Enchanting Pleasures by Eloisa James

glove resting on his arm, and she snatched her hand back. “Not at all,” he said politely, and bowed again. “I can see that you had no alternative other than to bring the child with you. I will arrange to have Mrs. Ewing located.” He bowed yet again and backed out of Gabby’s chamber.
Gabby sank onto the bed and stripped off her gloves. Tears rose to her eyes. Peter may not be set against the idea of marriage, as she had thought for a mad moment, but he was so cool, so self-contained. Obviously, propriety meant everything to him. The tears snaked down her cheeks. It was as if she were tailormade to put him out of countenance. He was on a first-name basis with the future king of England—calling him Prinny!—and she was just as butterfingered as she always was.
Why, but why, did she tell that lie about Codswallop? Peter seemed so horrified by her disarray that the fib just flew out of her lips. What must Quill think of her? She should have confessed. Except that if Peter knew it was her blunder…He would never marry her if he knew what a cowhanded mess she’d made of a simple thing like pouring tea. And she couldn’t go back to her father. Not to her father and his sharp-tongued admonishments as he outlined her many faux pas .
She took a shuddering breath. She simply had to become more graceful, that was all. More like the kind of woman Peter would wish to marry.
There was a scratch at her door. Gabby hastily scrubbed at the tearstains on her cheeks and stood up.
“Enter!”
Quill’s deep voice answered her. “I have brought Phoebe to see you. She seems to have the fixed notion that you might have fled back to India without her.”
Gabby promptly knelt on the floor and stretched out her arms to the little girl. “Sweet, Phoebe, I would never, never have left you here alone.”
The child flew into her arms like a carrier pigeon, Quill thought, watching Gabby rock Phoebe back and forth and whisper into her hair. Lucky Phoebe . He wrenched his thoughts away and strolled across the room to look out the window at his gardens.
“Peter doesn’t mean to be critical,” he said suddenly. “He has a high opinion of his own consequence, but he’s a very good sort, for all that.”
Gabby answered at cross-purposes. “Is there any chance that your father might let Codswallop go?”
Quill turned around, even though the sight of Gabby cuddling Phoebe gave him a queer feeling about his heart. “Feeling guilty, are you?” He grinned at her.
Gabby felt too ashamed to respond to his teasing. “I cannot conceive why I fibbed, Quill,” she said earnestly. “It was just that Peter looked so horrified—”
“I think it was quite a useful lie, as these things go,” Quill pointed out.
“He is right, Miss Gabby,” Phoebe piped up. “Don’t you remember that you told me that a lie was acceptable if it made the person feel better? And Mr. Dewland felt much better once he thought that the butler ruined your gown.”
“From the mouths of babes,” Quill murmured.
Gabby gave him a sharp glance. “It’s all very well for you to make fun,” she pointed out. “I have told a terrible fib about poor Codswallop, and his injuries are actually my fault!”
She looked so dejected that Quill felt a qualm of sympathy. “Don’t worry about Codswallop. My father would cut off his right hand before he dismissed the fellow—he’s been in the household for years. I’ll go down and bring him your sincerest apologies, how would that be?”
“I shall do it myself,” Gabby said with resolution.
“You most certainly will not!” Quill retorted. “Ladies do not descend into the servants’ quarters with impunity, Gabby!”
“When it comes to one’s own culpability, propriety should stand aside,” Gabby responded. “I’m quite sure that Papa would say so.”
“Your father sounds most peculiar,” Quill observed. “At any rate, Phoebe is right. Peter is now feeling quite happy about the whole episode. It wouldn’t be fair if