Page 44 of The Duke’s Masked Wallflower

“Into a cage,” he corrected.

Rosalie’s heart dropped. Who was this gentleman in front of her, who was tired and spoke so cryptically and acerbically about others? Where had her gentle and staid Mr. Sinclair gone?

She opened her mouth to say something when someone cleared their throat nearby. Rosalie shot to her feet and looked through the oily lamplight to see where the sound had come from.

Gabriel stood at the bottom of the courtyard steps. His friend, the Marquess of Beaumont, trailed a step behind.

“I had not realized Almack’s would be so popular tonight, nor that you were so popular, Miss Winthrop,” Gabriel said, wearing a familiar, teasing half-smile that made her legs feel weak.

“Your Grace,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

He turned to his friend and laughed darkly. “May I not go where I please, Miss Winthrop? London is hardly yours all alone.”

Rosalie cast a glance behind her at Mr. Sinclair. What would Gabriel think, finding them together like this?

“But in tonight’s case,” Gabriel continued, and the light in his face died out quickly, “I find it strange you should ask me why I have come.”

“What...?” Rosalie thought back to their last meeting, to their fight... and then she thought about her social diary. “Oh heavens,” she said.

“Heavens?” Gabriel repeated, darkly. “There is nothing heavenly about such a clerical error, Miss Winthrop. I can only presume that you invited Mr. Sinclair and me both to be your public suitor tonight.”

Fourteen

Suffice it to say that Gabriel did not remember much about leaving the assembly rooms. A cloud of anger escorted him from the premises, familiar faces blurring into a dark, gray sky around him. Outside, his coachman looked startled to see him when he returned to King Street, only five minutes after they had parked there in the first place.

“We’re returning to the house,” Gabriel ordered, reaching for the door as his driver quickly tucked away the paper he had been reading. The boot-boy who had come with them dropped off the back of the vehicle and extinguished his cheroot under his shoe.

Drifting out of Almack’s, there were sounds of frivolity and amusement, and they made Gabriel’s teeth ache. The dancing had obviously started in earnest. James had remained indoors to be with Tiffany, who attended the assembly with her sister and her husband. Gabriel had no reason to remain where he was not needed. The one in a crowd of twos.

He heard someone call his name. The boot-boy moved toward him defensively, but Gabriel waved him off and scolded him.

Rosalie closed the assembly room front doors behind her. Her white skirts were bunched in her free fist, and she looked out of breath from having run after him. He was almost too annoyed with her to appreciate how reckless her behavior was, and how beautiful she looked when she was flushed and apologetic.

“Did I forget something indoors?” he asked.

She stumbled as she walked toward him. “What?”

“Oh, I thought you were one of the servants...” When she did not laugh, Gabriel turned away from her. “Go back inside, Miss Winthrop. Sinclair will wonder where his beloved has gone if you do not go quickly.”

When she said nothing, he slipped his fingers around the door handle. As soon as he had opened it, Rosalie emerged from beside him and slammed it shut again.

“Are you mad?” he said.

“I never know around you.” She came closer, dropping her voice as she eyed the boot-boy like he was a common footpad. “Please, Your Grace, allow me only a moment of your time.”

He could not deny his curiosity, even when it hurt to look at her just then. “Please?” he mocked. She looked disinclined to speak while they had an audience, let alone respond to his teasing. He groaned and swung open the door. “Get in the carriage, then.”

She did as she was told without complaint, probably thinking, like Gabriel, that the sooner they were out of sight, the better. He scanned the front of the building and the rest of the street. There was no one around. The other drivers had gone to play cards at the end of the cavalcade of parked carriages. He entered his carriage beside her and closed the door tight.

The light from the lamps pushed through the glass in a yellow fog. He pulled the blinds just enough to hide their faces from passersby, and he saw the boot-boy move in front of the carriage window to further eclipse the scene within.

“Now,” Rosalie said, when he showed no sign of speaking first. “Are you going to keep brooding or will you allow me to apologize to you for tonight without mocking me?”

“Brooding?” Gabriel cried. “I have never brooded a day in my life.”

She laughed in shock. “That is hardly true.”

“Adding insult to injury. Is this why you chased me down? You are a cruel mistress, Miss Winthrop. Cruel, and disorganized with your time.”