It seemed an eternity passed before she finally sank down into a dejected heap. Resting her forehead on top of her bent knees, she tried to keep the smothering feelings of mortification at bay. Had she truly vomited in front of Gabriel Wilde?
Any remaining shred of pride or dignity she possessed quickly fled. She’d fantasized about this moment, wondering what it would be like to actually speak to him, only to make a complete fool out of herself when the opportunity finally arose! The urge to cry was so overwhelming that Triana felt she might have given in had not Gabriel chosen that moment to kneel down in front of her, silently extending a white handkerchief. She glanced at him curiously before accepting it with a slight hesitation. Words escaped her, although she did offer him a weak and watery smile of appreciation for the kind and rather unexpected gesture. After all, it was more than most would have done.
It made her wonder why he’d bothered.
“Feeling better?” he asked quietly, breaking the odd, but companionable silence. Triana couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat, so she simply nodded. Standing, he offered his hand to her. With shaky fingers, she accepted.
Thinking that he would quickly leave, eager to get away now that his honor had been satisfied, she was stunned when he didn’t immediately release her. Instead, he turned her hand upright. Triana tried to ignore the way her pulse leaped in wild response as he carefully peeled back the soft material of her glove. Struck immobile, she watched in rapt fascination as he gently placed a light kiss upon her bare palm, the contact causing her skin to sizzle, the sensation traveling past her midsection and lower...
Those hypnotizing, silver eyes singed her with a charming twinkle. “I would suggest limiting yourself to one glass of wine next time. It has a nasty habit of sneaking up on you unaware.” Drawing a line down her cheek with his forefinger, he added more softly, “Until we meet again, Lady Abernathy.”
Her eyes widened. He knows who I am?
She closed her eyes against the heady sensations running through her body, reopening them a scant second later — only to find that he was gone.
Blinking, she realized that she still clasped his handkerchief. Looking down, she noticed the initials GW emblazoned in black, a sharp contrast to the brilliant white. With her fingertip, she gently traced their outline, before tucking it into her bodice and taking her leave.
Chapter Three
Gabriel remained hidden in the shadows of the veranda, watching silently as Triana slipped away. Releasing a pent up breath and smoothing out a frown he didn’t realize had appeared, the duke made his way toward the designated rendezvous point and forced himself to put those enchanting blue eyes out of his mind — and the fact that he’d been right.
She was absolutely lovely when she smiled.
Already five minutes late in meeting with his contact, promptness being a strict rule he normally adhered to, Gabriel strode stealthily through the Kensingtons’ expansive gardens, stopping only when he was well away from the manor house. Pausing, he gave a sharp whistle. Seconds afterward he heard the answering signal he’d been anticipating. Striding toward the call, he glanced once more over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been followed and slid deeper into the darkness.
He hadn’t taken more than a handful of steps before the bushes rustled slightly and a man appeared. Beckoning nervously to him, the hunched man whispered, “I ’ave th’ information ye wanted.”
Gabriel didn’t reply, just held out his hand into which a packet was thrust.
Perusing the material inside for a moment, he reached into his coat pocket and tossed a gold crown at the messenger. “Excellent work, as usual. I’ll be in touch.” The other man nodded, then after a quick, anxious glance around, was gone as furtively as he’d appeared.
The duke securely stuffed the missive inside his coat pocket to be thoroughly examined later, his mouth compressing into a grim line as he made his way back to the ballroom. For some reason, his contact had been more edgy than usual. While he thought it might have something to do with his own tardiness, Gabriel figured it was most likely due to the papers he now held in his possession.
Slipping back into the crowd with his usual, outward nonchalance, Gabriel felt a sharp sense of exhilaration. After all, it was the thrill of taking down a criminal that had drawn him to this life in the first place. However, he was careful not to get overconfident in his abilities because that’s how mistakes were made. And now the need for caution was higher than ever.
Smuggling was becoming a real problem in England.
With the strain of the ongoing war in France, combined with the recent unrest in America over trading in Europe, things had become difficult for the Regent. Not only had he had to assume power the year before following the king’s latest malady over the death of his youngest daughter, Princess Amelia, but Prinny was also in constant negotiations with the Jiaqing Emperor in China to halt any further opium deliveries from the East India Company due to the country’s growing number of addicts.
England could easily see a financial burden if things didn’t improve — and quickly. Bow Street was on constant patrol, but spies and enemies were continually on the move, exchanging prisoners of war and guineas for illegal exports. At least now, with the secret agreements of England, Russia, and Sweden in place against Napoleon, it was one less thing the Regent had to worry about.
But since the smuggling issues had to be addressed, he’d put his best men on the line, a handful of highly trained spies, and the biggest secret of the Home Office where only a select, trusted few even knew of their existence.
For the past month, Gabriel had been undercover in the Seven Dials district, searching for clues as to who might be leading the largest profitable, underground operation. Having succeeded without a single lead thus far, fate decided to intervene one night at a rundown tavern. There, he overheard a hushed conversation between two men, both of whom were known to have quite a lengthy, criminal history. While he wouldn’t have given much thought about this particular scenario, it was a name they mentioned that had given him pause. A name he wouldn’t normally have connected to such shady characters — without good reason.
Cordelia Westchester, the Marchioness of Worthington.
Two days later, Gabriel received the news that his father had perished and he was now the fifth Duke of Chiltern.
As he decided that it was in the best interest of the investigation for him to return to society at that point, in order to gain further insight into the marchioness, his usual disguise of a street ruffian in torn breeches and stained shirts had been swiftly replaced with starched cravats and shining Hessians. Having sworn off ever returning to such an empty life years earlier, he wasn’t particularly thrilled with this specific turn of events, but he had to grudgingly admit that his sudden resurgence would likely cause the fewest questions, so he’d reluctantly agreed to take his rightful place among the viper pit. Thus far, nothing else of import had materialized.
While Gabriel and his cohorts had uncovered scraps of information here and there, it still wasn’t the big breakthrough they were looking for. But tonight...with this packet, he might just be holding the key to ending it all. At least he hoped so, for Gabriel found his patience was growing thin. He’d rifled through Cordelia’s townhouse several times and come up empty handed, so she was a dead end as far as he was concerned and frankly, he was tired of playing the besotted suitor. Although Gabriel was the first to admit he’d resorted to any number of skills in the past to gain the advantage over a suspect, he’d never entered into an illicit affair with a suspected criminal, and there was no doubt in his mind that Cordelia was hiding something, although until he could prove her involvement, he had to rely on his instincts.
Then again, if it did come to a meaningless toss in the sheets, he would do what he had to do, although he would much rather be forced to seduce Triana Abernathy…
Now where the hell had that thought come from?
Irritated for even allowing her to ent
er into his mind where she didn’t belong, he decided to take a moment to contemplate the lady since her image had already taken root, even though he knew it was against his better judgment.
There had been something infinitely appealing about Travell’s younger sister. He could tell she wasn’t a twittering simpleton like so many of the other females that paraded about in society. She was possessed of a uniqueness of quality and spirit — rather like a diamond in the ruff that had yet to shine. And while he would have to agree that ill-fated episode on the terrace had been unfortunate, he felt she’d handled the situation quite well, considering the circumstances. Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t endured much worse during his younger years.
Waking up in a dirty, French gutter, half dressed, with a bad hangover and no real recollection of how he’d gotten there readily came to mind…
But this wasn’t about him — and in the end, it wasn’t about Triana either. It didn’t matter how he regarded her — good or bad. He was there to focus on his mission; to do a job, and once it was over, he’d put some steward in charge of his estate until he turned up his toes and some distant cousin or other could inherit. To let his concentration slip, for even a moment, might very well make all the difference between success and failure.
Life — and death.
So there would be no more thought of Triana Abernathy — pretty blue eyes notwithstanding.
Giving a firm tug on his waistcoat and smoothing down his impeccably tailored jacket, Gabriel returned to the ballroom, nodding a greeting to a fellow peer now and then, or pausing to have some meaningless chat, before he managed to catch Lady Worthington’s eye. As the orchestra began to strike up a waltz, he raised an expectant brow as he moved toward her and gallantly led her onto the dance floor.
***
Triana and her mother barely spoke two words to one another on the ride home, which was probably just as well as angry silence was better than none at all. Especially since there was nothing either of them could say to make a difference in swaying the other’s opinion.
Once inside their modest, yet fashionable townhouse in Mayfair, they parted ways with barely murmured goodnights, though Triana knew this evening was long from forgotten in her mother’s mind. Undoubtedly, she would pay for her actions with a lengthy lecture come morning.
But now, as Triana lay awake long into the night, staring at the light blue canopy above her bed, she found her thoughts drifting to the Duke of Chiltern and wishing she could remove his presence from her turbulent mind. Her stomach had finally settled down from the wine’s ill effects, if not continuing to churn on account of some bothersome man.
Finally giving up any attempt at sleep, she threw back the suffocating covers and tied her dressing gown with a jerk. She might as well find a book to read, for anything was better than the alternative of staring at the wall, fantasizing about a pair of shimmering, silver orbs and bemoaning what could never be.
The rest of the house was quiet as Triana padded downstairs to the library. She considered her options from the many volumes, but eventually selected a thin verse of poetry, Elegiac Sonnets and Other Poems, by Charlotte Smith. Curling up in one of the leather wingback chairs by the flickering fireplace, she opened it and began to read.
Normally one of her favorite writers, Triana quickly shut it with a snap when the first line she read was from one of the sonnets that seemed to resemble Triana’s own situation a bit too closely; “Ah! then, how dear the Muse’s favours cost, If those paint sorrow best — who feel it most!”
Placing the book on a side table, she crossed her arms and stared at the marbled mantel. Entranced by the glowing embers of a dying fire, she tried to focus on their spitting flames to lull herself to sleep, but she soon realized this was also a useless quest for her solemnity. Feeling a shudder she knew had nothing to do with the chill, Triana pulled her robe more securely about her and finally gave up the fight and let her mind wander where it truly desired to go.
Gabriel Wilde.
What was it she found so appealing about him? Was it simply the fact that he was handsome? Because there was certainly no doubt in that regard. Twisting her lips, she wondered if her infatuation was that easy to explain, but almost immediately dismissed it. Triana knew lots of attractive men, but only this one caused her heart to flutter madly.
Of course, there was that old adage of wanting what you couldn’t have. Perhaps she was drawn to the illustrious duke merely because he was unattainable — to her, at least. Then again, perhaps envy prompted her interest, for Chiltern stood for everything she had always dreamed of — taking London by storm.
Absently, Triana pulled Gabriel’s handkerchief out of the pocket of her robe, where she’d hastily shoved it out of sight earlier, and ran her thumb over the embroidered monogram. It was as if by doing so, the delicate linen would reveal all the answers she was searching for. Just by holding something that was so intimately… his.
She recalled his thoughtfulness that evening, and it filled her with a wealth of mixed emotions, for only Travell and her closest friends had ever treated her with such similar respect. It was almost as if she’d been… someone, and not just a name to poke fun at.
The absent, dreamy sigh that followed was enough to snap her back to reality.
Drat.
This idiotic fascination was becoming worse than she’d thought. There had to be a way to snip it in the bud before it got out of hand and she found herself dangling from a bad ending. But how did one go about exorcizing an enigma like the Duke of Chiltern? Tapping a finger against her bottom lip, she considered her dilemma for a time before coming to the only logical conclusion.
Usually when something appeared too good to be true, it most likely was, so… what if she uncovered a part of the duke’s nature that wasn’t quite so appealing? If she did that, then surely she would realize he wasn’t any different than the rest of the men that slithered about society and thus, become much easier to dismiss. She needed something foolproof, not second hand hearsay from the servants.
But who could she enlist to help her in such a quest?
Surely Korina could be counted on to dig up some long forgotten scandal, but then she would have to admit that she’d fallen for Gabriel’s charm in the first place. She’d never hear the end of it.
No, she needed to find someone who actually knew the duke — a friend, or confidante…
Abruptly, the solution hit her with all the force of a stone. Travell.
Of course! Her brother was perfect! He and the duke appeared to be of a similar age, so perhaps they’d even attended university together. If nothing else, surely he could be counted on to offer some sort of dark insight into the duke. Couldn’t he?
Triana glanced at the clock on the mantel. A quarter past four. She bit her lip and hesitated only briefly before making her way toward the back of the house. Never allowing patience to dissuade her from a plan before, it was still a longshot to hope that her brother would be closeted in his study at such an early hour, but she had to try.
Something this important just couldn’t wait.
Triana had her hand poised to knock when a sudden noise caught her attention. With a curious frown, she paused, placing her ear to the hard oak. After a moment, she heard the same, muffled sound again. Strange, but it almost sounded as if there were voices coming from within… But that was just silly! It was too early for the servants to be up and about, so that could only mean her brother had a guest. And no one would dare to call at such an unfashionable hour!
But even as she considered it to be impossible, she pressed even closer…
***
“This is good. In fact, it’s probably the best lead we’ve gotten so far, but you and I both know it isn’t enough for a conviction.” The Viscount of Curdiff slapped the papers down on the table in front of him in obvious frustration and leaned back in his chair. The man across from him uttered a curse and stood, beginning to pace back and forth in agitation, much like a caged animal m
ight do when confined.
While this particular operation was wearing on both of their nerves, Travell knew it was even more upsetting for the man wearing a hole in the floor of his study. Taking on his role as the new Duke of Chiltern had been strenuous enough, but Gabriel had tougher rules to follow now. He couldn’t move as freely as he had on previous missions, because like it or not, polite society could get rather tricky if one wasn’t careful. One false move could have an entire lead unraveling like a ball of twine.
Now, after being up all night tearing apart this latest evidence — the name of the main smuggling ship finally revealed — it seemed that with every step forward, they were set back two. They both knew that in order to be granted a warrant and set up a raid, they needed to confirm any illicit activity first. The problem was going to be catching the blasted vessel long enough in order to affix an agent for just this purpose. Apparently, the Clara Belle didn’t have any particular berth where it unloaded its stolen cargo, so there was no idea where the ship might be next. And with countless caves and hidden alcoves along the English coastline, the possibilities were vast.
Travell shook his head. “I have to allow that Lady Westchester’s certainly covered her tracks.”
Gabriel abruptly stopped his relentless pacing. “For now, yes. But you and I both know that at some point she’ll get too confident. That’s when we’ll have her head on the block.”
Travell nodded, for he had seen the same scenario time and again. More often than not criminals ended up tightening their own noose. But the question was — would the Regent be content to wait for that to eventually to take place?
Travell rubbed his weary eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent night’s rest. It seemed that if this case wasn’t monopolizing the majority of his waking hours — he was being summoned by the Regent, or dealing with other issues in Parliament. If only the Houses would adjourn early, it would certainly give him a little breathing room, but to avoid any semblance of slacking off on his duties for even a moment was crucial. Keeping up appearances was the main part of this job — and as important as the secrecy.
Triana's Spring Seduction Page 3
