no interest in her. If only she were beautiful and alluring and adept at flirting—if only she were a dashing widow with a slightly unsavory reputation, then maybe he would set her up in a little house in Somers Town and give her carte blanche.
She knew all about such things, because like a quiet little mouse, she often sat in the corner of the drawing room doing her needlework, so inconspicuous that sometimes her sister, Petronella, and her sister’s best friend, Harriet Coupland, forgot she was even there. On such occasions, the two older women gossiped about things no unmarried miss should be allowed to hear, even if the young lady in question was not so young anymore.
But none of their gossip had given Verity an inkling of an idea that love could feel this way. Listening to their chatter, Verity had never understood why a young lady of respectable birth would wish to elope with a man whose station in life was not equal to her own, or how a married woman could risk home and family by having an adulterous affair.
But now, knowing she would soon be saying good-bye to Mr. Sherington, perhaps never to see him again, Verity regretted more than ever before in her life that she was a plain spinster of advancing years.
The sensible, responsible part of her mind persisted in pointing out that it was illogical even to dream that Mr. Sherington would ever make her an offer, honorable or dishonorable.
But the wild part of herself, which she had never before suspected she possessed, was ready to sacrifice everything to be in his arms. Despite her upbringing, which had been in all ways respectable, if Mr. Sherington turned to her and offered her carte blanche, she would accept with alacrity, even though she knew full well that taking such a drastic step would mean the total destruction of her life ... and more than likely the eternal damnation of her immortal soul.
While she was staring at him hungrily, he turned and smiled at her, and she realized it was already too late—she had become unchaste and wanton in her thoughts. Even if he never touched her, she had already lost her soul.
Accustomed as he was to making quick decisions in his commercial dealings, Gabriel saw no reason to procrastinate in this case, which was, when all was said and done, strictly a business venture rather than an affair of the heart.
He therefore began his campaign to win her affection by inquiring solicitously, “Are you warm enough, Miss Jolliffe? Do you perhaps wish to stop at the Crown and Tho rn for a bit of refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I do not want to risk missing the stage, for the next southbound one does not come through Belford for another three days.”
So much for planning things thoroughly. Already he was faced with his first obstacle. Naturally enough, he wished to be private with Miss Jolliffe so that he might begin wooing her.
Since they would be together only another hour or two, his opportunity to establish himself firmly in her affection was severely limited, and he could not solve the problem by simply continuing on in a hired post-chaise.
While there was no particular problem with being unchaperoned on a back road in Northumberland, it was quite another matter for Miss Jolliffe to travel the length of the Great North Road in his company. And the closer they got to London, the greater the risk that they would, be seen by someone with a wagging tongue.
He could, of course, hire a maid to lend them a degree of propriety, but it would still look suspicious should anyone chance to recognize him. And despite his own notoriety he did not wish his future wife’s reputation to be tarnished in the slightest degree.
Besides, the maid would be bound to chatter, which he was not prepared to tolerate.
But still, he balked at the idea of putting Miss Jolliffe on the stage while he went by mail coach. She had already proven to be disastrously naive about the world. Left to her own devices, who knew what strange man might accost
She knew all about such things, because like a quiet little mouse, she often sat in the corner of the drawing room doing her needlework, so inconspicuous that sometimes her sister, Petronella, and her sister’s best friend, Harriet Coupland, forgot she was even there. On such occasions, the two older women gossiped about things no unmarried miss should be allowed to hear, even if the young lady in question was not so young anymore.
But none of their gossip had given Verity an inkling of an idea that love could feel this way. Listening to their chatter, Verity had never understood why a young lady of respectable birth would wish to elope with a man whose station in life was not equal to her own, or how a married woman could risk home and family by having an adulterous affair.
But now, knowing she would soon be saying good-bye to Mr. Sherington, perhaps never to see him again, Verity regretted more than ever before in her life that she was a plain spinster of advancing years.
The sensible, responsible part of her mind persisted in pointing out that it was illogical even to dream that Mr. Sherington would ever make her an offer, honorable or dishonorable.
But the wild part of herself, which she had never before suspected she possessed, was ready to sacrifice everything to be in his arms. Despite her upbringing, which had been in all ways respectable, if Mr. Sherington turned to her and offered her carte blanche, she would accept with alacrity, even though she knew full well that taking such a drastic step would mean the total destruction of her life ... and more than likely the eternal damnation of her immortal soul.
While she was staring at him hungrily, he turned and smiled at her, and she realized it was already too late—she had become unchaste and wanton in her thoughts. Even if he never touched her, she had already lost her soul.
Accustomed as he was to making quick decisions in his commercial dealings, Gabriel saw no reason to procrastinate in this case, which was, when all was said and done, strictly a business venture rather than an affair of the heart.
He therefore began his campaign to win her affection by inquiring solicitously, “Are you warm enough, Miss Jolliffe? Do you perhaps wish to stop at the Crown and Tho rn for a bit of refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I do not want to risk missing the stage, for the next southbound one does not come through Belford for another three days.”
So much for planning things thoroughly. Already he was faced with his first obstacle. Naturally enough, he wished to be private with Miss Jolliffe so that he might begin wooing her.
Since they would be together only another hour or two, his opportunity to establish himself firmly in her affection was severely limited, and he could not solve the problem by simply continuing on in a hired post-chaise.
While there was no particular problem with being unchaperoned on a back road in Northumberland, it was quite another matter for Miss Jolliffe to travel the length of the Great North Road in his company. And the closer they got to London, the greater the risk that they would, be seen by someone with a wagging tongue.
He could, of course, hire a maid to lend them a degree of propriety, but it would still look suspicious should anyone chance to recognize him. And despite his own notoriety he did not wish his future wife’s reputation to be tarnished in the slightest degree.
Besides, the maid would be bound to chatter, which he was not prepared to tolerate.
But still, he balked at the idea of putting Miss Jolliffe on the stage while he went by mail coach. She had already proven to be disastrously naive about the world. Left to her own devices, who knew what strange man might accost
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