told him what happened when we posed as Mrs. and Miss Kaffenburgh and went to Rutherford & Company.”
“It’s not your imagination because I noticed that as well,” Daphne said. “Perhaps his peculiarity is his way of handling his disappointment. It couldn’t have been pleasant for him to learn how easily so many ladies were willing to set their sights on an earl after they’d let him know they’d set their sights on him.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Gabriella said, but before she could say more, she realized that Nicholas was watching her—and watching her intently, at that.
Feeling quite warm, she sent him a smile, then turned back to Daphne, fanning a face that had turned heated with her dance card.
It was concerning, the effect Nicholas had on her at times.
Being a realist, she was well aware that their friendship would not be able to continue on as it had been for the past week or so. If and when he settled on a specific society lady to court, the dynamics of their friendship would have to change again. Nevertheless, even knowing that, she’d been unable to distance herself from him, wanting to spend every moment possible in the company of her old friend because whenever she was with him, she felt as if she’d finally found her way home.
She was relatively certain that sense of home was responsible for her not putting much more of an effort into selecting additional acceptable ladies for him to consider, an uncomfortable notion, and one she was going to have to consider further when she was at her leisure.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Phillip walked up to join them, wincing as his gaze traveled over Daphne.
“I’m not certain I approve of the additions you’ve added to the gown I altered for you, Daphne. What’s with all the cat pins?”
Daphne gave a pat to her brown hair that was elaborately styled but that she’d pinned cat pins into, then smoothed a hand down a glorious silk gown of ivory that she’d also attached cat pins to. She straightened the frames of her spectacles, ones she’d had specially made for the occasion and were slanted at the corners in a very catlike manner.
“I was nervous about having to converse with society members as myself, so I decided to try out my theory about being less cowardly when in disguise,” Daphne began. “An eccentric cat lady fits me well, and to my delight, I’ve been able to converse easily with every society person I’ve encountered.”
“You’ve only run into Mrs. Bracken so far,” Gabriella pointed out. “And the only reason you were able to converse easily with her is because she was struck mute by your appearance.”
Daphne grinned. “Which means most society people are certain to give me a wide berth and my decision to come as a cat lady was spot-on and will spare me a fit of the vapors.”
Phillip returned Daphne’s grin before he turned to Gabriella. “There’s nothing more I can say about Daphne’s curious appearance, but you, on the other hand, I have much to say about. You’re looking exquisite—not that I’m surprised by that—and I’ve told numerous ladies who’ve been admiring your gown that it’s one of my creations.” He leaned closer to her. “A word of warning, though. Practically every gentleman here has been begging Jennette and Duncan Moore for an introduction to you, which has sent more than a few young ladies into tempers.” He nodded to Daphne. “Make sure you don’t let her go to the retiring room on her own because that might turn unpleasant.”
Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Gabriella is more than capable of taking on a few society ladies.”
“I wasn’t worried about Gabriella.” Phillip smiled, his smile turning slightly sappy when he glanced over her shoulder. “Ah, there’s Elsy and Ann, just returning from the retiring room where they, you’ll notice, repaired together.” He smoothed down the front of his jacket. “Remember, ladies, safety in numbers.” Sending Gabriella a bit of a wink, he sauntered off to join Elsy and Ann.
“You do seem to be attracting a good deal of attention,” Daphne said, peering at Gabriella through the thick lenses of her spectacles. “Phillip certainly knew what he was about with dressing you in that particular gown. The cut of it hugs a figure you don’t often display to advantage, and frankly, you look like you belong mingling with the society set instead of standing with me, the cat lady.”
“I much prefer enjoying the ball with you over any society member.”
Daphne released a snort. “Except for Nicholas. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind spending time with him this evening. Did you notice how remarkably dashing he looks in his formal wear? If you ask me, all the ladies who clamored to speak with us the other day, believing we were the Kaffenburghs, have taken leave of their senses, because Nicholas, in my humble opinion, is far worthier of their attention than any earl, fictitious or not.”
Gabriella found she couldn’t argue with that as she chanced another glance at Nicholas, her stomach giving an unexpected flip when she realized he was heading her way, Maryanne still firmly attached to his arm.
“What’s he doing?” she muttered.
Daphne turned her head. “I think he’s coming to greet us.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he wants to?”
Finding that a hardly helpful response, Gabriella lifted her chin right as Nicholas stopped in front of her, smiling his charming smile. Before he spoke, however, Maryanne drew in a sharp breath as her gaze settled on Gabriella’s face.
“You’re that girl from the shop, aren’t you?” she asked, not allowing Gabriella a chance to respond before she continued. “Miss McArthur told me, after I admired your gown, that she’d learned your name is Miss Goodhue, and I thought it sounded familiar, and now I know why. You hemmed the very gown I’m wearing tonight. What in the world are you doing at the Linwood ball?”
“Miss Goodhue is friends with Mrs. Linwood,” Nicholas said, removing his arm from Maryanne’s hold. He reached out, took Gabriella’s gloved hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
The second she felt his lips through the silk fabric of her glove, a frisson of heat raced through her, a heat that staggered her because, if she wasn’t much mistaken, the heat was a direct result of Nicholas’s touch as well as a result of a most disturbing idea that suddenly sprang to mind.
While she’d been telling herself that what she and Nicholas shared was merely a friendship, that wasn’t really the truth at all, and certainly explained her reluctance to vet more ladies for him.
Panic began swirling through her as she realized the truth. She was attracted to Nicholas, incredibly so. That mean she was in very real danger because her life would most assuredly be shattered, just like it had been when she was twelve, when he effectively abandoned her again and settled down with whatever society lady he decided would suit him.
Forcing herself to refrain from snatching back the hand he was still holding, Gabriella opened her mouth but was spared a response when Maryanne released a bit of a huff.
“I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with Miss Goodhue, Nicholas,” Maryanne said, which earned her a frown from Nicholas as he finally released Gabriella’s hand.
“And I wasn’t aware we’d decided to address each other so informally in public, Miss Allen, but as for Miss Goodhue, yes, I’ve known her for years. She’s a very dear friend of mine.”
And just like that, in the middle of a society ballroom of all places, Gabriella knew with the utmost certainty that Nicholas had, indeed, stolen his way into her heart again.
Maryanne’s brow furrowed. “How would you know a seamstress?”
“We met when we were children,” Nicholas said before he turned to Daphne. Taking hold of Daphne’s hand, he placed a kiss on it and grinned. “Miss Beekman, you’ve outdone yourself this evening. I like the cats.”
Daphne returned his grin. “They’ve come in very handy with holding people at bay.”
“I imagine they have, but forgive me, do you know Miss Allen?”
“Of course I do,” Daphne said before she winced, evidently realizing Maryanne had never met Daphne, only Miss Kaffenburgh. “Or rather, I know of her, and of her high standing in society.”
“I suppose I am well-known about the city,” Maryanne said as Nicholas performed the expected introductions.
An uncomfortable silence settled over them until Nicholas nodded to Gabriella. “May I hope not all of your dances are claimed yet?”
Gabriella swallowed a sigh even as she ignored the look of pure astonishment on Maryanne’s face. “I wasn’t planning on dancing this evening.”
Nicholas’s only response to that was an arch of a brow.
Knowing he was probably going to turn persistent about the matter, while also knowing she wouldn’t mind taking a turn with him around the floor, she handed over her dance card, more pleased than she cared to admit when he claimed not one but two of her dances. He then took Daphne’s card from her, even though Daphne muttered something about how he should have learned his lesson the last time they danced, and wrote his name twice on her card as well.
“You’re dancing with them twice?” Maryanne demanded.
“I am.”
“You only claimed one dance with me.”
“True.”
Maryanne took his arm and pulled him all of two feet away from them. “That’s insulting.”
Nicholas smiled, but it was anything but amused. “I would imagine it’s no more insulting than my discovering how much you and your mother fawned over Mrs. Kaffenburgh the other day, hoping to secure an invitation to London, where you were hoping to become better acquainted with Lord de Bourgh.”
Two bright spots of color stained Maryanne’s cheeks. “You’re mistaken.”
Maryanne’s mouth opened, closed, opened again, then snapped shut before she tossed a murderous look at Gabriella and stalked away without another word.
“That was smooth,” Daphne said, her lips twitching. “Do you think that type of set down can be found in any of those gentlemen’s etiquette books you’ve read from cover to cover?”
Nicholas winced. “Probably not. I know that wasn’t well done of me and was undeniably rude, but I didn’t care for the manner in which she spoke to either of you. I’m afraid I quite lost my head for a moment.”
“I think you can be forgiven for that,” Daphne said. “She is rude, and not just now. She was rude the other day when she shoved her way in front of other ladies to get to Gabriella and me. If you ask me, you’ve escaped the clutches of a shrew.”
Nicholas inclined his head. “Thank you for that, Daphne. And now, may I fetch both of you a glass of champagne?”
“Since you reminded all of us yesterday that ladies should not fetch their own refreshments, that would be lovely,” Gabriella said.
“And here I thought you weren’t listening to my lecture on manners.”
“I didn’t listen to all of it, but that’s only because, if you’ll recall, Precious and Winston decided they needed a walk.”
“One you most assuredly enjoyed more than my lecture. But speaking of Precious, I’m delighted to see your fear of her has disappeared.”
“It’s hard to fear a furry creature that steals into my bed and keeps my feet warm at night.”
“Too right it is,” Nicholas said before he excused himself and went off to fetch them champagne, telling them he might be delayed because he wanted to check and see if Professor Cameron, who’d been running late, had arrived at the ball yet.
“Do you think anyone would notice if I pulled out my notepad and took a few notes?” Daphne asked as Nicholas walked away. “My fingers are itching to write about Maryanne and her behavior, because I can guarantee she’s going to provide me with a great deal of inspiration for a future villainess.”
“She does suit that role rather admirably, but no, you can’t pull out your notepad because I believe Jennette and Duncan are about to dance their first dance together as husband and wife.”
“Oh, I don’t want to miss that. Their dance will certainly provide me with future inspiration if I ever need to include a touch of romance in a plot.”
Linking arms with Daphne, Gabriella wandered to the edge of the dance floor right as the first strains of a waltz split the air. A mere minute into the waltz, she was forced to borrow a handkerchief from the vast confines of Daphne’s bag because her vision turned blurry.
“They do make a most adorable couple,” Daphne said, sniffling into another handkerchief as Duncan danced his bride across the ballroom floor.
By the time the music drew to a close, Daphne was all but blubbering into her handkerchief, which had Gabriella taking hold of her friend’s arm and tugging her in the direction of the retiring room. “I think we need to get you fixed up,” she said. “Should I dig your smelling salts out of your bag just in case you turn faint? You’re breathing a little fast.”
“I’m not going to swoon, although a cool cloth placed across my forehead for a moment or two might be in order.”
“Then a cool cloth is exactly what I shall get for you.”
Walking into the retiring room, Gabriella ignored the looks her entrance drew as she got Daphne settled in a chair and went to dampen another one of Daphne’s handkerchiefs in the sink. After placing it on Daphne’s forehead, she sat down beside her friend, frowning when the sound of whispering reached her. Lifting her head, she discovered Mrs. Allen, Maryanne’s mother, standing two feet away from her, her face twisted with fury.
“Ladies,” Mrs. Allen bit out through lips that barely moved. “I require the room.”
“You heard her,” Daphne said, swiping the handkerchief from her forehead. “We should go.”
“I believe Mrs. Allen requires the room because she wants to have a word with me,” Gabriella said, rising to her feet as ladies dashed for the door, although all of them sent her looks of clear satisfaction as they departed. “You should go as well, Daphne. I get the sneaking suspicion this isn’t going to be pleasant.”
Daphne moved to stand directly next to Gabriella. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Miss Goodhue is correct in that what I have to say to her is not going to be pleasant.” Mrs. Allen nodded to the door. “Besides, I desire to speak to her in private, so . . . leave.”
Daphne straightened her spectacles. “I think not.” With that, she resumed her seat, pulled her bag into her lap, withdrew her notepad and pencil, and then turned an expectant eye on Mrs. Allen. “You may begin.”
Mrs. Allen frowned. “Why do you have a notepad out?”
“I’m going to write down everything you say.”
“You most certainly are not.”
“I’d like to see how you’re going to stop me.”
Gabriella felt the most absurd urge to laugh, an urge that disappeared when she turned from Daphne and settled her attention on Mrs. Allen. “You might as well tell me what’s on your mind, Mrs. Allen, although I imagine it revolves around Mr. Quinn and your daughter.”
“Maryanne told me that he’s claimed two dances with you tonight—dances that are not appropriate for him to dance with you.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you don’t believe he asked to dance with either of you because he actually wants to. From what Maryanne told me, Mr. Quinn is annoyed with her because she met with Mrs. Kaffenburgh the other day. Mr. Quinn seems to have taken issue with that, but although his gentlemanly pride has obviously suffered, he’ll soon recover that pride when Maryanne informs him that Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s nephew is not a gentleman she’d care to be married to after all.”
“Only because Mrs. Kaffenburgh let it be known that she’s settled her attention on an heiress from Boston.”
“No one knows if that rumor is true or not, Miss Goodhue. It came secondhand to Mrs. Bracken through her paid companion, so it’s not written in stone. But that’s neither here nor there.” She took a step closer to Gabriella. “Don’t think I don’t know the true relationship you and Mr. Quinn share. And while it’s common practice for gentlemen to have their little . . . diversions, I won’t have Maryanne embarrassed by him parading you around in front of everyone.”
Temper came swiftly. “The only relationship I share with Nicholas Quinn is that of friendship. As he told your daughter, we’ve known each other since we were children.”
Mrs. Allen’s face began to mottle. “I’m not a fool, my dear. I saw the way he was watching you the other day at Villard’s Dress Shop. Why, he was clearly besotted and couldn’t tear his gaze from you.”
“What?”
“Don’t act coy. I saw you smile at him until you obviously realized you shouldn’t be smiling at him like that in public. Truth be told, I found myself deeply unsettled by the manner in which he continued regarding you, which is why I was forced to intervene, telling Mr. Quinn I felt faint, which had him offering to take me outside for some air.”
“You were completely off the mark, Gabriella, with what you thought transpired that day,” Daphne said, looking up from her notes and sending Gabriella a wink, which left Gabriella with the distinct urge to laugh again.
“Perhaps I was,” Gabriella said before she turned back to Mrs. Allen. “But returning to your unsubstantiated allegations, I’m not his mistress, nor do I ever intend to become that to him.”
“As if I would believe a shop girl,” Mrs. Allen scoffed. “Nicholas Quinn is the bachelor of the Season. He’s possessed of a fortune, a high standing in society, and a handsome face. I doubt you’re capable of resisting his allure, but resist it you shall. I intend for my daughter to marry him, and you will not interfere with that.”
Gabriella drew herself up. “Nicholas will only marry your daughter over my dead body.”
Mrs. Allen drew herself up as well. “That can be arranged.” Turning, she stalked out of the retiring room without another word.
“That was a great line, but what a horrible woman,” Daphne said, setting aside her notepad. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Furious, of course, but fine.”
“It was very insulting that she assumed you’re Nicholas’s mistress, and not just insulting to you. Nicholas is not the type of gentleman who’d keep a mistress, and he’ll be appalled to learn about the unjust accusations Mrs. Allen leveled against the both of you.”
“We can’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he may not react in a way society expects.”
Daphne blinked. “He might forget his manners?”
“Possibly, which is why we’re not going to mention anything to him about what just happened.”
“But if you don’t mention it, he’ll never know how disrespectful Mrs. Allen has been to you or how disrespectful she’ll certainly be to you again.”
“Since I doubt I’ll ever attend another society event, there’s no reason for me to worry about that. I am wondering, though, if my friendship with Nicholas is now in jeopardy. He’d hoped that some of his society friends would be accepting of our friendship, but I don’t think that’s going to be the case.”
She moved to a mirror, smoothed a hand over her hair, then forced a smile. “But enough about all this nastiness. We’re at the wedding ball of our dear friend. Shall we rejoin the festivities?”
“Are you certain you want to do that?”
“Nicholas will ask questions if we don’t return, and I don’t know if I’m up for avoiding those questions.”
Gabriella’s eyes stung the slightest bit when Daphne moved up next to her, took her arm, gave it a pat, and caught Gabriella’s eye in the reflection of the mirror. “While you said you’re concerned your friendship with Nicholas is in jeopardy, you need to remember what Mrs. Allen disclosed—she said he was besotted with you.”
“Which was a curious thing for her to say, but I’m not sure she was right about that.”
“What if she was?”
It was a question Gabriella could not allow herself to dwell upon, nor did she know how to answer it. Sending Daphne a smile instead, she walked out of the retiring room, finding Nicholas waiting for them with two champagne flutes in his hands.
“Everything all right?” he asked, moving to join them.
Gabriella took a flute from him. “Everything’s fine.”
His gaze sharpened on her face. “Something’s wrong.”
Daphne stepped forward. “Of course something’s wrong, Nicholas. Gabriella and I only just watched Jennette and Duncan dance their first dance as husband and wife, and we, I’m sorry to say, turned into blubbering ninnies. We were forced to repair to the retiring room to fix the damage.”
“Gabriella has never been the type to blubber, and besides, I saw Mrs. Allen leave the retiring room just a moment ago. She didn’t look happy.”
“I don’t believe she ever looks happy, does she?” Gabriella asked lightly, right as the music began and Nicholas took her champagne from her and handed it to Daphne.
“I believe this is our dance,” he said, taking hold of her arm.
Even knowing that taking to the floor with Nicholas was probably not a brilliant idea, considering the scrutiny she’d already drawn, Gabriella couldn’t resist the lure of having one more chance to dance with him at a ball. She was fully intending on developing a headache after the dance, which would give her an excuse to leave, but for now she was going to enjoy her time with the man who’d always been her very best friend.
Ignoring the stares of everyone they passed, Gabriella walked with Nicholas onto the ballroom floor, stopping in her tracks when a realization struck. “We just left Daphne all alone.”
“She’s dressed like an eccentric cat lady. Believe me, she’ll be fine.” He nodded to where Daphne had taken a seat in the midst of some dour-looking ladies. “Those are the most quarrelsome society matrons in the city, all of whom are hard of hearing and possessed of questionable temperaments. Believe me, no one will dare approach her as long as she’s sitting there.”
Before Gabriella could argue, the music started, and then Nicholas was leading her across the floor. Everyone else in the room faded away as they swept along, Nicholas’s breath tickling her ear when he whispered reminders about the steps, then laughing in delight when she reminded him that they’d danced the waltz before, so she didn’t need reminders every other second.
In what felt like no time at all, though, the music drew to an end. Nicholas held fast to her arm as he returned her to Daphne’s side, then held out his hand to Daphne, who shot a look to Gabriella before she shook her head. “I can’t leave her alone.”
Nicholas’s gaze sharpened on Gabriella. “Why can’t she leave you alone?”
“Because I’m uncomfortable being alone with people I don’t know?”
Nicholas turned his attention to Daphne. “Forgive me, but would you mind if I begged off this dance with you? I suspect Gabriella is not being as forthcoming as she should be about what recently occurred in the retiring room. I feel a distinct need to speak with her privately about the matter.”
“Just steer clear of Mrs. Allen, because if she sees the two of you making off for some remote part of the house, it’s not going to help Gabriella’s reputation.”
Gabriella blew out a breath as Daphne immediately began looking guilty and Nicholas took to looking thunderous.
“I believe the entranceway should be safe,” Nicholas said before he took Gabriella’s arm and ambled through the crowd, nodding and smiling to all the young ladies who were watching their progress.
“You’re not helping your reputation right now,” Gabriella muttered, to which Nicholas didn’t respond. “And if you’re worried about Mrs. Allen insulting me, don’t,” she continued. “Granted, she did insult me, but she was completely off the mark, so it’s really of little consequence.”
“What did she say to you?”
“I don’t think there’s any reason to get into that.”
“Oh, I think there’s every reason.”
Reaching the hallway, they headed for the curved staircase that led from the second floor to the first. Their progress, however, was delayed when a fashionably dressed lady waved to Nicholas and began to make her way toward them. Stopping a few feet away, the lady smiled, but that smile vanished in the blink of an eye when her attention drifted to Gabriella and her gaze lingered on Gabriella’s face.
“Josephine?”
Gabriella frowned. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else.”
The lady’s gaze remained on Gabriella’s face until she blinked, and then blinked again. “Oh, forgive me. My mistake. You’re much too young to be Josephine Larrimore. Pray tell me, though, what is your name?”
Nicholas stepped forward. “Allow me to perform an introduction, Mrs. de Peyster. This is a friend of mine, Miss Goodhue. Gabriella, this is Mrs. Chauncey de Peyster.”
Mrs. de Peyster glanced back to Nicholas. “I beg your pardon, but did you say Gabriella Goodhue?”
“I did.”
Mrs. de Peyster cocked her head to the side. “How . . . disconcerting,” she murmured before she dipped into a curtsy. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss . . . Goodhue, but if you’ll excuse me, my husband is waiting for me in the ballroom.” Turning, Mrs. de Peyster glided away in a rustle of expensive silk.
“Not that I’m an expert on matters of etiquette and what’s expected after an introduction has been performed,” Gabriella began, “but that seemed slightly peculiar.”
“That was peculiar, but Mrs. de Peyster isn’t known for holding charming conversations. However, I don’t want to discuss Mrs. de Peyster. I’d like to discuss Mrs. Allen.”
“Can’t we just leave it at she was unpleasant?”
“What did she say?”
“You’re very annoying when you’re persistent.”
“And you’re very annoying when you’re trying to dodge a question you don’t want to answer.”
Gabriella headed down the stairs, then moved toward the receiving hall, Nicholas drawing her to a stop before they reached the entranceway.
“Did she accuse you of being my mistress?” Nicholas asked.
She blew out a breath. “Unfortunately, yes, she did.”
He sent her a single nod before he turned back the way they’d just come. “I need to have a word with her.”
“That’s not a good idea,” she said, hardly reassured when he immediately took to shaking his head.
“I’m going to have to disagree with you there, and before you begin arguing with me, know that nothing you say is going to stop me from speaking my mind to a woman who insulted you, my dearest friend and a woman I hold in the greatest esteem.”