Chapter Twenty-one

“My bracelet is gone.”

Monique’s cry was followed by the door to her room being thrown open.

She emerged in a night robe, her hair braided, her gray eyes sleepy and sooty looking, and her expression outraged.

She had never looked so appealing to him. She was the essence of righteous indignation.

“Someone,” she continued in a low, moderated but very passionate voice, “has been in my room ruffling through my personal belongings. I want to see Lord Stanhope.”

It was all he could do to keep from smiling. He had seen her on stage. He had watched her beguile men who usually couldn’t be beguiled. He had seen her anger and her passion and even her vulnerability.

Now her eyes flashed, and her face was flushed as she confronted a hall filled with men in what some would call dishabille. Their attention was certainly diverted.

“Lord Stanhope,” she said again. “Where is he? This is an outrage.”

Stanhope unfortunately chose that moment to emerge from his room. It was the first time he was not impeccably dressed. His cravat was in disarray. His shirt was not completely buttoned. His eyes were red, and lines of strain creased his face.

Control and appearances had always been Stanhope’s weapons. This weekend had obviously had several purposes, one of which was to win the wager. Another, Gabriel suspected, was to lure him even deeper into a web and possibly show important friends that Gabriel was a weak and incompetent man desperate for money.

Thanks to Monique, Stanhope’s house party was in complete chaos, his closest business associate accused of intending to harm, even kill a guest, and Monique, whom he had wanted to impress with his wealth, had been robbed.

Gabriel almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Monique ignored him, turning her rage on Stanhope. “I want to return to London tonight. Myself and my maid. I would not feel safe one more moment in this … place. And I expect you to find the villain who robs helpless women.”

“Hear, hear,” said a man who Gabriel remembered was a baron and a member of the Parliament. “I also will take my leave immediately. My wife is distraught from all this business.”

Stanhope shook his head. “My butler will search all the servants.”

The baron drew himself up. “My servants have been with me for years. They are above reproach, Stanhope. I resent your implication. My wife and I are leaving immediately.”

“I will also be leaving as soon as our coach is ready and my lady and I are packed,” said the man who had met Gabriel on the staircase when he’d first arrived. The man who’d barely managed to be civil to Gabriel earlier turned to him. “Are you going; too, Manchester?”

“Abominable situation,” Gabriel agreed. “But I am sure that Lord Stanhope will find the culprit. Or make good our losses.”

Stanhope looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“I am still leaving, my lord. I trust you will have the coach ready within the next hour,” Monique said. She turned away and stalked down the hall.

Gabriel was filled with admiration. She would be gone with the jewels—

Stanhope started to go after her. “It is dangerous on the road at night,” he said. “You should wait until tomorrow.”

“My maid is hysterical,” Monique said. “For her sake alone, we must go. She is a timid soul and fears for her life.” She turned and walked into her room, closing the door behind her.

Gabriel swallowed a smile. He had never seen anyone less timid than Dani.

“Perhaps my man can ride inside and I will ride alongside the coach,” he said to Stanhope. “Smythe is an ex-soldier and very capable of protecting the ladies.”

“I will go myself,” Stanhope said.

Gabriel shrugged. “If you wish, but you have guests. I have none.”

He watched as Stanhope obviously weighed his alternatives.

“Stanhope,” Gabriel said, “you can make amends later. I will make her understand this is not your fault.”

Stanhope whirled on him, rage in his eyes. If there had not been others present, Gabriel knew the man would have struck him in pure fury over carefully laid plans destroyed.

Stanhope was a man who needed to control. He evidently knew little about failure.

He was going to learn.

After a moment Stanhope seemed to gain control.

“How long has your man been with you?” Stanhope demanded.

“He was a soldier of the Crown,” Gabriel said. “He has impeccable references.” Really, Smythe had no references at all. Gabriel hadn’t felt he needed them, but he was not going to say that to Stanhope. He did not want Smythe implicated in any way.

“When did you get back to the house?” Stanhope then asked.

“After supper,” Gabriel said carelessly, ignoring the obvious implication. “You were right, the maze is difficult. I thought you might send someone when I did not appear at supper, especially after the mishap on the hunt. Perhaps you really do not wish a partnership. I will look elsewhere,” he added with indignation.

“My butler was told specifically that you did not want any assistance,” Stanhope replied with a shrug. “If I had thought for a moment that you were afraid …”

Gabriel had baited Stanhope as much as he could about the maze. Now he had something else to worry the man. “I am grateful for being invited to your home, Stanhope, but I would feel safer in my own lodgings in London. I thought England to be a safe place and America a wild, undisciplined land. Now I know I was mistaken.”

“You will leave England?”

“Eventually. I do want to talk to some people who knew my father,” Gabriel said. “Just before coming here, I met someone who claimed my father should not have killed himself, that the charge of treason had been false.”

“Who could that have been? The Crown prosecutors were very sure,” Stanhope said sharply. “It is common knowledge …”

Gabriel shrugged. “Someone disputes the common belief.”

“And who would that be? Why would he not have come forward earlier and saved your father?”

“I understand he was afraid,” Gabriel said. “I do not know whether I should believe it or not, but I feel I should hear him out.”

“Who is it?” Stanhope asked again, this time with a trace of fear.

“I would rather not say until I know his tale is true,” Gabriel said. “I am to meet with him next week.”

He watched as Stanhope’s usually emotionless eyes blinked. “Maybe you can remember something …”

Several other guests were still hesitant and standing around.

Stanhope broke away and approached them. “If you will feel safer, I will place footmen outside your rooms. You will be safer here tonight than on the roads. I beg of you to give us an opportunity to find the culprit.”

One by one, mumbling as they moved along the hall, the guests dispersed. As the last one departed to his room, Monique and Dani reappeared at their door. Gabriel had never thought that women could dress so quickly. Monique’s hair was no longer in a braid but dressed neatly in a bun and framed by a hat. She wore a cloak that covered whatever she wore beneath.

“You cannot leave without escort,” Stanhope said. “There are thieves and highwaymen on the road at night. Manchester has offered to escort you, or I can send men of my own.”

“Lord Manchester will be suitable,” Monique said. “He has come to my assistance before.” Then she seemed to soften. “I will see you in London.”

Stanhope bowed. “It will be my honor,” he said. “And I assure you that I will recompense you for your loss. If you could tell me something about the bracelet …”

“It is but a trifle but meaningful to me. It is the only thing I have left of my mother’s.” Tears appeared at the edges of her eyes. “I truly do not know why someone would take it. It had only a few gems of poor quality.”

“I will attempt to find something that will be equally as memorable.”

“There is no need, my lord.”

“There is every need. Your mother … she is still alive?”

“No. She died several years ago. She was very beautiful.”

“I would expect nothing else,” Stanhope said. “I am very sorry.”

“I must go,” she said. “Lord Stanhope, can you help us with our trunks?”

Stanhope had no choice now. “As you wish. I will have a man ride ahead and make sure you will be accommodated at the inn.”

He looked at Monique, then at Manchester. For a split second Gabriel thought he saw suspicion in the man’s eyes, but if so it disappeared quickly.

“I am in your debt,” Stanhope said stiffly. “And I plead with you not to open old wounds. Most likely, someone believes they can take money from you.”

“I will remember that caution,” Manchester said. “You have been a friend to me, and I will not forget it. Now if you would send someone for my valet …”

He bowed to Monique. “It will not take us long.”

He would make bloody damn sure it would not take long.

He wanted Monique out of the house before Stanhope had second thoughts.

Monique watched the interplay between Dani and Manchester’s valet as Stanhope’s coach bounced over rough roads.

She kept listening for other riders, for a resultant search of her and Dani or perhaps of Manchester’s man. She heard none.

Dani and the big soldier named Sydney Smythe said little, but their eyes had barely left one another.

“Do you miss being a soldier?” Dani asked after several moments in the coach.

“No, miss. Being a soldier means freezing nights and broiling days, and poor food, months of waiting, then …”

“Then?” Dani had prompted.

“It is not a good thing to kill other men just because they live in a different place or have a ruler that tells them they must fight,” he said with sudden intensity even as he darted a look at Monique.

Smythe was obviously awkward in her presence. He’d said little, when they left, but he had helped Dani into the coach, leaving Monique to his employer. The man was impeccably correct, though he looked rougher and certainly much larger than any of the other valets she’d seen. She’d wondered whether men did not want to seem overshadowed by their servants.

Manchester certainly had no such fear. When they were alone, he showed a natural confidence that no one could feign. He could try to hide it and had been successful with people who did not see those few private moments she had seen. They had not expected anything more than what he’d pretended to be, mainly because of their own arrogance and feeling of superiority.

She thought of him riding outside the coach. He had assured her that his horse was well enough to carry him, that he had padded the wound. He would ride with them in the coach during the daylight, but he too had heard that bandits haunted this road at night. He told her quietly that he had brought a brace of pistols with him.

She felt safer than she had ever felt in her life. She had no reason other than that sense of capability. And now Smythe. There was something about him as well, a protectiveness that warmed.

He certainly was no ordinary valet.

She thought with gentle amusement of the way Dani and Smythe alternated between trying not to look at each other and being unable to keep their eyes from one another. Had she and Manchester been that obvious?

Monique would have thought that Smythe’s sheer size would have intimidated Dani, but her friend had not hesitated for a second before taking his hand. It still amazed her, and yet she had seen Smythe’s gentleness when he’d held out his hand to Dani and held it a moment too long. She was happy for Dani. The two had no obstacles in the way of romance, not like she and Manchester.

It was extremely irritating that nothing had cooled the fire between them. It had taken every bit of her acting experience not to show any reaction to him, especially in the hall outside Stanhope’s room. He’d looked uncommonly attractive as he had offered her his protection, much to Stanhope’s chagrin.

But there could be no future for them. He was still a lord of the realm. He was a marquess, and even if that were not true he was obviously a man of substance. Those men did not marry actresses who pitted men against one another. And she had no intentions of becoming a man’s mistress. She had seen what it did to her mother. She would never put herself in that position.

After taking care of Stanhope, she planned to concentrate on her career, make enough money to retire comfortably somewhere where no one knew her. She would never allow herself to be a victim, to make herself subservient to another person.

She closed her eyes, tried not to think of Manchester riding outside. But she smiled inwardly. She and Manchester had done a good day’s work tonight.

And to her astonishment, it felt good she had not had to do it alone.

The journey to London was long. And yet … not long enough. At its end Gabriel would have to find a way to get Monique out of London. And out of his life.

Gabriel had made arrangements to have his own rented coach driven to London by one of Stanhope’s coachmen in order to escort Monique and her maid. He had agreed with Stanhope that the earl’s own coach would be far more comfortable for Monique than his own rented one.

It was, he knew, exactly what Monique had wanted.

He had chosen to ride behind the coach in the event, he said, that the coach was accosted by highwaymen.

There had been no question of Smythe riding inside. He’d never been on a horse and eyed them with caution.

But there had been other reasons Gabriel had chosen to ride his own mount, even though he had to endure thoughts he’d preferred to go away.

Gabriel had never trusted anyone with his secrets before. Even Samuel knew only a small part of his background and nothing of his plan other than the fact that Gabriel wanted to clear his father’s name in some way. It had seemed wise to keep his own counsel. It was more than a little difficult now to surrender a part of himself to someone else. And while he had not told Monique everything, he had told her more than he’d ever told anyone before.

By doing that, he had placed his life in her hands, and she had done the same with hers.

It was still difficult to understand exactly how that had happened.

He did not want to be responsible for her neck.

Apparently, she had the same goal as he did. The question was how to get her out of the way so he could do what needed to be done without more interference. He did not want his own actions to rebound on them.

That meant getting Monique and Dani out of his life, and that thought was surprisingly painful. The thought of never seeing her again left a huge jagged hole in him. He wouldn’t admit it was his heart. But the only way he would rid himself of nightmares was fulfilling his father’s charge. He knew his father would never rest until he did.

Neither would—could—he.

He had spent hours on his horse in nearly pitch dark except for the thin light coming from the lanterns on the coach. He could, in truth, have traveled in more comfort inside the coach, but he did not want that proximity to Monique. He’d already made mistakes. He wanted her far too much for both of their sakes.

And so he had shivered in the cold English morning and had welcomed the light of dawn and the sign for the inn used earlier to rest the horses.

A few hours’ sleep, some food, and daylight would revive his senses and take his thoughts from a lady who could be nothing but trouble.

When they stopped at the inn where they had rested the horses two days earlier, Monique suggested that she and Dani stay inside the coach while Smythe went in to query whether they could obtain rooms at this unearthly hour in the morning.

Gabriel, she suggested, might want to inquire as to the horses.

It was only too obvious to Gabriel that they wanted to be inside the coach alone.

He agreed and took the coach driver to rouse a stableman while Smythe went into the inn to request a room for Monique and a separate one for Gabriel.

It took them some time to rouse a sleepy lad, then he unsaddled Specter himself, looking carefully at the sore caused by the burr while the driver negotiated for feed for the other horses. Gabriel left orders to give them all the best oats the stable had, then returned to the coach, wondering whether the ladies had had time to extract what they wished to extract from wherever they had hid the valuables.

They apparently had. Monique winked at him. It had been mischievous and approving, and he found his heart pounding a little harder.

Several minutes later Smythe reappeared. He had secured several rooms for the ladies in which to rest, bathe, and dine. Monique and Dani alighted from the coach, a reticule clutched tightly in Dani’s hands. She refused Smythe’s attempt to take it from her.

Poor Smythe looked crestfallen, but Dani looked up at him with a breathless smile, and he had returned one of those rare shy smiles.

Gabriel and Smythe shared another room, but Gabriel did not take the few hours to sleep. He often returned to the window, thinking at any time that Stanhope would come to the conclusion that only two people could be the thieves.

Having not eaten the night before, he shared a cold chicken and some ale with Smythe. Gabriel wondered how far he could trust Smythe. He was an Englishman and a soldier trained to obey orders and that meant to protect the king and his subjects against such lawbreakers as himself. And Gabriel suspected his valet was far more astute and aware than he ever indicated.

After filling his stomach, Gabriel rose and went to the window.

“I can keep watch,” Smythe said as he rose from the table and joined him at the window. “You need some rest. I had some in the coach.”

“I do not trust Stanhope,” Gabriel said. “He might try to blame either Miss Fremont or myself.”

“You need not explain, my lord,” Smythe said. In that one second, Gabriel knew that Smythe was far more aware of what was occurring than Gabriel had hoped. He might not know exactly why or what, but he knew that the Marquess of Manchester was not entirely what Gabriel had wanted the world to believe.

Gabriel gave him a searching look. “I will allow nothing to touch you,” he said. “I will make sure you and your family have what you need.”

Smythe returned his look. “You have already given us much,” he said. “I did not even hope to get employment. Neither did my mother. And my sister is happier than I have ever seen her. School. And books. I never thought we could give her those.”

“Would you consider leaving London?” Gabriel knew once again he was trusting someone who could betray him.

“But where, sir?” No “my lord” this time. Smythe was learning.

“To America. There are opportunities for a man like you. I know … a shipbuilder who is looking for good reliable men. I think it would suit you far better than being a valet.”

“You are disappointed with my employment, sir?” His face fell practically to his shoes.

“To the contrary, I have been delighted with you and your family. But I suspect I will be leaving soon, and I would like to know that you all are secure.”

“But you are a marquess. Why would you leave?”

“I am afraid my estates are entailed and I am penniless. I would just as soon leave them to the Crown to do with what they may. I have never aspired to being a gentleman.”

“You were a soldier.” It was more statement than question and the first personal observation Smythe had ever made, but then neither had Gabriel ever invited confidences before.

“Why would you think that?”

“You are decisive, sir. You have the assurance of an officer, of a man who knows what he is about. And there is a look in your eyes, one that is hard to disguise. You understand more than you let people know.”

“And I imagine you were a very good sergeant.”

Smythe did not reply. Instead, he waited for an answer or a rebuke.

“I was a sailor, not a soldier,” Gabriel finally admitted. “I fought England.”

He awaited a reaction. There was none.

“You have the walk of a sailor,” Smythe said, as if Gabriel had only confirmed what he already knew.

“That does not bother you? That I fought with the Americans?”

Smythe looked surprised as if the thought had never occurred to him. “You employed me, sir, when no one else would.”

Gabriel knew the man had just pledged his full loyalty. “Will you consider the trip?”

Smythe looked stricken and Gabriel realized that he had suggested the impossible. “I will pay for the voyage,” he said. “For the three of you.”

“I could not …” Smythe started.

“I value loyalty above all else,” Gabriel said. “It is not a quality easily found. Nor is an excellent cook. I know of a man who has been complaining for years about such a lack. I can guarantee both of you jobs and, if you must, you can repay me for the voyage.”

Astonishment spread across Smythe’s face. Even disbelief. Then a smile. The broadest smile that Gabriel had seen, even broader than the one that had flashed when he talked about Dani.

That thought apparently struck him at the same time, and the smile dissolved into uncertainty.

“Miss Fremont?”

“I expect Miss Fremont will be leaving London soon, also.”

“But they have an engagement.”

“They are in danger,” Gabriel said.

Smythe looked at him for a very long time, searching his face.

“The jewels,” he finally said.

It was not Gabriel’s secret to reveal. “No,” he lied. “But Miss Fremont is playing a dangerous game with Lord Stanhope and his friends. Stanhope is a ruthless man.”

“I have heard rumors about him,” Smythe said. “They say he shipped rotten meat to the troops in France. I heard more talk about him at the manor. His servants hate him but they need the work. I would not allow our Elizabeth to be in his employ.”

Nor would Gabriel.

“I think it would be best for Miss Fremont and Dani to return to France,” he said.

“Perhaps they would like America, too?” Smythe said hopefully.

It was a thought, one that had not entered his mind yet. Or perhaps it had, and he had dismissed it. Monique was a celebrated actress. While there were theaters in America, they did not have the sophistication of those in Paris and London. Could he ask her to give up the theater when he knew he could not give up the sea?

And that was supposing that she cared at all.

A horseman rode into the courtyard and he stiffened. He did not believe Stanhope would call the authorities on him. He had too much to hide, himself. Gabriel could cause Stammel problems, and therefore his host problems, if anything came out about the burr under the saddle blanket.

But then Gabriel imagined Stanhope’s groom could be bribed or threatened into denying the wound on Specter’s back, the blood-speckled burr that did not belong where it was found.

How many rumors could Stanhope continue to juggle without damaging his support in the government? How much scandal?

“Perhaps,” he finally answered Smythe’s hopeful question. “But their home is in Paris.”

“Dani does not like Paris,” Smythe said.

He was looking at Gabriel as if he could solve that problem, and every other problem in the world. Damn it, he couldn’t solve his own problems.

“I will ask Miss Fremont,” he said. “And if Dani wishes to go without her, I will pay her voyage as well.”

“She would not leave without her mistress,” Smythe said with absolute certainty.

Gabriel wondered exactly how much Smythe knew about the two women. But he also knew Smythe’s loyalty was not to be bought or traded with another.

“Perhaps I will get some rest,” he said after the rider dismounted and minutes went by. There was no pounding at his door, no constable demanding entrance. Just another traveler.

“I’ll wake you if anyone approaches,” Smythe promised.

Most of England was probably at bed. Gabriel was used to a bustling Boston where everyone rose at dawn and the streets were busy early in the morning. London on the other hand seemed to sleep most of the day and awaken at night. At least the English gentry.

He must have been far more tired than he thought for he fell asleep immediately. He was still tired when Smythe wakened him. “The innkeeper said we should leave if we wish to reach London by dusk,” Smythe said.

He rose and went over to the mirror in the room. His face looked older, more lined. His eyes were dull, and bristle darkened his cheeks. Smythe, on the other hand, looked clean shaven and fresh, even eager. Damn the man.

“You might see whether the ladies are ready,” Gabriel said, “and have the horses hitched. I’ll see to Specter myself.”

“Yes, my … yes sir,” Smythe said.

Miraculously there was hot water, fetched no doubt by Smythe. Gabriel appreciated him more and more.

He shaved quickly, then pulled on his boots. Then Smythe was back. “The horses are ready. The ladies are, too,” he said.

Gabriel left the room and went down, paid the innkeeper, then hurried to the stable and looked at Specter’s wound.

It looked no worse, but he decided there was no reason to ride apart from the coach during daylight. Neither highwaymen nor Stanhope would strike in broad daylight.

And the prospect of hours with Monique was, unfortunately, an irresistible one.