was in such pristine condition when Gabriel’s carriage rocked to a halt at the curb beside it that it seemed probable no other guest had been allowed to set foot on it but had been put to the inconvenience of using a side door.
The ornate brass handles on the outer doors had been polished until they rivaled gold in brightness. The manager and footmen, whose jobs respectively were to register newly arrived guests and carry in their baggage, were suddenly resplendent in uniforms so stiff and spotless that they must be reserved for the most special and rare of occasions. The owner of the hotel, who looked as if he had dressed for an audience at court, stepped out through the doors and executed a bow that would not have shamed him had he been making it to the Prince of Wales himself. As soon as the newly arrived guests had stepped down from their carriage, he delivered a brief, pompous speech, which had been either written inaccurately or memorized poorly. He welcomed to his humble hotel Lady Jessica Archer and Mr. Archer. With one practiced sweep of his arm he invited them to step inside.
And there in the gleaming foyer waited two straight lines of hotel employees, also clad in their special-occasion best, smiling and, at a cue from the manager, applauding. At another cue, the clapping stopped abruptly, the men bowed, and the women curtsied.
They must have spent all day rehearsing, Gabriel thought. They would have done a military parade proud—except for the smiles. He ought to have taken a suite at the Pulteney instead of at this perfectly comfortable but obviously second-tier hotel. At the Pulteney they must be accustomed to the aristocracy and foreign dignitaries flitting in and out. There would have been no fuss or fanfare at all there but, if anything, an even greater discretion than usual to preserve the privacy of their guests.
For the first time Gabriel saw the results of his careful reasoning about the choice of a bride. He had thought to choose someone who would fit into the role of Countess of Lyndale at Brierley as a hand would fit into a glove. He had chosen Jessica within half an hour of his first encounter with her. At the time it had not occurred to him that she would also ease his way back into his London hotel on his wedding day.
She had sat beside him in the carriage on the short journey from Archer House, her hand in his, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright as the two of them looked back over the past few hours and commented upon several details they had found particularly memorable or touching. She had been Jessica.
But the moment the carriage door was opened outside the hotel and she summed up the situation at a glance, she became a different person—the one he had met at that inn on the road to London. She became the haughty yet gracious daughter of a duke that she was. She became Lady Jessica Thorne, Countess of Lyndale.
She waited for Gabriel to alight first and then set her hand in his and descended to the red carpet with regal grace. She ignored the two footmen who stood on either side of the carpet—it was, Gabriel realized, a serious faux pas to acknowledge their existence, as he did with a brisk nod for each—and ascended the steps as the owner delivered his speech. She afforded him a gracious inclination of the head and a murmured thank-you—similar to the one she had given Gabriel on their first encounter—while she offered her hand at the end of a fully extended arm to discourage the man from moving any closer. Then she swept inside while Gabriel was giving the owner a more conventional—and less aristocratic—handshake.
The applauding lines of servants did not throw her off stride for a single moment. She stopped walking, waited for the performance to come to an end, and smiled down the length of her nose while she looked unhurriedly along the women’s line and back along the men’s before nodding to both lines and speaking.
“Thank you,” she said. “What a lovely welcome.”
And to a man—and woman—they almost melted with pleasure at her words, all six of them. They could not have looked more gratified had she presented each of them with a gift.
And she looked unerringly toward the manager, who jumped forward, bowed, indicated the wide staircase with a sweeping arm gesture, and then led the way