by Olivia Drake
Did Gabriel know of Papa’s meeting with Sir Charles Damson? He must.
Reaching her side, he flashed a smile at her and her companions. “Welcome to Stokeford Abbey,” he said. “What do you think of the old pile?”
“ ’Tis so ancient it makes me feel young and spry,” Uncle Nathaniel said.
“Are there ghosts?” Meg asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.
Gabriel chuckled. “Only in the attics. Or so Grandmama used to tell her grandsons to keep us out of there.”
“Lucy always did know how to manage the boys.” Uncle Nathaniel rubbed his palms together. “I hope she’s at home today.”
“She lives at the Dower House,” Gabriel said. “It’s across the river, not half a mile distant. I’ll send word to her of our arrival.”
Just then, a footman opened the immense front doors, and a trio of elderly women hastened out onto the covered porch. The first one was a dainty lady with a halo of white hair and a gown of angelic blue. Right behind her scurried a matron with a plump, merry face, a gown of green silk decorated with a profusion of lace, and a matching turban on her head. Bringing up the rear was a tall, dignified woman, garbed in sober gray, who walked with the aid of an ivory-topped cane.
The white-haired leader paused at the edge of the porch, lifted a frail hand to her mouth, and stared down in obvious shock at Gabriel.
His smile deepened, and the warmth in his expression startled Kate. Bounding up the wide marble steps, he caught the old lady in his arms. He swung her around so that her blue skirt whirled, and she clutched at his broad shoulders.
“Gabriel Kenyon!” The firmness of her tone belied her fragile appearance. “Set me down this instant!”
He lowered her to the porch. “Is that all you can do, Grandmama? Scold? You should welcome your prodigal grandson home.”
“After staying away for four years, you deserve a stern reprimand. But I’ll demand a proper kiss instead.”
He landed a loud smack on her wrinkled cheek, and she returned his embrace. Kate watched them with guarded interest. She must be mistaken to see an affectionate side in Gabriel Kenyon. He was a charmer, that was all, a charismatic man who knew how to beguile people. She would remain cool and aloof to his allure, never forgetting that she had one purpose and one purpose alone: to retrieve the statue.
The other two old ladies gathered around, smiling fondly and murmuring to each other. Then the regal one lifted her cane and made a beckoning motion to Kate’s party. Clutching the valise, Kate accompanied her sister and great-uncle up the broad steps to the porch.
With a lace handkerchief, the dowager Lady Stokeford dabbed at the happy tears that shimmered in her blue eyes. “Heavens, you’ll think me a watering pot. Who are you two lovely girls? And ...” She blinked at the chimpanzee in Meg’s arms. “My gracious! Who is that beast?”
Stepping out from behind Meg, Uncle Nathaniel kissed Lady Stokeford’s hand. “’Tis I, dearest Lucy, and may I say, you’re even more ravishingly beautiful than ever.”
The dowager extracted her hand from his. “I meant that creature,” she said dryly, pointing at Jabbar. Then she tilted her head to the side and looked more keenly at Uncle Nathaniel. “Are we acquainted, sir?”
“My stars, ’tis Nathaniel Babcock,” the plump lady blurted out. Giggling like a girl, she clasped her hands to her rosy cheeks. “Why, I’d recognize that naughty grin anywhere.”
“Indeed,” the lofty, dignified woman pronounced in a scathing tone as she looked him up and down. “I thought we’d seen the last of you fifty years ago.”
“I decided to let bygones be bygones,” Uncle Nathaniel said mysteriously. He stepped between Meg and Kate, sliding his arms around their waists. “As you can see, I’m chaperoning my two pretty nieces.”
Lady Stokeford arched a slender eyebrow. “I would suspect they are your grandnieces.”
“A mere technicality,” Uncle Nathaniel declared. “Be that as it may, I’m their only living relation.”
“And he’s given his consent for me to act as their guardian,” Gabriel said, taking Kate’s arm as if he owned her. “Grandmama, may I present the daughters of Professor Henry Talisford, Katherine and Margaret, lately of Oxford.”
Despite the ferment of angry frustration inside herself, Kate set down the valise, stepped away from Gabriel, and curtsied. “We’re pleased to meet you, my lady.”
“Everyone calls her Kate,” said her sister. “I’m Meg.” She smiled proudly at the chimpanzee in her arms. “And this is Jabbar, my—or rather, his lordship’s pet monkey.” For once, Jabbar behaved with impeccable manners. His black eyes bright and inquisitive, he clung to Meg and observed the strangers.
The dowager gazed askance from the chimpanzee to her grandson. Then she introduced her companions. The round, cheerful woman was Lady Enid Quinton, who apparently had a nose for gossip. “We shall have a grand time,” she said, her brown eyes dancing. “The arrival of two such pretty houseguests will cause quite a stir in the neighborhood.”
“Hush, Enid,” said Olivia, Countess of Faversham. “The girls are clearly in mourning. We must respect that.”
Lady Stokeford looped a comforting arm through Kate’s. “My dear, I hope we haven’t overwhelmed you. We’re delighted to have you and your sister here. Young people always liven up the place.”
“We appreciate your hospitality.” Kate spoke the polite cliché with sincerity. In spite of the quandary of guardianship, she liked Gabriel’s grandmother.
As Kate reached down for her valise, Lady Stokeford made an imperious motion to her grandson. “Have you left your manners in the wilds of Africa? For shame, letting a lady carry her own baggage.”
“Miss Talisford likes her independence,” Gabriel said, sweeping away the valise and handing it to a footman before Kate could protest. Looking annoyingly pleased with himself, he took her other arm, trapping her in between himself and his grandmother.
His closeness unsettled Kate, his firm touch and his male scent, redolent with leather and spice. But she couldn’t object to his highhandedness without causing a scene. By the devilish twinkle in his eyes, he knew so, too.
If his grandmother noticed his possessiveness, she made no reference to it. A smile softened her mature features as Lady Stokeford gazed fondly up at her tall grandson. Clearly, she saw only the best in him. “I could scarcely believe it when Rumbold told me there was a procession of vehicles coming up the drive. It’s been so long since you deigned to visit me. Shame on you for not sending ahead a note.”
“There wasn’t time,” Gabriel said. “I decided only two days ago to bring Kate and Meg here for a visit.”
The dowager raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t inquire further. “Ah, well, no matter, the Abbey is always ready these days. I’ll settle Kate and Meg in the west wing in the two bedchambers directly across from mine.”
“Aren’t you living at the Dower House?” Gabriel asked.
“Goodness, no! Not since Michael’s marriage. It was far too lonely there all by myself.”
Gabriel stopped, bringing all three of them to a halt in the doorway. “The devil you say. Michael has remarried?”
“Of course. I told you so in my letter.”
“Which must have gone astray,” he said with a wry quirk of his mouth. “So tell me, who is the lucky woman?”
The Rosebuds shared a covert smile. “Her name is Vivien, and she’s a most delightful young woman,” Lady Stokeford said. “I must add, at least one of my grandsons has done his duty in presenting me with great-grandchildren. I think it high time you settled down and made your contribution, as well. Don’t you agree, Miss Talisford?”
Feeling awkward, Kate scrambled for a response. There was steel behind that guileless smile, a steel she couldn’t help but admire. “I believe the family is the bedrock of civilization,” she said with as much tact as she could muster. “Unfortunately, some men take longer to realize its value.”
“Brava! You’re very wise for one
so young.” Lady Stokeford gave her an approving nod. A certain calculation on her face, she glanced from Kate to Gabriel. “Perhaps you could teach my grandson a thing or two.”
Gabriel winced. “Two against one makes unfair odds. Now, you mentioned great-grandchildren. Has Michael sired more than Amy?”
Nothing could have been designed better to distract his grandmother. “Oh, yes,” she said, her face lighting up with beatific joy. “There’s baby William now, too. If you’d come home more often, you wouldn’t miss so many important events.” Head held high, she led the way into a foyer the size of Larkspur Cottage.
Kate looked for the footman who had taken her valise, but he had vanished, presumably to deliver it to a guest chamber. Another footman accepted her cloak and bonnet. Discreetly she smoothed her hair, tucking in the springy strands that had inevitably escaped their mooring. Once again, she was hard-pressed not to gawk like a bumpkin at her surroundings. She had known Gabriel belonged to a wealthy, aristocratic family, but seeing the proof of it shook her anew.
A broad, curving staircase soared upward, flanked by tall columns and archways. The sand-colored marble floor had been polished to a high sheen. Costly statues filled niches in the walls, and a crystal chandelier sparkled in the late sunlight that streamed through the high windows. The place reminded Kate of a great cathedral. She might have tiptoed reverently, but was forced to keep up with Lady Stokeford and Gabriel, who walked through the foyer without even glancing at its grandeur.
What could have induced him to forsake his exalted heritage for the wilds of Africa? she wondered. How could he have left his grandmother, who clearly loved him in spite of his faults? He must have broken her heart.
“I’ll order refreshments in the drawing room,” Lady Stokeford was saying to the group. “Unless you’d prefer to go up to your chambers.”
“I wouldn’t refuse a wee nip,” Uncle Nathaniel said.
“Jabbar and I would like to see this marvelous house,” Meg gushed. On cue, the chimpanzee clapped his hands.
But Kate felt compelled to safeguard her father’s journals. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up.”
“I’ll escort you,” Gabriel said instantly.
That was a complication she didn’t need. “I’m sure you’d rather visit with your family,” she said, vainly attempting to extricate herself from his hold on her arm. “If you’ll just give me directions...”
His laughter boomed through the foyer. “In this mausoleum, you’d be lost for days. We’d have to send out a search party.”
“Quite so,” Lady Stokeford concurred, making a shooing motion with her dainty hands. “Gabriel has been gone for four years. Another few minutes won’t matter.”
Exerting a firm pressure at the base of her back, Gabriel propelled her toward the grand staircase. Kate caught one last glimpse of the small party proceeding down a long corridor, the echo of their voices fading. Then she and Gabriel were alone, mounting the polished marble steps. Half of her wanted to stop short, but the other half refused to let him goad her into losing her dignity.
“Your grandmother’s out of sight now, so your chivalry isn’t necessary.”
He flashed her a cocky grin. “Prickly Kate. Perhaps I like being with you.”
He looked her up and down in a slow survey, and she found herself wishing she wore a prettier gown than the drab old black that was three years out of date. “Perhaps you hope to charm me into giving up my father’s journals.”
His gaze flitted to her lips. “I’d certainly enjoy trying.”
Tension fluttered low in her belly. In a flash of memory, she recalled Gabriel in his chamber at the inn: a savage in his natural glory, his muscled chest gleaming like bronze in the morning sunshine. The mere thought made her breathless, and she blinked to dispel the scandalous image.
Logic told her that he was trying to bewitch her, to fool her into lowering her guard. Like the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing, he would shed his civility when he realized how she meant to thwart his plans.
As they reached the top of the stairs and started down an ornate corridor, she said, “I shall need a carriage the day after tomorrow. I wish to pay a visit to Sir Charles in Cornwall.”
Gabriel’s air of good humor evaporated. “You’re staying here with my grandmother. I forbid you to go anywhere without my permission.”
The reminder of his power over her rankled Kate. “You may have maneuvered Uncle Nathaniel, but you can’t maneuver me. I won’t be left behind when you confront Papa’s murderer.”
Gabriel brought her around to face him. “So you truly believe Damson is guilty. What makes you so certain?”
“On the journey today, I read Papa’s notebooks. In the final entry, he wrote ...” Her throat tightened as she remembered his precise penmanship, infused with the vigor of life, the last words he’d ever written.
“Wrote what?” Gabriel demanded.
She drew a shaky breath, then said in a rush, “The day before he died, Papa encountered Sir Charles outside the inn. It was a chance meeting, or so Papa thought. They had a friendly debate about the origins of civilization, Sir Charles arguing for Egypt and Papa for Abyssinia. To prove his point, Papa showed him the statue of the goddess.”
Gabriel swore under his breath. “Henry never told me.” Kate didn’t know whether to believe that or not. “But you knew Sir Charles was in Cairo,” she said. “How?”
“While I was at the harbor, making arrangements for our passage to Alexandria, I saw Damson’s man, Figgins.” The long rays of the setting sun poured through a window at the end of the corridor and illuminated his fierce expression. “At least it explains why Damson wants your father’s journals. That entry incriminates him.”
The fire of vengeance infused Kate. She pulled away, her fingers curling into claws. “I intend to see Sir Charles punished for Papa’s murder. Promise you won’t leave without me.”
Gabriel’s eyes took on the appearance of cold flat stones. Silence stretched out, a silence punctuated by the bonging of a clock somewhere. “I never make promises to women,” he said. “Promises only get a man into trouble.”
“You’ll have trouble if you leave for Sir Charles’s estate without me.”
A brusque laugh rumbled from him. “How do you intend to stop me?”
“I’ll follow you,” Kate said with reckless bravado. “And don’t think to sneak off. I intend to keep a watch on you.”
That feral half-smile returned to his mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkling, he leaned closer so that his breath kissed her cheek. “Then prepare to stay close to me, my darling ward. Very close, indeed.”
Confessions of a Slave
Gabe intended to put his plan into motion as swiftly as possible. The trick was, he needed his grandmother’s cooperation.
After dinner that evening, as the other ladies headed down the corridor toward the drawing room, accompanied by Michael and Uncle Nathaniel, Gabe took the dowager’s arm. How small she seemed. Her elegantly styled white hair barely reached his shoulder. He’d always thought her a formidable woman, though of course, his memories were those of a youth.
His voice low, he said, “May I have a word with you, Grandmama?”
Her keen blue eyes studied him with a mixture of fondness and wisdom. “Certainly. It isn’t every day that my wayward grandson deigns to come home.”
He flinched inwardly. His grandmother had to be the only person on earth who still had the power to make him feel like a naughty child. But little did she realize, he had learned how to handle women.
As they proceeded down the passageway, the trill of laughter drew his attention to the lively group ahead of them. It was Meg who had laughed, of course. By her own admission, Kate no longer displayed such unseemly exuberance. She walked sedately at the rear of the party in the company of Lady Faversham and Lady Enid Quinton. With her wild tresses tamed into a knot and her curvaceous body swathed by a shapeless black gown, Kate seemed determined to align
herself with the elderly tabbies.
That disguise didn’t fool Gabe. His fingers itched to pull out all those pins and loosen her springy, red-gold curls. His mouth burned to coax a response from those prim, maidenly lips—
“Lest you forget,” Grandmama chided, “she isn’t one of your fancy pieces.”
Annoyed at being caught staring, he deftly steered the dowager into an antechamber, where a single lamp cast a flickering glow over the rich crimson decor and the medieval stone walls. “I’m perfectly aware that Kate is a lady.”
“Did I say Kate? Perhaps I meant Meg.”
“Meg?” Gabriel exploded. “She’s only sixteen. Why would you think I’d have any interest—” Then he noticed his grandmother’s amused smile. “I’ve no interest in either of them. Other than providing for their welfare, of course.”
“I see.”
He doubted that; his grandmother saw what she chose to see. “I’m very pleased that you approve of the Talisford girls,” he said, launching smoothly into his rhetoric. “You see, I’d like to leave them here with you for a short time while I’m gone.”
“You’re going away again?” Grandmama exclaimed. “But you’ve only just come home.”
“I’ve business to attend to. It won’t take long.”
“Pish-posh. What could possibly be more important than your family?”
Gabe strolled to the mantelpiece and glanced up at the portrait of a pompous, bewigged ancestor. “I must ride to Cornwall and see to my estate there,” he said glibly. “I’ll be away for only a few days. A week at the most.”
“A week!” The dowager sank gracefully onto a gold velvet chaise and arranged her pale blue skirts. “Sit,” she commanded, patting the cushion beside her. “You will tell me what this is really about.”
Gabe clenched his teeth around a curse. Grandmama had always been able to see through his lies. In particular, he recalled the tune he had pilfered a bottle of gin from his father’s stash in the study and sneaked out to the stables. He never knew how she’d found him out, but before he’d choked down more than one swig of the fiery liquor, Grandmama had marched into the stall and seized the bottle, carrying it outside and pouring the contents into a thicket of holly bushes.
