by Anna Randol
“So who are you?”
“Most call me Wraith.”
In Gabriel’s experience, two types of people used a name like that: lunatics and criminals. He would put this man in the latter category. “And the others?”
The man’s lips curled in a cold smile. “Ian Maddox.”
“Who are you to her, Maddox? A former lover?”
A touch of real humor entered his smile. “I wish she were awake enough to hear you say that. How is she?” His humor faded as concern swept his face.
Gabriel didn’t lower his arm, but his muscles relaxed slightly. “She’ll live.”
Maddox exhaled slowly. “I should’ve known not to believe her damned nervous butler.” His eyes narrowed. “Now, where the devil were you when she was stabbed?”
The man’s anger did more to allay Gabriel’s fear than anything he could’ve said. But he wasn’t about to risk Madeline. “Three feet away from her.” He studied Maddox, awaiting his reaction.
But the other man’s expression didn’t change. “Did you catch him?”
“No. She didn’t tell me she’d been stabbed until we were out of the theater.”
Maddox’s grunt was half amusement, half acceptance. “Did she see who attacked her?”
“No.”
Maddox ran his hand through his hair. “Damned sloppy.”
The sentiment echoed Madeline’s a little too closely. “How did you say you know her?”
“I didn’t.”
Gabriel was too exhausted to tolerate any more ambiguous partial answers this night. “Then go.”
“I’m supposed to leave her with a man who skulks about her house as soon as she’s asleep?”
The door to the room opened, spilling a stream of light into the darkness. Another man swept in as Canterbury hovered in the doorway.
The new gentleman was taller than Gabriel and Maddox and leaner. However, like Maddox, the man moved with the grace of a trained fighter.
“How is she?” the newcomer asked.
“Wound’s not mortal,” Maddox answered with an annoyed glance at the butler. “Unlike the dire predictions I was fed.”
Canterbury sagged against the door frame. “Thank heavens.”
Maddox nodded toward Gabriel. “Gabriel Huntford, may I present Clayton Campbell?”
Gabriel was tempted to say no, but he inclined his head. “Campbell.”
Campbell’s eyes narrowed as they moved from Madeline’s prone form to the knife still in Gabriel’s hand.
“He’s not the one who stabbed her,” Maddox said.
“We’re sure?” The gleam in Campbell’s eyes promised that a swift death hung on his answer.
Gabriel was glad he still held his knife.
“We only have his word for it, do we not?” Campbell said.
Gabriel met Campbell’s glare with one of his own. “Just as I only have your word that one or all of you aren’t the assailants come to finish the job.”
Canterbury straightened. “I assure you I’m not.”
All three of the men glanced at Canterbury.
“Well, I’m not. And I would thank you all to save your violence for later. It isn’t proper to fight in a lady’s bedchamber.”
Maddox raised his brow. “The parlor or the drawing room is preferable then?”
Canterbury pointed his finger at Maddox, his bushy, white brows drawing together. “In the gutter. I think you are quite familiar with it.”
Campbell walked over to the bed and drew back the quilt covering Madeline. His glare turned black as her breasts were revealed. “Enjoyed yourself, did you?”
Gabriel readied his knife as Campbell lunged toward him.
Maddox stepped between them. “See to her life, then worry about her virtue.”
Gabriel grabbed Campbell’s arm before he could disturb the bandage. “Are you a doctor?”
Clayton shook him off with a cold look. “No, but then neither are you.”
Gabriel pressed his knife to Campbell’s side. “Move away from her.”
“Would you gentlemen move your pissing contest out of my room?” Madeline cracked open one eye, let it drift closed, then opened both with a sigh. “You’re all still here.”
“Are you all right, little one?” asked Campbell. For the first time since he’d entered, ice didn’t drip from his words. He traced his index finger along Madeline’s nose.
Gabriel sheathed his knife with slow precision, the idea of running Campbell through far too appealing for his peace of mind. Besides, Madeline obviously knew the other men to the extent she didn’t question why they were in her room. Or mind them seeing her half naked.
“Yes. Someone tried to stab me, but they failed miserably. Gabriel took care of me.”
Campbell lifted the edge of the bandage and made a quick but thorough inspection of the wound. “You have experience with doctoring, Huntford?” He tucked the sheet under her chin, and Gabriel’s brain resumed its normal functioning.
“Some. None of it by choice.” Gabriel watched Madeline as her gaze drifted between the others. Not once did her coy, flirtatious manner appear. She was at ease with them. Yet he couldn’t trust her decision. She was paying him to keep her safe.
Or at least paying him to appear to keep her safe, but there was no way in hell he’d allow her to be harmed again. “How do you know each other?”
“Would you believe cribbage partners?” Maddox asked, his face a mask of sincerity.
“No.”
“Cousins?”
Gabriel leveled him with a glare. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”
“Not likely. Unless Madeline does.”
“I could have you thrown in prison until you rot.”
Campbell shifted so he was shoulder to shoulder with Maddox. “It would be comical to see you try.”
“Would you—” Madeline pushed up on her elbows, then fell back, the hint of color she’d regained during her rest leaching away. Her shuddering breath propelled Gabriel to her side.
Unfortunately, it had the same effect on the other two.
Gabriel blocked them. “I’ll see to her.”
Campbell’s lip curled. “I don’t think so. Your work here is finished.”
“Canterbury!” Madeline’s shout interrupted their dispute.
“Miss?” The butler hurried in from the corridor.
“The gentlemen are leaving now.”
Campbell frowned. “Madeline—”
“I’m tired and in pain and you are all making it worse.”
Canterbury motioned to the door. “I believe Miss Valdan made her wishes quite clear.”
But Gabriel remained by the bed. She might have made her wishes clear, but that didn’t mean they were in her best interest.
“Send for us if you need us.” Maddox tipped his head toward the corridor, then he and Campbell strode out without looking back.
“Mr. Huntford?” Canterbury cleared his throat with deliberate force.
Gabriel remained where he was. “I need to ensure she didn’t reinjure herself when she moved.”
Madeline’s lips thinned, but she sighed. “Fine. But you leave as soon as you finish.”
Gabriel nodded. “Agreed.”
Canterbury bowed and backed from the room.
Gabriel hesitated before lifting the sheet covering Madeline, willing himself to be a gentleman. Check the dressing, nothing else. It was no different than when he’d tended Bartles after the man took a knife to the shoulder.
And Gabriel was the Prince Regent.
She was perfection from the gentle, pale slope of her shoulders to the slender span of her waist.
Which was covered in a bandage. Blood had already seeped through.
Gabriel’s teeth clenched together. “I told you to rest.” He unwound the fabric covering her stomach.
She nodded, her eyes already drifting closed again.
He placed a fresh square of fabric over her stitches. “How do you know Maddox and Campbell?�
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“They’re old friends.”
Gabriel finished securing the bandage again. “You know each other from London, then?”
“Initially.”
A lock of her dark hair had fallen across her shoulder and Gabriel smoothed it away as he covered her. Her elegant coiffure was crushed beneath her on the pillow. It couldn’t be comfortable. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that bothered him. “Did you become friends because of your mutual talent for giving ambiguous answers?” He began removing the pins holding the curls in place, unraveling the satin coils across her pillow, sifting them through his fingers until the strands lay straight.
She sighed again, but this time it dangerously resembled pleasure. “No, that was beaten into us later.”
Gabriel’s hand paused on her hair. “Beaten?”
“A figure of speech, nothing more. Please don’t stop.”
He resumed stroking her hair.
“It’s soothing. My mother used to do this when I couldn’t fall asleep. She—” Her brows jerked together, then drifted apart again. Her breathing deepened.
Each slow inhale exactly matched its exhale in duration. The tension drained from her face. Unlike her fitful slumber from earlier, she slept like an angel.
He almost believed her. “Your mother?”
Not a single twitch betrayed that she’d heard him.
Gabriel smoothed her hair one final time. “Coward.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mid-morning light brought respectability back to the uneven cobbles of Cheshire Street. The townsfolk unfortunate enough to live near Lady Aphrodite’s Love Grotto began to venture timidly out of their houses like rabbits in spring. They peered left, then right, then left again, noses practically twitching as they checked for signs of drunken revelry before descending down their stairs.
Gabriel’s rap with the well-polished brass knocker on the door to Lady Aphrodite’s sent a middle-aged woman and her maid scuttling back into their home across the street, barely swishing their skirts out of the way as the door slammed shut.
A young, barrel-chested footman appeared. Gabriel handed him his calling card as he stepped inside, removing his hat. “Is Lady Aphrodite available?”
The man’s brow wrinkled and his head tipped to the side as he read the card. “I don’t think she sees anyone this time of morning. She don’t wake up too early.”
Gabriel would bet this simple-minded man was assigned elsewhere when customers began to arrive in the evening. “I’m a Bow Street Runner. This is business.” It was past time he delved into the sexual histories of Madeline’s bidders. Lady Aphrodite’s wouldn’t cater to the more depraved proclivities, but it was popular, so it would be a good place to start.
The footman’s head bounced with uneven bobs as he nodded. “Let me go ask Her Ladyship.”
Gabriel was left standing in the foyer while the man trundled off to check. The decorations at Lady Aphrodite’s were surprisingly tasteful. The colors were soft, muted blues rather than the crimson and gold preferred by so many of its competitors. The chairs were worn but of good quality and smelled of beeswax. No doubt, it looked quite elegant by candlelight. It was easy to see why Lady Aphrodite’s had exploded in popularity during the six months since it opened. Bawdiness in the decor was limited. A few neatly wrought paintings depicting fornicating nymphs scandalized the walls. And in the center of the entryway stood a large marble statue of a nude woman with her head thrown back in obvious ecstasy.
Gabriel froze.
It couldn’t be.
While feeling like a schoolboy stealing peeks at the naughty bits of the Greek statues in the British Museum, he circled the translucent stone.
Madeline.
He stopped directly in front of it, no longer caring if he was caught staring.
The sculptor was either inept or had never seen Madeline naked. Madeline’s breasts were fuller. Her waist narrower.
Gabriel moved his gaze upward.
And the Madeline he knew would never meet passion with such languid acceptance. She would climax with eyes wide open, her fingers digging wildly into her lover’s back.
Unless the winning bidder preferred her more docile.
Gabriel exhaled harshly and turned away from the sculpture. No wonder she’d done so well with the auction. Who wouldn’t pay a fortune to be the man to bring that look of rapture to her face?
Had she arranged for the statue? Planned for it to be in the center of the ton’s most popular new brothel? Planned for the men to see, and then, consciously or not, want her? Gabriel no longer underestimated her skill at strategy.
“Sir?” The young footman scrambled back into the room. “You’re lucky. Lady Aphrodite says she’ll see you.” He drew a deep breath, seeming to recall the solemnity of his position. “I mean, if you will follow me, sir.”
Gabriel nodded at the man, wondering how he’d come to be hired. He’d not yet met Lady Aphrodite through any investigations, which was remarkable in this line of work. Had she hired the footman to save on funds? Or to be kind? The answer would go a long way to revealing her character.
But as much as he tried to focus on those questions and the way he would address his investigation, another question kept intruding—how did she know Madeline?
The footman ushered him into a study. A blond woman reclined on a settee, a pale yellow dressing gown draped over her full, rounded figure. Her gown gaped in the front, revealing a generous amount of bosom. She slowly uncrossed her legs, flashing slender ankles and calves. She shrugged, allowing the gown to slip from her shoulders and display the lack of clothing beneath the robe. After Madeline’s subtle finesse, the woman’s offer couldn’t have been more blatant if she’d thrown him to the carpet and ripped off his clothing.
Yet Gabriel didn’t feel a thing in response. Not a bloody thing. Not a single flicker of lust. All he could think about was that he preferred dark hair. Not just dark, but deep russet brown with a few streaks of auburn only revealed by the sun. And shoulders so delicate they appeared fragile until one held them and felt the carefully disguised strength.
Damn Madeline.
“Mr. Huntford, please have a seat.” A hand heavy with a rainbow of jeweled rings motioned to a wide footstool near her feet.
“I’ll stand, thank you.”
Lady Aphrodite straightened. Light streaming in through the open curtains diffused through the rice powder dusting her cheeks and skipped across the fine creases hiding near her eyes. “This is business, then.”
“Indeed.”
“That will be all, Michael.”
“Yes, Franny—I mean, Lady Aphrodite.” The man’s face crumpled at his mistake, then brightened. “Your sleeves are slipping. Let me help.” He tugged the fabric up over her shoulders. “That’s what brothers are for, after all.”
She cast a quick glance at Gabriel, but still smiled gently at the other man. “Thank you, Michael.”
The footman hurried from the room.
“What is it you require?”
“Information on a few of your clients.”
The humor faded from her face. “That, I cannot give you.”
Gabriel pulled several golden coins from his pocket. “I’ll pay.”
She made no move to take the money. “Do you think my clients will come if they think I give out their secrets? Is it official business that brings you here?”
“No. The inquiry is on behalf of a private client.”
“Who?”
Gabriel debated what to tell her; after all, Madeline couldn’t be all that well liked in the circles of the demimonde. Yet he saw no reason to lie. “Madeline Valdan.”
Lady Aphrodite swept him with a penetrating gaze. “You work for Madeline?”
Gabriel nodded.
A smile blossomed on Lady Aphrodite’s face. “Then bugger my clients, you may have whatever information you wish.”
He couldn’t help a niggling of suspicion. “Indeed? How do you know Madeline?”
What would he do if Lady Aphrodite said Madeline had worked for her?
Gabriel still didn’t know what to make of Madeline’s claims to virginity. Part of him had almost begun to believe her, but a single flick of her tongue over her lower lip or a swivel of those perfectly curved hips made him doubt her all over again, and he wasn’t a man given to uncertainty.
“I met her at a brothel.”
Gabriel’s chest constricted.
“I’m no longer young, and society has no place for aging courtesans. I’d just sold my last piece of jewelry from my former protector but it hadn’t brought in what I’d hoped. As you saw, I have Michael to take care of, so I was at my wit’s end, I suppose. I was going to sell myself to a brothel. But when I arrived, I couldn’t bring myself to enter. Madeline walked past as I sat on the curb. Oh, how I hated her grace and beauty. But then she turned and sat next to me. I bemoaned everything. Rather than pity me, she suggested I take every last penny from the necklace and open my own brothel. And she told me how much to charge.” Lady Aphrodite laughed and shook her head. “I thought she was mad, but she told me people equate money with class. The more expensive it is, the more people will want it. I’ve always had a touch of the gambler in me, so I did what she suggested, thinking if I failed, I could still sell myself. I only had enough for two weeks’ rent on this place.” She waved her heavily adorned hand. “That was six months ago.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly, a bit disgusted with the amount of relief coursing through him. After all, Madeline had counseled a woman on how to open a successful brothel. “I noticed the statue.”
She smiled. “It is an ode to a courtesan far more skilled than I.”
Gabriel pulled a copy of the list from Naughton’s from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are the bidders so far. What do you know about them?”
“If you are looking for more colorful information, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I keep things simple here.”
“Then the ones you don’t know will be just as useful as the ones you do.”
She pulled a pair of silver spectacles from the table next to her and perched them on her nose. She scanned the list slowly. “I have only seen Danbury once since he is not normally in London, but no complaints about him. Although he’s fastidious. He brings new nightclothes for the girl he selects. Lenton comes here as well. Has a fondness for variety. Never wants the same girl again, much to her dismay.”
