Chapter Nineteen

As he always did, Gabriel woke at the first glimmer of dawn. He had slept restlessly after a late evening of gaming. He’d lost on purpose, but not badly.

Memories haunted his sleep … his father’s face when he had handed him the envelope, the desperate plea in his voice minutes before he killed himself. Monique’s clear, sharp voice when she had defended him earlier tonight when he could not defend himself. Pamela’s face as she smiled.

If he ruined Stanhope, would she be as devastated as he had been? Stanhope was still her father, and scandal could haunt her as it had haunted Gabriel’s mother.

But could he allow Stanhope to continue to plunder?

Or was that only an excuse for revenge? Was he his brother’s keeper, or an obsessed man out for vengeance, regardless of who was hurt?

He’d never been plagued before by doubts.

He would have to decide soon. Stanhope had asked him to join a hunt at eleven, then wanted to see him at five this afternoon. He did not look forward to the hunt. He had never enjoyed hunting for sport. He’d seen too much death to consider it as entertainment.

He decided to clear his head by a ride this morning before the other guests rose. It would not be as fine as dawn at sea, but it would do.

He pulled on a pair of riding breeches and shaved himself as he always did. Smythe would be at his door in minutes.

As predicted, his light knock came just as Gabriel was wiping his face. His face was, as usual, anxious to be of service. “May I help you with your clothes? Or a bath?” he asked hopefully, though he obviously had been perplexed by Gabriel’s frequent bathing habits.

“I think you sleep with your ears open to the moment I wake,” Gabriel said.

“I try, my lord.”

“There you go with the ‘my lord’ nonsense again.”

“It is best to do so here.”

Gabriel considered that for a moment. Then he looked at Smythe closely. He wondered if Smythe knew—or suspected—far more than he’d thought.

“Did you see Dani last night?” It was none of his business. He realized that, but he wanted to know more about Monique and wondered whether Dani had confided in Smythe in any way.

Smythe looked uncomfortable and yet there was a slight smile on his face. “Yes, sir.”

He wanted to continue but found he could not use Smythe in that way. It would not be fair to ask.

“I am taking Specter for a ride this morning,” he said. “Then there is a hunt and a meeting with my host. I will not need you hovering around until just before five. Perhaps you can find something to do with Miss Fremont’s Dani.”

He watched as a smile played on Smythe’s lips. By God, but his man was smitten.

“I will be here to help you prepare for supper,” Smythe said.

“That will be more than adequate. And now you can help find my riding coat and a clean shirt. Since you’ve become so adept at cravats, I can use your help there.”

In minutes he had dressed in a riding coat and breeches and struggled with pulling on his boots. Even with boot hooks, it took longer than he liked. The damn things came to his knee. But they were fashionable, and the Marquess of Manchester needed to be fashionable.

He stopped by the dining room. Plates already covered the sideboard. He took ham, eggs, and cold fowl from the offerings and sat alone. Apparently few rose at this hour.

Halfway through the meal, Lady Pamela entered. She gave him the usual shy smile, then busied herself at the table. She was dressed in a riding costume.

She looked at him, at his clothing.

“You are going riding?” she asked.

“Aye. I hate to waste a good morning.”

“So do I,” she said with a grin. “May I accompany you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“My father does not like me to ride. He does not like me to do anything alone, so I leave long before he rises,” she confided. She stole a quick glance at him. “I plan to ride with Miss Freemont later. I don’t think my father will object to that.”

She had changed in the past few days. She was still obviously afraid of her father but more willing to defy him. Perhaps because she felt she had an ally now.

They both finished their meal quickly, then went out to the stable.

He’d been surprised at her announcement that she planned to ride with Miss Fremont later in the day. He had noted Monique’s quick glances toward Pamela, but he had not thought she would try to befriend the girl. Was Lady Pamela part of whatever plan she had?

He would not have thought that of her. And yet what common interest could there be between a young country-bred aristocrat and an actress?

He planned to ask that question. He did not want Lady Pamela hurt.

Yet he was planning to destroy Pamela’s father. Hypocrisy? Bloody hell, he hated questioning himself.

They reached the stables and a sleepy lad saddled two horses, his Specter and a pretty mare for Pamela.

He helped Pamela mount, then mounted himself. He noted immediately that she was a fine horsewoman. She led the way, moving from a walk into a trot, then a canter. “There are ruins nearby,” she called to him.

Gabriel followed, enjoying the bite of the morning chill. He did not have to act with Pamela. She accepted everything he said he was, and liked him anyway.

They rode for thirty minutes or so, then drew up at old stone ruins.

“This was the first Stanhope hold,” she said. “I was told about it two days ago when I first arrived, and rode to see it. There is such an air of desolation here. Sadness.” Her lips pursed in concentration. “I believe two lovers died here.”

She slid down from the sidesaddle and tied the reins to a tree. He did the same and followed her into the ruins. Then she stood there.

“I can almost hear them,” she said.

“You are a romantic, Lady Pamela.”

“Yes, I am,” she said. “For years I had little to do but read, and I loved romantic stories. Then a neighbor taught me to ride, and I found something I was good at.”

“And painting,” he said.

“I said I liked it,” she said. “I did not say I was good at it.”

“I imagine you are very good at it.”

“I am going to sketch Miss Fremont when we come here this afternoon,” Pamela said. “She said I could.” A gleam danced in her eyes.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Lady Pamela?”

“Whatever would that be, my lord?”

“You are a minx,” he said. “And you look so …”

“Malleable?” she said disdainfully.

He stared at her for a long time. “I thought that at first, but now I think there is a great deal more strength than you believe.”

The wistful look returned. “I have always wanted to be strong. I always dreamed myself as brave and independent. But then my father comes, and I … all that courage leaves me.”

He remembered what Pamela had said about her young man. Her father would destroy his father. How could they have any happiness based on misery and destruction?

She looked into his eyes. “But you and Miss Fremont do not have that problem.”

“I believe we have many problems, Lady Pamela.”

“Call me Pamela,” she said. “Why? I saw the way you looked at her, and the way she looked at you. She called you impertinent and a rogue.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you believe that means she is interested in me?”

“It was the way she said it.”

“And you decided to try to unite us,” he concluded.

“I thought you might like to know she will be here this afternoon. We will have a picnic, and I … we would very much like to have you join us.”

“How could I resist such a charming invitation?”

“You are laughing at me.”

“Never, my lady.”

“Then you will come?”

“I will try,” he said, once more wondering why she was so much Monique’s champion. Because of the faint resemblance? But that meant nothing.

“Tell me more about the ruins,” he said, changing the subject.

“They date back to the tenth century,” she said. “They are said to be haunted and no one comes here.”

“Except you?”

“I think they are kind ghosts who are looking for each other.”

He was beginning to understand a little. She did not think she and her love would ever be together. So she was trying to unite two other people.

He felt the terrible fraud. “I think we should go,” he said.

“I wish to stay.”

“Then what kind of gentleman would I be to leave you alone to fend for yourself? Your father would horsewhip me.”

“I think not,” she said with a small sigh.

He stood there waiting. He would not leave her here alone.

In a moment she surrendered with a small sigh. “All right.”

He helped her mount. “You see,” he said. “It is a good thing I stayed to help you mount.”

She gave him a heartbreaking twist of the lips that was meant to be a smile.

“Do not give up your dreams, Lady Pamela,” he said softly.

“You really care about them?” she said with that vulnerability that always struck a chord in him.

“Yes,” he said.

“You are a very nice man, my lord.”

He wondered whether she would keep that thought after he ruined her father.

They laughed together as if they were sisters.

Monique sat amidst the ruins while Pamela sketched. She found herself repeatedly looking into her sister’s face and had to force herself to look up at the cloudless sky. It was a true blue. The same color as her sister’s eyes.

She wondered how someone so untouched had survived Stanhope. Only, she thought, because Stanhope had not wanted anything to do with her, just as he’d wanted a child five years older than Pamela to disappear.

“May I see?” she asked.

She watched emotion flit across Pamela’s face. Embarrassment. A little pride. “It is not very good,” Pamela said.

Monique rose and went over and looked at it.

She had never seen herself in the mirror with that expression.

A slight smile crossed her face in the sketch. She looked younger. Wistful. Yet there was a quality of movement in the sketch. Of vitality. It was as if there were two people in the sketch. Two personalities.

It was very good indeed.

“How long have you been sketching?” she asked.

Pamela shrugged. “I used to draw as a child, but it was my secret. I was afraid …”

Afraid that pleasure would be taken from her. “Did you have an education?”

“Oh, yes. The vicar in the village came to our home twice a week. He would bring me books.”

“No other children?”

Pamela shook her head. “But I used to visit the stables, and the grooms were kind. Just like Adam here.”

How could anyone be unkind to her? Except their father. “Did you see your father much?”

Pamela’s expression did not change. “Rarely. He would come and stare at me, then look away. Sometimes he would ask a question but I was always too frightened of him to answer.”

“But you are no longer so afraid?”

Pamela said nothing for a moment. “He does not love me. He only wishes to use me. I know that. But I am braver. Lord Manchester says I should seek my own dream. I wish that I could, but how can you take happiness at the expense of someone else?”

“Who is someone else?”

“I have already said too much,” she said.

“I will never repeat a word,” Monique promised.

“Robert. His father is a doctor. My father would never approve of the match. My aunt found us together and said my father would ruin his family. My father had other plans for me, she said.”

“Lord Manchester.”

“Yes,” Pamela said.

“You can always come to me,” Monique said.

Pamela looked up at her. “Why?”

Monique took a deep breath. “I do not have a sister,” she said. “I would like one.”

“I have a duty to my family.”

No. Monique wanted to scream the word. No one had a duty to a monster like Stanhope. But then many people would not have defended Monique’s mother, either. She had been a whore.

Not even fashionably unpure, as some courtesans in London were called. No such exalted term for her mother.

“You are very good at sketching. Have you ever tried oils?”

“I have no money.”

Monique wanted to kill Stanhope with her own two hands. Everything in his two homes announced the fact that he was a very wealthy man. Yet, he could not spare a pound or two for paints and canvas.

“You look happier than before,” she said.

“I think Lord Manchester has given me courage.”

“How?” she asked.

“He talks to me as though I am someone he truly likes, as if I am truly worth knowing.”

Pain drove through Monique. She had felt that way. Worthless. Helpless. Then she was introduced to the theater. That had given dignity back to her, a sense of worth. Still, if it were not for Dani, she would be very lonely indeed.

“Do you have friends?”

“Only Robert. My father did not want me ‘tainted,’ but I met Robert one day in the town, and I was able to meet him occasionally. He bought me the sketching pad. I knew, though, that my father intended a prestigious marriage for me. I was … surprised when it was Lord Manchester.”

“Why?”

“He is not like the other men around my father,” she said simply.

He was not, Monique admitted.

Pamela was sketching again, her fingers moving quickly over the pad. Monique saw her eyes on a bird perched on a limb. Her face was creased in concentration.

Monique closed her eyes, pledging to herself that regardless of what happened she would make sure Pamela had some safety. Monique had funds she had saved these past few years. They were meant to be used to destroy Stanhope, but Pamela’s salvation was more important.

Monique decided she would see a solicitor as soon as they returned. If anything happened to her, she wanted Pamela to have the resources necessary to move beyond Stanhope’s reach.

Gabriel trailed along with the pack of hunters, purposely staying toward the rear. He planned to angle away later and ride to the ruins.

He knew he shouldn’t.

Yet he was as drawn to them as surely as a magnet to a lodestone. He told himself he wanted to know why Monique had interjected a defense for him last night to the displeasure of men she was trying to attract.

Specter was rested after the morning ride, but he was unusually skittish. Gabriel concentrated on maintaining control. Stammel approached him once and raised an eyebrow. “Problems?”

“None I cannot handle.”

“I suppose Americans are not as accomplished as we in England.”

“I suppose it depends on what accomplishments you mean,” Gabriel said in a steady voice. “Gaming for instance. You still have not yet honored your debt.”

Stammel glared at him, then cantered away.

Specter started to follow, then bucked slightly. It was so unexpected, Gabriel almost lost his seat. He allowed the others to go ahead, then when they were out of sight, he dismounted and checked the blanket and saddle. Spots of blood stained the underneath of the blanket.

He ran his hand over the blanket and found a small burr there. He dislodged it. If he had been less accomplished, he could well be lying on the ground somewhere.

Stammel? Daven? Stanhope? Which one wanted him injured?

He doubted it was Stanhope. The earl still hoped to drain him of what funds he might have. Daven had no reason.

Stammel actively and publicly disliked him. Besides he owed him money.

He would have to be more careful than he’d thought. Until now, he’d considered Stanhope the main threat. He doubted now whether Stanhope had any idea of what Stammel—if it was Stammel—had intended.

Another little wedge between the partners. Perhaps tonight he could make a deeper one.

With those thoughts in mind, he took the reins and started the long walk back.

So much for temptation. He would not have time to find a new horse and ride to the ruins. He was no longer surprised that he felt a jolt of loss. He told himself it was for the best.

For both of them.

He only wished he did not regret it so.

The meeting with Stanhope was short.

Stanhope had arrived just prior to the arranged meeting.

“We lost you,” he said. “The groom said you came walking back.”

“Oddly enough, I found a burr under the blanket of my horse.”

Stanhope stared at him. “The groom didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t tell him what had happened. Only that he had some kind of irritation.”

“Why?”

“I thought it should be your business,” Gabriel said.

“You obviously believe it was intentional.”

“I cannot understand how else a burr would get under a saddle,” Gabriel remarked dryly.

“And whom do you suspect?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Stammel owes me money,” he said simply.

He saw Stanhope’s eyes glint. “I will approach him about it,” he said. “You can be sure that nothing like that will happen again.”

“I hope not. I should hate to go to the authorities,” Gabriel said.

A silence.

“Be assured that I will have a long discussion with Robert,” Stanhope said.

He leaned back in his chair. “Now do you plan to make an offer for my daughter?” he said.

“I do not wish to rush her, but I believe she favors my suit.”

“Several people saw you return together this morning,” Stanhope stated in an accusing voice. “That is not done in England, not with young people who are not engaged.”

So he did know more about Pamela’s movements than she suspected. “It was an accidental meeting,” he said.

“Nonetheless …”

“Society would question such a quick engagement,” Gabriel said. “I would not wish to harm her reputation.”

“I did not think you concerned yourself about such things.”

“I hope to stay in England and take my rightful place as well as title,” Gabriel said pompously. “I cannot do that if more scandal haunts me or my intended bride.”

“Just do not wait too long,” Stanhope warned. “Or I shall look elsewhere.”

“I would hope for a little more security first,” Gabriel continued. “Our business arrangement …”

“Do you have your share?”

“I should have it next week. I would like to know the particulars.”

“I will show you the contracts on Tuesday upon my return.” He stood, as if dismissing Gabriel.

Gabriel also stood. “And now I believe I will explore your maze. I have been intrigued by it since I arrived.”

Stanhope looked pleased. “Yes. It is quite intricate. Guests have been lost there for hours.”

Only Stanhope would think that amusing.

“If we do not see you by supper’s end, I will send a servant for you,” Stanhope said. “We plan to have games of chance again tonight. I am sure you will want to join us.”

It was a challenge again. The man seemed to love them. It didn’t call for an answer.

Gabriel bowed slightly and left the room.

He stood outside for a moment, then went out the front door, telling the butler he was going to the maze.

“My lord, perhaps you would like to take a footman with you,” he said anxiously. “Supper is in an hour.”

Gabriel gave him every bit the haughty look that the gentleman earlier had bestowed upon him.

“No,” he said. “I wish to discover its secrets on my own.”

The man looked dubious but stepped back. “If you do not return …”

“You are not to bother yourself,” Gabriel said arrogantly.

The butler backed away.

Gabriel walked briskly to the maze. No one else appeared interested at the moment. Few guests were outside; those that were apparently were returning from calling on neighbors. The grooms were busy with incoming carriages, but he made sure they saw him.

He reached the entrance of the maze and entered, immediately enveloped by the tall manicured shrubs. Instead of exploring further, he very carefully sat down. He had no intention of becoming lost. He planned to wait until an hour passed and supper started. Most of the servants would be busy.

He would then visit Stanhope’s rooms and perhaps a few others.

Perhaps he could find enough to pay his share of the partnership.

He closed his eyes.

And started counting minutes.

Monique went to the window. She looked below and saw Manchester walk toward the maze. She had heard servants talk about it, how difficult it was. People had been trapped for hours.

Yet Manchester walked into it alone.

He truly was a fool.

She still stung from the fact he had not appeared at the ruins as Pamela had expected him to do. She shook the thought from her head and turned to Dani. “Tonight,” she said. “We will strike tonight. Have you found someplace to hide whatever we find?”

“Oui,” Dani said. “The best place is in the earl’s own coach. It will take us back, will it not?”

“But how?”

“I will find a way,” Dani said.

And Dani would. They had both assumed that there would be an intense search after items turned missing.

Items from Stanhope. From Stammel. Perhaps a few other guests. She wanted Stanhope’s country party to end in disaster. The more she could throw him off balance the better. “You can tell Lord Stanhope’s butler that I am ill. I would appreciate a bowl of soup.”

“Then tonight …”

“Tonight I will see how well you have taught me.”

Gabriel waited until he thought the guests would be sitting at the table. As he’d thought, no one came looking for him. Stanhope would find it a great joke to leave him here all night.

He went to the entrance of the maze and looked out. He saw no one, not even grooms.

He strode from the maze, not hurriedly or stealthily. He did not want anyone to think that he was hiding something. At the same time he hoped no one saw him. He went to the servants’ entrance, not to the front one. If discovered, he would merely claim embarrassment at being late. But he saw no one; most, if not all, of the servants would be assisting with the elaborate supper.

He made it to his room without seeing anyone. Smythe was sitting there waiting for him.

Smythe rose quickly from a chair. “My lord, the Earl of Stanhope was looking for you.”

“I became lost in his maze,” Gabriel said. “And now I fear it is too late to join them for supper without looking the fool.” He met Smythe’s gaze. “I do not want you to tell anyone what time I arrived,” he said.

Smythe nodded.

“You may go down and eat,” Gabriel said.

“But can I not …?”

“No,” Gabriel said sharper than he intended. “I would like some time alone.”

Smythe hesitated, then his face lit in a way Gabriel had never seen before. “Yes, sir.”

Gabriel looked at him with curiosity. There was something a shade different about Smythe. “Has something happened?”

“No, my lord. I mean … sir. I was just with Miss Dani. Miss Fremont’s maid. She is a very … fetching. She is French but …”

He was prattling. Smythe was actually prattling. And about Dani, of all women. Dani who never wore color, who seldom lifted her eyes to anyone except in defense of her mistress.

Gabriel found himself smiling.

“She seems a very nice woman,” he said. He didn’t add that she might be a thief as well. Well, so was he.

Smythe straightened. “I will probably not see her again.”

“Why do you not go down to the kitchen and see about a meal?” Gabriel said helpfully.

“But what about you, my lord?”

“I am not hungry,” Gabriel said. “I will get something later. Go. I order it.”

Smythe did not object this time. Instead, the touching eagerness in his face affected Gabriel in an odd way. Perhaps because he too was feeling some discomforting signs of the same affliction.

He waited until Smythe had been gone several moments, then sipped some brandy. He spilled a little on his waistcoat. If he were found in someone’s room, well, he could say that he had wandered into the wrong one after taking a glass or two. He’d been distraught about missing supper.

Gabriel started at the end of the hall. He wondered again which room had been given to Monique and whether she was in the great hall, seated next to Stanhope.

He knocked on one door, just in the event a servant was awaiting the arrival of a mistress or master, then quietly opened it.

Swiftly he went through the drawers of the clothespress. He found a box of jewelry. He picked through it and found a pair of diamond earrings. He pocketed those.

Enough here. He did not want to be too greedy, and the earrings were easily concealed.

He opened the door and left the room. Four more quick visits. Several additional items, including a jeweled pin for a cravat, more earrings, and two bracelets. Then he made his way down the hall. He had earlier asked a servant for the location of Stanhope’s room. He would try that next. He wanted to inspect Stanhope’s safe.

Gabriel walked swiftly to the room and knocked. No sound. He turned the knob on the door and opened it.

He stepped inside. The skin on his neck prickled. The curtains moved ever so slightly.

Leave, he told himself. Someone did not want to be seen by him and he sure as hell did not want to be seen by him.

“Stanhope?” he asked, as if he was really seeking the man.

No answer.

He stepped outside, walked several steps down the hall, then leaned against a wall and waited.

No one exited immediately. Five, perhaps ten minutes went by, then the door of Stanhope’s room opened.

Monique Fremont stepped out. She immediately saw him, and her face paled. Her hands were free but he saw a bulge in her dress. It should not be there.

Damn it. They could not linger here. Nor could they be found with valuables that did not belong to them.

“Come with me,” he said, taking her wrist and giving her no choice.

They walked down the hall, she walking beside him. No protests. No pulling away.

He reached his room and drew her inside, then closed the door.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he said, recognizing the hypocrisy in his outrage. He was a thief. Why should he care if she were one also?

Because it was so damned dangerous. She had no idea of what Stanhope was capable. Now everything was clear. She had taunted all three men in order to be in a position where she could steal enough to make her very, very comfortable.

He reached out and put his fingers down into the front of her dress. It emerged with a large number of banknotes. And an exquisite diamond necklace.

“Not the ordinary place to wear one.”

“Give it back,” she said.

“I don’t think so,” he drawled slowly.

“It is none of your business.”

He fingered the necklace. “This belong to Stanhope?”

“He gave it to me.”

“A pretty piece. I wonder what a widower is doing with it,” he mused. “A family heirloom perhaps.” He paused. “If he gave it to you, then you can go downstairs with me and display it.”

“No.”

“If he found it in your possession, you could hang,” he said softly.

“He won’t find it,” she said defiantly.

“So you admit you stole it.”

“I admit to nothing.” Her eyes narrowed. “What were you doing opening the door when he is at supper?”

“Looking for you?” he suggested with a hint of a smile.

But her eyes were looking at a small, almost unnoticeable bulge in his coat. Before he could move, her hand had touched it, then retrieved the earrings he had lifted a few moments earlier.

“They should look charming on you,” she said.

“I thought so.” He permitted himself a small smile before explaining, “It is meant as a gift.”

“Then I look forward to seeing them on Pamela’s ears.” She hesitated. “Why are you not at supper?”

“I could ask the same thing, but now is not the time. As far as our host knows, I am in the maze. Lost.”

“And if someone sees you?”

“I just emerged and was too embarrassed to appear for supper.”

She gazed at him with suspicious admiration.

No pretense now, he noticed. But then there was no reason. They had caught each other.

“Do you know what Stanhope is?” he asked with exasperation.

“I know exactly what he is. I do not know who you are.”

“A thief,” he said. “Just as you are.”

His hand cupped her chin.

She stared defiantly up at him, her eyes flashing.

He knew it. So help him, he knew better.

He leaned down and his lips brushed hers, then he crushed her against him.

He felt the reluctance in her body, then surrender.