Alathea allowed herself a fleeting glance at his face as Serena brushed off his coat.
He frowned and all but squirmed. "No harm done." Freeing himself from Serena's grasp, he gathered Mary and Alice with a glance. "It would be wise to retreat." He hesitated, then asked Serena, "Is your carriage close?"
"Jacobs is waiting just around the corner." Serena waved back along the street.
For the first time since he'd let her go, Gabriel looked directly at her; Alathea immediately waved Mary and Alice before her, then turned in the direction of the carriage. The last thing she needed was to stroll on his arm.
He offered his arm to Serena; she was very ready to lean on his strength. She filled the distance back to the carriage with sincere and copious thanks for his prompt and efficient action. Safely separated from him by Mary and Alice, Alathea murmured her agreement, allowing her stepmother's praise to stand in place of her own.
She was grateful-she knew she should thank him. But she wasn't game to get too close to him, not when she'd so recently been in his arms. She had no idea what might trigger a fateful convergence of memories; holding her head high, she walked to the carriage, apprehension crawling along her spine.
By lengthening her stride, she reached the carriage first and climbed in without waiting for his assistance. He shot her a hard glance, then handed the others up. He stepped back and saluted; Jacobs flicked his reins.
At the very last, Alathea turned her head-their gazes met, held… she inclined her head and looked forward.
Gabriel watched the carriage rattle away down the side street, his gaze locked on Alathea's chip bonnet, on her shoulders encased in lavender twill. He watched until the carriage disappeared around a corner, then, his expression turning grim, he headed back to Bond Street.
Rejoining the bustling throng, he walked along, his gaze fixed ahead, unseeing. He still felt stunned-poleaxed to be precise. To be so aroused by Alathea. He couldn't understand why it had happened, but he could hardly pretend it hadn't-he was still feeling the definite effects.
He was also feeling rocked, off balance, and hideously uncomfortable. He'd never felt that way about her-they'd always been such close friends, that had never raised its head.
He walked on; gradually, his mind cleared.
And the obvious answer presented itself, much to his intense relief.
Not Alathea-the countess. He'd spent all last night plotting the how and where of her ultimate seduction, teasing himself with all the details; this morning, he'd set out to implement his plan. Then fate in the guise of a horse had flung Alathea into his arms. Obvious.
It was hardly surprising that his body had confused the two women-both were tall, although the countess was definitely taller. They were both slender, willowy-very similar in build. They both had the same fine, supple muscles in their backs, but that, he assumed, was to be expected of any very tall, slender woman-an architectural necessity.
The physically obvious, however, was the limit of their similarity. If he dared kiss her, Alathea would tear a verbal strip off him-she certainly wouldn't melt into his arms with that gloriously seductive sensual generosity the countess displayed.
The thought made him smile. His next thought-of what Alathea would make of his reaction once she'd had time to consider it-eradicated all inclination to levity. Then he recalled her long-standing opinion of him and his rakish lifestyle; once again, he smiled. She would doubtless put his reaction down to unbridled lust-and she wouldn't be wrong. But it was the countess he lusted after, his houri of the night.
He wanted her intensely. Somewhat to his surprise, that want went further than the physical. He actually wanted to know her-who she was, what she enjoyed, what she thought, what made her laugh. She was mysterious and intriguing, yet, oddly, he felt very close to her.
She was a puzzle he intended solving-taking apart at every level.
To do that, he needed to press on with his plan… Lifting his head, he refocused on his surroundings. He'd nearly reached the end of Bond Street. Crossing the road, he started back, once again scanning the crowds. He still needed a sheep. There had to be someone-
"Gracious! And what's got into you?"
The query and the cane levelled at his navel jerked him to attention.
"Going about with your nose in the air in Bond Street! Why, you don't even know who you're cutting."
Looking into a pair of bird-bright eyes in an old, soft face, Gabriel smiled. "Minnie." Brushing aside her cane, he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
"Humph." Minnie's tone was unmollified but her eyes twinkled. "Remind me to tell Celia about this, Timms."
"Indeed." The tall lady beside Minnie lost her fight to keep her lips straight. "Quite unconscionable, going about Bond Street without due regard."
Gabriel bowed extravagantly. "Am I forgiven?" he asked as he straightened.
"We'll consider it." Minnie looked around. "Ah! Here's Gerrard."
Gabriel watched as Minnie's nephew, Gerrard Debbington, brother to Patience, Vane's wife, crossed the street, the bag of nuts he'd clearly been dispatched to fetch in one hand.
"Here you are." Handing the bag to Minnie, Gerrard smiled easily.