Apparently, he was not finished yet, which led her to believe it was a dangerous assignment.
Had he thrown himself into something treacherous on purpose? Did their last encounter have anything to do with it? Did she?
She could not bear the thought that she had driven him to it.
One thing she could say for her father was that he told her everything else he could of Gabe aside from his specific duties or assignments in their ranks. He told her of his early days with Gabe and how low he had sunk. He told her how reckless Gabe was, how skilled, how he had changed from the man he had been since joining them.
How could she have ever called him a traitor? Or without honor? How had she ever accused him of anything less than respectable and loyal behavior? He might have been irascible, and annoying, and beyond impertinent, but God help her, she adored him. She didn’t deserve him, but she loved him all the same. And she had to believe that he had truly loved her.
Which made her betrayal far worse than his had been.
Had his been a betrayal at all?
“Good morning, Miss,” came a cheery voice suddenly by her side.
Amelia looked up and saw Gent next to her, dressed in his usual common clothes, cap tipped back, dark stubble on his jaw. She scowled playfully up at him. “Are you on guard duty for me today?”
He barked a laugh and clasped his hands behind his back. “Heavens, no. I leave that for Knutt.” He inclined his head behind them and grinned. “He’s very bored.”
Amelia glanced behind her but saw nothing. She looked up at Gent again. “I am a very boring woman now.”
“I doubt that,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do congratulate you on having a fine father.”
“Yes, so I am learning.” She sighed and rubbed her brow. “Gent, is there any word from him?”
He shook his head. “No, but there wouldn’t be. He is in very deep right now, and to send word would be dangerous. But Skips will give a signal if anything needs to be done.”
Amelia turned to him in surprise. “Skips is one of you?”
That made Gent grin outright. “Oh, my dear Amelia, you would be quite surprised how many people are one of us.”
“There’s a comforting thought,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t trust anyone.”
“Not really,” he told her shrugging. “But you most certainly can’t trust Rook.”
“I knew that a long time ago,” she assured him, adjusting the sleeves of her jacket, pressing down the fraying threads there.
Gent caught it, though. “Hmm,” he mused with a sad shake of his head.
“What?” she demanded, daring him to comment further.
“We cannot have Eagle’s daughter looking so shabby,” he tsked. “It would look badly on the entire network.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and scoffed loudly, drawing a look from passing people. “Oh, please, not that again. I can’t keep going to Tilda, she’ll start to charge me.”
Gent smiled and took her arm in his. “Not Tilda, my dear. You’re about to turn respectable, once your father officially claims you. There’s a reputation to uphold, so you must do the thing properly.”
“What, because I have a father with funds I must use them?” she asked with as much sarcasm as she could muster, which was a great deal.
He surprised her by nodding. “Indeed, yes. It is the way of things. But I will start you off easily enough. I’ll have my wife call upon you when you are settled in with your father.”
Amelia lifted a brow. “How do you know I am going to?”
He returned her look. “Aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth to refute it but couldn’t find the words to do so. Suddenly, she knew that was precisely what she was going to do. But she scowled up at Gent for good measure. “I hate you,” she grumbled.
“It won’t last,” he promised, leading her down another street.
She thought about what he’d said, then jerked in his hold, looking back up at him. “Wait, you have a wife?”
He inclined his head. “Aye, I do. And she is most anxious to meet you, I can promise you that. She’s tried to come by once or twice, but for obvious reasons, I don’t allow her to. Dangerous area and wandering woman alone, secrets and intrigue… you know how it is.”
“So that day that Rook was looking all smug and smarmy…” she prodded with a smile.
“Which time?” he asked, looking confused, but smiling.
“Gent…” Amelia groaned dramatically.
He chuckled. “Yes, that was because Margaret showed up, and he knew how it would irritate me.” He sighed and shook his head. “I love my wife beyond anything, Amelia, but I do believe she will be the death of me. Do try to talk some sense into her, won’t you?”
Now Amelia laughed, throwing her head back and pulling herself closer to his side. “What in the world makes you think that I have any sense to give her?”
“One can hope,” he replied with a shrug. “Here we are.”
They had arrived at Lord Wharton’s townhouse, which Amelia had found within a day of realizing that Gabe had been right, and she had been horribly wrong.
She looked up at Gent suspiciously. “How did you know where I was going?”
He winked at her. “Lucky guess.” He led her up the stairs and knocked on the door loudly. The scowling butler appeared, looking at Amelia with the same irritation he always did, but taking in Gent with mild interest. “Is your master at home, Houser?”
Houser shook his head. “No, sir, Gent. No’ yet.”
A scampering sound and a loud screech of delight from within made Houser sigh, and he turned around. “Will you keep yer bleeding mischief down? ‘Ow can a man be a proper butler?”
“You’re not one!” came a young voice that Amelia knew well.
“Daisy?” she almost whispered.
The little girl appeared and waved at her cheerily.
Houser made an odd hissing noise, and Daisy grinned at him, then dashed away.
Daisy was here? Gabe, who claimed to despise children and sentiment and all things soft, had the child living with him? And she was happy, looking well, and teasing the servants. Gabe was taking care of her.
Amelia could barely breathe, couldn’t manage a single word, and barely heard Gent make their farewells to Houser. He took her arm and led her back the way they had come. She couldn’t bear this, it was too much.
“She’s not his,” Gent said when Amelia could breathe again. “He just takes an interest. She stays with Tilda sometimes, but more often of late, she’s been staying here. At his insistence.”
“Oh, Gent,” Amelia managed, tears rising and her chest constricting. “He’s better than I ever knew, and I loved him already.”
Gent took her hand and rubbed it gently. “I know, pet. Don’t tell anybody, though. He likes to be the wicked one.”
She laughed despite her tears. An idea had begun to form, and she looked up at Gabe’s colleague and friend. “Gent, will you help me with something?”
He grinned crookedly. “Aye, Miss, anything you say.”
“It is good to have you back, sir.”
Gabe blearily looked at Houser over his breakfast, wishing he had another three days to sleep, as the one night he’d just passed at home hardly seemed sufficient. “Don’t get soft on me now, Houser.”
The large man grunted. “I would never. But it is good to have you all the same.” The servant bowed, actually quite well, and turned from the dining room.
Gabe watched him go with a furrowed brow. He’d been gone a month, all told, and it had been the most grueling month of his life. He’d been so thoroughly into his character he had nearly forgotten who he was. It was quite a satisfying feeling to have the reprieve, but more satisfying to know he’d never truly forgotten his mission.
And to be a spy again had been a pleasant relief.
But he was also bloody exhausted by it, which only went to show he was out of practice.
Still, h
e’d managed to discover a well-concealed smuggling operation. Weapons and munitions were being sent to their irritating French faction from yet another set of English supporters. Granted, at least half of those supporters were only interested in the reward that such actions would bring them, but treason was treason all the same.
He’d not been able to discover anything about Alex, but it was not for want of trying. He could only assume that, for one reason or another, that particular band of smugglers was no longer working out of London.
It was suspicious, as London was a lucrative location for anyone looking to turn a profit, but if they had known who Alex was…
He had to doubt that. No one knew anything about Trace, it was part of his intrigue. It was the most valuable skill he possessed.
Had possessed.
Gabe sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing his full-bodied weariness away. He’d returned home very late the night before after reporting in to Weaver and Cap. They had questioned him on everything he’d uncovered, only stopping when he’d almost fallen asleep on the floor of Weaver’s office. Then he’d had other reports to attend to at his home, some of which he had managed to take in before finally collapsing into bed. He could only remember one of them.
Amelia.
He pushed up out of the chair with a groan and strode from the room, determined to banish her from his thoughts with distractions of work. When he had moments of clarity, recollecting himself, his thoughts were most often of her, and it drove him mad. The look in her eyes at their last meeting, the venom in her words, the betrayal etched in every line of her lovely face, they were all before him.
He tried to satisfy himself that he had done right by his conscience, and certainly by his mentor, but what about her? He had injured she to whom his heart belonged. Could he be absolved of that great crime by the greater right of truth and best intentions of his actions?
He left the house without a word, ignoring the few people that milled about the streets. The day was one of clouds and gloom, and he was grateful for it. He could not bear to think of light or warmth at present and might not for some time. But to endure association with Gent, who lived in a continual glow of love and fidelity, and with Cap, who had lost his great love and had never recovered, or, heaven forbid, with Eagle, whose life had been brightened by the very woman Gabe himself loved, any of them would have made his day infinitely worse.
Which left only the clerks and Rook whom he could safely endure.
God help him.
“My Lord Wharton?”
Gabe stopped in his tracks closing his eyes at the soft voice behind him. He was not ready for this. He could not…
He found himself turning towards her with a perfectly blank, yet hopefully polite expression. “Miss Martin.”
Amelia looked at him with uncertainty, her smile tentative, her fingers wringing themselves together with a desperation that betrayed her outward calm. She was better dressed than he had ever seen her, and she looked all the better for it. She could have easily passed as a well-born lady with a proper dowry and family, which, he supposed, she was now, and it suited her well. Her features were a little drawn, if he were to be severe, but he did not think he had ever seen a more beautiful sight. Or a more excruciating one.
The swift pain slashing across his midsection was a testament to that.
“So,” Amelia began with a slight waver in the simple word, “you are returned.”
He inclined his head. “As you see.”
Her smile spread just a little. “I had a watch on your house. To inform me when you had arrived. The Gent helped me set it up, and it worked perfectly. Last night, I received word of you, and I was half-tempted to come straightaway, but it hardly seemed appropriate to barge in on you in the middle of the night. But you’ve been away so long, and no one would tell me anything, so I knew it had to be dangerous…”
She was rambling, and he had learned long ago that she only rambled when she was nervous, which was rare indeed. He couldn’t bear the sight and sound of it and had to put an end to it. “To what point and purpose did you have my house watched, Miss Martin?” he interrupted politely. “I do not object, I only ask your reasons.”
“I…” She paused and shook her head slightly, forcing her fingers to settle. “I wanted to thank you.”
Gabe hadn’t expected that. He forced his hands to clasp behind his back to steady himself. He wanted to prod her on, to hear more, and he also wanted her to stop. He couldn’t bear her gratitude, not when he wanted so much more. Torn in his extremes, he said nothing.
“Your actions, your dedication to our dealings…” She swallowed, and he was grateful she didn’t expound on the specifics. They were in public, after all. She looked up at him with another faint smile. “Even when I could not see it, you always did the right thing. You’ve restored me to my family, and I am so grateful to you.”
He would not bear this. He shook his head, smiling as kindly as he could manage. “It was nothing. I am pleased you have found each other. Your gratitude is unnecessary.”
Amelia’s brow furrowed in surprise at his formal, polite tone. “It is not nothing! You know how I felt about him, and you knew him, and it’s because of you that I have come to know him and love him myself. Without you, I… I would never…” She broke off with a choked sound, and the sheen of tears in her eyes weakened his knees. She managed a watery smile. “He’s my father, Gabe. He’s my father.”
Impossibly, he found swallowing difficult, and he no longer had to pretend at his gentle smile. “I know. And I know what that means.”
She nodded, her lashes fluttering over the tears.
Gabe shook his head slowly, still smiling. “But you don’t need to thank me. Truly. I am glad you are happy. Good day, Miss Martin.” He bowed and turned away, hoping against hope that he could get enough distance to escape the crushing pain in his chest. He strode away in careful, controlled paces, resisting the urge to bolt in order to escape all the faster.
“Gabe?” Amelia called, her voice shrill and filled with such agony that he was forced to stop. “Did I ruin my chances? Has my pride and thirst for revenge made you hate me?”
Gabe’s hands clenched at his sides, and he glanced behind him. “I could never hate you,” he replied, not entirely certain she would hear him.
“Then look at me!” she cried, the sound of tears evident. “Look at me and tell me if you could ever love me again.”
Slowly, Gabe turned to face her, and the sight of tears on her perfect face, vulnerability and distress in her eyes, broke something within him, and he exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “I never stopped loving you, Amelia.”
Her eyes widened, and then Amelia suddenly sobbed and took an unsteady step towards him, one hand reaching out, the other clutching at her chest.
Gabe released his own moan of distress and marched to her quickly, gathering her up in his arms and kissing her with all the passion and longing he had borne in the last few weeks. His hands stroked her face, tangled in her hair, clung to her desperately as his lips claimed her for himself, no matter what followed. Amelia gripped his coat and sobbed against his mouth, the taste of her tears softening his kisses.
He pulled back, keeping her face in his hands, and pushed back the hair from her face. She smiled with quivering lips, which his thumb smoothed, while a few stray tears fell, and he kissed those away. “You called me a liar,” he reminded her gently, smiling to attempt to lessen the sting. “A traitor, a man with no honor, and who knows what else behind my back. You said you didn’t know how you could trust me. You said you hated me. And yet I still love you. I am still wholly and completely in love with you. My time away from you has only intensified that. So, the question that remains, my dear Amelia, is if you could ever love me again.”
“Yes,” Amelia gasped, nodding over and over again in his hold. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Gabe drew her to him, sighing with relief and pressing her face against his shoulder, her hands still clenched o
n his lapels. He wrapped his arms around her and touched his lips to her ear. “You’re going to have to say it, love,” he murmured with a hint of a chuckle. “You know me, I need proof.”
She laughed against him and lifted her head, her smile dazzling him with its brilliance. “I love you, Gabriel Fitzgerald Oliver Statler. As Lord Wharton, as the Rogue, and as the biggest pain the arse I have ever met.”
“Shut up, woman,” he groaned, grinning madly like he was someone else entirely.
He leaned down and brought his lips to hers, loving the feel of them and the way they molded perfectly to his. Amelia tugged him closer, and he followed with a faint hum of approval, tenderly ravaging her mouth, giving each aspect its due consideration. There was no hint of the frenzy from before, everything slow and languorous, and very, very thorough.
He could have kissed her until the end of time.
And if he had any say in the matter, he would.
Gabe gently broke the kiss, nuzzled her softly, then gruffly asked, “Who the bloody hell told you my full name?”
Amelia’s delighted laughter echoed off the buildings around them and within the walls of his heart, which he’d almost entirely forgotten that he had.
The Rogue with a heart? No one would ever believe that.
But the secret would be safe with her.
As would he.
Epilogue
The house was dark, as it ought to have been, with no sign of life from within. The grounds were still, and the only sounds were those of his footsteps, which were faint at best.
It was perfect for his plans.
Gabe skirted around the outside of the house, grateful that even the moon had complied with his wishes tonight by rising late and in a cloud-riddled sky. With no light to expose him, he could move even more stealthily than he otherwise might have done.
A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2) Page 29
