Gabby smiled kindly at the older man. He really was so lovely. She would miss him when she went to London.
Piers leaned over and rang the bell for Daisy, who promptly arrived and was handed the basket of treats to prepare.
“Will you both stay and have some?” she asked.
“I would love to. Thank you, my dear,” Piers said, taking the chair by the bed, “but I am sure Jonathan wants to prepare for your departure to London, or, at the very least, continue his investigation into who has been behind all of this. That’s why I was surprised to see you,” he continued, looking up at Jonathan now, a slight frown on his face. “I thought you would be busy looking for the person trying to hurt Gabrielle.”
Though Gabby knew Piers would have never meant to, his words obviously upset Jonathan. He flinched, and his face fell to a grim mask.
“Piers,” she said quickly, sitting up further in the bed, “Jonathan has been working endlessly to solve this.”
“Of course he has, my dear,” Piers patted her hand. “In fact, he has probably been working too hard, so it is good to see him throwing caution to the wind a little.”
If anything, Jonathan’s expression became even more stony. “You’re right, of course. I’ve loitered far too long. My dear, I am afraid we shall have to take tea another time.”
Before Gabby could argue or urge him to stay, he placed a quick kiss on her forehead and swept from the room.
Gabby watched him go, feeling desperately sorry that she didn’t have the chance to assure him he was doing more than enough to help her feel safe.
“I hope he isn’t upset, Piers,” she mumbled unhappily.
“Of course he isn’t,” Piers said confidently. “He is just taking his job seriously, as he should. Now, let us speak of other, more pleasant things. Are you looking forward to London?”
Gabby blinked at the sudden change in conversation, but there was no sense worrying about Jonathan now. She wouldn’t see him again until later, she was sure.
“Y-yes, I suppose I am,” she said hesitantly.
“You are worried?”
Gabby sighed. “Not exactly. Well, obviously there is the worry that whoever is behind all this is likely to be in London, which is why we’re going. But, well, I am worried about how people will react to me.”
“Why on earth would you be, child?”
“My mother’s family for one thing. If they find out who I am, well—” she paused, unable to properly articulate the anxiety she felt “—I have no idea how they will react to me. Plus, nobody knows me, and I am sure they will wonder who I am or see me as a fraud, one who doesn’t belong amongst them. I am French, after all,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.
“My darling girl…” Piers once again clasped her hand in his, leaning forward in his chair and gazing at her, his expression intense. “…you have absolutely nothing to worry about, I assure you. Your incomparable beauty alone is enough to secure the adoration of the ton. Just like your mother,” he said softly.
Gabby felt her mouth drop open at his words.
“You knew my mother?” she gasped, her heart beginning to thump furiously.
For a split second, Piers glowered before his face cleared.
“Of course not,” he said casually. “But you did say you have the look of her, so I can only assume she set Town alight, just as you will.”
Gabby smiled at his kind words.
“If you must be worried,” he continued now, “be worried for your safety, lest our villain manage to get to you.”
Gabby laughed softly.
“That is one thing that does not concern me, Piers,” she said. “I know Jonathan will not let me out of his sight for a single moment. There is no way anyone is getting through him.”
Piers narrowed his eyes, as though turning her words over in his head.
“I believe you are right,” he said after a moment. “It will be impossible for anyone to get to you in so public a setting with Jonathan on the case.”
Their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Daisy with the tea tray.
“Ah, excellent. This will be our last chance to enjoy each other’s company, Gabrielle, since they are whisking you away from me tomorrow.” He instructed Daisy to place the tray on the table she and Jonathan had occupied only minutes before.
Gabrielle’s heart hurt a little at his words. She would miss him dreadfully, and she would be forever grateful to him for taking care of her and being there for her when she’d had nobody.
“Are you sure you won’t join us, Piers?” she asked softly.
“No, no. My place is here. But perhaps, by some miracle, I’ll get to hang on to you a little longer,” he said with a smile. “Now,” he said standing and moving to the tea tray, “I shan’t make you leave your bed again, and I do not think I am as strong as Jonathan to be carrying you in any case.”
She couldn’t see his face as he was busying himself with the tray, but she could hear his smile.
He turned and carried a cup and saucer filled with tea, made just as she liked, along with a plate containing two of lemon tarts.
He placed the cup and saucer on her bedside table and handed her the plate of cakes.
“Eat up. You will need your strength,” he said kindly before moving back to fetch his own tea and cake.
JONATHAN WATCHED THE clock and paced but tried not to be obvious about either, or Andrew would surely take great satisfaction in ribbing him about it.
Earlier, he and Gabby had agreed that she should come down to dinner, but he would have to carry her, of course.
It was no hardship, and the truth was he was counting down the seconds until he could hold her in his arms again.
However, it was nearly the dinner hour, and he’d not been sent for.
It made him anxious.
“Calm down, Jon,” Andrew drawled from his place by the fire where he’d been whispering to Eve for the last half hour or so.
Jonathan was quite sure he didn’t want to know what they had been discussing, if Evelyn’s constant blushes were anything to go by.
“She’ll be ready soon.”
“Leave him alone,” Evelyn scolded. “Didn’t you ever wait eagerly for my arrival?”
“I still do, my darling,” he answered, clearly trying to charm her. And it was working too by the looks of it.
Jonathan rolled his eyes and turned away. Piers was studiously ignoring them all, his head buried in a book.
Finally, the door to the drawing room opened, and the butler entered with a very worried looking Daisy fast on his heels.
“Mr. Casings—” The butler began to speak, but Daisy stepped around him, wringing her hands.
“Mr. Spencer, sir, ‘tis Miss Dumas. She’s sick. Really sick. I don’t know what is wrong exactly, but… it don’t look too good, sir.”
Jonathan was out of the room and speeding up the stairs before the girl even finished speaking.
Damn it all to hell! What had happened now?
She hadn’t been left alone all day. Evelyn had sat with her, then him, then Piers, then him again until he’d left to ready himself for dinner, allowing Gabby to have a bath and dress.
How could something have happened? How?
CHAPTER TWENTY
“JONATHAN,” EVELYN GASPED behind him. She’d obviously darted up the stairs behind him. “Calm down. We do not know that anything devious has happened. It could be any number of things. She could be genuinely sick.”
“I doubt it,” he replied tersely before barrelling into Gabrielle’s bedchamber.
The sight that met his eyes made Jonathan’s heart stop cold.
Gabrielle was in the bed, writhing in pain.
The pallor of her skin terrified him; she was pale and sickly looking, the unusual whiteness of her skin making her eyes seem darker and bigger than usual.
“Gabby,” he called, his voice hoarse.
“Jonathan?”
Her voice was weak, and it damn near killed
him.
He rushed to her side and was alarmed at the sweat on her brow.
He touched a hand to her forehead and noted with dread how it burned.
“What happened, sweetheart?” he asked gently.
“I-I don’t know,” she gasped. “My stomach. It hurts.”
Evelyn, who had waited by the door, stepped into the room then.
“Jonathan, send for the doctor and send her maid back in,” she instructed him, her voice soft and quiet.
He was glad for her presence because his normally agile mind had shut down in the face of Gabby’s sickness.
With a quick nod of his head and a final anxious glance at Gabby, he turned and pulled open the door.
Piers, Andrew, and Daisy nearly toppled into the room.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“We wanted to know what was happening and if Gabby was all right,” Andrew answered a little defensively.
Daisy kept her eyes down, but as Jonathan moved out of the way, she darted back into the room.
All eyes were on Gabby and Evelyn, who sat beside her.
She whispered something to Daisy, who nodded and turned to dart from the room again, moving toward the servant staircase.
“She needs the doctor,” Jonathan said, not once taking his eyes from her.
“I’ll go,” Andrew volunteered immediately. “Perhaps I should ask him to pack for an extended stay.”
Ordinarily Jonathan would have laughed at Andrew’s comment or offered a witty rejoinder. But all of his attention was on the woman in the bed and on stopping himself from falling apart.
Andrew swiftly left, and Piers, after squeezing Jon’s shoulder, turned and headed the same way, back belowstairs.
Jonathan didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t ask.
Coming back into the room, he couldn’t bear the sounds that greeted him.
Gabby’s moans of pain lanced him like the sharpest of daggers.
“What do I do?” he asked Evelyn helplessly, hearing the desolation in his voice.
She turned to him, and he could see that her eyes, dark like Gabby’s, he noted, were filled with concern.
“I-I don’t know, Jonathan. The doctor will be here soon, and we must try to keep her cool. The fever, it — it seems bad.”
Jonathan’s heart sank at Evelyn’s words. She was usually so positive, optimistic about every outcome. To see her so worried, to hear the concern in her voice, it terrified him.
Daisy returned with a bowl of water and some linen cloths.
“Apply them to Miss Dumas’ head,” Evelyn instructed quietly. “I am going to rouse William’s nanny. Mrs. Bryan raised three boys. She knows cures for all sorts of ailments. Perhaps she can help.”
Patting Jonathan’s arm on the way out, Evelyn rushed from the room.
For a moment, Jonathan remained rooted to the spot.
He felt hopeless, and he was holding onto his sanity by a thread.
He wanted nothing more than he wanted to find who was responsible for this and beat him to within an inch of his damned life.
Gabrielle gasped as a pain arched her back, nearly lifting her from the bed.
The move made Jonathan spring to action, and he rushed over, grasping at her hand.
“Andrew is gone for Dr. Finlay,” he whispered, blinking furiously at the sudden moisture in his eyes. “He’ll be here soon, sweetheart. Just hang on.”
“Excuse me.” The timid voice of Daisy had Jonathan turning to her. She was holding the bowl and a now-soaked cloth in her hand, but she couldn’t get by Jonathan to get to Gabrielle.
There was no way he was going to leave her. “I’ll do that,” he said firmly, eliciting a small gasp of surprise.
No doubt it was unusual to see a gentleman of Quality want to nurse a sick woman, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave her side, reputation or not.
“I’ll just go and see if Lady Downsbury needs assistance,” the young maid said softly as she handed over the bowl and cloth.
“Very good,” Jonathan replied, all of his focus on Gabrielle.
He barely heard the young girl leave the room.
Placing the bowl and cloth on the bedside table, he dragged the chair closer to the bed.
“I’m here, my darling. I’m here,” he assured Gabby as she groaned beside him.
He smoothed the cold cloth across her brow and cheeks, hoping that it would offer even some small comfort.
His heart, which had only begun to recover when Gabby had come back into his life, began to splinter again.
Nothing would ever be as painful as thinking she was dead, but watching helplessly while she suffered in pain was a close second.
It seemed an age that he sat there, meticulously wetting the cloth and pressing it to her brow, trying not to notice the heat from it when he removed it.
The routine of the action helped to calm him somewhat, and it seemed to help Gabby as she quieted slightly under his ministrations.
Dr. Finlay arrived at the same time as Evelyn returned with Mrs. Bryan and all of the older lady’s lotions and potions.
Though he argued, Jonathan found himself on the other side of Gabby’s door whilst the doctor tended to her, requesting Mrs. Bryan’s presence should assistance be required.
Jonathan paced, swore, and tore his hair out at frequent intervals. The wait seemed never-ending.
“Well, she certainly won’t be going to London tomorrow.”
Jonathan turned at the sound of Piers’ voice and realised that he hadn’t seen the man.
“Where have you been?” he asked, more sharply than he meant.
“I went to question the staff, of course. To see if anyone was missing.”
“And?”
“And everyone is exactly where they should be. No sign of foul play,” he answered, his tone weary.
Jonathan knew there was no point in him questioning the staff now, as he had ended to do. There was little chance of him uncovering something if Piers hadn’t been able to. But it still curdled his stomach to know that they were no closer to finding their enemy.
“It might not be connected,” Andrew said, echoing what his wife had said earlier.
Jonathan silenced him with a look.
Of course it was connected. Gabby had never been sick in all the years he’d known her.
After an interminable wait, the door finally opened, and Jonathan rushed forward.
“Mr. Spencer.” The doctor knew by now that, although Gabrielle was under Piers’ roof and care, it was Jonathan to whom he should speak.
Jonathan’s mouth dried at the expression on the other man’s face.
“What is it?” he asked, schooling his expression.
It never did to show emotion in serious situations. Emotion was a weakness, and somebody in this house was obviously watching.
Dr. Finlay looked around at his audience, impatiently waiting for news.
“I should speak freely?” he asked.
Jonathan frowned at the unusual question before he realised with a jolt that Dr. Finlay suspected one of them.
Jonathan paused before answering. Though he hated it, though it made him feel disgusted with himself, he couldn’t help doubting them for a moment, before he snapped out of it.
It was, of course, ridiculous to suspect any of them.
Evelyn hadn’t even known Gabrielle when the first attempt was made on her life, and she certainly had no reason to want her dead.
Andrew was Andrew and could be no more capable of doing such a thing than Jonathan himself.
And Piers was a father figure to all three of them.
In truth, Jonathan felt vaguely sick that the thought had even crossed his mind, albeit fleetingly.
“Of course,” he answered now, wanting the conversation over so he could go to Gabrielle.
“Miss Dumas was poisoned. I have no doubt.”
The news wasn’t surprising, not really. And yet a tremor of horror went through hi
s body at the words.
Poisoned.
Someone had poisoned her.
Had purposely caused the pain, the suffering she had been enduring.
Jonathan felt murderous. “You’re certain?”
“As I can be, Mr. Spencer. All the symptoms are there.”
Jonathan couldn’t speak all of a sudden, so he merely nodded his understanding.
“Is she well?” This from Evelyn who had stepped forward and gripped Jonathan’s hand in a show of support, making him feel guilty again.
“Not exactly, my lady,” the doctor answered grimly. “She is feverish and still very sick. I have drained her blood and given her what I could. Mrs. Bryan has also fed her an herbal remedy and has been instructed on her care.”
“How long will it take for her to recover?” Andrew asked, his flat tone meaning he was also holding on to his control by a thread. Jonathan recognised it.
“‘Tis hard to say, my lord.”
“But she will survive?” Piers demanded.
“She should. With the right care, I am confident she will make a full recovery.”
“But she will presumably be too ill to travel?” Piers continued.
“Travel?” Dr. Finlay frowned.
“Yes.” Jonathan finally found his voice. “We were to go to London. It was rather urgent. Now it is imperative.”
Enough was enough.
If the puppeteer of these would-be assassins was in London as they suspected, it was never more important that they go there and root the bastard out. Only someone with a vast amount of power could pull off something like this. And only someone who had been aware of Gabby’s involvement in Paris would have sent an assassin there in the firstplace. The kicker was, of course, that whoever it was knew she was still alive — had been keeping an eye on her, no doubt. And the only people with that level of power were Piers, who was here now trying to root the killer out, and men of similar standing to him, who were all in Town.
Jonathan had never felt bloodlust like the kind flowing through his veins right now.
“I am sorry, Mr. Spencer. But moving her is absolutely out of the question. She will not be well enough for some days at least.”
The Spy's Revenge Page 13
