cleverly, making them curious for more. Idly he realized her intelligence outweighed her beauty, but more obvious was her formidable charm. That, Jennifer Appleton had in boatloads.
Incensed, Gabriel was about to accost her when Jonathan Wiseley stole up beside him, a glass of beer in one hand, a chocolate cake in the other. “Pretty girl,” he remarked, chomping on the cake. “I hear she’s taking New York by storm.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel blazed, and the young man nearly choked on his beer.
“Well, didn’t you know? The ‘bewitching trio’ has been seen everywhere. They had tea at the Billings’, lunch at the Swathmores’. I hear they’ve been invited to every major outing this summer. No one seems to know much about them, except that their parents, who were of good family, died. Poor dears! But there’s no doubt as to their success.”
Gabriel saw the truth of the man’s words as the women piled knee-deep to get a word with Jennifer. Far from being out of her element, she played the crowd like a conductor of an orchestra. Worse, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, for she fanned herself prettily, letting the heat climb in her cheeks. Soon men surrounded her, and Gabriel could hear them fighting over who would bring her a glass of punch.
“As I said, poor little orphans. I, for one, would certainly like to adopt one of them. Say, do you think they are free lovers like that creature Woodhull? That would be terribly convenient, wouldn’t it?”
Gabriel opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t trust himself to speak. For some reason, he was furious with Jonathan’s comment, and even more furious with the men thronging around Jennifer. Turning rudely away from Jonathan, he approached her, and heard her trying to decide whether to attend the Esterbrooks’ ball, or the Chambers Street festival, a decision she seemed to enjoy mightily.
“Miss Appleton, I beg a private word with you.” Gabriel sent her a look that brooked no refusal. As the men booed, Jennifer shrugged her dainty white shoulders, then descended from the crowd. Gabriel took her by the arm and practically dragged her into the rose garden.
“Unhand me this minute!” Jennifer cried as soon as they were alone.
Gabriel released her, suddenly aware that he
was
still holding her arm. Jennifer Appleton stood in front of him amid the Barrymores’ prized Silver Lace roses, looking incredibly beautiful. Instead of appearing frightened by his confrontation, she held her chin up defiantly, as if prepared to defend her ground at all costs.
She looked so adorable, Gabriel had trouble staying angry. He had to remind himself of exactly who she was—and what she was. “Miss Appleton,” he managed sternly,“what are you doing here? Is it common for tea-leaf readers, who bilk elderly ladies out of money, to entertain at garden parties in such a manner?”
“And what, sir, is your objection?”
He could have sworn he saw laughter lurking at the corners of her mouth. He gestured to her gown. “I think you know exactly what I mean. That you are here, dressed like that, flaunting yourself before the men! How did you get invited to this gathering, or did you just crash the gates?”
She was so close, he could smell her lilac water, so reminiscent of the letter to Charles. She was even prettier here than at a distance, for she seemed to emanate an energy and vitality that were intoxicating. His own thoughts drove him to distraction. Part of him wanted to put her over his knee and beat some sense into her; the other part wanted to kiss her until she swooned.
“I was invited by Madam Barrymore herself, thanks to a recommendation by the Misses Billing,” Jennifer said indignantly, although she didn’t seem entirely displeased with the situation. “As to my dress, it is no different than Sally Vesper’s gown, nor Marybeth’s. And I wasn’t flaunting myself; I find the company of this society very congenial. I also
Incensed, Gabriel was about to accost her when Jonathan Wiseley stole up beside him, a glass of beer in one hand, a chocolate cake in the other. “Pretty girl,” he remarked, chomping on the cake. “I hear she’s taking New York by storm.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel blazed, and the young man nearly choked on his beer.
“Well, didn’t you know? The ‘bewitching trio’ has been seen everywhere. They had tea at the Billings’, lunch at the Swathmores’. I hear they’ve been invited to every major outing this summer. No one seems to know much about them, except that their parents, who were of good family, died. Poor dears! But there’s no doubt as to their success.”
Gabriel saw the truth of the man’s words as the women piled knee-deep to get a word with Jennifer. Far from being out of her element, she played the crowd like a conductor of an orchestra. Worse, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, for she fanned herself prettily, letting the heat climb in her cheeks. Soon men surrounded her, and Gabriel could hear them fighting over who would bring her a glass of punch.
“As I said, poor little orphans. I, for one, would certainly like to adopt one of them. Say, do you think they are free lovers like that creature Woodhull? That would be terribly convenient, wouldn’t it?”
Gabriel opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t trust himself to speak. For some reason, he was furious with Jonathan’s comment, and even more furious with the men thronging around Jennifer. Turning rudely away from Jonathan, he approached her, and heard her trying to decide whether to attend the Esterbrooks’ ball, or the Chambers Street festival, a decision she seemed to enjoy mightily.
“Miss Appleton, I beg a private word with you.” Gabriel sent her a look that brooked no refusal. As the men booed, Jennifer shrugged her dainty white shoulders, then descended from the crowd. Gabriel took her by the arm and practically dragged her into the rose garden.
“Unhand me this minute!” Jennifer cried as soon as they were alone.
Gabriel released her, suddenly aware that he
was
still holding her arm. Jennifer Appleton stood in front of him amid the Barrymores’ prized Silver Lace roses, looking incredibly beautiful. Instead of appearing frightened by his confrontation, she held her chin up defiantly, as if prepared to defend her ground at all costs.
She looked so adorable, Gabriel had trouble staying angry. He had to remind himself of exactly who she was—and what she was. “Miss Appleton,” he managed sternly,“what are you doing here? Is it common for tea-leaf readers, who bilk elderly ladies out of money, to entertain at garden parties in such a manner?”
“And what, sir, is your objection?”
He could have sworn he saw laughter lurking at the corners of her mouth. He gestured to her gown. “I think you know exactly what I mean. That you are here, dressed like that, flaunting yourself before the men! How did you get invited to this gathering, or did you just crash the gates?”
She was so close, he could smell her lilac water, so reminiscent of the letter to Charles. She was even prettier here than at a distance, for she seemed to emanate an energy and vitality that were intoxicating. His own thoughts drove him to distraction. Part of him wanted to put her over his knee and beat some sense into her; the other part wanted to kiss her until she swooned.
“I was invited by Madam Barrymore herself, thanks to a recommendation by the Misses Billing,” Jennifer said indignantly, although she didn’t seem entirely displeased with the situation. “As to my dress, it is no different than Sally Vesper’s gown, nor Marybeth’s. And I wasn’t flaunting myself; I find the company of this society very congenial. I also
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