by Lauren Smith
As if an afterthought, he added, “I would never forgive myself.”
She forced a small smile and a carefree lightness in her tone that she did not feel. “I have no intention of getting myself into trouble.”
His brows lowered and his glower would have been formidable if she had not known him so well. “So you will drop this talk of marriage and allow General Watters and I to search for your brother and sister-in-law?”
She had never lied to Gabriel before and she couldn’t bring herself to do so now. Leaning back slightly, she moved just enough so his hand was no longer on her chin. She couldn’t think straight when he was touching her. And now was definitely not the time for those ridiculous feminine feelings to emerge, not when she had a family to save. “I cannot promise to sit idly by while they are in danger, Gabriel. You cannot ask that of me.”
Maybe it was the hoarseness in her voice, or the way she had dropped all pretenses, but Gabriel’s expression softened and his steely gaze turned warm. “Give me two weeks to look into this on my own before you do anything rash. Will you promise me that?”
Could she promise him that? She drew in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “All right. You have two weeks, Gabriel.”
He gave her a small nod before turning and heading toward the door.
Her heart fell as she watched his back disappear through the drawing room door and his footsteps echoed down the hall.
She had a backup plan, of course she did. She was an Ashford through and through. Falling back onto the settee, she tried to ignore the grim reality of what she was about to do. She could only hope that Gabriel made good on his promise, otherwise in two weeks’ time, she would be married. Just not to Gabriel.
Chapter Two
Two weeks later….
Gabriel hated social events on the best of days, and today…well, today might go down as one of the worst days of his life. His two weeks were up and he had nothing to show for it. Yet here he was stuck at General Watters’ house party, hiding from the guests as he tried to figure out what he would tell Lydia when he visited her the following day.
He had been so certain he could get to the bottom of this mystery. Hell, when Lydia had first written, he’d been sure she was being paranoid. That her brother and Madeline would surface with some dramatic explanation of their heroic deeds.
But too much time had passed, and his every lead had led to nothing. He’d followed the simple assignment the general had given them to infiltrate a group of radicals up north. From what he could tell, Daniel and Madeline had barely begun to establish themselves in that small community when they had gone missing. Poof! They’d vanished into thin air by all accounts.
The fact that his best friend and his wife were missing would have been a heavy enough burden. But now he would have to face Lydia and tell her that he had failed. Despite his best efforts, he had broken his promise.
The image of her face filled his mind and not even the brisk night air could ease the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t breathe as he remembered the pain and fear in those wide blue eyes. God, he would do anything to take that look away.
Wren sauntered out through the doorway to the balcony. “I thought I’d find you out here.”
“Go away.” He didn’t really expect Wren to do as he ordered, but it was worth a shot.
Wren fell into a seat beside him and threw his legs up onto a small table in front of them. “I can’t blame you for running away this time. What a dismal crowd. I swear this party grows duller every year.”
Gabriel rubbed his eyes. “Yet every year you still attend.”
“Yes, well, up until this year there was always the hope of a good flirtation with one of the general’s daughters or nieces, but now…” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Now they’re all married off.”
“Not all of them,” Gabriel felt compelled to point out.
Wren gave him a blank look before comprehension set in. “Who, Vivian?” He gave a snort of amusement. “You can’t be serious.”
Vivian was the youngest of the general’s daughters and the closest in age to Lydia. The two girls had become close friends and her presence here at the party had been a constant reminder of just how terrifically he’d failed and the monumental task that awaited him the next morning.
“She’s an odd duck, isn’t she?” Wren continued. “Not at all like her sisters.”
“Thank God,” Gabriel muttered. The general had seven daughters, not including his adopted daughter, Madeline. Somehow she never seemed to be included—she always seemed to be more of a soldier in the general’s eyes than a daughter. His eldest six were lovely, charming, effusive, and as shallow as they came. He didn’t know Vivian well but he could only assume being the exception to that lot was a compliment.
“What is it, Gabriel?” Wren’s sudden change in demeanor nearly threw him off guard.
He looked over to see his friend watching him carefully. “You’ve been even surlier than usual these last two days. I know when something is bothering you.”
He kept silent, unsure how much he should tell the other man. Wren knew that Daniel and Madeline worked for the general, but he did not know much more than that. As far as Gabriel could tell, that was the way Wren wanted it. He’d left the army life years ago when his father passed and he’d inherited the title and the land. There was every chance he didn’t want to know too much about the seedy underbelly that Daniel and Madeline dwelled in as a matter of course. But then again, Daniel was Wren’s friend too. They’d all been close for too many years to count. He had a right to know.
“It’s Daniel, isn’t it?” Wren’s face lost its usual friendly smile and some of the brightness faded from his eyes.
Gabriel nodded.
Wren leaned forward frowning. “How bad is it?”
“That’s the problem,” Gabriel said. “I don’t know.”
Wren shot him a look. “How is Lydia holding up?”
The sound of her name was a punch in the gut, another reminder of what it would do to her when she found out that he’d come up with nothing. This trip to General Watters’ house had been his last hope. He’d thought perhaps the general knew more than he’d let on. That if he could just get the older man alone, he would find out…something. Anything that could help point him in the right direction.
But the general had been just as clueless as he had been. He’d taken one look at the weary concern written on his commander’s face and known that he was just as ignorant about his daughter and son-in-law’s whereabouts. The general only told him what he’d already known. Daniel and Madeline had gone up north with Lydia to infiltrate a group of radicals. It was not considered a dangerous assignment—nothing at all like their typical death-defying stunts—so they had kept their story simple. In all honesty, Daniel was a retired army captain and he and Madeline were landowners of independent means—not titled but with a respectable income. They changed their last names and made up a story about why they’d moved north, but other than that they’d stuck with the truth.
In his last message to the general, Daniel had told him that they’d found the leader of the radicals and had been accepted into their ranks. Daniel added that in his personal opinion the so-called radicals were just poor farmers and workers from the local textile industry with complaints against the gentry in the area who weren’t listening to their needs.
To think, once upon a time he and Daniel had naively assumed that by winning the war against France all of their problems would be over. What a laugh. Post-war England was more divided and contentious than ever. Now that there was no common enemy, they were turning on each other. The country was paying for the war—literally. The economy was down and tensions were high. Gabriel couldn’t begin to guess who was right in the blame game that was going on up north.
Either way, Daniel had vowed to get to the bottom of it and that was the last anyone had heard from them. No one in the area knew that they were undercover, except for Lydia, of course. The
general had sent some of his men to sniff around the area but they’d found nothing new. They’d come back with some gossip on the local gentry, but nothing solid. It seemed the Baron of Rothmore was indeed disliked among the lower classes and had apparently made threats that he would imprison anyone who spoke out against him. His son, Lord Vancleef, on the other hand, was considered a sympathizer to their cause and he managed to keep the peace, according to their sources.
Gabriel briefly filled in Wren on what little he knew—their initial assignment, when they’d gone missing, and finally, his last visit with Lydia.
Wren stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth partially open. Speechless was not a phrase one would typically associate with his loquacious friend.
Gabriel shifted in his seat, irritation and frustration making it impossible to sit still. “Don’t just sit there staring like an idiot. Say something.”
Wren fell back with a loud exhale. “Lydia proposed?”
Gabriel let his head fall back against his chair as he let out a groan. “After everything I’ve told you, that’s what you’re fixated on?” He had to admit that his reaction to her proposal had probably been similar. He’d been stunned into idiocy as that little slip of a girl laid out her reasons for them to be married. Married! Him. To her. Even now he had to shake his head at the thought.
“What did you tell her?” Wren asked.
Now it was his turn to gape at his friend. “I told her no, obviously.”
He thought he saw a flicker of humor in his friend’s eyes. “Obviously.” Wren’s tone was serious, but Gabriel knew him too well.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Wren’s shrug was too innocent. “Nothing at all. Why would you consider marrying a beautiful, charming woman with a clever mind and a sweet disposition?” He shook his head. “Perish the thought.”
Gabriel briefly thought about reaching over and cuffing his friend upside the head. Their best friend was missing, this was hardly the time to be discussing marriage to anyone, least of all her. “It’s Lydia.”
One would think that was all that needed to be said, but Wren stared back at him blankly.
“As in, our friend’s little sister,” he continued. “As in, the girl I am to protect should anything happen to Daniel.”
“Mmm.” Wren reached for his drink and swirled the liquid in the glass. “She’s hardly a girl anymore. She’s grown up quite nicely, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Gabriel scowled. Oh, he’d noticed. He would have had to be blind and deaf not to notice the woman she’d become. A beautiful, charming woman, Wren had called her. That was like calling Napoleon a bit of a pest. An understatement to the extreme.
Over the last few years he’d watched her come into her own with a maturity and grace that most women of her age could only dream of. But then, she’d had a hell of an example in Madeline. She and Daniel had raised Lydia to be fiercely independent, well read, and well-rounded in ways that would make most women swoon. He’d walked in on her fencing once. Fencing! She’d beaten Daniel handily and he’d just laughed and tousled her hair.
But expert fencer or not, she was still his to protect.
Wren seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Has it occurred to you that by marrying Lydia, you might be in the best position to protect her?”
Gabriel shot a glance over at his friend and narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the other man’s too-innocent demeanor. “What are you getting at, Wren?”
He set his glass down. “Just that it might not be the worst idea.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to protest but Wren cut him off.
“Think about it. You did promise to look after her. And there are worse fates than to be wedded to a woman who’s head over heels in love with you.”
His head snapped up so quickly he heard his neck crack. “What the hell are you on about?” His gaze met Wren’s and understanding dawned, but not before something inexplicable had sent his heart racing at a gallop. Something remarkably similar to hope. But Wren’s meaning sank in and he pushed aside that ridiculous sensation. “You’re referring to her childhood infatuation, I suppose.”
Wren’s laugh filled the night air. “You have to admit, that sort of devotion is awfully flattering.”
“She was a child, for God’s sakes.” Gabriel shoved Wren’s feet off the table in front of them and reached for his own drink.
“Yes,” Wren said mildly. “But she’s not anymore.”
Before he could ask what his friend meant by that, Wren’s attention was distracted. Gabriel saw him staring over his shoulder toward the door that led to the main house.
“You there,” he called out suddenly. “What are you doing spying on us?”
Gabriel turned in his seat to find a little slip of a woman peeking out around the corner of the doorway. He could just make out tight brown curls and a pair of green eyes.
Wren opened his mouth to shout again, but Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Vivian,” he said quietly. “What brings you out here so late at night?” He tried his best to keep his tone gentle. The youngest daughter was a shy sort and he had the distinct impression that he terrified the poor girl. Not that he intended to, but he’d been in the army so long he sometimes forgot how to speak to women.
Not that he had a problem speaking with Lydia. She might be the only woman who didn’t cower in fear when he growled and glowered. Or generally acted like a beast, that was how Lydia put it, and she most likely had a point. He hadn’t been raised to be a gentleman like Wren, or as the son of prosperous landowners like Daniel. He’d been taken in at school as a charity case and had worked his way up the ranks in the military.
He saw Wren’s expression change once he realized this “spy” was Lydia’s best friend and the general’s daughter. His tone softened as well. “Come on out, love. We won’t bite.”
She took one step forward into the lantern light. Her eyes were pinched with worry as she nibbled on her lower lip. Somehow Gabriel knew that the fear in her eyes had nothing to do with him or Wren. Leaning forward, he spoke without thinking. “What is it, Vivian?”
She froze in place, her eyes now wide and stricken at his harsh tone. Damn. He’d forgotten his intention to be gentle with this one. But he had no patience for that now. She knew something, and he needed to know what.
This time it was Wren who intervened, his voice coated in honey. “Come now, love. What is it you came out here to tell us?”
Those green eyes moved from Wren to Gabriel and back again. She licked her lips and opened her mouth, but then shut it again quickly.
Gabriel gripped the arms of his chair and tried not to curse. The girl seemed to be doing battle with herself as she stood there. Finally, she crossed the distance between them and thrust a piece of paper into his hands.
He glanced down at it and saw Lydia’s handwriting. Bloody hell. What now? As he scanned the letter, a buzzing noise filled his ears, drowning out Vivian’s soft voice.
He was dimly aware that she was explaining. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell….I thought you should know….It’s just that I’m worried….”
“You did the right thing, love,” he heard Wren say gently.
He was still staring at the piece of paper though he’d read enough to get the gist.
“What is it?” Wren asked. “Is Lydia in trouble?”
That snapped him out of the shocked stupor that had him staring like a fool as rage and pain and something else he didn’t want to examine too closely battled it out.
Anger won.
Lydia couldn’t possibly be serious. But if she was…
He shot up out of his seat and strode toward the door.
“Is Lydia all right?” Wren was following him closely and the anxiety in his voice forced Gabriel to answer.
“She will be once I save her.” He headed straight toward the back entrance where his horse was housed in the barn. He would make sure she was safe, first and foremo
st. That was his first priority. His only priority.
Once she was safe…then he would kill her.
Chapter Three
Lydia’s stomach roiled. She was baking beneath the sunlight streaming in through the chapel windows. Eating breakfast that morning had been a poor decision. Her wedding day was destined to be wretched enough without spilling the contents of her stomach all over the stone floor.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. This was for Daniel and Madeline. She could get through it if she just focused on them. As the tiny wedding party gathered around her and her husband-to-be took her hands in his, she mentally reviewed all the reasons this was a good idea.
Or, if not exactly a good idea, at least a viable solution.
With what she’d learned from Daniel and what she and Vivian had pieced together from the general’s files—she had to thank Vivian again for that bit of snooping—she knew that Daniel and Madeline had been undercover as radicals trying to upend the system. She’d met some of these radicals. Her brother and sister-in-law had hosted a meeting of like-minded, concerned citizens and she had dined with them before heading to bed while they discussed their plans.
Her brother hadn’t told her much afterward but enough to know that they hadn’t seriously suspected this crowd of much harm. “Poor sods are just frustrated with the world right now, and who can blame them?” Daniel had said.
Their frustration, she’d learned through a little digging of her own, was mainly with the Lord Cranston Vancleef, the Baron of Rothmore. Shortly after her brother and sister had gone missing she’d reached out to one of the radical ringleaders and he’d told her how Rothmore had threatened to take the law into his own hands and imprison any radical who openly opposed his views.
Her best and only guess as to Daniel and Madeline’s whereabouts was that Rothmore had imprisoned them. It was the only explanation that made sense of their sudden disappearance.
