by Ava March
“Correct,” Gabriel replied. Perhaps merely agreeing would be enough. If he was lying, surely he wouldn’t agree to such inquiries.
“How much do you need for the second loan?”
He opened his mouth to ask for the same sum as the first, but paused to consider. He had gone through the first loan so quickly, and since he needed to use winnings to repay that loan and this one, along with the interest, he would need a good amount. “Two thousand pounds.”
Carter didn’t flinch at the number, though he did say, “That’s quite the sum.”
“The property is worth far more than that.”
“Which is yet to be confirmed. I will extend you two hundred now. If my man brings me a favorable report, then I will extend the remainder,” Carter said, killing Gabriel’s hopes the man wouldn’t bother with an inquiry. “And since this is a second, the rate goes up to seventy-five, and that applies to the first, as well.”
Seventy-five percent interest. Definitely usury rates. But he would win enough to cover that. He knew it. He felt it. There was no risk he’d lose his property. The tables would look kindly on him again. They had to. With all the pound notes he’d thrown down on the tables thus far, luck surely couldn’t continue to turn a blind eye to him for much longer.
Gabriel nodded, agreeing to Carter’s terms.
Carter reached into his pocket, pulled out a fat fold of pound notes and peeled off the agreed-upon amount. He made to hand it to Gabriel, then paused. “I expect repayment of both loans within the fortnight.” Carter’s voice still held that businesslike conversational tone, yet beneath it was hardened steel.
“Yes, of course.” As Gabriel’s fingers closed around the pound notes, his pulse sped up, anticipation leaching into his veins. Yes, indeed. Luck would shine down on him this very night.
Carter passed his gaze down Gabriel’s body then back up again to settle on his face. “If you’d care to work off your initial loan rather than let it build, that can be arranged.”
“Work?”
“You’re a handsome fellow,” Carter replied, without any further explanation.
Yet Gabriel didn’t need more of an explanation. He might be merely a guest of London, but he’d frequented this part of Town enough over the past few weeks to have a firm idea of the depraved nature of Carter’s offer.
His spine went stiff. “No.” Even if he was down to his last halfpence, he would never stoop so low, never sell himself. Never give to another what he shared with Anthony.
Carter shrugged, indifferent over the refusal. “Come see me in a few days. I should have my report then.”
“Thank you.” Turning on his heel, Gabriel took the most direct path back to the roulette table.
Chapter Eight
Anthony stood at the parlor window, cold air nipping his bare skin, and watched Gabriel’s dark figure walk away from him yet again.
Why did he torture himself like this? Was it some sort of perverse need to see proof that Gabriel was indeed leaving him after another amazing, unbelievably intense night together? How could Gabriel kiss him with such passion and stark bare need, touch him with such possession and reverence and take him to such heights of ecstasy, then scurry away under the cover of darkness as soon as he believed Anthony had fallen asleep?
Why did Gabriel keep coming back to him, if only to leave him again?
Why did his kisses hold the promise of so much more, when the man clearly did not intend to give Anthony but a few scant hours every few days? And Gabriel would only give those hours late in the evening, well past ten o’clock. Hell, Anthony hadn’t even bumped into him about Town in over a week.
Anthony watched as Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, his gaze going immediately to Anthony’s window. Yet he didn’t pause. His pace was undisturbed, as if he’d expected to see Anthony’s outline in the window. He only gave Anthony a moment, a short instant, the moonlight catching the angles and planes of his beautiful yet masculine face. Then Gabriel returned to his study of the walkway, like Anthony meant nothing to him at all. A mere stranger he’d glimpsed in a window.
Was Anthony being pathetic, allowing Gabriel to use him? And was he only allowing it to appease his adolescent infatuation?
Perhaps not a question he wanted to hear the answer to at the moment.
At least he’d managed not to ask Gabriel to stay again. That was something.
Gabriel turned the corner, vanishing into the darkness as if he had never been there.
Anthony’s brow furrowed. And why was Gabriel always heading east and turning south, when his sister’s town house was three streets north of Anthony’s apartments?
Letting out a sigh, Anthony released the curtains and returned to his empty bed. He slipped beneath the blanket, the sheets still holding the warmth of Gabriel’s body, and tried to push the questions aside so he could get some rest. Wasn’t as if he would find answers before dawn anyway. The one person who could provide them was gone...at least for the next few days. Then Gabriel would knock on his door again, want him again, and Anthony would hold his tongue—when it came to questions that could push him away—and welcome Gabriel anew.
If those were the only hours Gabriel could grant him, then Anthony would take them.
He gave his pillow a punch and pulled the blanket up higher to cover his shoulders.
Definitely pathetic of him.
* * *
To Anthony’s surprise, he was able to get one of his questions answered the next evening. He escorted his mother and Penelope to a dinner party, which also happened to include Gabriel’s sister, Mrs. Sarah Blackwell, and her husband...who obviously had returned from the Continent. Of course, Anthony seized the opportunity, as soon as he could grab it, to gently nudge Sarah on the topic of Gabriel.
The two dozen or so guests were gathered in the large drawing room, partaking of conversation and Madeira as they waited for the opening of the double doors that led to the dining room. His mother was ensconced on a settee with another older matron, while Penelope was gossiping with the other young ladies in attendance near the front window. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel’s sister turn from a group of ladies and begin to make her way across the room.
Anthony adroitly disengaged himself from the gentlemen he was conversing with and intercepted her.
“Good evening, Mrs. Blackwell,” he said with a half bow.
They exchanged greetings, he made a comment on the weather, complimented her gown—a confection in russet silk with a tad too much lace trimming—then proceeded to gently nudge. “I see Mr. Blackwell has returned from the Continent, relieving your temporary escort of his duties.”
“For which my brother is likely pleased. He was never much one for dinner parties.”
“Social occasions don’t suit everyone.” If there was ever a man who defined uncomfortable at social functions, it was Gabriel.
“I don’t think any occasion suits Gabriel,” she said, with a sort of sisterly unkindness. “But it was kind of him to offer to keep me company in my husband’s absence.”
Offer? Gabriel had indicated he had agreed to his sister’s request to come down to London while her husband was traveling on business. Perhaps Sarah simply had thought better of her unkind comment and to make up for it, had given her brother the benefit of extending an offer he did not actually extend.
“I haven’t seen your brother about Town of late. Have you lost your houseguest in addition to your temporary escort?”
“Indeed. He ceded both duties upon Mr. Blackwell’s return. He was more than welcome to stay on as our guest while he remained in London, but he said he preferred to take a room at a hotel in the area since he was no longer needed.” She gave a little shrug of a shoulder. A matter of no consequence to her.
Anthony let the silence draw out a tad, giving her
space to continue discussing Gabriel. Yet she merely took a sip of her Madeira and gazed up at him. She made not a single comment regarding his statement about not seeing Gabriel about Town of late. Nothing, not even a polite “I suspect he’s been busy with...” Something. Anything. The man couldn’t be just sitting in his hotel room for days on end.
And Gabriel had taken a room at a hotel? How impersonal, when he could have continued staying with his sister. But then again, the Tildens had never been a close bunch. Or rather, Gabriel had never been very close with his siblings.
Before the silence grew uncomfortable, or before he lost her attention, he said, “Ah well. It is nice to spend time with family, but there are times when one would willingly trade them for another. I certainly had no qualms trading mine for a summer visit with your family years ago. I am sure you are pleased to have your husband home after such an absence. Did he recently return to London, or has he been back for some time?”
“He arrived back a week ago, a bit earlier than expected, and I am most pleased to have him home.” The content smile touching her lips indicated she might actually be speaking the truth. He had pegged her marriage as more of a social convenience, but perhaps she truly cared for her husband. If so, then he could be nothing but happy for her.
But...Gabriel had relocated to a hotel a week ago and hadn’t made mention of it yesterday evening?
Well, at least he now knew why Gabriel had headed east then south when he left Anthony’s apartments after his last two visits. No doubt that was the direction of said hotel.
The light chime of a bell drifted over the drone of conversations in the room.
Anthony glanced over Sarah’s light brown head to the now-open dining room door. “If you will please excuse me,” he said with a half bow. “My mother will be in need of my arm. Please extend my regards to Mr. Blackwell on his safe return to our fair city, and my regards to your brother, as well.”
When Gabriel next spoke with his sister, hopefully she would convey Anthony’s regards. A subtle nudge, that even when apart, he was on Anthony’s mind. Perhaps, just maybe, it would prompt Gabriel to pay him a visit sooner than he otherwise would have done. And when Gabriel next knocked on his door, Anthony would most assuredly ask him about his new temporary abode.
* * *
After a quick check of White’s large billiard room, Anthony went back to the dining room and found an empty table with a view of the door and not so close to the other occupied tables as to promote conversations with acquaintances. Within a moment, a servant was at his elbow and he requested a meal. It was highly unlikely Gabriel would choose today to accompany Foster to dine at White’s, but Anthony was completely out of ideas for where to next look for him. He had figured since he needed to eat, he’d at least dine at a place where he had seen Gabriel over the past month.
A week had passed since Gabriel had last knocked on his door. A goddamned week. And not once had he seen even a glimpse of Gabriel. So that meant, except for a week ago, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man in a fortnight.
Where the blazing hell was Gabriel spending his time?
The servant returned with his glass of wine and Anthony took a sip. It had been tempting to make some excuse to pay Sarah a morning call then turn the conversation to Gabriel again and discover whether Sarah had seen her brother of late. But he had asked quite a few questions about Gabriel last they spoke at the dinner party. He had been friends with Pearce, not Gabriel, while at Eton. To ask another round of questions might prompt suspicion.
He could always fabricate some tale about how he and Gabriel had struck up a friendship—and they did have a friendship...though of late, it had been one of more of a horizontal nature. But then what if Gabriel spoke to his sister and didn’t confirm Anthony’s tale? Since Anthony had no idea when he’d see Gabriel next and since Gabriel had still not given him leave to call on him, he had decided it safest to not pay Sarah a visit and instead wait until he bumped into her at another function. Though he hadn’t a notion when that next bump would occur. While his mother and Gabriel’s sister traveled in similar social circles, they weren’t exactly overlapping social circles. And being that it wasn’t the height of the social Season, there weren’t a plethora of major functions to attend.
So he had taken to looking for Gabriel himself...which had involved a lot of walking about Mayfair. Up and down Bond Street and St. James Street, glancing into each shop window he passed. Stops at Gentleman Jackson’s and the Fencing Academy. Rides about Hyde Park. Visits to taverns and strolls along every street in the area, including discreet inquiries at all the decent hotels situated east and south of his apartments.
All of that walking had been for naught. It was as if Gabriel wasn’t even in London.
A plate of roasted beef with potatoes and carrots was set before him. He gave the servant a nod of thanks and started in on the beef. Gabriel wouldn’t have returned to Derbyshire without informing him, would he?
No, Gabriel would have mentioned something to him. Anthony was certain of it. One just didn’t leave a friend and bed partner behind without a word. Sarah had mentioned that Gabriel chose to stay at a hotel while he remained in London, implying the man did not have immediate plans to return home. But Anthony couldn’t help but wonder why Gabriel headed east and south when he left his apartments if Gabriel hadn’t taken a room at a hotel in that direction.
“Expecting anyone?”
Anthony looked up from his dinner plate to find his good friend, Max Arrington, the Duke of Pelham, seated opposite him at the table. “Ah, Pelham. Good to see you,” he said, trying to cover his surprise. The duke was actually joining him without Anthony having to ask? And he was back in London already? Pelham hadn’t been gone two months. He usually remained ensconced at his country estate, Arrington Park, far longer after Parliament closed for the summer.
Pelham signaled to a passing servant and placed his order for his meal. Then he looked back to Anthony. “Thank you for looking after London in my absence.” He took a sip from the glass of wine that had been set at his elbow. “I was pleased to find it still intact.”
Anthony inclined his head. “I am glad my efforts did not go unnoticed. What brings you back in Town?”
“Business. Negotiating the purchase of a new property that’s proving troublesome. Arrived yesterday evening and spent most of today at my solicitors’ office. I am hopeful the details can be finalized in a couple of days.”
Of course. Business. Anthony should have guessed. “Hopefully you don’t devote all your time to business while in our illustrious city.” He speared a potato and popped it into his mouth.
Pelham lowered his voice. “Speaking of which, I owe you my thanks for the nudge. Or rather, the nudges.”
Interesting. “Do you now?” Pelham had paid a visit to Rubicon’s brothel? Anthony had hoped his friend would heed his nudge—it had been almost a year since Pelham and Jonathan Peterson had parted ways, past time for Pelham to move on to another—but in all honesty, he hadn’t been very optimistic.
Dropping his head just a tad, though not breaking eye contact, Pelham answered, “Yes.”
Anthony couldn’t help but smile. “I’m very glad to hear it. Truly, I am. And I must say, you’re missing that air of a grumpy old man. Good to see that, as well. Rather feared the country would have you descending back into glowering territory.” He swept his gaze over Pelham. The stiff tension that usually radiated from him was close to gone. The man almost seemed relaxed...in a content sort of way. “Interesting how that isn’t the case.”
A servant arrived with Pelham’s meal. Picking up his knife and fork, Pelham turned his attention to his plate. “If you must know, I have a houseguest. A friend agreed to come down and stay at the Park.”
Even more interesting. “And who might this friend be?” To Anthony’s knowledge, Pelham didn’t have any close frien
ds in London besides himself.
“A friend.”
“You do know you have piqued my curiosity.”
“Yes, I am well aware of that. And if you would keep the information to yourself, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Of course, Pelham. No need to even ask.” Anthony leaned back in his chair. “I am quite happy for you.”
Even though Anthony knew Pelham to be the same age as himself—three-and-twenty—Pelham did truly possess the air of a grumpy old man. Dour and stern, focused solely on business concerns. And he had become even more so about a year ago, after he had parted ways with his ex-lover. It had been to the point where Anthony had grown rather concerned for his friend, prompting him to give Pelham a few nudges toward Rubicon’s last he had seen him. A brothel was no place to find lasting love, but a few hours with one of the house’s handsome men was something to remind Pelham that there was fun to be had in life. To hear that Pelham had finally moved on with another was good news indeed.
“Have you been keeping yourself out of trouble in my absence?”
There was no gravity to Pelham’s tone. He asked as if it was simply a question in a conversation. Yet it turned Anthony’s thoughts directly back to Gabriel. He shrugged. “I’m making an effort, at least.”
“Do you need assistance with any business matters? Because if you do, you need only ask. Not that I consider myself an expert in all things. But I’m a willing ear and will lend whatever assistance or advice I can.”
Anthony fought the urge to flinch. How was it that Pelham was the only person who suspected he might not be the most astute when it came to managing the viscounty? He shook his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m not in need of that sort of assistance at the moment.” He looked over Pelham’s broad shoulder to the empty doorway leading into the dining hall. Still no sign of Gabriel. Where the hell was Gabriel spending his time?
Had Gabriel found another man to spend his time with? Or maybe even a woman? Had Radcliffe’s words of caution come to fruition?
