Devonny Ch. 10

"That sounds....difficult to bear." She said softly.

He smiled tightly. "Indeed."

She moved toward the doors. "I think perhaps I should return before I am missed."

Teddy straightened. "Of course," he said. "I'll wait a length to return. Wouldn't want to soil your reputation upon your debut."

"Thank you." Devonny dropped a small curtsey.

"Miss Adams." He gave a slight bow with a twitch of his lips and watched her slip back inside.

***

The first pink rays of dawn were peeking over the horizon when Devonny slipped back into Davenport house through the kitchens. She was weary beyond belief. Even after a hard days work she was never so tired. Her head still spun and echoed with the sound of laughter, tinkling china, and strains of music. She made it up to her room and dropped shawl, mask and reticule into an armchair.

Then there was the arduous task of undressing. Lifting her skirts, she released the ties of the ungainly hoops and let the garment fall to her feet. She sighed in relief, happy to be rid of the excess weight. She then removed the numerous pins holding her hair in place, massaging her scalp with her fingertips once her hair was free to fall wildly around her face.

Her stomach growled audibly and she winced. She'd been far too nervous to eat throughout the night, merely moving her food around on her plate and ignoring hors d'oeuvres. Shaking her head, she made her way back down to the kitchens and set about making herself a cup of tea to stave off the hunger until breakfast which would likely be in a matter of hours.

She seated herself at the kitchen table and laid her head upon her crossed arms, waiting for the water to heat. She was certain she would have enjoyed her evening if she had not been so nervous, she reflected. It seemed at least, that she had made a friend in Teddy Edmondson. When he'd returned to the house, he'd promptly asked her for a dance. He'd made faces at her and made her laugh certain that she was too tightly-wound for her own sanity.

She'd danced with many men throughout the night. But there was no spark like the spark she had first felt when her eyes had met Gabriel's for the first time. It had been like a fist tightening around her heart and stealing her breath.

Love takes time to grow, she told herself as she rose and poured herself a cup of tea. She made a point of convincing herself that she could easily grow to love another man as easily as she had fallen for Gabriel Davenport.

That was when the object of her musings entered the kitchen, stopping short when he saw her. "You're back."

She smiled absently at him as she squeezed a wedge of lemon over her tea. "Yes. Only just."

Gabriel was still in his attire from the evening though his jacket and vest hung open and his cravat had been discarded. His shirt was unbuttoned to his chest and his dark hair was in haphazard disarray. He held a glass of port in one hand.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" She offered, glancing up at him. "In exchange for your liquor. Undoubtedly, the trade would ease your waking hours."

Gabriel stared at her. She was still wearing the lavender silk gown, though she'd removed the bonnet and the gown skimmed over her curves distractingly. Her dark hair was unbound as he rarely saw it and allowed to fall around her bare shoulders. She was looking at him expectantly.

"Yes," he answered tightly. "I'd like some."

She smiled faintly and poured a bit of milk into the china cup before pouring in the tea for him. She handed it to him and he took a seat at the table pushing aside the glass of port. Stirring a dollop of honey into her own tea, she went to join him. She sat carefully, watchfully avoiding stepping on her skirts.

"How was your evening, Gabriel?" she asked politely, taking a sip of her tea.

Gabriel eyed her guardedly. Was she aware of how miserable his night had been? Was she merely goading him? Surely she must know that he would be thinking of her incessantly. "It went well enough," he said stiffly. "And yours?"

He watched uncertainty flit over her soft features at his cool tone. "It was wonderful, truly." She said smiling, attempting to inject some lightness into the conversation. "Everyone was very welcoming."

He was unable to stop his next question. His voice was cold. "And did you snare yourself some worthy young swain?"

Devonny's brow knitted together at his harsh tone. "Perhaps," she ventured, hesitantly.

He snorted and took a sip of his tea. "Perhaps," he ground out.

Devonny set her tea cup in its saucer with a clatter, her ire rising. "Have I said something to offend you?"

He gritted his teeth, holding back words, unable to keep the glower from his countenance.

Her chair scraped backwards as she stood abruptly. "I think I should leave you to your tea."

He stood.

"Goodnight, Gabriel."

When she would have left him, his hand shot out and closed around her wrist. When she turned to him, his gaze was fervent, his brow furrowed. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw.

"Gabriel—" she began, her voice holding a warning.

He did not release her. "What is it you want from me?" His question came out harsh and angry and they stood staring at one another.

"From you?" she echoed.

"Yes!" he hissed.

Devonny's eyes widened at his question. What was he asking her? Something lit inside her and for once she was not going to hold back. She lifted her chin imperiously and leveled her gaze at him. "Merely what you cannot give," she said. "And that which you likely could not bring yourself to offer."

Gabriel searched her lovely upturned face for some hint of guile but there was none. His voice was low. "I have wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you."

She glared at him. "That much has been made incredibly obvious, thank you. Is that all?" she demanded. She tugged at her wrist. "Now, let me go."

He released her wrist only to capture her shoulders in his hands and bring her flush against his body. She did not struggle but scowled at him. His chest heaved against her breasts.

"What would you have me do?" he spat, giving her a small shake. "Would you have me deny my father's legacy? Bring down all that my grandfather and his father have built?!"

Her honeyed gaze was alight with anger. "No. I would not." A bitter smile curved upon her lips. "I would not be the cause of your ruination, nor will I be your little whore if that's what you were hoping. I would think on it no longer if I were you," she advised gravely. "There's nothing for it."

She wrenched out of his grasp. "Goodnight, Gabriel." She was gone with a swish of her skirts and he was left staring after her.

Lifting her skirts, she mounted the stairs at the most dignified pace she could manage, heart hammering with the expectation that he might come after her. When she reached the top, she broke into a run, racing down the length of the corridor and ducking into her room. She turned the wrought iron key and locked the door.

Breathing hard she collapsed against the door, gasping for air in that blasted corset and holding back a cry of despair. A sob bubbled up and burst free from her throat. She clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound slid down the length of the door to huddle at its base as strangled sobs wracked her body.

Despite her exhaustion, there would be no blessed sleep for her this night.