by Anna Randol
Her heart pounded wildly at the fantasy even as she rejected it. Nothing had changed. That option brought nothing but a brief moment of passion followed by a lifetime of regret.
Did it have to end with regret?
Almost certainly.
Perhaps if she were a different woman, more noble, more innocent, more pristine, they might have had a chance. She preferred to live with pleasant thoughts of what might have been rather than with the agony of failure.
When had she become such a coward?
Risk had been the one constant in her life for the past ten years. Each day brought the threat of capture, torture, and execution. What did she risk if she gave in to her feelings for Gabriel?
Only two tiny things—her heart and her soul.
Madeline gulped more of the wine and bantered with the men now swarming around her, careful to avoid Billingsgate. She twitched her toes. The dew had soaked through her slippers, chilling her feet. She surveyed the men around her again. Now she’d drive them into a frenzy of bidding.
Any moment she’d transform into the dazzling coquette.
She inhaled, pulled back her shoulders and . . . nothing.
She didn’t want to do this.
When one of Lady Aphrodite’s girls drew Danbury away, she did nothing to try to retain him.
Heavens, she was that far lost? Her breath came high and shallow. It couldn’t be love, could it?
Surely not. Love wasn’t supposed to fill you with fear.
A hand rested on her elbow. “Madeline, darling, are you ready to come with me now?”
“Billingsgate.” All extraneous thoughts fled. Her entire being focused on the man crowding behind her. A shift of her elbow allowed her to calculate precisely how far his body was from hers. Then she shrugged, the subtle movement gauging his intent.
His hand clamped and wouldn’t let go. He lowered his mouth next to her ear. “I’m tired of your games. There’s a pistol aimed at your back.” An unmistakable circular outline bit into her spine.
She laughed, pitching her voice to carry to Gabriel. “A pistol in your pocket? That’s a bit generous, don’t you think?”
The gentlemen around her chuckled and offered descriptions of what filled their trousers.
Billingsgate’s fingers dug into her arm as he pulled her back a step. “Forgive me, gentlemen. A fellow cannot let a slur like that go unpunished. Come, shall we go for a stroll?” The pressure returned to her spine.
Her drunken admirers shouted lewd suggestions as he dragged her toward the dark paths. Not one of them offered to protect her, not even in jest.
Well, she knew where she stood with them.
Madeline cast a glance toward Gabriel, but Billingsgate blocked her view.
“Your faithful hound won’t be able to save you. A few of my friends are detaining him.”
Gabriel could handle himself. But a shiver ran through her. Anything could happen if guns were involved. She barricaded her fear in a corner of her mind. If she wanted to help Gabriel, she had to free herself first.
Madeline allowed Billingsgate to force her down one of the paths, his hot breath on her neck testifying to his intentions. If the information Lady Aphrodite provided was correct, he’d most likely want her tied. She had only a brief window to act.
First, she needed him to draw his gun so she could disarm him. “This is a foolish plan.” A man who needed his victims tied and helpless was unconfident at the core. She’d emasculated him by rejecting him. Further ridicule should be intolerable.
He pushed her between the shoulder blades so she stumbled.
“Are you so desperate for a woman that you have to force her at gunpoint?” she asked.
His teeth ground together. “I don’t plan to kill you, but if you make it necessary, no one will hear anything during the fireworks.”
She had to give him credit. It was a decent plan. But she had one of her own, so she pushed further. “What makes you incapable of attracting women? Insufficient . . . equipment?”
“I can have any woman I want.” Billingsgate shoved her into a small alcove. The tall shrubs entombed a white marble bench. On the bench rested a coiled rope. “Pick it up.”
A tendril of fear escaped her control and quivered through her like a discordant note on a violin. He’d planned this more carefully than she’d anticipated.
Billingsgate pulled a stack of banknotes out of his pocket and tossed it next to the rope. “I’m not unreasonable. That’s five times the amount I would have paid any of the whores here. If you submit without any fuss, the money is yours. If not, then you forfeit the money and a good deal more blood.”
Madeline snorted. “Did you actually believe that offer would work?”
“There’s a small fortune sitting on that bench. Do you know what most whores would let me do for that much money?”
“Why would I want your small fortune when I can have a large one?” And she wasn’t a whore. Her spine stiffened, muting the terror. Despite the fact she’d given herself that title a thousand times before, she no longer believed it. The money on the bench didn’t tempt her. All she could think about was getting free so she could help Gabriel.
“I hoped you’d say that. Now hand me the rope.”
She knocked it to the ground.
A cold smile flashed in the dark. “Pick it up.”
She laughed. “Why? Do you need it to hold certain parts up?”
There was the metallic click of a hammer being drawn, and the gun emerged from his pocket.
Victory.
She bent over, but rather than reaching for the rope, she drew her knife. As it arced out of her hand with practiced precision, Billingsgate flinched toward a sound on the pathway. The knife embedded in the soft muscle of his shoulder rather than severing tendons.
Madeline swore as she lunged at him. She grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisting it toward him.
Billingsgate roared in pain as she wrenched the pistol away and tossed it into the bushes. His hand tangled in her hair. With a violent tug, he sent her sprawling on the ground. Madeline tried to scramble out of reach, but he was on top of her before she could roll away.
She slammed her knee upward but he blocked her with practiced precision. Pinning both her hands over her head with one of his, he forced himself between her legs.
Panic became a living thing, clawing inside her, robbing her of her breath. Madeline opened her mouth to scream, but his hand ground into her mouth, blocking the sound.
His eyes gleamed. “Who do you think will come for you? Your Runner? He’s not coming for you anytime soon.”
The thought of Gabriel gave her mind something to latch on to. Something to keep her sane. It gave her power to bide her time as Billingsgate pulled down her bodice and groped her breasts, pinching and twisting until she whimpered. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, playing the details of her escape over and over in her mind—a technique she’d perfected.
His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his breeches. Lulled by her complacency, he released her in order to use both hands to unfasten them.
Madeline seized the opening, slamming the heel of her hand upward into his nose. Grabbing his ears, she twisted his head, rolling him off. Despite the white stars of pain exploding from the stitches on her stomach, she sprang to her feet.
She had to get to Gabriel.
But after a single step, Billingsgate’s hand latched around her ankle and sent her sprawling in the dirt.
The first of the evening fireworks exploded overhead with a deafening rumble.
“Ah, how timely. Go ahead and scream.”
A second burst of light illuminated a dark shape in the entrance to the alcove.
Gabriel.
He dove past Madeline and slammed his boot down on her attacker’s wrist, allowing her to pull free. A flash of green exploded overhead, lighting Billingsgate’s contorted scream.
Madeline scrambled to her feet. She allowed herself only a single deep breath
to regain the strength in her knees before she returned to Gabriel’s side.
Gabriel grabbed the man by his cravat and hauled him to his feet. “The two men you sent to find me were at a disadvantage. They feared making a scene. I have no such compunction.”
Billingsgate clawed ineffectually at Gabriel’s hand. “Let me go, damn you! How dare you lay a hand on me? I’m a peer of the realm.”
Gabriel punched him. “Peers’ necks stretch the same as anyone else’s.”
Madeline grabbed his arm. “He isn’t the one, Gabriel. He doesn’t know about Susan.”
But if she expected his ire to lessen, she’d underestimated him.
Gabriel hauled him back to his feet with a growl. “Then the bastard will hang for touching you. Assault is a capital offense.”
Despite the gasping sounds coming from his throat, Billingsgate scoffed. “What do you plan to do? A dozen gentlemen will testify she came with me willingly.”
“I’ve made sure those same gentlemen know you tried to cheat them at this auction.” Gabriel’s smile would have done a hangman proud. “I’ll see you in front of the magistrate. And I should warn you, he is quite fond of Madeline.”
A flash of red illuminated Billingsgate’s horror. The gentlemen who’d ignored his treatment of women wouldn’t dream of tolerating a man who cheated. Even if he wasn’t convicted, as a man who supported himself at the gaming tables, Billingsgate had just doomed himself to a life of poverty. Gabriel thrust Billingsgate away.
Stumbling, Billingsgate collapsed to his knees, clutching his mangled hand to his chest.
Her revenge would be more subtle. Flicking at the dirt on her dress and straightening the bodice, she laid her hand on Gabriel’s arm. She swept Billingsgate a final look of disdain. Then she walked away without glancing back.
Billingsgate had lost. He’d lost so badly she didn’t even fear him.
For a man like Billingsgate, that would be more painful than the broken wrist.
“Care to wager if he’s there for you to arrest later?” she asked.
“The constables I sent for will see to that.” Gabriel drew her down a side path.
Madeline paused. “He isn’t the killer. He doesn’t have a coach with a crest on it. And someone vouched for him being at the club. Unless there’s something I missed. Tomorrow we can start—”
He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her voice stuck under the lump in her throat. She wanted to tell him what it felt like when he’d appeared out of the darkness to save her, but couldn’t think of the words. And what few words she could think of, she didn’t think she could say without humiliating amounts of tears. Under the cover of the rumble from the latest cluster of fireworks, she drew in a shuddering breath.
Gabriel cupped her chin. She flinched away, the touch of his hand and his compassion too much after Billingsgate.
Everything was too raw, too uncertain.
Gabriel must have understood. He stepped away without offering his arm. “You should go home.”
“I have to be seen so my suitors don’t think I disappeared with Billingsgate.” But she stared down at her filthy, torn dress.
“Come away, Madeline. They’re not worth it.”
“No, I need to go back.”
“Madeline—”
But Madeline ignored Gabriel and walked back toward the party. After a few seconds, Gabriel escorted her back to the party, retreating to his customary place behind her.
From the edge of the shadows, Madeline stared at the gathered crowd. Whether they’d been momentarily distracted by her absence or not, her suitors had quickly found solace in the arms of the other women.
Tonight she lacked the strength to hide from the truth. She didn’t care about this anymore. The men or the auction. Not even the deliciously large amount of money she was about to throw away. “I am finished with this. Take me home, Gabriel.”
Chapter Thirty
In the coach, Madeline perched stiffly in her seat across from Gabriel. Her eyes didn’t waver from the hands clenched in her lap. With each jolt, Gabriel feared she’d shatter.
He should care more that he’d just lost his last suspect. And he did care. The failure simmered, dark and molten inside him. Yet he found he didn’t care about that nearly as much as he cared about Madeline.
A passing streetlamp washed light across her emotionless features.
But she wasn’t emotionless. He could see it in the white, bloodless color of her fingers and the tension in the muscles of her neck. He could hear it in the slight rasp that accompanied each measured breath.
After she’d flinched away in the garden, he’d thought it best to give her space.
But she looked so damned alone.
Gabriel hated the uncertainty dogging his thoughts. What could he say? How could he help her without driving her away? He should have been thrilled at her claim to no longer care about the auction. Instead, it worried him.
His heart beat with aching thuds. It wasn’t normal for anyone to be so composed after a trauma like that. Not even a spy. She needed to let her emotions out before they splintered her to pieces.
He moved next to her, careful to keep from touching her. “Are you all right?”
She smiled her courtesan smile. “I can’t remember when I’ve had such an exciting evening.”
No. He wasn’t about to let her retreat. “Billingsgate is a monster.”
She drew against the wall of the coach, farther away. “He’s not worth remembering.” She unclenched her fists to wave her hand in what was, no doubt, meant to be an offhanded manner, but the tension in her arms reduced it to a jerky flick. Her hands stapled back together.
“But you do, don’t you? I doubt you can get him out of your head. You’ll feel better if you don’t bottle him up inside there. Talk to me, Madeline. Trust me that much. Let me help you carry this.”
Her mildly amused expression held fast.
Slowly, the expectant breath that Gabriel held deflated.
Give her space. Give her time, he reminded himself. Just because he could no longer deny his feelings didn’t mean she felt the same.
Yet.
He’d woo her until she no longer doubted she was worth more than any amount of money.
Suddenly, Madeline twitched. The spasm came again, this time along with a pained inhale. A single tear glistened on her lower lashes until a desperate blink chased it over the edge and down her cheek.
To hell with giving her space. Gabriel pulled her into his arms.
A sob wracked her slender frame. “Curse you. Why do you have to be so understanding and nice and—” Whatever else she was going to say drowned in a gulping breath. “I hate crying. I don’t want to cry. I don’t—” Her sobs started in earnest.
At first, Gabriel tried to catch her tears with his thumb, but there were far too many. Her body shook as if her soul were being harrowed up. She doubled over in his arms, her forehead resting on his thigh. She had to fight for each breath as if she were drowning.
What the devil had he been thinking? He knew nothing of what she’d experienced. He’d wanted her to feel better, not collapse under the torture of what Billingsgate had done. Gabriel continued to hold her, murmuring soothing nonsense over and over, cursing his own stupidity.
Finally, her head rested in his lap and her weeping eased.
He stroked back the tendrils of hair that clung to her damp cheeks. Never did he want her to go through that again. Never.
“Enough, Madeline. You said not to speak of ending the auction until I was ready to follow through. I’m ready now. End it.”
Madeline jerked upright.
Not now. He couldn’t speak of this now. Not when her defenses had been ripped into tattered shreds.
Her fine resolution at the party to end the auction was one thing. But it had been private. No one knew. Now Gabriel was asking her to admit her desires aloud. Ending the auction would be tantamoun
t to declaring her feelings. Admitting her love would be handing him the most powerful weapon he could have over her. Did she trust him with it?
She felt as if she teetered on the edge of a cliff, and while flying for a few moments might be exhilarating, there’d be that horrific impact at the bottom. There always was.
Were the few seconds of joy worth it?
“We don’t know who Susan’s killer is.” She refused to leap unless he was certain. “Our best bet is still Billingsgate. If it’s not, there’s a good chance the killer is one of my suitors. He was at the masquerade, after all. If I continue with the auction, perhaps we could find something.”
“And give the killer another opportunity to hurt you. I’m not totally at a loss. Some suspects have been eliminated, and I have more clues now than I have ever had before, thanks to you. I’ll track him based on those.”
Madeline pushed away from him, wanting to see his face. “How do you intend to stop the auction?”
Gabriel’s brows drew together. “Since talking sense into you has failed thus far, I’ll drag you in front of the nearest clergyman and marry you.”
Madeline suspected she resembled an owl, wide-eyed and skittish, but unable to do more than blink. Her heart battered her rib cage with audible thuds. Or maybe they were only audible because blood pounded in her ears as well. And in her cheeks. And fingers. Her entire body pulsed with a terrifying mixture of hope, joy, and pleasure. But even the deluge couldn’t completely overcome her hard-learned caution.
“Why would you want me for your wife?” She nearly choked. “For the mother of your children?”
“Then I’d know you’re safe.”
That was hardly the answer she’d hoped for.
But then Gabriel exhaled harshly and dragged his hand through his hair. “And because you crowd my thoughts until I can think of nothing else. Of your wit and kindness. The way this eyebrow quirks slightly when you’re bemused.” He traced her right brow with his fingertip. “Your insistence on opposing me at every turn. Your bravery serving your country.”
