She shook her head with the barest hint of a smile. “Thank you, but no.” Then before he could prevent it, she sprinted on lithe legs toward the door, dashing into the empty entry hall and disappearing from view.
From across the study, Tony watched in annoyance. Moving fast, he started after her. But Rafe reached out and stopped him with a hand. “Let her go. You’ll only get into another scuffle with her.”
He shook off his friend’s hold. “She deserves another scuffle for acting like a peagoose.”
“She’s no peagoose. Stubborn and willful, mayhap, but as sharp-witted as they come. Dressed in boy’s clothing, I am sure she will meet without harm.”
“You do not know that.”
“I do, since Hannibal is following on her heels, and to his credit she will never detect his presence.”
As Wyvern knew, Hannibal was Rafe’s trusted associate—a combination of servant and friend. Tall as a giant, Hannibal had a habit of scaring people the first time they encountered him, his bald head, as well as the fearsome scar that cleaved one cheek from temple to jaw, enough to give anyone a fright. Luckily, Gabriella would suffer no such anxiety tonight, since Hannibal was indeed far too skilled a tracker to ever be caught in the act.
His shoulders relaxed. “Well, if Hannibal is on her trail, she’ll be safe enough, I suppose.” Still, a part of him wished he’d given her back the pistol. From what he suspected of her current life situation, she might well have need of a weapon for something other than attempting to shoot Rafe. He didn’t like to think of her in trouble, though she had told them she had prospects. For her sake, he hoped they were good ones.
A night watchman called three in the morning by the time Gabriella used her purloined key to let herself into the boardinghouse that stood a few blocks south of the Covent Garden Theater. After relocking the door at her back, she moved up the staircase, careful to tread lightly on the squeaky wooden steps so as not to wake the landlady. Thin-lipped and short-tempered, Mrs. Buckles would use any excuse to raise the rent again, exactly as she’d done last month when Maude made the mistake of cooking some sausages and onions in their room. After complaining about the supposed stench, Mrs. Buckles had threatened to toss her and Maude out, before she’d agreed to take a few extra shillings a month for their room and board.
The air grew increasingly chilly the higher Gabriella climbed, the temperature nearly as cold as the February night by the time she let herself into the attic room. Instantly, warmth surrounded her.
Bless Maude, she thought, for adding an extra scoop of coal to the fire. Although her friend was an actress and often worked late into the evening, Gabriella knew that she must be in bed by now. Slipping out of her borrowed jacket, she draped it over the back of a wooden chair, then turned on a yawn to seek her own slumber.
“For mercy sakes, where have you been!”
Gabriella jumped and nearly let out a scream. Glancing over, she found a nightgown-clad Maude watching her with accusing eyes. Laying a hand over her racing heart, she fought to recover her balance. “Heavens, you scared the life out of me.”
The older woman tsked and wrapped her worn blue woolen shawl tighter around her shoulders. “It’s no more than you deserve, creeping in here only a few hours shy of dawn without a word from you beforehand. I was worried something dreadful, imagining all sorts of scenarios involving thieves and scoundrels and the like.”
“You know I’m far too light-footed to get caught by either variety of brigand. Truly, though, I am sorry to have worried you, since that was not my intent.”
Crossing to the small fireplace grate, Maude bent down to light a candle. The pungent odor of tallow spread through the small room along with a weak yellowish pool of illumination. Raising the candle higher, Maude visibly inspected Gabriella, then released another loud tsk. “I suppose that’s one of Joe’s costumes? It’s a good thing that suit hasn’t been missed.”
“Nor will it be,” Gabriella replied. “I’ll have it back to the theater tomorrow with no one the wiser.”
“And what if someone has noticed?”
She shrugged. “I’ll tell them the seams were frayed and in need of repair. Since I’ve been earning a few pence sewing for the company these last few weeks, no one will suspect a thing.”
“Lucky for you.” Maude moved to the far side of the room and opened the door to a small cupboard. “Have you eaten?”
At the reminder, Gabriella’s stomach rumbled. With all the goings-on, she’d missed dinner, and breakfast had been a long while before that. “No, I haven’t.”
“Then sit down and I’ll make you a bite. I’ll put the kettle on as well. I could do with a cup of tea.”
Having Maude offer her comfort in the form of food and drink just as she had been doing since Gabriella turned three—let her know the worst was over. Maude Woodcraft might bristle up sharp as a handful of straight pins when her sensibilities were offended, but she never kept a temper for long, unleashing her anger in a quick burst before letting it go.
The older woman tossed her long braid of graying auburn hair over her shoulder and fixed a plate, sliding the brown bread and cheese toward Gabriella. “So,” Maude inquired the moment Gabriella’s mouth was full. “I suppose you went over there to that man’s house. I thought we agreed you’d stay away and forget this revenge of yours.”
Gabriella took an extra few moments to chew and swallow. “I couldn’t put it aside. I needed to confront him.”
Maude laid a pair of clenched fists on the tabletop. “Please God, don’t tell me you shot him, Gabby.”
“No. But very nearly.”
While she ate and drank, she told Maude about her encounter with Rafe Pendragon and how she had been caught and stopped by one of his friends. Wisely, she decided to omit the fact that Wyvern had stolen a kiss along the way—a very passionate, very intense kiss that she knew she would never be able to forget, and not simply because it had been her first.
“Well, I am glad Pendragon’s friend had enough sense to take that pistol away from you before you could do any damage. Dear lord, if you’d shot him, you’d be in Newgate by now.”
Gabriella pushed her plate aside, her hunger once more at bay. “I assumed that’s where I would be regardless. Instead, he set me free. Oh, Maude, it was terrible hearing the things he and Wyvern said about my father! Even now I cannot entirely countenance the accusations they made.” She met the other woman’s gaze. “They told me Papa was a bully and a brute.” A knot formed in her throat, her voice little more than a whisper. “They say he raped a woman and that he murdered people—more than one, including his own father. Do you think it’s true what they said? Did you have any inkling my father could be such a monster?” Her heart gave a hard squeeze when she saw Maude’s lashes sweep down, her response and the silence that followed speaking volumes. “If you knew, why did you not say?”
Maude sighed and met her gaze. “I didn’t know it all—not about the murders anyway, though I’d heard mutterings on occasion about that wife of his and how odd it was she fell down the staircase and broke her neck. But I have to admit I never really cared for the bloke. Had a mean streak in him that came out sometimes, though thankfully never around you. Truth be told, he never really spent all that much time with you, dropping in every once in a while to cozy up with your mother for a few days, and give you a pretty trinket.”
Memories of him flickered through Gabriella’s mind—the big smile and the warm hug he would always give her before handing her a sack of lemon drops or taffy twists, and a china doll with a pretty face and elegant silk gown. She’d always assumed the presents were given out of love, but now she wondered. Had they merely been sops, pleasant distractions to keep her content while he dallied with Mama? The notion curdled the cheese and bread in her belly.
“You should have said, Maude,” she murmured. “You should have told me what he really was instead of letting me make a fool of myself, and worse.”
“I did try to stop you f
rom hunting Pendragon, if you will remember. As for the other, the viscount had you and your mama so wrapped around that aristocratic finger of his, you couldn’t see past his dazzle to the truth. Had I told you, you would never have believed me. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt you. The man is dead and your mama is resting with the angels. You didn’t need more pain heaped on like salt in a bloody wound.”
For a long moment, Gabriella let everything she’d discovered tonight sink in, trying to adjust to the monumental shift in her reality. Suddenly, a terrible sadness engulfed her. “Lies,” she said, “all of it lies.”
Maude laid a hand over hers and gave a tender squeeze. “Perhaps in your papa’s case, but all the rest is just as you knew it. Admittedly, your mother was wild and willful, but she loved you, more than any other person on this earth. That was real, and don’t ever forget it.”
Blinking back a few tears, Gabriella nodded. “I miss her, Maude.”
“I know you do, dearie.”
Gabriella paused, a dozen thoughts running through her mind. “He offered me a home.”
Maude blinked in clear surprise. “What’s this?”
“Pendragon. My uncle. He said I could come live with him and his wife and children. Of course, I told him no.”
“Well, what in the world did you do that for?”
Gabriella’s gaze flashed up. “Because I don’t know them, any of them.” Her spine stiffened. “Besides, I have no need of his charity.”
“Of course you do. From what I hear, he’s richer than the king and a titled baron to boot. Just think of those fancy houses of his, better than this garret I’ll say.”
Gabriella had already seen his house, at least a small fraction of it, and knew the dwelling was indeed as fancy as Maude called it; it was the finest house in which she had ever set foot.
“Despite what he says,” she argued, “they’ll probably only want me as a servant, and an unpaid one at that, since that is generally what most poor relations become.”
The other woman waved a hand. “Even if they do, it’s an improvement over what you have now. And with Lord and Lady Pendragon, there’s a chance you might meet a decent man, perhaps even be wed. I know you have no desire to follow in your mother’s footsteps and tread the boards. Although that stage manager Hackett would cast you in any number of roles, including the lead, I suspect, if he thought he could gain your consent.”
Indeed, I know he would, Gabriella silently agreed, fully aware of Mr. Hackett’s eagerness to set her onto the stage. But as much as she loved the plays, and knew all the lines by heart after hearing them repeated for such a very long time, she had no intention of becoming an actress.
Mama’s life is not for me. After a childhood spent roaming from city to town, with no real sense of home, she longed for permanence, as well as a feeling of truly belonging to a place. And Maude was right; she would like a family. A husband and children of her own, people upon whom she could depend, and on whom she could shower both her time and affection. Even more, hidden in a secret corner of her heart was a wish for love—for a man who would cherish her and whom she could adore in return. But such notions are nothing but dreams. Aren’t they?
Without her meaning to, Tony Wyvern’s devilish smile and mesmerizing blue eyes flashed into her mind. A tingle traced over her skin like a warm breeze, her pulse skipping a beat at the mere recollection of the man. After manhandling her as he’d done tonight, she ought to have been fuming, should have found herself affronted by his overly bold behavior. Yet what she felt was quite the opposite.
What a ninnyhammer I am! she decided, since she was alert enough to recognize a rakehell when she met one. Although her and Wyvern’s acquaintance may have been brief, she could tell he was the sort of man who enjoyed women, relishing the pleasure their beauty and bodies could bring him. She sensed he was an elusive sort, more interested in flirting and flitting from female to female without ever pausing long enough to get ensnared by any particular one. Nonetheless, if a woman could succeed in turning the trick and capturing his unwavering attention, and if that woman could also secure his love, then she would find herself with a prize beyond measure. After all, as the old saying went, reformed rakes make the very best husbands.
But reforming Wyvern would have to be left to another woman, particularly since she doubted they would ever meet again. Aware of a resurgence of her melancholy mood, she turned her attention to back Maude.
“Take Lord Pendragon’s offer, child. Don’t be a fool like me.”
A frown drew Gabriella’s brows together. “What do you mean?”
Maude sighed, suddenly looking tired and a bit old, lines starting to fan at the corners of her eyes, skin sagging ever so slightly near her lips. In her late thirties, she was a beautiful woman still, and yet time, hard work, and poverty were wearing her thin.
“I mean,” Maude continued, “that I had a choice when I was your age. A choice to stay on my parents’ farm and marry one of the neighboring boys or run off and join the theater. I craved adventure and took to the road. I don’t regret it, at least not in the main. The early days were fun and fine. I loved the attention and the fame, the pretty gowns and sparkling baubles received from one dashing lover after another, men who literally begged for my favors. I believe the same could be said for your mother in her prime—at least until she met Middleton. I don’t believe she strayed too often after him.”
No, Gabriella thought, her mother had pined for him when he was away, forever awaiting the moment he would reappear to sweep her off her feet once more.
Maude took up the pot and poured the last inch of tepid tea into her cup. “But as the years fly past, the acting roles get fewer and smaller—management makes you Nurse when you used to be Juliet, and you take whatever they’ll give you and gratefully. And the men, well, they don’t come around like they used to do, either. At least not the handsome ones, the wealthy ones who wanted to wrap you in silks and lace once upon a time.” Glancing across, Maude met her gaze. “You know what I say is true. You’ve always known; that’s why you’ve never succumbed to the lure of the footlights. Go to your family, Gabby, and be glad you have one. Let your uncle help you and don’t begrudge.”
A lump tightened beneath her breast. “But I can’t leave you. We’ll do well enough together, you’ll see. I’ll take on extra sewing and maybe accept a part or two from Hackett. He’s always looking for a new Ophelia; I could play her in my sleep.”
Maude shook her head. “I know you could, but you don’t want to, and neither do I want you to.” She paused for a moment. “I haven’t said anything before now, but my cousin wrote to me.”
“Josephine?”
The other woman smiled. “The very one. I always got on with Josephine, and well, she wants me to come to Shropshire and stay. She has those eight youngsters of hers, and she could use a spare hand. Since Hackett keeps cutting my lines and my pay along with it, I’ve been thinking of saying yes. I could always go out with the traveling troupe again, I suppose, but road living is hard, as you know, and I’m not up to sleeping in wagons and indifferent inns anymore.”
“Oh. I hadn’t realized,” Gabriella replied, slightly deflated.
“Nor were you meant to. But with this offer from your uncle, well, I could go with a free heart knowing you were being looked after.”
Gabriella swallowed against the mild panic that rose like a wave in her gut.
“You can come to me anytime,” Maude said, as if Gabriella had spoken her fears aloud. “There will always be a place.”
“I could come with you now. Surely with so many youngsters, your cousin could do with another extra set of hands.”
Maude frowned. “The children sleep three in a room, and with Jo living on the soldier’s wage her husband sends her, she hasn’t the money to feed us both.”
“But she wouldn’t have to,” Gabriella countered. “I would find work. With my sewing skills, I could take in mending, or even make gowns for the ladies.”
/> “The local seamstress does that already, and I’m doubtful she would be hiring. The village is very small.”
“A shop, then. Or a factory…there must be something I could do.”
Her friend gave her a sympathetic look. “Yes, go to your family. Working in a shop or a factory is no life for you. You’d be better off on the stage than that, and you know it.”
Yes, I do know it, she thought, reality sinking in. Shropshire was no more viable a place for her than London. Maude would stay here in the city with her, of course, if she refused to go, but she would be a selfish girl indeed to stand in her friend’s way, she realized. And despite her reservations, perhaps Maude was right; maybe she would be better off with her uncle. Besides, if I don’t like it, she assured herself, I can always run away.
“Very well, I will go live with my uncle,” Gabriella agreed. “But must I leave immediately? We have another two weeks left on the rent.”
Maude smiled. “I’ll need the two weeks to get ready anyway. Besides, I wouldn’t give that harridan Buckles a farthing extra than she deserves. Come now, we’re both tired. Let us to bed. Everything will look brighter with the sun.”
Gabriella nodded, but unlike her friend, she wasn’t nearly so optimistic—not about the new day tomorrow, nor any of the ones to follow.
Chapter Three
T EN EVENINGS LATER, Tony relaxed naked against a plump feather tick and pillow, the bedchamber warmed by a gently burning fire, the mellow glow of candlelight suffusing the space with an ambience he assumed had been arranged for seduction and romance. Jasmine oil perfumed the air, and a pair of half-drunk glasses of red wine rested together on a night table.
Reaching for one of them, he downed the contents, aware of a buzz inside him that had nothing to do with the spirits he’d just imbibed, nor the bout of recent, lusty sex. Beside him lay his mistress, Erika, her long blonde hair flowing over her pillow, one bare breast exposed to his view as she slept. He eyed the fulsome globe, but instead of interest, all he felt was ennui. He sighed.
His Favorite Mistress Page 3
