Devonny Ch. 09

She was expected to find a match. For what? For safety? Security and protection? "But what about love, hm?" She asked, halting before Orion's stall. The large Andalusian stuck his nose out to nuzzle her palm.

She smiled dimly. She doubted she'd be making a love match, not when her heart and thoughts were otherwise occupied with the unattainable. Perhaps a distraction was exactly what she needed—a more suitable distraction.

Squinting into the sunlight as she exited the stables, she spotted Sadie taking bed linens down from the line behind the kitchens. Sadie smiled as Devonny appeared beside her and began unpinning a sheet and drawing it down to fold.

Devonny smiled when she saw Sadie's protest and shook her head. "I'm not used to being so idle. It doesn't agree with me. Let me help."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Sadie winked at her. "I saw young Miss Madison leaving not too long ago. Are she and Prince going to announce their engagement soon?"

Devonny lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug as she folded the clean white bed pane. "He's spoken with her father recently. I don't think it should be too long. Her parents seem quite fond of him."

As they should be," Sadie said cheerily. "He a fine young man, a prize for anyone's daughter."

Devonny nodded smiling.

When they had finished folding, Devonny bent and hefted the linen basket into her arms, neatly sidestepping Sadie's outstretched hands. "You've got enough to do," Devonny soothed. "I can change some bedclothes. Now where do these belong?"

Sadie nodded to the Eastern wing of Kedleston hall. "The young masters' apartments," she said, noticing Devonny's look of uncertainty. She patted the girl's arm. "Don't mind them, dearie, they're in the study working."

Devonny favored her with an appreciative grin before heading towards the house. She made her way toward Elijah's room, knocking first before entering just to be sure she didn't disturb him.

Elijah's apartments were gracefully decorated in creams, gold and a deep sapphire blue not unlike the color of his gaze. There was a sitting area near the fireplace though a billiard table that dominated the center of the room, the felt of the table matching the jewel toned blue of the room. Light poured in from the large windows illuminating a large desk littered with papers and maps. The door beyond the sitting area and fireplace led to a large bathing chamber and dressing room.

Devonny smiled to herself. It was as if the room captured Eli's very essence within; the effervescent energy and the quiet strength below.

She quickly changed his linens and replaced the bath towels and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Unease settled in the hallow of her belly as she continued down the hall toward Gabriel's quarters. She had never seen his room, not even at Davenport House in London. There seemed something dangerous and deliciously forbidden about entering his bedroom.

She knocked tentatively and then louder when there was no response.

Hitching her breath and setting the basket on her hp, she grasped the door handle with slightly trembling fingers and pushed the door open. If Elijah's essence permeated his room, then Gabriel's room was the physical manifestation of the man's aura.

Willing herself forward, she entered. Like Eli's room there was a sitting area by the fireplace, large dark brown leather armchairs and a deep burgundy settee. Upon the large mahogany desk papers and ledgers were neatly stacked against the backdrop of bookshelves filled to the brim with leather bound works. Against one wall was a display of guns and sabers.

The large mahogany bed was overhung by a burgundy cushioned headboard and overhanging canopy stamped with rosegold fleur-di-lis.

Catching herself lingering, Devonny hurriedly went to pull back the sheets of his massive bed and replaced the linens quickly, dumping the old linens into the basket. She bent to pick up the basket only to halt, eyeing the book cases.

It was unlikely that she'd have another opportunity to peruse his quarters. Examining his bookshelves wouldn't hurt.

She carefully trailed her fingertips over the spines, pulling a leather bound collection of William Wilberforces's essays. Flipping open the cover, she drew a breath at the scrawling script upon the front cover. 'To Charles Davenport, friend and ally, for all that you have done to further our cause. Thank you. Your Friend, William.'

Nearly breathless, she reverently ran her fingertips over the elegantly scrawled signature of the man responsible for pushing an end to the slave trade in England.

The sound of water splashing in the adjoining bathing chamber jerked her out of her awe. She started and nearly dropped the precious book. Gasping, Devonny replaced the book with shaking hands as her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She was not alone in Gabriel Davenport's chambers and there was but one person who could possibly be the other occupant.

She whirled and bent to snatch up the laundry basket, only to be halted mid motion by the deep clearing of a masculine throat.

"Devonny." There was nothing questioning in the deep timber of his voice, naught but a hint of amusement.

Shoulders hunched, swallowing nervously, Devonny turned to face him. Her mouth immediately dropped open in shock. Never in her life had she seen such a man.

Gabriel Davenport stood dripping wet, rivulets of water streaming down the gorgeous hard lines of his body. His broad muscular chest was dusted with dark hair. The same dark hair formed a thin dark trail down his taut rippling abdominals and disappearing beneath the white hand towel he held to cover himself.

Uttering a distressed squeak, she squeezed her eyes shut but his image was imprinted behind her eyelids. She had never seen a man before in such a state of undress though she'd glimpsed men at Madame's. But none of them looked so mind numbingly beautiful as Gabriel Davenport.

She could not help herself. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Every inch of him was solid muscle, his broad chest tapering to taut rippling abdominals and narrow hips. There at his hips, the golden sun kissed color of his skin paled slightly down to his muscular thighs, well shaped and liberally dusted with fine dark hair. She felt an unfamiliar ache pulse low in her belly.

"Devonny." His voice was low, nearly a growl. The way she was looking at him was soon going to make the hand towel obsolete.

At the sound of her name on his lips, her honey colored eyes flickered to his. He felt his cock stiffen at the unbridled heat in her gaze. He shifted and she blinked, the heat replaced by cool modestly as she lowered her gaze to the carpet with a brush of her thick dark lashes. Her golden brown cheeks flushed pink.

"Sir, I--I," she faltered.

"Gabriel," his voice rumbled, correcting her.

"I-I knocked," she hugged the laundry basket against her stomach. "I did not mean..."

"I had fallen asleep soaking in the bath, I did not hear you," Gabriel said. "And I have no towel but this one." He stepped closer and watched her draw a sharp breath though she did not raise her eyes. A small smiled curved on his lips. "Perhaps my bath towels are in you laundry basket?'

Devonny blinked but kept her gaze lowered. "Oh, yes. Of course." She hurriedly placed the basket on the bed and withdrew a stack of fluffy white bath towels before skirting around him and heading towards the bathroom. He chuckled. "Devonny..." causing her to stop in her tracks.

She drew a deep steadying breath as she felt him draw near. She felt the heat of him against her back though he did not touch her. The clean male scent of him washed over her. His arm brushed against her and she forced herself still as he plucked a towel from the top of the pile. She fought the suddenly overwhelming urge to turn into his arms and bury her face in his chest.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice husky, sending a ripple of exquisite heat down her spine.

She nearly bolted to the bathroom. The air was still heavy with steam and the faint hint of sandalwood. She hung the towels, taking more time than necessary as she willed the trembling from her limbs and took a deep calming breath. She emerged to see Gabriel standing expectantly, heavily muscled arms crossed over his glorious chest. At least he'd wrapped the towel around his hips.

She met his gaze uncertainly. "I'm sorry for intruding on your privacy, Gabriel. I'll go."

He did not speak, nor did he make any move to stop her.

She started for the door only to have him clear his throat shift his weight. "Devonny," his voice was low when he moved into her path. He watched her liquid eyes grow as wide as saucers and he reminded himself to tread lightly, not to scare her.

His voice was soft and low. "What were you thinking just now?" he asked her. "When you were looking at me? You had the most peculiar expression on your face."

Devonny stared at him. He couldn't be serious. What did he expect her to say? And to what end? She swallowed thickly, her heart seeming to beat an erratic staccato against her ribcage. But somehow she managed to square her shoulders and look him full in the face. It was a wonder that she managed to keep her voice steady. "I was thinking that I have never seen a man more beautifully formed." A corner of her mouth tugged upwards in a half smile. "I was thinking that you are quite wonderful to look at."

The look of shock on his face was worth the effort. "Sir." She dropped a small curtsey and quickly stepped around him, making her way to the door.

"Devonny," He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. The quizzical expression on her face almost made him rethink his next move. But he was unable to stop himself.

Gabriel tugged her slightly toward him and leaned in. She came easily with no hint of hesitation, her wide gaze drifting immediately to his lips before flickering back to his intent darkening gaze. Lifting his hand to cup the smooth silk of her cheek he deliberately laid his lips against hers. He felt her sigh and her soft whimper fired his loins.

Devonny's arms trembled as she tightened her grip on the laundry basket. Heat exploded in her belly at the first brush of his lips. Her limbs trembles as her white knuckled grip on the basket was all that kept her from dropping it at her feet and reaching for him. Her fingers tingled and she wondered at the way his skin would feel beneath her finger tips and wondered whether the dark dusting of dark hairs gracing the hard planes of his chest were as silken as they looked.

He growled against her mouth as his tongue skillfully parted the seam of her lips and delved into the hot sweet recesses of her mouth. Desire shook him as he felt her lips moving against his own. Christ, she tasted good—of honey and salt—and her heady scent of jasmine and rosewater intoxicated his senses.

Devonny felt as though her heart were going to crack open her ribcage and burst through her chest as he buried his hands in her hair, holding her still as his tongue continued to exquisitely explore and plunge beyond her lips.

With a low groan that sounded almost as though he were in pain, Gabriel dragged his lips from hers. His face hovered mere inches from her own and he perused her dark arched brows above the closed thickly fringed eyelids. His breath coming in shallow gasps feathered enticingly against her lips, causing her to lean into him, only to have him pull back and firmly set her back from him. "You should go," he said in a graven tone though he could not bring himself to release her quite yet.

He watched her purse her lips slightly and blow out at stream of air before her widened amber gaze lifted to meet his own. Her brow tensed a bit as she searched his face, confusion evident in her countenance.

"Please," his voice was rough. "I cannot—"

The tension in broad muscular shoulders was evident as he abruptly released her. She watched in avid fascination as he retreated and shrugged into a dressing gown, taut muscles rippling across his abdomen as he belted the garment.

He swore, "And Christ, stop looking at me like that!"

Devonny blinked at him, lifting her chin imperiously. Ire flashed the honey depths of her eyes. He marveled at the way she reigned in her emotions when he was so obviously unable to do so. Her voice was smooth and unaffected when she spoke. "I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting." Devonny exited the room, using every ounce of self control she possessed to close the door quietly, not to slam it and rattle it on its hinges.

She turned, stopping short as she came face to face with Eli, surprise evident on his handsome face. "Devonny, what—" he glanced from her flushed face to the door and then back to her face. "Is Gabriel in there?" he demanded, straightening as his flaxen brows drew together and his face hardened.

Devonny heaved a sigh. "I was changing the linens, Eli. Just as I changed yours. I am your employee, you realize. It is part of my job."

Eli's finely sculpted lips twisted. Of course he realized that she was in their employ, but something about the fact irked him. Like Mrs. Palmer, she had never been a mere servant to him. Mrs. Palmer was family and Devonny...he adored her. He felt connected and drawn to her from the moment he saw her standing demurely in their foyer at Davenport House, the way he'd never felt drawn to another woman in all his life. She was stunningly beautiful. He could well understand Gabriel's torment over her, even Rochard's desperation to have her. But he, himself—Elijah—could not bring himself to think of her in that way. She was in his care and under his protection. He could not bring himself to upset her life. As long as she was in his service, he would never touch her. And as long as Gabriel desired her, she would never be his.

"Excuse me, Eli," she said almost woodenly. "But I'm going to take these to be laundered and see if there is anything Ursula or Moira might require." Smiling tightly, Eli stepped graciously aside. "Madam."

She hadn't made it far when he called to her. "Devonny, wait."

She halted and turned to him hesitantly, her face expectant.

Eli smiled placatingly. "Please," he came toward her. "I did not mean to upset you. Allow me to make it up to you."

Devonny remained silent but lifted one ebony brow awaiting his offer.

Eli stepped close. "Your coming out is in a matter of days." He watched anxiety flicker over her delicately lush features. "Have you been practicing your steps?"

Devonny shifted the basket on her hip. "I have and Elizabeth has been helping me, but I am still..." she searched for a word. "Unsure." She smiled ruefully. "I'm fairly certain that I shall stumble or forget the steps or perhaps trample my partner's feet if anyone should even choose to dance with me in the first place."

Eli moved closer and gazed down into her upturned face. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Devonny, love, every man in the room is going to want to dance with you." He grinned. "And I shall help you with the steps following dinner tonight. Having a partner might help your nerves."

A small smile graced her features. "It would help immensely." She pulled away. "After dinner then?" She was walking backwards down the hall.

"In the parlor," he nodded. A wisp of a radiant smile flitted across her lips before she turned and continued down the hall.

Back to the matter at hand, Eli knocked on Gabriel's door, entering when Gabriel answered. Eli gaped at his brother from the doorway. "We you wearing that when she was in here?" he demanded, gesturing to the dressing robe open to his waist.

Gabriel snorted. "No I was not. I was wearing a hand towel." He watched Eli's face darken with fury.

Gabriel shrugged. "I was in the bath. She didn't know I was in here and I didn't know she had come in."

Eli growled low in his throat. "And?"

"And nothing," Gabriel said simply. "She blushed quite becomingly and she left." No need to let Eli know that he had been kissing her and had been mere moments from attempting to divest her of her clothing had he not gotten himself under control. His brother continued to glare at him. "Was there something you wanted?" He went to his wardrobe.

Eli stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a bit more force than necessary. "I want to establish a dowry for Devonny."

Gabriel froze midway through buttoning up his shirt. "You want to do what?"

Eli grimaced at his brothers tone and sank into one of the arm chairs. He met Gabriel's gaze steadily. "She can't stay here, Gabriel. Surely you can see that."

Gabriel finished buttoning his shirt and jerked on a vest. "And what would you suggest? She has nowhere else to go."

"For now," Eli prompted. "She's lovely, and charming, and educated enough. But she's damn near penniless and it will only hurt her prospects. "

"And you would help her along, would you? You would marry her off to some stranger entranced by her looks and after her money?"

"As if that were any different than how our set maneuvers," Eli retorted sharply then exhaled, endeavoring to calm himself. His voice softened. "But I would see her happy with a husband who loves her and finally a family of her own. Don't you wish that for her?"

"Of course," Gabriel tied his cravat. "I want what's best for her."

"Except for when that interferes with what you want," Eli said pointedly.

Gabriel sent him a warning glare.

Eli got to his feet. "I had every intention of doing it whether you liked it or not," he said simply. "I merely wished to apprise you of my intentions."

"And so you have." Gabriel frowned and shrugged. "So be it. It's your money. Do with it what you will."

Eli considered him a long moment before slipping out of the room.

Gabriel raked a rough hand through his dark hair. Elijah was right of course, as he usually was when it came to Devonny. Of course she deserved happiness, love, marriage, and children . It was that he, himself, could not give her those things that tore at him. Had she been a white servant who affected him as she did he would have married her immediately, damn the gossips. But she wasn't white. A man of lesser status could have married her. She could have married into a bourgeois a trade family with little hubbub. But those of color had not yet crossed the threshold into the aristocracy, nor could he imagine such a time. But by God, he wanted her so badly he ached. *** Devonny helped in the kitchens and even got in a bit of reading before wondering into the parlor—book in hand—and settling into the settee to wait for Eli. It seemed he had already cleared a space for them.

"You know, they say that all that reading can addle a young woman's brains," Eli drawled, leaning in the doorway.

Devonny closed the book with a smile. "That, sir, is simply something men say to keep women from becoming their intellectual equals."

"Ah," Elijah's brows lifted. "So you're on to us?"

She merely smiled a small secretive smile and gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders.

Elijah straightened and closed the immense carved oak parlor door before coming to stand before her.

"The evening shall be typical of most dances to start off the season," he said, immediately getting to the matter at hand and looking down into her face. "The night will begin with the Grand March and the first waltz. You will likely dance until around midnight—"

"Midnight?!" Devonny's eyes were wide as he pulled her to her feet.

Eli smiled at her reaction. "You will then break for food and drink before dancing until dawn."

"Dawn?" Devonny murmured absently, mildly distressed by the idea.

Eli grinned at her and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her towards him as he took her hand in his own. His face turned serious though his cerulean eyes were lit with humor. "The waltz, shall we?"