call.
Brent’s stomach tightened. Was he hearing things, or was that really Lady Gabrielle calling for his dog? He looked up at the sky and judged the time to be somewhere past eight. What the devil was she doing back in the park so early in the morn? And probably alone again, too!
He turned and started toward her voice. He heard a deep, menacing growl from Brutus, and Brent knew the dog had smelled him. He hoped that this time, Lady Gabrielle had a leash on the mammoth dog. Brent knew the mastiff to be old, deaf, and half blind, too, but not without the capability of knocking him down.
Brent walked out of a stand of trees and saw Lady Gabrielle and Brutus standing beside a two-seated open carriage, where a small, older lady sat, wearing a ridiculously fancy hat for so early in the day. A servant sat on the bench behind her. He recognized the driver as one of the men who’d chased him down and jumped on him yesterday. The man watched him warily, but he had no reason to fear Brent.
Lady Gabrielle’s bright-blue eyes widened with surprise as he walked toward her. Brutus barked another warning and then started wagging his tail. Brent also noticed the animal was once again unfettered. Lady Gabrielle reached down and patted Brutus’s shoulder and whispered something to him. Hopefully, it wasn’t the command to attack.
Brent approached them slowly and stopped a respectful distance away from her and the dog. He took off his hat, bowed, and said, “Lady Gabrielle, I must say I’m not at all shocked to find you in the park so early in the morning.”
“Nor I you, Lord Brentwood,” she said, giving him the customary curtsey his title deserved. “Obviously we’ve found something we have in common.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “I think you mean something else we have in common.” And then, not wanting to give her time to answer, he quickly turned his attention to the mastiff and added, “And how are you this morning, Brutus?”
The dog made another woof that seemed only a little friendlier than the first. “Temperamental as ever, I see. Perhaps you don’t enjoy the park on cold mornings as much as your mistress, or is it the early hour that bothers you?”
Lady Gabrielle ignored his comments to her dog and presented to him her companion, her mother’s sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Potter.
He smiled and said, “Mrs. Potter, you are a brave lady to be out on such a dreary day.”
“Balderdash, I’m not brave at all, I’m freezing my—”
“Auntie Bethie.” Lady Gabrielle interrupted her aunt before the last word was uttered, though Brent knew exactly what the loud-voiced lady was going to say.
While Lady Gabrielle was dressed in the same simple black-hooded cloak she’d worn yesterday, her aunt was not so restrained. Mrs. Potter wore a well-cut black coat trimmed at the neck with fur. Her hands were stuffed into a fur muffle, and her legs and feet were covered by a finely woven wool blanket. She was a small woman, and there wasn’t much of her that wasn’t covered in wool or fur, with the exception of a ridiculously tall, short-brimmed hat that was piled high with flowers and pheasant feathers. With sharp features, olive skin, and wide, deep-set brown eyes, she looked nothing like her much fairer and comely niece. Lady Gabrielle turned back to Brent and, with an almost shy smile, said, “My aunt is truly wonderful to indulge me as she does.”
“I’m not wonderful at all,” Mrs. Potter said with threads of humor lacing her lusty tone and a sparkle glinting in her dark eyes. “I’m here because I was coerced.”
“Auntie!” the duke’s daughter gasped. “You know I did no such thing.”
“Not you, silly girl.” Mrs. Potter laughed heartily in a voice that was much too deep and gruff for a woman her size. “I’m talking about your obnoxious father.”
Keeping her gaze on her aunt, Lady Gabrielle asked, “What did Papa do this time?”
“What he always says he will do but never does.
Brent’s stomach tightened. Was he hearing things, or was that really Lady Gabrielle calling for his dog? He looked up at the sky and judged the time to be somewhere past eight. What the devil was she doing back in the park so early in the morn? And probably alone again, too!
He turned and started toward her voice. He heard a deep, menacing growl from Brutus, and Brent knew the dog had smelled him. He hoped that this time, Lady Gabrielle had a leash on the mammoth dog. Brent knew the mastiff to be old, deaf, and half blind, too, but not without the capability of knocking him down.
Brent walked out of a stand of trees and saw Lady Gabrielle and Brutus standing beside a two-seated open carriage, where a small, older lady sat, wearing a ridiculously fancy hat for so early in the day. A servant sat on the bench behind her. He recognized the driver as one of the men who’d chased him down and jumped on him yesterday. The man watched him warily, but he had no reason to fear Brent.
Lady Gabrielle’s bright-blue eyes widened with surprise as he walked toward her. Brutus barked another warning and then started wagging his tail. Brent also noticed the animal was once again unfettered. Lady Gabrielle reached down and patted Brutus’s shoulder and whispered something to him. Hopefully, it wasn’t the command to attack.
Brent approached them slowly and stopped a respectful distance away from her and the dog. He took off his hat, bowed, and said, “Lady Gabrielle, I must say I’m not at all shocked to find you in the park so early in the morning.”
“Nor I you, Lord Brentwood,” she said, giving him the customary curtsey his title deserved. “Obviously we’ve found something we have in common.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “I think you mean something else we have in common.” And then, not wanting to give her time to answer, he quickly turned his attention to the mastiff and added, “And how are you this morning, Brutus?”
The dog made another woof that seemed only a little friendlier than the first. “Temperamental as ever, I see. Perhaps you don’t enjoy the park on cold mornings as much as your mistress, or is it the early hour that bothers you?”
Lady Gabrielle ignored his comments to her dog and presented to him her companion, her mother’s sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Potter.
He smiled and said, “Mrs. Potter, you are a brave lady to be out on such a dreary day.”
“Balderdash, I’m not brave at all, I’m freezing my—”
“Auntie Bethie.” Lady Gabrielle interrupted her aunt before the last word was uttered, though Brent knew exactly what the loud-voiced lady was going to say.
While Lady Gabrielle was dressed in the same simple black-hooded cloak she’d worn yesterday, her aunt was not so restrained. Mrs. Potter wore a well-cut black coat trimmed at the neck with fur. Her hands were stuffed into a fur muffle, and her legs and feet were covered by a finely woven wool blanket. She was a small woman, and there wasn’t much of her that wasn’t covered in wool or fur, with the exception of a ridiculously tall, short-brimmed hat that was piled high with flowers and pheasant feathers. With sharp features, olive skin, and wide, deep-set brown eyes, she looked nothing like her much fairer and comely niece. Lady Gabrielle turned back to Brent and, with an almost shy smile, said, “My aunt is truly wonderful to indulge me as she does.”
“I’m not wonderful at all,” Mrs. Potter said with threads of humor lacing her lusty tone and a sparkle glinting in her dark eyes. “I’m here because I was coerced.”
“Auntie!” the duke’s daughter gasped. “You know I did no such thing.”
“Not you, silly girl.” Mrs. Potter laughed heartily in a voice that was much too deep and gruff for a woman her size. “I’m talking about your obnoxious father.”
Keeping her gaze on her aunt, Lady Gabrielle asked, “What did Papa do this time?”
“What he always says he will do but never does.
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