He smiled at that prospect. He was not sure America was ready for Monique Fremont. Or Merry …
Merry what? She had not mentioned her last name.
Merry. He tasted the name. It did not resonate. Monique did. Monique was sophisticated, worldly, even a little exotic. Merry belonged to a happy child. But he suspected Monique had never been a happy child. The thought saddened him.
He found himself wanting to give her everything she’d never had. He wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to see mischief dance in her eyes. He realized now that except for the moments they had made love, she had been reserved, even cautious. Almost waiting for him to leave, to desert her.
The carriage reached his lodgings. Smythe stepped out first and started to pull down the steps, but Gabriel ignored them and alighted, taking the big step easily. He started for the entrance, suddenly realizing that his small trunk was back at Monique’s. He would have to stop by there tomorrow.
But first he had business that must be transacted.
And there was the matter of rest. He needed a little of that, too.
The waterfront was bustling as Gabriel approached it on foot.
Under his dark cloak, he wore plain clothes.
No one followed him today, or at least no one he noticed. He had taken several precautions, slipping in one tavern and leaving by the back door, then wandering down some backstreets. Satisfied he was alone, he found his way to the printing shop and entered.
The printer was perched on a tall stool, sitting exactly as he had before. He looked up and scowled. “Thought I had seen the last of you.”
“Why?”
“You got one of them, did ye? I thought that might cool your blood.”
Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “One of them?”
“Lord Robert Stammel was overtaken by brigands last night and murdered. Jack Pryor just heard the news. There will be hell to pay for this one. A lord dead on the road.”
“It was not me. I was in Stanhope’s own coach with a coachman as a witness, along with a lady, her maid, and my valet.” Even as he uttered the words, however, he was digesting the information. Maybe he had been responsible.
The thought stunned him. He had wanted to turn the members of The Group against one another. He had not thought Stanhope would rid himself of a problem by murdering someone everyone considered his best friend. It was a reminder of how ruthless his opponent was. How dangerous the game Monique was playing.
Or maybe it had not been Stanhope at all. Maybe it had been Daven.
Winsley was watching him carefully. He finally shrugged. “None of my affair as to what happens to ’im. But I did not think ye the kind to waylay a man.”
“But you approve of thieves?”
“Good ones,” Winsley replied with a crack of a smile. It quickly faded. “It was Stanhope then?”
“Most likely. He might have believed Stammel was stealing from him.”
“And was he?”
“Probably,” Gabriel said. He had meant to ask Winsley to find a buyer for the jewelry. That was out of the question now. If it was ever traced back … With a silent curse he knew the jewels would be in the Thames later tonight.
“What brought you here?” Winsley asked.
“I might have some contracts that need a few changes.”
“How long will I have?”
“A day.”
“Do you have samples of the handwriting?”
“I will get them for you.”
Winsley turned and bent back down to the table in front, where agile fingers sorted type so quickly it made Gabriel blink. He had been dismissed.
Gabriel left the small, cramped print shop and moved quickly through the backstreets until he reached the docks. He looked to see whether any of his company’s ships had anchored. The Cynthia was gone as expected.
No familiar names. He went to the shipmaster’s office. Several men sat inside a small room. A haze of smoke rose from the pipes two of them smoked.
They looked up at him.
“Are there any ships leaving for America in the next two days? Taking passengers?”
“Aye,” said the stoutest of the men. “The Amelia will be leaving in two days. You might want to talk to the captain. For a pence, Billy will row you out there.” He nodded toward a thin man in tattered clothes.
The thin man stood. “Aye, Gov’nor. I know the ship.”
“American?” Gabriel asked.
“Aye, it is that.”
Gabriel nodded. “Can we go now?”
“Aye.”
In minutes Billy was rowing a rickety boat toward one of many ships anchored off the dock. As they approached one, he saw the name.
The ship looked sleek and well maintained. A rope ladder was lowered as they approached and he quickly climbed it. The decks were clean and the visible sailors looked busy and efficient. Gabriel was impressed.
While waiting to see the captain, he glanced over the furled sails. The sheets looked to be in good repair.
The seaman who had gone to alert the captain returned. “He’ll see you now.”
Gabriel followed him down the companionway to a door. The seaman rapped, then opened it.
Gabriel entered and saw a short, powerfully built man standing behind the desk. He held out a hand. “I am Captain Jeremiah Morris.”
Gabriel took it and liked the feel of it. Strong. Confident. “Gabriel Manning,” he said.
The captain’s eyebrows arched. “Manning? You are not the Manning that captained the Liberty.”
Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat. He had not expected anyone to connect him with the privateer captain that caused the British to lose more than a few ships. He did not want to lie, particularly since he planned to request a very unorthodox favor from this man.
He nodded. “But I wish you would not let anyone else know.”
“You fear reprisal here?”
“I have delicate business.”
Morris nodded, evidently thinking it must have something to do with the government. “My ship was one of those stopped by the British navy before the war, and my sailors taken. I have little liking for them.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately my cargo brought me here.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Day after tomorrow. We are loading tomorrow at the docks.”
“Do you carry passengers?”
“We have a few cabins.”
This was the difficult part. “There is a lady, and another family. I would like to buy passage for us.”
“Three cabins?”
“Aye,” Gabriel said.
“I think I can accommodate you.”
“How much for the passage?”
Morris named a sum far below what Gabriel knew was common. He did not argue.
“Is this your ship?”
“It belongs to Mallard Shipping, but I have an interest,” Morris said proudly.
“It is a fine-looking ship.”
“Aye, it is that. Only two years old and New England built. Would you like to see the cabins?”
Gabriel nodded, then said cautiously, “I ask you to say nothing to the port authorities about this. The lady in question is being terrorized by an English lord. If he knew she was leaving England, he might use any means to prevent it.”
“I know your reputation, Captain,” Morris said. “I will say nothing. But be aboard by midnight tomorrow night. We will sail at dawn.”
“I will bring payment tomorrow,” Gabriel said.
“It will be my honor to have you aboard,” Morris said. “Perhaps you would share some of your experiences with me.”
Gabriel nodded, though he would not be there to do so. That conscience that continued to get in the way nudged him. It was becoming very annoying.
It was for her own good, he told himself.
A seaman took him by the cabins. They were small and plain, but clean. There were some belongings there, and he suspected the first and second mates occupied them when there were no passenger
s. “They will do very well,” he said.
Then he was back on deck. Billy’s unseaworthy boat rocked back and forth against the side of the ship. Gabriel quickly climbed down, timing his jump to the roll of the boat.
It was done.
Monique sent for her detective. Mrs. Miller found a boy to deliver the message.
In two hours he was at the door. She ushered him into the small parlor. “I am ending the investigation of Lord Manchester,” she said.
He had a sheaf of papers in his hand. “But … I have learned about his background. His father was accused of treason.”
Monique started to stop him, then allowed him to continue. Perhaps he had discovered something Gabriel did not know.
Gabriel. How easily the name now came to her mind. She had pushed him away by trying to think of him as Manchester. Now he was most definitely … Gabriel.
“He shot himself, according to the official report,” the detective continued, “but he had protested his innocence. He had claimed that the signature on a contract was not his. A magistrate ruled that it was.”
“Does it mention any other names?”
“Aye. His partners were the Earls of Stanhope and Daven. But they were cleared of any misconduct.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
He hesitated.
“Do not hesitate,” she insisted. “I want to know.”
“Some people thought the offense was not Mr. Manning’s but the two earls,” he said. “One who voiced such an opinion disappeared. No one else dared speak out.”
She mused over that piece of information. “Is there more?”
“Aye, the marquess has engaged a room in a waterfront inn. Apparently he meets a lady there.”
Monique went still. “I thought you lost him.”
“I was afraid he might see me. I placed a young lad here and a lady on a street where I once saw him. She followed him to a tavern. The young lady paid the tavern keeper for information. The gentleman took the rooms two weeks ago to meet with a lady. He implied she was married.”
“Has anyone seen her?”
“No. They are very discrete.”
“Thank you,” she said. Her heart pounded. How much was true? He had said nothing about rooms on the waterfront. How much else had he not told her?
“Anything else, miss?” the detective said.
She hesitated.
He shifted from foot to foot, then said, “Did you hear the news about Lord Stammel?”
“What news?”
“He was found dead on the road to London. Highwaymen, they say.”
Gabriel had planted jewels in his room.
Stanhope! Apparently, the plan had worked only too well.
It struck her, then. She had known how dangerous he was. She had heard it for years. But this was here and now. A chill ran down her back.
And Gabriel? His life was certainly threatened as well.
If he left …
She had been picking at an idea all day, ever since their conversation last night. She had been debating herself.
Now she knew.
“Can you do something else for me?” she asked.
“I am at your service, miss.”
“See if there is a ship that is bound for America in the next few days.”
He nodded.
“And I will need the services of two men. Trustworthy but not beyond breaking a law.”
He stiffened.
“I know that you told me you will not break the law,” she said soothingly, “but perhaps you might know someone without your … scruples. I assure you that no one will be hurt.”
“Then …?”
“There is someone in danger. The same kind of danger I believe Lord Stammel found. I wish to get him out of the country. He does not wish to go.”
“The Marquess of Manchester,” he said.
“I mentioned no names.”
His gaze did not leave hers. Then he looked away. “I will ask two gentlemen to call. After that, it is none of my affair.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Do you have your bill?”
He handed her a sheet of rough paper with figures jotted on it. The sum was more than reasonable. She paid him.
“If you need anything else, miss …”
“I will call on you,” she assured him.
“The two men are Mickey Kelley and Sam Barr. They look rough, but they are intelligent enough, and loyal.”
He left, and she sat down in a chair. She would have to leave for the theater soon. But a thousand thoughts rushed through her mind. Stammel dead. And Manchester—Gabriel—had a room in the dock area. Why? He’d not mentioned it to her.
But then she had not mentioned some things to him, either.
And if she proceeded with her plan, how would he feel then? It would end every possibility of a future with him.
But his life was more important.
He had mentioned going to America together. Had he meant it? Could either of them just leave Stanhope to continue killing?
She honestly believed she had the best opportunity to safely bring him to justice.
She finally stood. It was time to get ready for theater.
Chapter Twenty-five
Gabriel told Smythe when he arrived back at the town house he was renting that he had arranged for passage for him and his family.
“You are going too, sir?”
“Not now,” he said. “Miss Fremont and her maid will be going.”
Smythe looked startled. “Danielle said nothing about that.”
So it was Danielle now.
“She might take some convincing,” Gabriel admitted. “But I heard today that Lord Stammel was killed last night. I fear that both Miss Fremont and Dani are in danger.”
Smythe’s brows knitted together. “Lord Stammel?”
Gabriel nodded. “I suspect Lord Stanhope is responsible.”
“But why? He was a guest there.”
“He owed me money. He drank too much. I think Stanhope believed he stole from him.”
Realization dawned across Smythe’s face. “The jewels?”
“And money.”
Smythe looked stricken.
“Others have conveniently died around Lord Stanhope,” Gabriel continued. “That’s why I want you and your family to leave. And I am trusting you to look after Dani and Miss Fremont.”
“You may need help.”
“Your family cannot go alone,” Gabriel said. “Neither can Miss Fremont and your Dani.”
“She is not my Dani, sir,” Smythe said with dignity.
“She looks at you as if she was,” Gabriel observed.
Smythe looked pleased. “Is that true, sir?”
“Aye, it is.”
“May I say that Miss Fremont looks at you with regard?”
“You may say so, Smythe, but I doubt if she will in the next few days.”
Smythe waited for him to continue.
“It is for her own good,” Gabriel said. “And Dani’s. I will have letters for you to give to the owner of the shipping company that employs me. He will find a place for you to live. And employment.
“Hopefully, Miss Fremont will choose to go,” Gabriel continued. “But if she doesn’t, I will need your help. Now that Stanhope has killed his partner, he will be even more dangerous, especially if he believes Monique has anything to do with it.”
Smythe nodded. “I’ll do what is necessary.”
“Good. Did you get my trunk from her residence?”
“I brought it back today. The horse is still at the stable.”
“I will fetch him,” Gabriel said. “I hope I can take him to America.”
Smythe smiled. “I did well, then?”
“You did very well. You do well in every task I give you. I hope in America you will work for me. Or the shipping company.”
“I am not good at reading and writing,” Smythe said haltingly. “I hope my sister …”
“You can do anything, Sm
ythe. I am quite confident of that.”
Smythe’s face turned a ruddy color.
“I am going to call on Lord Stanhope’s home and see whether he is expected,” Gabriel said.
“Should I go with you?”
“I think not. I might make a visit inside if he has not yet arrived. If anything happens to me, I want you to take Miss Fremont, her maid, and your family to America. There is a letter and funds in the top drawer of my desk. The ship is the Amelia. The captain is Morris.”
Smythe’s face fell.
“I do not want you anywhere near Stanhope’s home. If something happens to both of us, your family, Monique, and Dani will not have any protection.”
Smythe nodded reluctantly.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“The cravat. I want to look distinguished.”
Smythe permitted the slightest smile as he produced a ruffled linen shirt, a pair of breeches, and boots. “Which waistcoat?”
“The most obnoxious one,” Gabriel said.
Smythe reached into the wardrobe and found one of a purplish hue, a color that Gabriel himself had selected after being repelled by it. He thought if he was, then so would others.
He waited patiently as Smythe tied his cravat. “How did you ever learn to do it so quickly?” he asked.
Smythe cleared his throat. “I paid a valet down the street to teach me,” he said.
“How much?”
“A half pound.”
It was considerable for a servant.
“He also taught me how to clean your clothes, sir, and what you might expect from me.”
“And have I met your expectations?”
“No sir. I have decided you are a most unusual lord.”
“Comes of being an American,” he said.
“But you were born here.”
“Aye, I was, but I am American in heart and soul. And I suspect you will be, too.”
The first doubt crossed Smythe’s face, and Gabriel suddenly realized what he had proposed to Smythe. He was taking him away from everything he knew. Smythe had agreed readily enough, but was he playing God with other lives?
He’d told himself it was for Smythe’s protection, but Smythe needed protection only because of Gabriel’s own actions.
And now he was planning to whisk Monique away from her career and her own needs without giving her a chance to say yea or nay.
Dancing with a Rogue Page 34
