by Anna Randol
“Turn right again here, Jenkins.”
That made no sense. If they turned right again, they’d be heading in the wrong direction. As Gabriel’s fingers closed around the pin, he glanced back at her.
Madeline’s attention wasn’t on him or even on her hair. She was riveted by something behind them.
Gabriel followed her gaze to the hackney a few blocks back. It had been behind them earlier as they headed to the park, but he had barely taken note of it. It must have turned with them onto Ash. As he watched, it followed them as they turned right onto a narrow lane.
It made no sense for anyone to have purposely chosen that route. Blood began to strum in his veins. “Who’s following us?” he asked.
Madeline’s lips thinned, and she considered him with either surprise or annoyance, he couldn’t tell which. “I’m not sure. Probably just a devoted admirer.” She eyed the coach again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Pull over, Jenkins. Let this poor man pass.”
Jenkins pulled the carriage as far over as he could. The wheels were a scant inch from the building wall. The hackney would have to pass them. The lane was too narrow for it to turn around and there were no streets it could escape down to avoid them.
Suddenly, it stopped completely. A man leaped out and disappeared down a gap between two shops.
As Madeline whispered epithets, Gabriel leaped to the ground. Men with good intentions didn’t lurk, and innocent men didn’t flee.
His boots struck the cobbles and the air streamed in and out of his lungs. Grim satisfaction filled him. For the first time in days, he was doing something. Not struggling through the mire that was his investigation, not playing nice with Madeline’s suitors. He increased his speed as he followed down the alley where the suspect had disappeared.
He caught a glimpse of the well-dressed man just as the fellow turned out of sight. Gabriel pushed his body until his legs burned. He darted around the corner and nearly ran into the other man. A solid brick wall abruptly ended the alley and the man’s escape.
Gabriel’s hands shot out, grabbing the man by his shoulders and slamming him face-first against the wall. He recognized the color of his hair and the set of his shoulders. It was the man who’d been in front of Madeline’s house the other day. “Who are you?”
“You have no right to hold me thus. I’ve done nothing wrong.” The man struggled in an attempt to knock Gabriel away.
But Gabriel had restrained far larger and more experienced criminals. He kept the man’s face against the bricks. “I will repeat this only once. Who are you?”
“Timothy Haines! Confound you. I’ve done nothing.”
“Why are you following Miss Valdan?”
“She is my muse!”
Gabriel loosened his grip. That was certainly not one of the answers he expected.
“Didn’t you hear, Gabriel? I’m this man’s muse. Let him go, by all means.” Madeline stood at the entrance to the alley.
Why wasn’t he surprised she didn’t have the sense to wait in the carriage? But he let go of Haines.
The young man stepped away from the wall, a grin lighting his face as he brushed the front of his jacket. “I knew you’d understand. When I see you, it’s as if a fire is lit in my soul. I knew you’d feel the same. No other woman has ever entranced me as you have.”
Madeline lifted her eyebrow. “So you’re the one who left the note on my doorstep?”
Gabriel frowned until he remembered the paper she’d picked up yesterday.
Haines scowled as he picked at a tear on the front of his jacket. “I didn’t leave a note. My poem’s not even completed yet.”
Madeline shrugged. “Well then, while I’m flattered to be your inspiration, next time you want to see me, I suggest you place a bid.”
“But I can’t place a bid,” Haines moaned. “My quarterly allowance is already spent and that accursed publisher hasn’t gotten back to me on the book of poems I submitted.” He tried to step toward Madeline but Gabriel blocked him with a hand to his chest.
Madeline might not take the lad’s adoration seriously, but Gabriel had seen too many of these situations escalate to violence.
“I knew if I talked to you, you’d feel the same passion licking the confines of your soul. I’ll cherish you as none of the others ever could. You are my first love.” A mess of dark hair flopped over his forehead as Haines spoke.
Before Gabriel could warn Haines away, Madeline spoke. “Are you a good poet?”
Haines’s chest expanded. “Quite good, my mother claims.”
She lowered her voice. “I feared that. That is why you can’t see me again.”
“What?” Haines cried.
“What makes a good poet? Passion, anguish, unrequited love?”
“I suppose.”
Madeline clasped her hands primly in front of her. Her eyes gleamed with regret. “If you won the first woman you loved, you’d never experience the searing crucible of heartbreak. For the good of your work, I’ll give up what we might have had. Can you, Timothy? Can you sacrifice for the good of future generations?”
Haines’s mouth had dropped open in codlike fashion. “But—”
“You must, Timothy.”
“Don’t come near Miss Valdan again,” Gabriel ordered, not content with Madeline’s coddling.
Haines grunted, his face drooping into sullen lines. “You cannot prefer this thief taker over me.”
Madeline laughed. “No, I prefer the man with the winning bid.”
Glaring venomously at Gabriel, Haines stalked away.
“How did you know you were being followed?” Gabriel asked as he led Madeline back to the carriage.
“I’ve learned to be cautious.”
Gabriel studied Madeline. Every time he’d thought he found his footing with her, she knocked him back a step. She’d handled that skillfully and been surprisingly subtle with that young fool’s pride. But she had to have a motive. He just needed to figure it out.
Madeline exhaled slowly, finally admitting to the nausea heaving in her stomach. Ignoring it was only making her dizzy. She forced herself to look across the carriage at Gabriel. There was no bullet hole in his forehead. Madeline forced her mind to process the information. No one had been waiting to catch Gabriel in an ambush. Haines hadn’t even been the one to leave the threatening note.
Gabriel was fine.
In fact, he was looking at her with that assessing gaze again. The rest of her panic cleared. He was doing it again, trying to decipher her. At least this time he didn’t have the half smile playing around his lips.
Well, he could believe what he wanted. Last night had been an aberration. Today she wouldn’t let his smug benevolence goad her into explaining anything.
Yet it did.
It was as if she wore ill-fitting boots and could think of nothing else until they’d been removed. “Giving the boy a reason to stay away was more effective than threats,” Madeline said. “I can’t have my full attention on my bidders if I’m worried about him disrupting the auction.”
“He might not be over his obsession.”
“I know.” She forced a laugh. “But I’ve grown used to that.” Keeping her gaze from drifting to Gabriel’s face, she searched for her suitors as they reached the gravel path of the park.
She had much more important things to concentrate on like— Blast. She couldn’t concentrate at all with his gaze boring through her. “I think I’ll walk.”
The coachman drew the carriage to a halt and Gabriel helped her down.
Even though it didn’t linger, his touch at her waist was too warm, too personal. “Get behind me. I don’t want you to scare off any suitors.”
Gabriel tipped his head and fell back, the space allowing her to think. He was right. Haines was still a threat. She should have calmly discussed a plan to implement if he returned. Instead, she was running like a frightened doe.
Perhaps a bullet in her head would force some sense into her.
But before she could turn to Gabriel, Viscount Lenton hailed her from across the park. He cantered over on a glossy black stallion that appeared much more stable than his bay of yesterday. “May I walk with you, my lovely?”
The smile she gave him was genuine as she slipped back into the familiar role of coquette, relishing the brief respite it gave her from self-recrimination.
He dismounted and led his horse by the reins. Gabriel slowed further to allow room for the horse.
More of her tension eased. Gabriel’s gaze might still bring the hairs at the nape of her neck to attention, but that was far preferable to the lightning that danced over her skin when he was near.
She tucked her hand around Lenton’s arm. “I hear you’ve bid again.”
He smiled down at her. “I told you I’ll win this auction.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You can tell the Runner that my records will be ready later this afternoon. I would have had them yesterday, but I don’t keep seven years of reports in London. I had to send to my country estate.”
“Seven years?”
“He insisted on it.” Lenton frowned. “Isn’t that what you asked for?”
Madeline stole a brief peek at Gabriel, but he was too far behind to hear the conversation. “Of course. I’d forgotten. That’s why I have someone else handle the business.” She brushed her bosom against Lenton’s arm. “I much prefer taking care of the pleasure.”
Ian had claimed Gabriel was thorough, but this was something else. Either he was seeking to make things difficult for her bidders, which she wouldn’t tolerate, or he had his own reason to want to see the records.
She tugged on Lenton’s arm, slowing him. “Let me inform Huntford before I’m distracted by more”—she ran her tongue over her lips—“enjoyable things.”
Lenton’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times.
She released his arm and strolled back to Gabriel, hating how her breath caught at the familiar expanse of his shoulders. How her fingers wanted to explore the line of his jaw and smooth the tired creases by his eyes. She subdued the sensations by focusing on her irritation. Why couldn’t she have this reaction to one of her bidders? It was beyond aggravating. “Lenton’s financial records are ready for your perusal this afternoon.”
Gabriel acknowledged her with a slight inclination of his head.
“All seven years’ worth.”
His eyes narrowed, but he gave no other reaction.
“I’d forgotten I was so demanding. Remind me why I decided on seven years.”
“Your friend is getting lonely.”
Madeline glanced back to find Lenton shifting from foot to foot, fingers tapping on his leg. “I expect to hear my brilliant reasoning later.”
He bowed, his expression bland, but his gaze was anything but obedient.
She let her stubbornness clash silently with his for a second before resuming her place by her suitor’s side. “That man can’t wait to be through with me.” The words roused a strange discomfort. She frowned. That sentence shouldn’t have bothered her. It was the truth, after all.
Lenton didn’t disappoint. He pulled her close. “I, on the other hand, can’t wait to win you.”
His flirtation didn’t soothe her vanity as much as she might have wished. Yet she brightened her smile and kept Lenton—and the other gentlemen who joined their group—enraptured until she’d finished their circuit around the park. She dispersed the fellows with promises of future dalliances and rounded on Gabriel.
He gave her a brief bow and began to walk away.
Oh no, he wasn’t about to leave without an explanation. She caught his arm. “Walk me to my coach.”
“It’s two feet away from you.” He halted, glaring at her hand. “I believe my duties are fulfilled this morning.”
“Apparently, your sense of duty knows no bounds. Seven years?”
“It will be hard for your suitors to hide the truth of their situations from me. They might counterfeit a few months’ worth of financial records to win you, but they won’t be able to falsify seven years’ worth, not in the amount of time I give them.” His voice was noncommittal, as if he wasn’t even interested enough to try to convince her of the truth of his words.
“That’s the best lie you could come up with?” Anger burned across her cheeks, warming them. He’d even had extra time to come up with a better one. “Why seven years?”
“You’ll know if they have the money, which is what I was hired to find out. As you’re so fond of pointing out, the rest doesn’t concern you.”
But it did. He was hiding something. And as someone who had done that professionally, she knew not to trust secrets.
Or the person who kept them.
Chapter Nine
Madeline handed Ian a cold towel.
He pressed it to the back of his head and collapsed into a chair. “Really, old man, you knew it was me.”
Canterbury’s face remained expressionless. “I had no idea. I took you for a common thief.”
“You accuse me of being common when you hit me over the head with a frying pan? That would have done a fishwife proud.”
Canterbury sniffed, causing the scarlet plumes on his hat to jerk toward his face. “You should know. You are the one who has far too much experience with wives of all kinds. Now I must prepare the tea.” He bowed to Madeline and backed from the room.
How did they know each other? They bickered like an old couple.
“So did you find out anything about the note?” she asked.
Ian groaned. “Give me a moment to collect what remains of my meager mental facilities.” He stood and poured himself a brandy.
Madeline snatched it from his hand and poured it back into the decanter. “You know that brandy is only for show.”
“But it’s excellent brandy. I bought it.”
“With my money. You also know the one bottle is all I could afford. What will I do if I’m forced to entertain some gentlemen?”
Ian reached for the decanter. “Offer them tea?”
She slapped his hand away.
“But it’s your butler who—” He held up his hands. “Fine. You win. I haven’t been able to discover anything about your note. No one’s heard anything unusual. I took Clayton’s list of the fellows who hate you the most but could find no trace of them in London.”
She sighed. “It seems quite wrong that people are threatening to kill me, but I no longer get paid for it. Do you miss it?”
“The hunger, the cold, the lice, the rats that gnawed holes in the soles of my feet as I slept? I awake yearning for it every day. Why, do you?”
No.
Yes.
When she was a spy, there had been no Gabriel to pester her thoughts and desires. And if someone had threatened her life, she would’ve either killed him or moved on to another mission. She hated feeling like an overstuffed Christmas goose awaiting butchering.
“Am I nice?” Madeline wished she could recall the words. She was having this conversation with the wrong member of the Trio. Clayton would have scolded her for being foolish and said something deep and profound that would have soothed her fears.
Ian, on the other hand, laughed. “Why would you want to be nice? You’re well trained. That’s far better.”
But was that all there was to her? Training?
More importantly, did she care? She hadn’t a week ago.
Ian lifted a glass of brandy to his lips.
She glared at him. Of course, he hadn’t listened.
“It’s only a sip, I swear.”
Why did she bother trying to stop him? He was the Wraith, after all. What he wanted, he got. “The brandy will cost you.”
He sipped the amber liquid. “Of course. Everything does.”
“I need to find out all there is to know about Gabriel.”
“Huntford? Why?”
“He’s using the task I assigned him to pursue some personal agenda.”
“Have you asked him what it might be?”
“Yes. But now I need the truth.”
Ian patted her on the head. “I did train you well, didn’t I? He’s a bastard, you know.”
“I’ve experienced it.”
Ian laughed, handing her the rest of his brandy. “No, as in there is no Papa Huntford. I did some research before I gave him to you. His mother was a governess who found herself in the family way and changed her name to Mrs. Huntford before she gave birth to twins.”
“He has a brother?” For some reason, the idea of two of him running around was as amusing as it was frightening.
“No. He had a sister. She was murdered seven years ago, strangled. They never caught the killer. That’s why he became a Runner.”
Poor Gabriel. No one took the death of a family member lightly, but to lose a twin sister . . . And Madeline had seen the body of a woman who’d been strangled. Even though she hadn’t known the woman, the horrific image had stayed with her. What would it be like to go to sleep with the image of his sister like that imprinted on his thoughts—
Seven years.
“Gabriel asked for seven years of financial information from my suitors.”
“So he seeks something to do with his sister’s murder? I’ll see if I can find out what he’s looking for.”
“And anything else about him you think of interest.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she’d sooner face a Russian execution squad than explain her sudden yearning to know every last detail about Gabriel.
Ian massaged the back of his head. “Explain to me why I’m working while you spend the night at the theater?”
She wished she could simply delegate the investigation into Gabriel’s motives to Ian, but the puzzle nagged at her. “I’ll do my portion.”
“Will you torture or seduce the information from him?”
“I haven’t yet decided.” At the moment, both ideas appealed equally.
Grimacing, Ian rose to his feet, complaining about butlers who were fast with frying pans yet slow with tea. He paused by the door. “Are you sure you want to know what I find?”
She ignored the way her stomach dipped. “Isn’t it possible there’s nothing dark lurking in his past?”
