The Virgin’s Secret

by Victoria Alexander

  “I fear you are very far away.” The firm pressure of Harrington’s hand against her back increased and her gaze jumped to his. “Although I daresay I deserve it.”

  “My apologies, Mr. Harrington,” she said lightly. “You may blame it on the music.”

  “Blame it on the Blue Danube?” He grinned down at her. “Excellent. I would much prefer to think your pensive state is attributable to the beauty of the waltz rather than the dullness of my character.”

  “I can’t imagine any lady considering your character dull.”

  “Ah, but I suspect you are not just any lady, are you?”

  “No.” She smiled up at him. “I am the one you cannot remember.”

  His brows drew together and he studied her face. “I assure you, it will come to me.” They executed a perfect turn. “We dance well together.”

  “As if we have danced together before?”

  “Exactly.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe I have met the woman of my dreams and I cannot remember her name.”

  “The woman of your dreams?” Her breath caught but she forced a teasing smile. She had no desire to be the woman of his dreams, not that she thought for a moment that his words were sincere. They came far too easily. “No doubt in the course of your travels there have been many dreams and many women.”

  “They pale in comparison.” He gazed into her eyes, the moment between them at once fraught with unspoken meaning and promise. Dear Lord, he was dangerous.

  “The dreams or the women?” she said without thinking.

  “Both.”

  She drew a deep breath and ignored the tremulous feeling inside her brought on by his words and the gleam in his eye. “You are an adventurer, sir, a treasure hunter. Such men are not to be trusted.”

  “I assure you, I can be quite trustworthy,” he said in a lofty manner.

  “I admit you can be charming and even perhaps thoughtful, but trustworthy? I doubt that.” She shook her head. “Besides, it’s been my experience that trust needs to be earned.”

  “I think I would like the opportunity to prove that I can indeed be trusted.” He stared down at her, the look in his eyes abruptly serious.

  She ignored it. “I suspect the opportunity you seek has nothing to do with trust.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “You are a beautiful woman and a mystery, even if perhaps of my own making. Do you blame me for seeking any opportunity whatsoever?”

  “Not at all.” She cast him a pleasant smile. “Your reputation, and that of your brother, precedes you. You are a scoundrel, Mr. Harrington, and scoundrels are rarely worthy of trust.”

  His hand tightened around hers. “Was I a scoundrel when I kissed you in the moonlight?”

  “Never more so than then.” The music ended and he led her off the dance floor. “Well?”

  “Well?”

  “Has our dance restored your memory?”

  “No.” Frustration sounded in his voice. “Will you give me another chance? If you will not walk in the garden, then do allow me another dance.”

  She raised a brow. “You are a persistent sort.”

  “Indeed I am.” He grinned, and she steeled herself against the charm of it. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

  “I’m not sure I would boast about that.”

  “It’s not boasting, it’s simply a fact.” He leaned close and spoke softly. “I will remember, you know. I promise you that.”

  “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I never do.”

  “We shall see.” She stepped away from him. “I find I am rather parched. Would you fetch me a glass of punch?”

  “Only on the condition that when I return, you give me at least a hint as to where we have met before.”

  She shrugged. “I will consider it.”

  “Very well, then.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. His gaze locked with hers and for the briefest moment she wondered what might happen next if they had indeed met before, if he had once kissed her in the moonlight. If she were part of his world. Would this then be the beginning of something extraordinary and not merely a game she played? He released her hand. “I shall be but a moment.”

  She smiled but said nothing.

  He turned and made his way across the terrace. She watched him for a few seconds, ignored the oddest feeling of regret, then quickly slipped down the stairs and headed toward the back garden gate. Within a minute she was back at her carriage.

  “Well?” Xerxes assisted her into the vehicle.

  She shook her head. “The desks were locked. I shall have to return when the household is asleep.”

  “Tonight?”

  “A ball like this will go on for hours. Tomorrow, I think, or the day after would be best.”

  “It’s not a good idea, girl.” Xerxes fairly growled the words. From the time she had first come to live with her brother, Xerxes had called her “girl.” She had long thought it was his effort to remind her that she was one. It was most endearing.

  “And yet, it’s the only one I have, so it shall have to do.” She settled back against the cracked leather seat, and Xerxes closed the door, muttering something she couldn’t quite make out. Which was probably for the best. He had agreed to tonight’s endeavor reluctantly and only because he had no better plan himself, save beating the truth out of Harrington and his brother. Gabriella preferred to avoid that, at least until they had some sort of proof as to who had taken the seal.

  While she was no closer, tonight’s excursion hadn’t been a complete failure. At least she knew the arrangement of the earl’s library. And her flirtation with Nathanial Harrington had been, well, fun and surprisingly exhilarating. Still, it would never happen again, she would not allow it. Why, just in their brief encounter tonight, the man made her want things she could never have, long for what would never happen. He was indeed dangerous. To her purpose and possibly her heart.

  The worst thing wasn’t that she had found him so charming. That, she should have expected. But rather that she had found herself so very charmed.

  Nate rested his hip against the terrace balustrade and surveyed the crowd. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that the lady with the blue eyes of an angel wasn’t where he had left her. Indeed, he would have been surprised if she had. She did seem familiar, but while he may well have forgotten a dance, he would never have forgotten a kiss. He had no idea what seductive little game she’d been playing, but he was more than willing to play. Tonight and whenever they next met.

  He chuckled to himself and sipped her punch. There was no doubt in his mind that her game was indeed seductive, and most effective as well. Seduction had crackled in the air between them. Nor did he doubt that he would see her again. And when next they met, she would not be the only one playing.

  Nor would she be the victor.

  Three

  Gabriella’s heart thudded in her chest. Most annoying, as she’d always considered herself quite courageous. Still, she’d never stolen into someone’s house in the middle of the night before, and a certain amount of trepidation was to be expected, even if all was going well.

  She flattened her back against the wall and inched her way down the corridor toward the library. A window at the far end glowed faintly with starlight but the corridor remained heavily shadowed and she took each step with care.

  She and Xerxes had decided that the best way to proceed was to retrace her steps from the night before last, starting at the back garden gate. Once again that lock had proven no challenge. They had then made their way through the garden, grateful for the numerous trees, shrubs, and other plantings, to provide hiding spots should the need arise. It was far easier now than it had been when she’d worn a gown. Tonight she had donned the men’s clothes she wore in Egypt, her hair tucked up under the same worn felt hat. She had grown up wearing men’s clothing and, in spite of the circumstances, loved the sense of freedom they gave her.

  Thus far it appeared th
e household was fast asleep. Save for a few lamps lighting windows here and there, the house was dark. Xerxes assured her, thanks to his surveillance in advance of the ball, there were always a few lamps left burning in the house. A dreadful waste of money in her opinion.

  They had decided to enter by way of the French doors leading from the terrace to the ballroom. Xerxes was confident the locks there would prove no greater obstacle than the one on the gate. A check of all the doors had found two in such disrepair that they scarcely kept the doors closed. Perhaps if the Harringtons weren’t squandering their money on lamps burning all night…

  However, Xerxes wasn’t at all happy when Gabriella insisted that he remain outside. She pointed out that, if caught, the earl would be much more likely to turn him over to the authorities than he would her, and Xerxes could scarcely argue with that. Especially when Gabriella enlightened his lordship regarding the legitimate complaint she had with his brothers. From the little she’d heard of the earl, he was known to be an honorable man. Pity his brothers weren’t more like him.

  Aside from all else, Gabriella was half British and far less imposing than Xerxes. And while she hadn’t mentioned it to him, she had a weapon he knew nothing about, which she thought might prove useful.

  Regardless, at this particular moment she regretted not letting Xerxes take on this task. She reached the library door, paused for a moment to gather her faltering courage, then slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the room. A small gas lamp glowed faintly on the earl’s desk. She sniffed in disdain at the extravagance, although it did serve her purposes.

  Gabriella closed the door quietly, crossed the room and took the lamp, then moved it to the secretary’s desk. She did need to see what she was doing, after all. She pulled a long thin piece of flexible metal hooked on one end, similar to a flattened crochet needle, from where it was tucked into the lining of her coat. Xerxes had spent much of the day teaching her how the insignificant tool could be used to open a lock. It was a handy skill to have.

  It took her but a minute or two to trip the lock. She grinned with satisfaction. This had been surprisingly easy. She slipped the metal tool back in its hiding place and pulled open the center drawer. It was filled with neatly arranged pens and stationary and the other accoutrements a man who dealt in the correspondence and business of an earl might need, but there was nothing of significance. She pulled open the larger of two drawers on the right. Here were files, well organized, tidy and clearly labeled. Her confidence surged. Thank God the earl had the intelligence to hire an efficient secretary.

  She flipped through the files. They all had to do with the earl’s affairs. None of the precisely labeled files indicated anything regarding the work of the younger Harringtons. Perhaps she would have better luck with the drawers on the other side of the desk. She shut the open drawer, reached for the next—

  “Sterling?” The door swung open. “Are you still—”

  Gabriella jerked her head up and met the startled gaze of Regina Harrington.

  “Good Lord!” Lady Regina called to a point behind her. “Come quick! We’re being robbed!”

  Gabriella’s heart lodged in her throat. One thing they hadn’t planned was an escape route. But then she hadn’t planned on being caught either. She raced for the nearest window.

  “Help! He’s getting away!” the girl screamed.

  Gabriella fumbled with the window sash.

  “Oh no you’re not!” Lady Regina yanked an ancient broadsword off the wall.

  “Oh yes I am.” Damnation, why wouldn’t it open?

  “Don’t think you can break into my home, take whatever you wish and waltz off! Not bloody likely!”

  “Your language, Lady Regina,” Gabriella muttered, pounding on the sash. It was bad enough to be caught, but to be caught by a spoiled brat was an added insult. “Your mother would be appalled.”

  “My mother would do exactly what I’m doing,” Lady Regina said staunchly, struggling to brandish the heavy sword with both hands. “Apprehending a brigand!”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes.” And stupid as well as spoiled. “Aren’t you afraid?” Gabriella tugged at the window sash. It wouldn’t budge. “I could be dangerous.”

  “I doubt that.” Lady Regina scoffed, lowering the sword, which seemed too much for her. “You’re no more than an inch or so taller than I and you’re a rather frail looking sort.”

  “I’m not the least bit frail,” Gabriella said under her breath, and beat her fist against the sash. “But I am desperate.”

  “Nonetheless, someone will be here at any moment to assist me.” The faintest trace of unease sounded in the girl’s voice. “A servant or my brothers or someone.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Nathanial and Quinton were right behind me.”

  “Well, they’re not behind you now, and I suspect most of your servants are asleep.” For the first time, Gabriella noticed the girl was wearing a ball gown. “Are you just now coming in? At this hour?”

  Miss Harrington stared. “I was accompanied by my brothers. It’s not at all uncommon for a ball to last—that’s none of your concern! You’re a common thief!”

  “I’m not the least bit common.” Gabriella sniffed, and tried the window once more.

  “There will be no escape that way. That window sticks.”

  “Regardless, unless you are willing to stand aside and allow me to leave by the door, I am going out the window.” Gabriella looked around for something with which to break the glass.

  “It’s a nasty drop to the ground,” Lady Regina warned, still gripping the sword handle, but making no effort to lift it. “You’ll likely break your neck.”

  “I shall take my chances.” She spotted a poker by the fireplace and started toward it.

  “Stay right where you are!” The girl’s voice rose.

  “You’ll have to run me through to stop me.” Gabriella reached the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and turned just in time to see the girl hurl a vase at her. She ducked. The vase skimmed past her head, knocked off her hat, and shattered on the mantel behind her.

  Lady Regina gasped. “You’re a woman!”

  “Yes, I’m a woman!” Gabriella snapped, and started back toward the window.

  The girl advanced. “If you don’t drop that this very instant, I assure you, I shall indeed run you through!”

  “Hah. You can barely lift that sword, let alone wield it.” Gabriella gripped the poker in both hands and pointed it at the younger woman. “And I assure you, I have a fair amount of skill with a…a poker.”

  Lady Regina narrowed her eyes. “Do I know you?”

  “No.” Lady Regina gestured with the poker. “Now stand back.”

  The girl studied her closely. “You look very much like Emma—Lady Carpenter, that is.”

  “Obviously, I’m not.” Who was this Emma person?

  “No.” Miss Harrington shook her head. “Your hair is much darker. The light in here is weak but you do bear a striking—”

  “As much as I hate to interrupt you, I must be on my way.” Gabriella clenched her teeth. She didn’t have much time before the rest of the household finally responded to the young woman’s calls. It was something of a miracle no one had come yet. “I am going to break this window, so I suggest you stand back.”

  “I cannot allow you to do that!”

  “You cannot stop me.” Gabriella turned away from the girl, aimed the poker, and drew it back.

  “But I can.” A familiar male voice rang through the room. “Drop the poker! Now!”

  Gabriella sucked in a hard breath. This was it, then. Even if she broke the window, she would never be able to climb through it before he grabbed her. She released the poker and let it clatter to the floor, then turned to meet Nathanial Harrington’s gaze.

  He gasped. “You!”

  Gabriella resisted the urge to drop a sarcastic curtsy. “We meet again, Mr. Harrington.”

  “And again in the library.” He had taken the broadsword from his sis
ter, and for a fraction of a second she saw him as a knight of old. Strong and powerful and menacing. And for an even briefer moment, regretted that he was her enemy. He studied her through narrowed eyes. “How very interesting.”

  “Where have you been?” his sister snapped. “Why didn’t you come when I called? I could have been murdered, assaulted, kidnapped!”

  “I’m very dangerous, you know.” Gabriella stared at him with a bravado she didn’t quite feel.

  “Oh, I am well aware of that,” he said coolly. He addressed his words to his sister, but his gaze remained on Gabriella. “One of the servants thought he saw someone on the grounds. Quint and I went with him to look but he was mistaken. We found no one.”

  Gabriella fought to keep relief from showing on her face. At least Xerxes was safe. At once her confidence returned. She could take care of herself, she always had. She smiled in a pleasant manner. “I assure you, I am quite alone.”

  Harrington raised a brow. “Forgive me if I find anything you say to be less than trustworthy under the circumstances.”

  “I say, what is going on here?” Quinton Harrington stepped into the room, followed closely by a woman Gabriella recognized as his mother, the Countess of Wyldewood, and his older brother, the earl.

  “What is all the commotion about?” Lady Wyldewood asked. She and the earl were both dressed in nightclothes and had obviously just awakened. “And who is this?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” The earl stepped forward to stand beside his brothers. Even in a dressing gown and with his hair disheveled, there was an air of command about him. “Who are you and what are you doing in my library?”

  Under other circumstances, Gabriella might have found the three Harrington brothers—all sharing a similarity of height and build, and all undeniably handsome and dashing—to be an enticing display of the best of British manhood. If only two of them weren’t the scoundrels she knew them to be.

  “She’s a thief and I caught her.” Regina smirked, and nodded at Nathanial. “And he knows her.”