Dancing with a Rogue

by Potter, Patricia;

  But as it curled around her face, Dani looked quite pretty. Her blue eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were flushed, and, Monique suspected, not just from the journey to the carriage.

  Monique finished. She hoped with all her heart that Dani’s Sydney was a loyal and trustworthy man and not like his master, who apparently wanted nothing more than one night’s pleasure. Manchester was more like a comet than a man. A brilliant star that would destroy anyone in his path. He had no interest in staying in Britain, and he had no scruples.

  Monique shivered slightly as she remembered Manchester’s arms around her. “He said he intended to come to the ruins today,” she said, “but someone hurt his horse. He thinks it may have been Lord Stammel.”

  “Sydney did not say anything about it.”

  “I wonder how much he knows about the marquess.”

  “He says very little about him. Only that he is grateful to him.”

  “Pamela is smitten with him, too,” Monique said. “And you. Even when he plays the buffoon, he seems to draw people to him.”

  “Except for Lord Stammel, and Stanhope, both of whom seem to want something from him.”

  “Money, Manchester believes. But I think it might go beyond that. Stanhope was a business partner with Manchester’s father. The father was accused of treason. Manchester believes Stanhope is responsible. Perhaps Stanhope feels he could be a threat to him.”

  “He is after Stanhope, too?” Dani asked.

  “So he says.”

  “But how?”

  “Apparently the same way I planned. Turn the three—Stanhope, Daven, and Stammel—against one another. They must know all of each other’s secrets.”

  “But if any one of them said anything—”

  “I know,” Monique said. “They would be convicting themselves. But angry people are usually careless people.”

  Dani was silent for a moment, as she often was. Then, “Are you, perhaps, getting in one another’s way? We could leave London and leave it to him.”

  “And forget about destroying Stanhope?” She could not do that. She had lived for that one purpose for more years than she wanted to remember. Until Stanhope was dead, she could not free herself of memories. He was a detested part of her. She was a part of him.

  She suspected Manchester felt the same.

  What did that make both of them?

  Gabriel went to the gaming room. Still in his riding clothes, from which leaves clung, he apologized for not being present for supper. He had become lost in the maze, he said, and did not discover his way out until a short time ago.

  “Mazes are quite simple,” Stammel said, baiting him. “But perhaps not for a man who cannot stay in the saddle. A stable lad said you walked the horse in.”

  Gabriel smiled at him. “I had a discussion with our host about the care our horses are given. It appears there was a wound on my mount’s back. As for the maze, we do not have such amusements in America. I wanted to explore it. As Lord Stanhope said, it is intricate and presented a challenge. And I am here, as you see.”

  Stammel glared at him, and Gabriel wondered if he hadn’t been a little too clever. Cleverness was not one of the Marquess of Manchester’s attributes.

  “I wondered whether you would not like to recoup some of your losses,” he said, then added, “Where is Lord Stanhope?”

  “He went up to get some funds,” one of the guests said. “He did say he was tired.”

  “He will probably be here soon,” Gabriel said. “I saw him with Miss Fremont. She might well be a distraction.”

  Stammel’s frown deepened. Still, he sat at the table. He was obviously one of those gamblers who did not understand his own limitations.

  “May I join you?” Gabriel asked.

  The room exploded into conversation that had momentarily quieted during the exchange between Stammel and Gabriel.

  “If you wish,” Stammel said curtly.

  Gabriel found himself a chair, loosened his cravat, and was soon engaged in a game of whist. As the betting increased, he fixed his gaze on Stammel. “I hope you can pay this time,” he said quietly.

  The table went still. “Are you impugning my integrity?”

  “I would never do that,” Gabriel replied easily. “I just want to understand the British rules. I am, as you so often point out, a simple man from America.”

  “You will have the money when Lord Stanhope returns,” Stammel said.

  Gabriel nodded. “Let us begin then.”

  An hour later Gabriel had consumed several glasses of brandy and lost fifty pounds to one man at the table. Stammel had lost only twenty-five. His luck was so good that it overtook his lack of skill.

  “Another game?” asked David Morgan. Gabriel had memorized the guest list and knew Morgan was one of the few men present without a title. He was Welsh but apparently influential with the government.

  “You might ask him to show his blunt,” Stammel said meanly.

  It was exactly what Gabriel wanted.

  “Not necessary,” Morgan said. “Manchester is a guest, and a friend of Stanhope.”

  “Ah, but if Stammel has a question, I have banknotes in my room and Stanhope has some of my funds in his safe.” Gabriel put his quizzing glass in his left eye and rose. “I wonder what is keeping him,” he said.

  Gabriel wove on his way to the door. In truth, he’d had more brandy than he wanted; for appearances’ sake he’d kept pace with his companions.

  Once out the door he maintained his pose, went to his room, and rummaged through several drawers in his wardrobe, then went to Stanhope’s room. He knocked. When no one answered, he opened the door.

  Still dressed, Stanhope was snoring on the bed.

  Whatever Dani had managed to put in his wine had worked well. He smiled at her audacity.

  He left, gently closing the door behind him.

  He made his way down the grand staircase and burst into the game room. “My money is gone,” he said. “There is a thief here.”

  The manor was in an uproar. At his words the men in the gaming room dispersed, some seeking their wives in the music room, some retiring immediately to check their rooms.

  In minutes he heard several cries of outrage and demands to have property returned. One well-dressed woman was in tears.

  Everyone wanted to know where Stanhope was.

  The butler and valet knocked at his door as five or six men stood outside his bedroom. Hearing nothing, they went inside, then returned, spreading out their hands helplessly.

  Stammel had disappeared with the rest but had not reappeared. Gabriel wondered whether he had looked to see whether any of his own valuables were missing. And found that cache of jewels planted in his room?

  Gabriel went inside Stanhope’s bedroom. He lay across the bed. Gabriel took the pitcher of water from a table and poured a little on Stanhope’s face. No movement. He shook him. The man worked slowly, his eyes opening slightly, then fluttering closed again. Gabriel shook him again, and Stanhope moaned, opened his eyes again, and tried to focus.

  “Wha’ is …” His words were slurred.

  Gabriel looked toward the door, where the valet and butler stood like pieces of marble. “Get some hot tea,” he said.

  “My lord,” Gabriel said. “There have been some thefts.”

  “My head …”

  “You must have drank too much wine, my lord,” Gabriel said, lacing his words with concern. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “To—morrow …”

  “Money is missing, my lord, along with jewels. You must act or someone will go to the constable. I do not think you would want that.”

  Stanhope tried to rise, obviously tried to comprehend what Gabriel was saying. “A … thief?”

  “Five people have been robbed, including myself,” Gabriel said. “You should check your own … possessions. You said there was a safe.”

  The latter words made an impact at last.

  Stanhope struggled to sit up. His coat was wrinkl
ed, his cravat awry. He looked nothing like the usually well-groomed earl.

  He blinked in the light from the oil lamp. “What in the hell are you talking about, Manchester?”

  “I have been robbed of a hundred pounds and a diamond cravat pin. Surely you have seen it on me. Others say they are missing items as well.”

  Stanhope shook his head, then stood. “My head. I did not drink that … much wine.”

  Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Should I send someone for a constable?”

  “No, no. I will see to it. I will compensate any … losses. It must be a servant. I will ask George, my butler, to conduct a search. I … we will find the culprit.”

  Gabriel looked around, then leaned toward Stanhope. “Perhaps if you called the constable, we should tell him about the burr planted under my saddle.” He feigned sudden enlightenment. “Perhaps the two incidents are connected.”

  Stanhope stiffened. “Are you accusing Lord Stammel?”

  “Oh, no,” Gabriel said hurriedly. “I was just remarking on the coincidence.”

  Stanhope’s dark eyes glittered with anger. Gabriel was not sure whether it was aimed at him or at someone else.

  Gabriel stood. “Perhaps the butler can reassure the guests,” he said. “I will ride for the constable if you wish.”

  “No!” The word was like a crack of a whip. The man was becoming fully awake now.

  “Tell everyone to go to bed. I will have James conduct a search of all the servants’ quarters and question them. I am sure that we will find the culprit there.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “But if …”

  “I will make sure everything missing is replaced. There is no reason to spread gossip about,” Stanhope interrupted sharply. “I hope you will respect my wishes. Tell James and my valet to attend me.”

  “As you wish,” he said and backed out, informing the butler and valet to enter.

  The gathered guests looked at him.

  He shrugged. “Lord Stanhope says he will discover the thief. He recommended that we all retire for the night. I, for one, plan to do just that. But first I will need some brandy.”

  Just as he turned, a shriek broke the tense silence.

  And it came from Monique’s room.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “My bracelet is gone.”

  Monique’s cry was followed by the door to her room being thrown open.

  She emerged in a night robe, her hair braided, her gray eyes sleepy and sooty looking, and her expression outraged.

  She had never looked so appealing to him. She was the essence of righteous indignation.

  “Someone,” she continued in a low, moderated but very passionate voice, “has been in my room ruffling through my personal belongings. I want to see Lord Stanhope.”

  It was all he could do to keep from smiling. He had seen her on stage. He had watched her beguile men who usually couldn’t be beguiled. He had seen her anger and her passion and even her vulnerability.

  Now her eyes flashed, and her face was flushed as she confronted a hall filled with men in what some would call dishabille. Their attention was certainly diverted.

  “Lord Stanhope,” she said again. “Where is he? This is an outrage.”

  Stanhope unfortunately chose that moment to emerge from his room. It was the first time he was not impeccably dressed. His cravat was in disarray. His shirt was not completely buttoned. His eyes were red, and lines of strain creased his face.

  Control and appearances had always been Stanhope’s weapons. This weekend had obviously had several purposes, one of which was to win the wager. Another, Gabriel suspected, was to lure him even deeper into a web and possibly show important friends that Gabriel was a weak and incompetent man desperate for money.

  Thanks to Monique, Stanhope’s house party was in complete chaos, his closest business associate accused of intending to harm, even kill a guest, and Monique, whom he had wanted to impress with his wealth, had been robbed.

  Gabriel almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  Monique ignored him, turning her rage on Stanhope. “I want to return to London tonight. Myself and my maid. I would not feel safe one more moment in this … place. And I expect you to find the villain who robs helpless women.”

  “Hear, hear,” said a man who Gabriel remembered was a baron and a member of the Parliament. “I also will take my leave immediately. My wife is distraught from all this business.”

  Stanhope shook his head. “My butler will search all the servants.”

  The baron drew himself up. “My servants have been with me for years. They are above reproach, Stanhope. I resent your implication. My wife and I are leaving immediately.”

  “I will also be leaving as soon as our coach is ready and my lady and I are packed,” said the man who had met Gabriel on the staircase when he’d first arrived. The man who’d barely managed to be civil to Gabriel earlier turned to him. “Are you going; too, Manchester?”

  “Abominable situation,” Gabriel agreed. “But I am sure that Lord Stanhope will find the culprit. Or make good our losses.”

  Stanhope looked at him with narrowed eyes.

  “I am still leaving, my lord. I trust you will have the coach ready within the next hour,” Monique said. She turned away and stalked down the hall.

  Gabriel was filled with admiration. She would be gone with the jewels—

  Stanhope started to go after her. “It is dangerous on the road at night,” he said. “You should wait until tomorrow.”

  “My maid is hysterical,” Monique said. “For her sake alone, we must go. She is a timid soul and fears for her life.” She turned and walked into her room, closing the door behind her.

  Gabriel swallowed a smile. He had never seen anyone less timid than Dani.

  “Perhaps my man can ride inside and I will ride alongside the coach,” he said to Stanhope. “Smythe is an ex-soldier and very capable of protecting the ladies.”

  “I will go myself,” Stanhope said.

  Gabriel shrugged. “If you wish, but you have guests. I have none.”

  He watched as Stanhope obviously weighed his alternatives.

  “Stanhope,” Gabriel said, “you can make amends later. I will make her understand this is not your fault.”

  Stanhope whirled on him, rage in his eyes. If there had not been others present, Gabriel knew the man would have struck him in pure fury over carefully laid plans destroyed.

  Stanhope was a man who needed to control. He evidently knew little about failure.

  He was going to learn.

  After a moment Stanhope seemed to gain control.

  “How long has your man been with you?” Stanhope demanded.

  “He was a soldier of the Crown,” Gabriel said. “He has impeccable references.” Really, Smythe had no references at all. Gabriel hadn’t felt he needed them, but he was not going to say that to Stanhope. He did not want Smythe implicated in any way.

  “When did you get back to the house?” Stanhope then asked.

  “After supper,” Gabriel said carelessly, ignoring the obvious implication. “You were right, the maze is difficult. I thought you might send someone when I did not appear at supper, especially after the mishap on the hunt. Perhaps you really do not wish a partnership. I will look elsewhere,” he added with indignation.

  “My butler was told specifically that you did not want any assistance,” Stanhope replied with a shrug. “If I had thought for a moment that you were afraid …”

  Gabriel had baited Stanhope as much as he could about the maze. Now he had something else to worry the man. “I am grateful for being invited to your home, Stanhope, but I would feel safer in my own lodgings in London. I thought England to be a safe place and America a wild, undisciplined land. Now I know I was mistaken.”

  “You will leave England?”

  “Eventually. I do want to talk to some people who knew my father,” Gabriel said. “Just before coming here, I met someone who claimed my father should not have killed himself,
that the charge of treason had been false.”

  “Who could that have been? The Crown prosecutors were very sure,” Stanhope said sharply. “It is common knowledge …”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Someone disputes the common belief.”

  “And who would that be? Why would he not have come forward earlier and saved your father?”

  “I understand he was afraid,” Gabriel said. “I do not know whether I should believe it or not, but I feel I should hear him out.”

  “Who is it?” Stanhope asked again, this time with a trace of fear.

  “I would rather not say until I know his tale is true,” Gabriel said. “I am to meet with him next week.”

  He watched as Stanhope’s usually emotionless eyes blinked. “Maybe you can remember something …”

  Several other guests were still hesitant and standing around.

  Stanhope broke away and approached them. “If you will feel safer, I will place footmen outside your rooms. You will be safer here tonight than on the roads. I beg of you to give us an opportunity to find the culprit.”

  One by one, mumbling as they moved along the hall, the guests dispersed. As the last one departed to his room, Monique and Dani reappeared at their door. Gabriel had never thought that women could dress so quickly. Monique’s hair was no longer in a braid but dressed neatly in a bun and framed by a hat. She wore a cloak that covered whatever she wore beneath.

  “You cannot leave without escort,” Stanhope said. “There are thieves and highwaymen on the road at night. Manchester has offered to escort you, or I can send men of my own.”

  “Lord Manchester will be suitable,” Monique said. “He has come to my assistance before.” Then she seemed to soften. “I will see you in London.”

  Stanhope bowed. “It will be my honor,” he said. “And I assure you that I will recompense you for your loss. If you could tell me something about the bracelet …”

  “It is but a trifle but meaningful to me. It is the only thing I have left of my mother’s.” Tears appeared at the edges of her eyes. “I truly do not know why someone would take it. It had only a few gems of poor quality.”

  “I will attempt to find something that will be equally as memorable.”