The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter 23

Then, again, the gravity into which you have fallen when discussing great measures with a philanthropist, will afford not satisfaction to the airy mass of tarlatane with whom you dance soon after. Solomon has said it: there is a time to weep and a time to laugh. In other words, be you as merry a jester as ever sat king’s table, you must not obtrude you unweary mirth at a visit of condolence; or be you the “most bereaved” of widowers, you will not bring your tears and sighs to damp the merriment of social gatherings.

~ The Habits of Good Society: A Handbook for Ladies and Gentlemen (The Last London Editor; 1860)

Victoria had gone into town with Delores and some of her bridesmaids and Henry had left for London that morning to settle a particular business matter that had suddenly arisen. This had left Gabriel with a morning entirely his own and he dedicated his time to perusing some of the correspondence he had heretofore neglected for nigh two weeks.

He had not been submersed for ten minutes when a knock interrupted his activity and he found himself automatically informing the butler to enter.

Cunningham had served the Hawthorne family for two generations and Gabriel thought the man must be nearly a hundred years of age, if not more. There was not an inch of his body that wasn’t frail or wrinkled and he was beginning to look frighteningly skeletal.

“What is it, Cunningham?”

“A caller for Miss Colton, my lord. I bid him wait in the blue room for an interview.”

“Who is it?” Gabriel asked, frowning. Surely the news of their engagement had been made widely known? Perhaps the gentleman dwelled under a rock and thought he might still have a chance at her hand as he had simply not heard of their upcoming nuptials.

“A Captain Doyle, my lord.”

Captain? Ah. Perhaps the poor lad had been out at sea. That would explain why he had not been made privy to the gossip and speculation. Gabriel would oblige the fellow and kindly tell him that his efforts are wasted on Miss Colton, his future wife.

“Must I send him away?” Cunningham asked drolly.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll attend to him shortly.”

Finishing the letter he had been busy with, Gabriel then made his way downstairs and into the blue drawing room. The man he met there was not the sort he had expected in the least and a slight coil of foreboding began to unfurl in his chest. Captain Doyle was a stout, burly man, hardened and weathered by years at sea. He was quite old, perhaps fifty or sixty years of age, with an unruly ginger beard that looked filthy and matted. His clothes were in poor condition and his wild hair had not even a preliminary or cursory comb over. There was also an odour, possibly of fish, that surrounded him and Gabriel found his presence rather unsavoury. Why Vicky would associate herself with the likes of this scoundrel could only entail one thing and he didn’t think he’d like to dwell on the possibilities as of yet.

“I am Gabriel Sinclair,” Gabriel pointed out succinctly, his good mood evaporating when the old seadog didn’t even bother to stand politely for the introduction. “Who the devil are you?”

“Captain Doyle,” the man returned gruffly, his beady silver eyes taking in Gabriel from head to toe before he finally rose to his feet with an arrogant laziness that grated against Gabriel’s patience. “I be ‘ere fer Miss Victoria, if I recall, not yer lordship.”

“Miss Colton is in town preparing for her wedding to me,” Gabriel ground out. “I suggest you state your business and then leave.”

Captain Doyle frowned icily and, rudely, scratched his crotch. “I ‘ave a letter from Miss Colton,” he explained, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment from the pocket of his mangled coat and showing it to Gabriel. “I was supposed to fetch ‘er and take ‘er to Africa under ‘er directive ‘ere in this letter.”