“It was highly unusual, but he does have a lot to deal with right now.” Marcus’s words brought the question of Gabe’s child to the forefront of her mind. Not that she forgot, for who could ignore the possibility of an illegitimate child? Her problem arose from the fact that his presence alone never failed to reduce her to slightly dim-witted.
Coming to London, she thought she would see much more of Gabe. When he stopped visiting Foxmoore, she’d craved any sighting of him. According to Marcus, Gabe had been too occupied with estate business to visit. She doubted the excuse. Even at Foxmoore she’d read the latest Town news. There’d been hardly a week Gabe’s name hadn’t been linked to some scandal or another, usually involving a woman of questionable morals.
As hopeful as she’d been when she arrived for her first season, she soon learned the daily pursuits of a young lady didn’t coincide with those of a lascivious bachelor. Gabe frequented very few of the events she attended, so when their paths did cross, she temporarily lost control of her senses.
Bracing herself for the answer, careful to keep her voice down so no one else could hear, she asked, “It is true then? Gabe has a child?”
No matter how prepared she thought she was, nothing could stop the cold dread that speared through her as Marcus confirmed everything. “Yes.”
Lightheadedness assailed her as the boisterous sounds of the ball faded. She tried to regain her focus but her vision blurred and she began to lose sight of Marcus. Through the narrowed vision she felt him grab her arm. “Lizzy. Lizzy, are you well?”
When she didn’t immediately answer, Marcus pulled her through the doors onto the terrace. The chill in the air slowly penetrated her senses and she could recover control of her surroundings. Marcus led her to the end of the terrace and caught her shoulders, concern in his eyes.
“Lizzy, are you ill? Do you need something?”
Embarrassed by the worry she’d caused, she tried to ease Marcus’s fears with a quick smile. “I’m fine. I simply needed some fresh air. The ballroom was quite stifling. I’m much better now.”
“Are you sure?” Marcus asked, uncertainty etched in his features.
She somehow eased a chuckle past the knot in her throat. “Yes. I’m fine. Please stop hovering like a big brother.”
He studied her for a quiet moment. “If you insist, but I still think we should take our leave so you can go home and rest.”
Not feeling up to the task of hiding her still delicate emotions from the prying eyes of the ton, she conceded to her brother’s request. Emma would have to wait to get confirmation on Gabe’s child. “Now that you mention it, I do feel a lingering headache. Will you please give my regards to Lady Hampshire and I’ll meet you in the entrance hall?”
Marcus narrowed his eyes and he appeared to suspect she was not as well as she proclaimed. He confirmed it by saying, “All right, Lizzy. I’ll let it go for now, but I think there is something you are not telling me.” With that, her brother turned and sought their hostess.
Before she set off to join him, she took a moment to compose herself. After the death of her parents, she’d become exceptionally close to Marcus, and he could always detect when something bothered her. Normally, she’d be more than willing to share her troubles with him, but this was different. Marcus might love Gabe as a brother, but that didn’t mean he’d approve of her feelings for him.
This was something she would have to work out on her own.
Chapter 3
Gabe stretched out in the old wingback chair, feet elevated on a footrest, staring blankly at the fire blazing within the grate. Unaccustomed to spending an evening at home, the only familiarity the night held was the glass of alcohol his fingers gripped. After escaping the ball, he should have gone to White’s instead of returning home. At least there he could lose himself in a game of cards with some other drunken sod.
Especially since the encounter with Elizabeth and his issues with Phoebe had left every one of his instincts screaming for him to run, get far away. There was only one problem. Between the fresh gossip surrounding his daughter—and who her mother might possibly be—and the revived interest in his father’s past exploits, he couldn’t think of one damned place that would act as a sanctuary.
Nowhere besides the four walls of his study.
Even this comforting environment failed to bring the solace he craved. Not when his past was colliding with his future and he had no way of knowing what condition he would be in once the dust settled.
Finishing off the glass with a large swig, he slammed it down with more force than warranted. A solid thud filled the room.
As the sound faded, the crack of the fire was all that remained. Confronted with the silence of the night once more, Gabe’s nerves were on edge. This was typically the point of the evening when he’d rush out trying to find something to fill the void. Anything that would chase the demons from his mind and prevent him from thinking about the man he’d become and the life he’d destroyed in the process. Because only a heartless human being would be capable of sending someone to their death.
The past creeping in on him, Gabe almost missed the scratch against the tall window next to the fireplace. Most likely a bush rustling in the wind, he ignored it. Instead, he refilled his empty glass, prepared to use the intoxicating medicinal to keep his mind from yielding to thoughts of Elizabeth or, even worse, his past. It should be an easy feat once he polished off the first bottle or so. By then he’d like to see his mind create even the simplest of thoughts.
Reclining once more, he raised the glass, gave the room a silent toast, and lifted it to his lips, prepared to take his remedy like a man.
Before the amber liquid met his lips, a shadow moved outside the window, followed by another scratch. With but a single glass quaffed, it couldn’t be an alcohol haze playing with his mind.
A few seconds passed as he debated between returning to the tempting comfort in a glass, or the nagging sense of responsibility to investigate the source of the noise.
A heavy sigh of regret escaped him as he abandoned his drink to the table. So much for the inebriated stupor he’d planned. Hopefully, it would turn out to be nothing and he could return to more pressing matters.
Gabe shoved the footrest out of the way and stood. The room was dark except for the glow from the fire.
At first look, all he noticed was a bush waving slightly in the wind. Just as he’d thought, a branch scratching against the glass. He’d have the gardener take care of it in the morning.
He’d started to turn on his heel when movement toward the back of the house caught his eye. He strained closer to the window, placing his face tight against the glass.
He couldn’t help but snicker at the picture he made. If anyone could see him now, he’d never live it down. Here he was, the Duke of Wesbrook, plastered to the window as if he were a child straining to see his father coming home with a special treat.
However ridiculous he appeared, his actions were rewarded when a lone figure moved along the side of the house, slithering from bush to tree, then back to the bush, trying to stay concealed.
“Damn,” Gabe sputtered under his breath. Just what he needed. An intruder. As if his life didn’t have enough disturbances at the moment.
With no idea if the prowler was armed, Gabe backed away from the window and glanced around. His eyes locked on the fire poker propped by the fireplace.
His blood pounding, he grabbed the weapon in a tight grip and hastened from the room. If he rushed he might be able to cut the man off at the servant entrance by the kitchen. The hour was late so Gabe moved swiftly through the house without coming upon anyone. When he approached the door he slowed his steps, calculating the right moment to pounce.
He reached his hand out and slowly turned the knob. Using pure instinct, Gabe counted silently. One . . . two . . . three.
Threw the door open and . . . nothing. Well, nothing besides the bang of the door against the house that would probably wake the entire household.
Holding the poker and ready to strike, Gabe peered around the doorway and into the darkness, his body tight with anticipation.
Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
The man was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, Gabe’s luck with intruders was about as good as the rest of his life lately.
He slammed his hand against the wall. “Damn!”
“Your Grace?”
Gabe swung around.
Framed by the candle he held, Wilkes stood in his nightclothes, his widened eyes locked on the poker clutched in Gabe’s hand, still poised to strike.
Gabe instantly lowered his arm. “Umm . . . yes. Sorry.”
“No problem, Your Grace.” With the threat of bodily harm gone, Wilkes transformed back to his collected self. “May I ask what you were hunting for?”
“No need to ship me off to Bedlam, there is a perfectly good explanation for this.”
“I never doubted it.” A smile tugged at Wilkes’s mouth, but luckily for the butler he managed to keep it suppressed. Despite the friendly nature of their relationship, Gabe was in no mood to take insolence from the man.
“While in the study, I noticed something moving around outside. When I looked out the window, I spotted a man lurking about.”
“And the fire poker?”
“I couldn’t tell if the man was armed.”
The candlelight caught the laughter shining in Wilkes’s eyes. “And of course you readily took up arms and went storming in.”
“Yes, I see how some may view my actions as absurd. Which doesn’t change the fact that there was a man outside.”
All trace of humor vanished. “Of course not, Your Grace. What would you like me to do?”
“Follow me.”
Not exactly sure what he planned, Gabe exited the house, with the improperly dressed Wilkes trailing close behind.
“May I ask what you are looking for, Your Grace?”
“Something, anything. Maybe nothing.”
“Of course.” Gabe had always suspected Wilkes used his proper demeanor to hide his true thoughts. This time, there was no mistaking the mockery mixed with his words.
They hadn’t traveled far from the house when they located the first trace of the intruder. The grass still held the imprints from the man’s boots.
“Bloody hell, someone was here.” Gabe had hoped he’d been mistaken. That maybe his single glass of brandy had been stronger than usual.
“Should I alert the watch?”
Gabe paused to think. There was no evidence the man had been trying to break into the house. In fact, he’d walked right by the window of the study. He’d have to be completely daft to miss the light coming from the room. If he’d taken the time to look inside, he would have seen Gabe sitting before the fire.
Nothing short of a complete imbecile would still try to break into a house with the homeowner present. The man might not have been an intruder after all.
Hell, on enough occasions Gabe himself had accidently stumbled into someone’s yard after a wild night on the town. Perhaps this event was of a similar sort.
“No. Even if the man had tried to break in, nothing can be done about it now. To be safe, have the servants remain alert for anything suspicious.”
“Will do. Now, if you have no objection, I believe I’ll retire to the house.” Wilkes gave a slight gesture to his state of dress.
The sight of his always-very-proper butler standing outside during the middle of the night, wearing his dressing robe, sent a silent chuckle through Gabe. He actually found it fitting justice. Served the man right for finding humor in chasing after a possible intruder with a fire poker.
Feeling generous, Gabe let the similarities in their situations pass. “Good idea. Besides, I have a neglected glass of brandy I need to comfort.”
They retraced their steps back to the house and as Gabe pulled the door shut a scrap of paper wedged under the frame caught his attention. He pulled it free and gave it a quick once over. Certain it was related to household business, he was prepared to pass it along to Wilkes, when he noticed Duke of Wesbrook scrawled across the front with heavy strokes.
“Wilkes, do you know what this is about?” Gabe asked, holding the paper toward the light Wilkes grasped.
“Cannot say that I do, Your Grace. I don’t recall it being there when I locked the doors before retiring.”
The circumstances intrigued Gabe. Leaving letters on the back doorstep wasn’t the normal form of delivery, but he wasn’t about to inspect it standing in the kitchen with a fire poker gripped in his hand and his bed-ready butler as audience.
“That will be all, Wilkes. I’ll take it from here.”
Wilkes didn’t even attempt to disagree. “Certainly. Good night.”
Gabe fought to hold his chuckle as his butler scurried off to bed. With everything that had happened since Phoebe’s appearance, the man probably regretted the day Gabe had enticed him away from his previous employer, an aging viscount where the closest scandal attached to his name was when he’d fumbled with his pocket watch only to have it land within Lady Apleton’s ample cleavage. It was probably the most action the viscount had had with a woman in about fifteen years.
Gabe entered the study, returned the fire poker to its rightful place, and had started for his abandoned drink when he remembered the note he’d stuffed into his pocket.
The light of the fireplace didn’t illuminate the entire room, but it was enough for him to break the nondescript seal and read the contents.
As soon as he read the first lines, he wished it was as black as night so the words wouldn’t be burned into his mind.
I know what you did to that young woman seven years ago. If not for you, she’d still be alive.
His body frozen, he struggled to stop reading, but powerless to move, his eyes took in every word—each one increasing the tightness around his chest.
If you don’t wish for me to enlighten the world to the man you really are, you will follow my instructions. I’d hate to see your pretty daughter become afraid of her own papa.
More instructions will follow and remember, I’ll be watching.
It had been left unsigned.
Gabe’s initial reaction was to toss it in the fire and let the flames turn the paper to flimsy ash. To pretend it had never existed. Regrettably the feel of the paper against his trembling fingers was very real. And the words it contained had the ability to destroy him.
Two days ago, he’d have told his secret condemner to do his worst. Gabe had nothing to lose. He deserved for the world to know what he’d done. The law might not prosecute him but maybe with a sentence from the public, he could do his time and move past his demons. It would be better than living the rest of his life with the same hell he’d been in for the last seven years, knowing he’d been responsible for someone’s death.
But today he had more than himself to think of. Now he had to consider his daughter.
And this blackmailer knew it. Knew Gabe would be incapable of ignoring his threats.
In the end, Gabe tossed the letter into the fire anyway. There was no point in keeping it. The sender had made sure it couldn’t be linked back to him.
At least the purpose of the man outside the window had been solved. He hadn’t been prowling in an attempt to take something. He’d been intent on leaving something behind.
Damn, if only Gabe had been faster. He could have apprehended the man and this would be a non-issue. He could think of several ways to keep the man silent.
But who could he be? If Gabe listed all the possible suspects, there would be too many to focus on just one. Over the years, there had been plent
y of men he’d bested in either games of chance or in life in general that might feel revenge appropriate. And then there were his father’s crimes to consider. Gabe knew better than to think someone wouldn’t attempt to punish him for the sins of his father.
Although, if he factored how the author of the letter had knowledge of Mary’s death, there wouldn’t be anyone left. She didn’t have any brothers who would avenge her death. Besides, her family didn’t know of his connection to her. Without Gabe’s permission, his father had wrapped up that issue. Her family had never been apprised of her real role while in London, and Gabe’s father forbade him to come forward when her body had been recovered.
Gabe stared at the ashes of the letter as they mixed with the burnt wood. If only it were as easy to diminish the blackmailer. Without specific demands, he had no choice but to wait to see what the man had planned next.
Chapter 4
Pain shot through Gabe’s head as he alighted from his carriage in front of the Foxmoore town house, causing him to severely regret his decision to respond to the blackmail letter with a few drinks. Moreover, to his dismay he’d never found an answer regarding his daughter—or how to control his increasing desire for Elizabeth—at the bottom of his glass.
Hopefully, with the help of Marcus, matters concerning Phoebe would be resolved. As for Elizabeth, she was nothing a new mistress couldn’t solve—or so he hoped. And as for his blackmailer, that would have to be a problem for another day. He could only handle a few life-altering events at a time.
Upon entry, his hat and coat were swiftly discarded and he was off to locate Marcus. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d been properly announced. He was as familiar with the Foxmoore town house as he was with the Foxmoore estate. When his father had been alive and residing in London, Gabe had escaped his vile presence by visiting here.
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