the weary horses trotted up the drive of Vanbrugh Court. A postchaise with the Vanbrugh arms on its panels was being driven away from the front door. “Simon must have just arrived,” Gabrielle observed.
Nathaniel made no comment. Once he’d spoken his mind to his host, he would be free to leave the trouble and temptation resident in Vanbrugh Court before matters became any worse. He’d be on the road by dawn.
Gabrielle swung down from her mount without assistance, but Nathaniel’s sharp eyes noticed that she wavered for a second as her feet touched solid ground and the straight back curved slightly, her shoulders drooping.
So she wasn’t completely invincible. It was a small satisfaction. He put a hand lightly under her elbow as they went up the steps to the open front door. The touch was electrifying, and he heard her sharp indrawn breath.
“Oh, there you are!” Georgie came out of the library.“You’re the last to come back. I was beginning to worry.”
“Gabby’s always the last to return from a hunt,” her husband commented, following her into the hail.
Simon Vanbrugh was a rotund man with a genial expression enlivened by a pair of very shrewd gray eyes. His assessing gaze ran over the new arrivals. Had Gabrielle managed to win over the prejudiced spymaster? It was hard to tell, but they’d presumably spent the day together and there was a promising informality to Nathaniel’s supporting hand beneath her elbow.
“Did she wear you out, Nathaniel?” He laughed lightly as he bent to kiss his wife’s cousin. He and Georgie had grown up as neighbors and had been childhood sweethearts, so Simon had known Gabby almost as long as his wife had.
“Did I, Lord Praed?” Gabrielle turned to look at her escort with a cool arch smile.
“I don’t believe so, madame,” he said, suddenly stiff and formal. His hand dropped from her elbow. “If you have a minute, Simon, I’d like a word with you.”
“Georgie, will you come and talk to me in my bath?” Gabrielle asked as the two men disappeared into the library. “Or must you play hostess for the next hour?”
Georgie shook her head, interest sparkling in her eyes. “Everyone’s dressing for dinner. Besides, nothing can take precedence over an account of your day with Nathaniel Praed.”
Gabrielle laughed, linking her arm through her cousin’s as they mounted the stairs. “I’ve a tale to tell, Georgie.”
In the library Nathaniel flung himself onto a leather sofa with an audible sigh. He stretched out his legs to the fire and examined his mud-splattered boots.
He came to the point with customary lack of ceremony.“What the devil do you mean by foisting that wild woman on me, Simon?”
“Wild? Gabby?” Simon turned from the sideboard, a cut-glass decanter in his hand. “She’s not wild, Nathaniel. Oh, a trifle spirited, I grant you, but she’s got as cool a head on her shoulders as anyone I know.”
“Oh, is that so? And it’s a cool head that leads a woman to climb through my bedroom window at one o’clock in the morning? It’s a cool head that leads her to jump a ten-foot stone wall as if it’s a stack of firewood?”
“Claret?” Simon inquired, a chuckle in his voice. “Did she really climb through your window?”
“Thank you.” Nathaniel took the proffered glass. “Yes, she did, presenting me with that ridiculous scrap of velvet … of all the absurd, fanciful notions. Obviously she thinks the business of the service is some great game of secret signs and amusing clandestine excursions. I tell you, Simon, you had no right, no right at all, to compromise me by revealing my identity to a headstrong, reckless,
wild
woman.”
Having thus unburdened himself, Nathaniel drank deeply of his claret.
Simon sat down in a wing chair opposite him and thoughtfully sipped his own wine. “You’re not compromised, Nathaniel. You should know better than to imagine I would reveal your identity without good cause.”
He leaned back in
Nathaniel made no comment. Once he’d spoken his mind to his host, he would be free to leave the trouble and temptation resident in Vanbrugh Court before matters became any worse. He’d be on the road by dawn.
Gabrielle swung down from her mount without assistance, but Nathaniel’s sharp eyes noticed that she wavered for a second as her feet touched solid ground and the straight back curved slightly, her shoulders drooping.
So she wasn’t completely invincible. It was a small satisfaction. He put a hand lightly under her elbow as they went up the steps to the open front door. The touch was electrifying, and he heard her sharp indrawn breath.
“Oh, there you are!” Georgie came out of the library.“You’re the last to come back. I was beginning to worry.”
“Gabby’s always the last to return from a hunt,” her husband commented, following her into the hail.
Simon Vanbrugh was a rotund man with a genial expression enlivened by a pair of very shrewd gray eyes. His assessing gaze ran over the new arrivals. Had Gabrielle managed to win over the prejudiced spymaster? It was hard to tell, but they’d presumably spent the day together and there was a promising informality to Nathaniel’s supporting hand beneath her elbow.
“Did she wear you out, Nathaniel?” He laughed lightly as he bent to kiss his wife’s cousin. He and Georgie had grown up as neighbors and had been childhood sweethearts, so Simon had known Gabby almost as long as his wife had.
“Did I, Lord Praed?” Gabrielle turned to look at her escort with a cool arch smile.
“I don’t believe so, madame,” he said, suddenly stiff and formal. His hand dropped from her elbow. “If you have a minute, Simon, I’d like a word with you.”
“Georgie, will you come and talk to me in my bath?” Gabrielle asked as the two men disappeared into the library. “Or must you play hostess for the next hour?”
Georgie shook her head, interest sparkling in her eyes. “Everyone’s dressing for dinner. Besides, nothing can take precedence over an account of your day with Nathaniel Praed.”
Gabrielle laughed, linking her arm through her cousin’s as they mounted the stairs. “I’ve a tale to tell, Georgie.”
In the library Nathaniel flung himself onto a leather sofa with an audible sigh. He stretched out his legs to the fire and examined his mud-splattered boots.
He came to the point with customary lack of ceremony.“What the devil do you mean by foisting that wild woman on me, Simon?”
“Wild? Gabby?” Simon turned from the sideboard, a cut-glass decanter in his hand. “She’s not wild, Nathaniel. Oh, a trifle spirited, I grant you, but she’s got as cool a head on her shoulders as anyone I know.”
“Oh, is that so? And it’s a cool head that leads a woman to climb through my bedroom window at one o’clock in the morning? It’s a cool head that leads her to jump a ten-foot stone wall as if it’s a stack of firewood?”
“Claret?” Simon inquired, a chuckle in his voice. “Did she really climb through your window?”
“Thank you.” Nathaniel took the proffered glass. “Yes, she did, presenting me with that ridiculous scrap of velvet … of all the absurd, fanciful notions. Obviously she thinks the business of the service is some great game of secret signs and amusing clandestine excursions. I tell you, Simon, you had no right, no right at all, to compromise me by revealing my identity to a headstrong, reckless,
wild
woman.”
Having thus unburdened himself, Nathaniel drank deeply of his claret.
Simon sat down in a wing chair opposite him and thoughtfully sipped his own wine. “You’re not compromised, Nathaniel. You should know better than to imagine I would reveal your identity without good cause.”
He leaned back in
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