But he was trained to move forward under the influence of fear. And the feeling of this woman between his hands and this close to him was more than he could withstand.
“Call me Gabe,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers gently. “When it’s just us, I’m Gabe.”
Amelia smiled and drummed her fingers along the back of his neck. “Gabe,” she repeated as if testing it out. “I like the sound of that.”
“I like it when you say it,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed by the absolutely maudlin nature of his answer. But it was true. He did like it, in a very odd, possessive sort of way.
She tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing. “Are you complimenting me?”
“Never,” he insisted, relinquishing his hold on her and stepping back a little. “I would never do something so ridiculous.”
“I didn’t think so,” Amelia replied, sliding her hand down from his neck, and making a pointed effort to dance her fingers along his shoulder and arm as she did so. “But then, I didn’t think you would ever kiss me, either.”
He seized her hand as it reached his and turned it over. “I like surprising people,” he growled. “Get used to it.” He brought her palm to his lips and chuckled at the way she jumped.
“The kissing or the surprising?” she asked faintly.
Gabe took great delight in the wolfish grin he cast at her as he let her hand go. “Both.”
Amelia pretended to swoon and grabbed onto the table behind her for balance. “Oh, lord.”
He smirked in her general direction as he rounded the desk and sat down again. “Thank you.”
Her brows snapped down, and she glared at him. “That wasn’t a compliment, either.”
“Sounded complimentary to me.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I just kissed you senseless after all.”
“I am not senseless!” she protested, putting her hands on her hips.
“I didn’t say you were senseless,” he pointed out. “I said I kissed you senseless.”
“And I say you did not!”
He gave her a knowing look. “Yes. I did.”
She dipped her chin and smiled a tight smile. “No. You didn’t. And I would like to see you try and accomplish that.”
He shrugged and started to rise, only for her to thrust up her hands defensively. “No!” she ordered, eyes wide, a hint of panic in her voice. “That was not an invitation. Or a challenge.”
Gabe eyed her up and down in one slow motion. “Pity, that.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and sat back down on her table. “Get a hold of yourself. One kiss and you’re a schoolboy.”
“I can assure you, I was much worse as a schoolboy.”
She hooted a laugh, leaning back. “Now that, I believe.” She smiled at him warmly, then frowned.
“What?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.
“If that is going to happen again,” she started slowly.
“It just might,” he interjected, surprising himself with the ease of admitting it.
“…then I am assuming,” she continued with a flash of a smile at his words, “that we are keeping this to ourselves? Particularly here?”
Gabe blanched in horror and looked at the door. “Damn… Absolutely. No one can know.”
Amelia was already nodding. “Absolutely. One and Two would never recover from the shock.”
“Rook and Gent would never let me hear the end of it,” he added with a shudder. He looked at her with doleful eyes. “You wouldn’t want me to regret kissing you, would you?”
Amelia could not have looked any more superior in response. “That, my dear Rogue, would be presuming you would find regret in kissing me at all.”
He opened his mouth to respond but found nothing except a mischievous smile and the desire to kiss her again. But he would remain where he was and smirk instead. “Outside of this room, we are to bicker as much as we did before.”
“I believe I can manage that,” she replied, folding her arms.
“I never doubted you.”
They smiled at each other a little, and Gabe replayed the last few minutes back in his mind for good measure. Then he sat up, his amusement fading. “Wait a moment, did you say your mother was Mary Cole for some of the time?”
Amelia looked surprised, then derisive. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Not a bit,” he replied without shame. “Tell me again. Spare me the sentimentality. Just the facts.”
“You think that’s significant?” she asked, all teasing gone.
He nodded slowly, satisfaction and a hint of excitement filling him. “I think it could be something.” He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and gestured to her. “Come over here and tell me again. I want to get this down.”
Chapter Fifteen
There was no doubt in Amelia’s mind anymore about why he was named the Rogue.
None whatsoever.
In fact, he was the most entertaining sort of rogue she had ever come across in her entire life. Which only proved that first impressions were not always correct.
But sometimes they were.
When he chose to be, he could be playful, teasing, engaging, or even romantic. He’d been all those things in a very short time, and her mind spun with the effort to keep up with him. And he was a troublemaker. Oh, he very much enjoyed that and took great pains to be so. And, if she were forced to admit it, she rather enjoyed it as well.
She’d honestly believed that after he’d thought their kiss over, after reliving it, he would have decided that it was a horrible idea, and he had no interest in it further. After all, he was vocally dismissive of women in general, no matter how well he might treat them personally. It would only follow that he would have some serious regrets about developing any sort of personal relationship with her.
Not that a kiss or two would necessarily indicate an actual relationship of any personal nature to follow. She was intelligent enough to know very well that one could kiss anyone for any reason.
But Rogue… Gabe, she reminded herself yet again… had been mischievous and teasing the day after he’d kissed her. He’d been just as ruthless with his barbs and expressions before all the rest, but the moment they had entered his office and had a moment alone, he had again taken her face in hand and kissed her quite soundly.
She was woman enough to be dazed, and he’d loved that. He’d smirked proudly and tapped her cheek. “I like putting that expression there,” he’d said in a low voice that made her toes curl, and then he’d gone back to his desk as right as rain and gotten straight to business.
Except nothing was strictly business anymore.
Amelia was always staring a little too long, and he was always smiling just a little too much. But surprisingly, they weren’t embarrassed about it. She’d told him time and again to be himself, and he’d scold her for gawking, and they would laugh about it.
They laughed all the time now. Teasing and playing, gadding about London in whatever costumes Tilda drummed up for them, staging brilliant fights for the clerks and other investigators, and generally making whatever mischief they could. And when they were alone, things were more comfortable. Safer. And he’d started to hold her hand when they were close enough, and his kisses… well, she was getting quite used to them, and it was surprising how gentle such a rough man could be.
And they were accomplishing a great deal together, despite their newfound affinity for kissing each other. He’d made her recite everything she remembered about her interview with Mrs. Folsom, and then they’d gone around speaking to more people about her mother and this new last name of Cole. No one seemed to know if Mary Cole was married or not, as she did not wear a ring, and she never spoke of her fellow.
But everyone agreed that she had one.
Which did not help at all.
Amelia found herself growing more and more frustrated with their efforts, but Gabe, surprisingly, was not. He was only becoming more determined and gaining more confidence. H
e adamantly refused to let her get discouraged with the process, and it meant a great deal to her that he cared enough to do so.
But it wasn’t enough.
She needed proof, she needed answers, and she needed them now.
Gabe had given her what information he could about the landlord for the cottage in Surrey but said he’d not been able to question him yet. He’d skirted around the issue with some rather weak excuses, but Amelia knew the trouble.
It was the woman in his head.
She cursed whoever she was for distracting Gabe from her case, but she also found herself a little pleased to know she existed. It made her hope. If Gabe could care for that woman, whoever she was, so deeply, want her so passionately, then he was not as indifferent to the world as he pretended to be. And if that were true, then perhaps… well, she was growing rather fond of the irritating man who kissed so well.
But that would stay her little secret. For now.
As would her escapades tonight. Heaven only knew what he would say if he found out what she was up to.
She’d given nothing away this afternoon while they’d finished up their rounds of the boarding houses in the area they presumed her mother had lived in. Gabe had believed her tired and perhaps discouraged, as she had intended, and not commented on it when she announced she would be returning home for the evening. It was a risk, as he tended to be suspicious of everyone and everything, and especially wary of her, even in fun. Even with little Daisy following her, she’d not felt any urgency.
When she’d seen Daisy leave her post, as she usually did in the early evening, Amelia dressed quickly in the rough clothing she’d nicked from the laundry a few days ago. Worn men’s clothing would hardly go missing, and the dark colors were perfect for what she needed. She’d gone about London at night before, but not for this purpose.
Well, not in some time, at least.
And she was being followed these days.
Not that Daisy was a particular hindrance. The child was delightful and adorable, and, once Amelia had assured her she would not be in trouble for being made, was content to share many stories with her about her day, her life, and the other children Gent had working for him around London. It was an odd thought to be tracked by a child, but she saw the wisdom in it for their purposes. No one notices a child, while a child notices everything. It would be quite useful for any investigation and notification of trouble.
What Amelia did not know was if another person were assigned to her when it was too dangerous for a child. Someone, perhaps, less friendly, less inclined to befriend her, and more able to hinder her movements.
Hence her disguise.
She tied her hair back tightly and tucked it into a cap, which she pulled down low over her eyes, and checked her appearance in the small mirror on one wall.
A rather dirty and young-looking boy looked back at her, and she smiled with satisfaction. She’d never pass for a man, but she did not look at all feminine either. And with the dark clothing, she could blend in as well as she needed to in the streets at night.
Slipping out of the room quietly so as not to disturb any of her neighbors, she made her way down the hall and turned to the servants’ stair, which she’d found the other day and paid a maid to show her the way out. She’d paid her again today to leave the servants’ entrance unlocked until after she had verified Amelia’s return.
It was quite a luxury to have funds at hand.
Granted, she did not have much, and all she used for her stay here and the venture itself consisted of all that she had. When all of this was over, she would be starting from the beginning again.
She shook her head as she quietly exited the building and started down the rapidly darkening street. Amelia could not think about what was going to happen after this. She needed to find her father, and that was everything. After she accomplished that, she could manage anything.
Amelia Tribbett was a survivor, and she would find a way to do so again.
She nodded firmly to herself and ducked into an alley to cut across a few streets without the trouble of hacks and foot traffic. She felt herself smiling, inhaling the unusual fragrance of London’s darker side, and finding it as welcoming as any smell in the world.
London had been her home for far longer than anyone would have guessed and meant far more than she had ever let on. It was not without its evils, and she shuddered at the faint memories she had spent years overcoming, but she had also found herself here. This was where she had truly become Amelia Tribbett, though her name had been hers since the days of the poorhouse.
She’d been trained in mimicry and fighting, pickpocketing and finery, stealth and intimidation. And she’d learned French from the sort of Frenchman that did not bother with schoolroom lessons.
Oh, yes, London had been an education for her. She’d found her thirst for vengeance in its undersides, and those who knew her had fueled her fury. They knew she was better than her surroundings, that she had been cheated of a better life, that someone must pay.
And someone would.
But tonight, she only needed answers that nobody else seemed interested in or willing to obtain. She had no reservations about what she was about to do and was so out of practice, she was actually looking forward to it.
Stealing the address of the landlord at his London address had been only too easy, now that Gabe was a bit more easily distracted. Once she’d had that, she copied it down for herself and then returned the original before he’d ever noticed anything amiss. And conveniently enough, she knew precisely where the address was, how to get there, and, more importantly, how to leave the place without raising any suspicions.
The dark and filthy edifice of the building was suddenly before her, looming its imposing nature over all below, and no doubt causing many to turn to find some more welcoming place for their evening’s entertainment or residence.
Amelia, however, felt her excitement rise and pressed forward with a confidence she had not felt in quite a long time.
London was a very different place at night. Darker, deadlier, and while the bustle of the day was gone, its pace was just as swift.
It was only a trifle harder to see it.
And it happened in almost complete silence.
Gabe shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, ambling down the dark and winding streets of London’s dockside quarters with all the ease that Gent or Rook might have wandered Mayfair. He never quite fit in those areas, title or no. He was meant for lesser things, for darker places, and for more treacherous realms.
Then again, Society had its own sort of treachery, and its effects were just as deadly.
He shuddered to himself and craned his neck. That was no place for him.
This was his world, and he was welcomed in it.
Various individuals greeted him as he passed them, keeping their voices down in an almost reverent tone. He’d earned quite a reputation down here, and it was not the sort of thing one discussed outside of these streets. He enjoyed being feared, and he enjoyed being left alone.
His thoughts were company enough tonight.
Amelia was on his mind more often than he cared to admit. Kissing Amelia was on his mind far more often than it ought to have been. And finding answers to Amelia’s case… well, that was somewhere in his mind, but the other two topics were more prevalent. She was the brightest part of his day, and he could say such without feeling remotely sentimental. It wasn’t saying much, considering the way he lived and what his days consisted of.
Still, she had proven herself to be much more than he’d thought she would be, and she was one of the wittiest people of his acquaintance, male or female. She was quick-minded, sharp-tongued, and could turn him absolutely mad with rage. But then, in a second, she could have him grinning and teasing, sneaking kisses as though he were some ridiculous puppy chasing after a high Society miss.
Except they were not in Society, so they could behave without any of the niceties there.
What a delicious
thought.
He found himself chuckling, wondering what she would say if she knew what he was thinking. Though he embarrassed her as often as he could in the privacy of his office, he had always been careful and gentle where his attentions were concerned. He had no intention of making her his mistress or any ridiculous notion of the kind. He enjoyed being able to confer with her on clues and information gathered, be his usual cynical self, and be able to kiss her at will or display any sort of attention, without any expectation.
It was odd, but when she was close, he found himself wanting to touch her. To hold her. He’d even found himself toying with her fingers on occasion without ever realizing he had taken her hand.
But it was working.
His desperation over the goddess was fading.
Oh, he had not forgotten her. He could not. He searched for her at every opportunity, had some of his more trusted sources investigating when he could not, and still dreamt of her some nights. But the madness was subsiding. He could sleep at night. He had focus in all his work, no matter which part.
He supposed he could say that Amelia had stabilized his teetering ship in the storm of his own emotions. She had set him to rights.
Gabe snorted to himself. Rights? The woman was infuriating, entertaining, and downright absurd. But heaven help him, he loved the madness she provided.
Which was not to say that he loved her.
He was not that mad.
Love was not an emotion he was capable of. He had loved his mother, he was sure, and he certainly felt great affection and loyalty for his aunt, when she did not plague him, but those were familial bonds and quite a different sort. He was not a man who would give himself up for a woman, nor the kind to sacrifice himself for anyone but himself and his own interest.
Oh, all right, and for the kingdom, country, and crown. And perhaps his brothers-in-arms, if he was feeling generous.
Maybe not Rook, but the others, surely.
But that was all. His heart was not that big, and he rather wished it would continue its purpose within him rather than be taken by some female with no notion of what to do with it.
A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2) Page 18
