brought it closer to his. “I believe her name is Rebecca Armstrong. Doctor Hellreich’s niece.”
“He didn’t mention her when we met. She seemed to be in quite a rush to leave.” Gabrielle glanced back at the front door. “Some of your guests are quite upset that they didn’t have a chance to meet her and thank her for the delightful song.”
Bret wanted to say something more to Gabrielle but hesitated. For some unsettling reason the sudden arrival of the beautiful red-haired woman had rendered trite the unspoken words on his lips; then, conscious of his silence, he hurried to end the speculation about her prompt departure. “I understand she had a prior commitment this evening. I’ll make sure Philip explains to our guests.”
He raised Gabrielle’s hand and they stepped in time together to the sweet-sounding waltz. With every graceful turn around the ballroom floor, he would sneak a glance in the direction of the front door before returning to the strained smile on Gabrielle’s face.
“Have you lied to me again, Bret?”
“No. My business offer is firm and if only you would talk to your father—”
“Hush. I don’t mean that and I don’t want to talk about it anymore now.”
“Then what on earth?”
“Everyone is looking at us the way they used to. Have you been practicing with a young lady on the terrace, sir?”
Bret smiled. “I guess there are some wonderful things in life a man never forgets.” The eloquent glide of their dance steps around the ballroom made everyone pause and take notice.
“Only some? And what about the rest?”
“Gabrielle, please, I never . . .”
But it was already too late. The stars in Gabrielle’s eyes had withdrawn to join the night and the distance between their bodies seemed to expand with each gliding step until the music faded and there was only the beating of his guilt-ridden heart in his ears.
CHAPTER 12
Saturday, September 1
Bret leaned into the high-backed wicker chair in his sunroom, squinting his groggy eyes against the hard brightness of the morning rays streaming through the partially opened shutters.
His head was still spinning like the last waltz with Gabrielle but his thoughts were of another woman, enthralling him with an inexplicable force since the moment he saw her face.
Rebecca Armstrong—like an angel come down to earth, then gone again. He could still hear the haunting melody that had racked his sleep with dark dreams of another time and place.
Bret opened his eyes wide. The sunlight capered along the soft peach tinted walls, rippling in waves across the small oil portraits of his parents, painted shortly after their marriage.
His father, William, gazed back at him with the quiet dignity and strength he imagined the man must have always had in life. The bristling whiskers of his clipped beard made him look older than he actually was, an impression he no doubt valued when dealing in business with men twice his age.
Lorena, his mother, her hair parted down the middle and worn coiled over her ears, had been painted with a melancholic expression that seemed unusual to one so young, as if she was enduring something which removed her smile, but not her sincerity.
Her sad, searching eyes pleaded to Bret; the same eyes that had stared at him from her death bed four years ago.
He rubbed his temples and sipped his mint julep. The drink, when mixed with his medicine, was well appreciated on mornings like these.
A clean, Gulf breeze blew in through the open windows, carrying the fragrance of the many blossoms in the front garden. The aromatic scents helped to clear his head but did nothing to push the heavy weight he felt on his heart whenever he looked at those pictures.
“Mr. McGowan?” Philip stood in the doorway, dressed in a white shirt, gray pin-striped tie, and flannel pants. “Everyone is finished cleaning up the ballroom. The house is almost back in order, sir.” His butler turned to leave.
Bret stood. “Philip, wait. That woman from last night.”
“Sir?” Philip stopped and turned.
“You said she was Doctor Hellreich’s niece?”
Philip examined his cufflinks as if he were making sure they were still secure. “That’s what I heard, Mr. McGowan.” He looked up at Bret. “But what I saw was you waltzing with Miss Caldwell, much to the disappointment of Mr. DeRocha and your friends.”
Bret took a sip from his mint julep. “Everyone knows Gabrielle is a wonderful woman. We’re still good friends.”
“Sir, if you’ll excuse my being blunt. That Doctor Hellreich has been getting folks nothing but agitated at his meetings.