Chapter Twenty-four

They had a late supper. A very late supper.

Gabriel had quietly risen after he thought she was asleep. He had no intention of leaving her this time. He would never leave her the way he had before. Not without a word, without explanation.

But he was hungry and wondered about poor Smythe.

Gabriel pulled on his shirt, which came to his thighs, and got as far as opening the door. Outside was a tray laden with a platter of fruit and bread, cheese and chicken, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.

The very capable Smythe, he thought with a smile. He wondered where his valet was at the moment but deduced that he was well looked after.

He lifted the tray and took it to the bed.

Monique was lying still, her eyes closed, yet there was a stiffness that told him she was not sleeping.

He leaned down and kissed her. “I am not leaving, love,” he said.

She opened her eyes slowly, fluttering them as if she had just awakened. The actress in her again.

“I was sleeping,” she protested.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “Too beautiful. I was afraid I would ravish you all over again.”

“I like being ravished,” she replied lazily.

“I hope you do not tell all the gentlemen that,” he said.

“Non,” she said. “I do not tell any gentlemen that.”

“That was a cruel blow,” he said.

“I do not care for gentlemen,” she said.

“Good.” He handed her a grape and watched as she daintily ate around the seeds and the juice colored her lips. Her tongue reached out and licked them.

She was more delectable than any tidbit of food. But now he had to keep his senses about him. He had to find a way to get her safely out of London.

She pulled off a piece of cheese and popped it in his mouth.

He ate the cheese, pulled off a piece of chicken, and offered it to her. She took it in her teeth and watched as he did the same. There was something erotically sensual about feeding each other. He fought against the desire rising in him again.

He poured a glass of wine and took a sip. She leaned over and took a sip of her own.

“You have good taste,” he said even as he knew his eyes were probably saying something else altogether.

“I truly do not know where that wine came from,” she said.

“Smythe. He has turned out to be a rather inventive valet.”

“I think Dani believes so,” she replied, nibbling on another grape.

He had to force himself not to take her again, then and there.

Instead he rose, well aware of his near nakedness, and went to the pitcher and bowl on the dressing table. He poured water into the bowl and rinsed himself. Then he returned to the side of the bed where his breeches lay crumpled in a pile. He pulled them on and fastened them. Then turned back to her.

She watched him as she sipped the glass of wine. Damn, but he wanted her. But every time he succumbed to the want inside him, he feared he might be endangering both of them. They both needed their wits to leave this game with their lives.

He had to think, and the simple truth was he could not think with her in the room. Hell, in the same city. He had to find a way to get her out of it.

She sat up, the sheet covering most of her body. Her gray eyes looked sleepy but questioning.

He leaned over and kissed her. “I must get back to my lodgings, love, I will get no sleep with you next to me and I have business in the morning.” He paused. “I will be back later today,” he said.

Her eyes darkened slightly but she only said mildly, “That is just as well. I have to be back to the theater.”

Gabriel did not want to go. Everything in him wanted to lie next to her, but he knew neither of them would get much sleep. They were like gunpowder and fire together.

“Will you have supper with me after the play?”

“Oui,” she said simply.

He touched her cheek, caressing it with a longing that would not go away. “Later then?”

She had burrowed back deeper in the bed. He took the tray and put it on a table. He hesitated again, then pulled on his shirt and coat. He paused at the door, then forced himself to open it.

He didn’t look back as he walked swiftly down the hall.

Monique couldn’t quell a feeling of abandonment again, even as she understood his reasons. She also needed some time of her own. She could not reason with him in proximity. There was too much attraction, too much emotion, too much desire.

And she did have to be back to the theater tonight.

The jewelry. The few pieces they had kept. She suddenly remembered them. Had Manchester taken them with him? She had offered them to him, but then the two of them had been swept away into madness. Had he remembered them? She did not want Mrs. Miller to find them.

She reluctantly rose. Her body still felt warm inside. She found her nightdress, then the night robe, and put them on. She went to the window and saw him walk down the street with his valet. They looked more like two friends than master and servant.

Carrying the oil lamp, she went down the steps to the drawing room, to where he had picked her up, to where she thought she might have dropped the jewelry.

The floor was empty.

Smythe was uncanny. He’d appeared as Gabriel had found his cloak laid neatly on a table.

“Bloody hell, how do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know my every move?” Gabriel asked. “I thought you might well have gone to our lodgings.”

“And miss a few hours with Miss Dani?” Smythe asked.

It was another confidence.

“My lord?” he said then, his tone suddenly uncertain, “Sir?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I … I found some jewelry in the living room.”

Gabriel felt as if the air had just been sucked from the room. Damn but now he remembered …

“Where is it?” he asked.

Smythe held out his hand and emptied its contents into Gabriel’s. “I feared someone … might find it.”

Gabriel took it. “Does Dani know you found it?”

“I did not wish to involve her,” he said. “I heard one piece of jewelry described before we left.” His voice was agonized. “I did not know what to do.”

“Come,” Gabriel said. “We will find a hackney to return to our lodgings. I will get Specter later.”

Gabriel knew he would discover how right he had been about Smythe’s loyalty.

Once they had found a hackney, they climbed inside.

There was no lantern inside, and Smythe’s face was hidden in the shadows.

“I stole them,” Gabriel said in response to the unspoken question that had hovered between them.

Silence. A kind of agonized silence, and Gabriel sensed that Smythe was feeling betrayed. He had given his loyalty and, even more than that, to someone who was a thief.

“I want you to know why,” he continued. Smythe held his life in his hands now.

Smythe’s silence continued.

“Lord Stanhope was in business with my father twenty years ago. My father owned a shipping company. Stanhope provided government contracts. A ship carrying supplies sank. Only a few men survived. They returned with a story of rotten food and empty boxes that should contain muskets. The ship was unseaworthy and apparently meant to sink. My father was accused of treason.”

Smythe was listening intently.

“My father was innocent. He knew it was his word against Stanhope’s, and Stanhope had influence, even then. My father did not want to see my mother and myself subjected to a long trial. He killed himself just as he was to be arrested.

“Seconds before he shot himself he gave me the names of three men he realized were responsible. He asked me to obtain justice.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but how do you know he told the truth?” Smythe’s voice was steady. The fact that he said “my lord” was very telling.

“You would have to know my father,” Gabriel said slowly. “He lived for honor. He never would have charged me to seek justice if he had been guilty. There would be no reason once he had died. When I was old enough, I had Stanhope and his friends investigated. They leave a wake of ruined partners and unexpected deaths. The only way to expose them is to turn them against one another. Taking the jewels is one part of that plan.” He consciously avoided any mention of Monique and Dani.

Smythe was silent for several moments, then said, “His servants fear him. Dani trusts you.” Another silence. He was obviously considering his mother and sister.

Then he nodded, the movement visible in the dark interior. “If I can help you …?”

It was the ultimate in trust. “My thanks,” Gabriel said simply. “But I will not let you or yours be involved.”

“Is that why you would pay our way to America?”

“I did not want any … actions to affect you.”

“Is it true about opportunities there …?”

“Yes. It is a big land, much of it unsettled. There is much room to grow and land for the taking.”

“My sister can go to school?”

“Aye.”

Smythe stood straighter “Then I say yes.”

“Your mother?”

“She will go.”

“I will make arrangements later today.”

“May I give you some assistance now? I … that is the reason I picked up the jewels. I thought you might be in some difficulty.”

“I knew there was a reason I selected you that day,” Gabriel said. “But no, I think not. I would rather …”

“No one has helped us before. You have been kind to Elizabeth. I want to help now.”

Touched, Gabriel did not say anything for several moments. He had come to England to steal, to cheat, to betray, to do anything necessary to fulfill an oath he’d once made. He had not expected to fall victim to emotions.

He had. He truly liked Pamela. He admired Smythe. And Monique—or Merry—well, he … he—drat it—he loved her.

The hard shell that he’d constructed that day outside his father’s office was slowly crumbling. Which could make him careless.

Maybe he should leave. Kidnap Monique if necessary. Take her to America. He suspected she would like the vibrant, exciting country that was building a new society. America would love her.

He smiled at that prospect. He was not sure America was ready for Monique Fremont. Or Merry …

Merry what? She had not mentioned her last name.

Merry. He tasted the name. It did not resonate. Monique did. Monique was sophisticated, worldly, even a little exotic. Merry belonged to a happy child. But he suspected Monique had never been a happy child. The thought saddened him.

He found himself wanting to give her everything she’d never had. He wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to see mischief dance in her eyes. He realized now that except for the moments they had made love, she had been reserved, even cautious. Almost waiting for him to leave, to desert her.

The carriage reached his lodgings. Smythe stepped out first and started to pull down the steps, but Gabriel ignored them and alighted, taking the big step easily. He started for the entrance, suddenly realizing that his small trunk was back at Monique’s. He would have to stop by there tomorrow.

But first he had business that must be transacted.

And there was the matter of rest. He needed a little of that, too.

The waterfront was bustling as Gabriel approached it on foot.

Under his dark cloak, he wore plain clothes.

No one followed him today, or at least no one he noticed. He had taken several precautions, slipping in one tavern and leaving by the back door, then wandering down some backstreets. Satisfied he was alone, he found his way to the printing shop and entered.

The printer was perched on a tall stool, sitting exactly as he had before. He looked up and scowled. “Thought I had seen the last of you.”

“Why?”

“You got one of them, did ye? I thought that might cool your blood.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “One of them?”

“Lord Robert Stammel was overtaken by brigands last night and murdered. Jack Pryor just heard the news. There will be hell to pay for this one. A lord dead on the road.”

“It was not me. I was in Stanhope’s own coach with a coachman as a witness, along with a lady, her maid, and my valet.” Even as he uttered the words, however, he was digesting the information. Maybe he had been responsible.

The thought stunned him. He had wanted to turn the members of The Group against one another. He had not thought Stanhope would rid himself of a problem by murdering someone everyone considered his best friend. It was a reminder of how ruthless his opponent was. How dangerous the game Monique was playing.

Or maybe it had not been Stanhope at all. Maybe it had been Daven.

Winsley was watching him carefully. He finally shrugged. “None of my affair as to what happens to ’im. But I did not think ye the kind to waylay a man.”

“But you approve of thieves?”

“Good ones,” Winsley replied with a crack of a smile. It quickly faded. “It was Stanhope then?”

“Most likely. He might have believed Stammel was stealing from him.”

“And was he?”

“Probably,” Gabriel said. He had meant to ask Winsley to find a buyer for the jewelry. That was out of the question now. If it was ever traced back … With a silent curse he knew the jewels would be in the Thames later tonight.

“What brought you here?” Winsley asked.

“I might have some contracts that need a few changes.”

“How long will I have?”

“A day.”

“Do you have samples of the handwriting?”

“I will get them for you.”

Winsley turned and bent back down to the table in front, where agile fingers sorted type so quickly it made Gabriel blink. He had been dismissed.

Gabriel left the small, cramped print shop and moved quickly through the backstreets until he reached the docks. He looked to see whether any of his company’s ships had anchored. The Cynthia was gone as expected.

No familiar names. He went to the shipmaster’s office. Several men sat inside a small room. A haze of smoke rose from the pipes two of them smoked.

They looked up at him.

“Are there any ships leaving for America in the next two days? Taking passengers?”

“Aye,” said the stoutest of the men. “The Amelia will be leaving in two days. You might want to talk to the captain. For a pence, Billy will row you out there.” He nodded toward a thin man in tattered clothes.

The thin man stood. “Aye, Gov’nor. I know the ship.”

“American?” Gabriel asked.

“Aye, it is that.”

Gabriel nodded. “Can we go now?”

“Aye.”

In minutes Billy was rowing a rickety boat toward one of many ships anchored off the dock. As they approached one, he saw the name.

The ship looked sleek and well maintained. A rope ladder was lowered as they approached and he quickly climbed it. The decks were clean and the visible sailors looked busy and efficient. Gabriel was impressed.

While waiting to see the captain, he glanced over the furled sails. The sheets looked to be in good repair.

The seaman who had gone to alert the captain returned. “He’ll see you now.”

Gabriel followed him down the companionway to a door. The seaman rapped, then opened it.

Gabriel entered and saw a short, powerfully built man standing behind the desk. He held out a hand. “I am Captain Jeremiah Morris.”

Gabriel took it and liked the feel of it. Strong. Confident. “Gabriel Manning,” he said.

The captain’s eyebrows arched. “Manning? You are not the Manning that captained the Liberty.”

Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat. He had not expected anyone to connect him with the privateer captain that caused the British to lose more than a few ships. He did not want to lie, particularly since he planned to request a very unorthodox favor from this man.

He nodded. “But I wish you would not let anyone else know.”

“You fear reprisal here?”

“I have delicate business.”

Morris nodded, evidently thinking it must have something to do with the government. “My ship was one of those stopped by the British navy before the war, and my sailors taken. I have little liking for them.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately my cargo brought me here.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow. We are loading tomorrow at the docks.”

“Do you carry passengers?”

“We have a few cabins.”

This was the difficult part. “There is a lady, and another family. I would like to buy passage for us.”

“Three cabins?”

“Aye,” Gabriel said.

“I think I can accommodate you.”

“How much for the passage?”

Morris named a sum far below what Gabriel knew was common. He did not argue.

“Is this your ship?”

“It belongs to Mallard Shipping, but I have an interest,” Morris said proudly.

“It is a fine-looking ship.”

“Aye, it is that. Only two years old and New England built. Would you like to see the cabins?”

Gabriel nodded, then said cautiously, “I ask you to say nothing to the port authorities about this. The lady in question is being terrorized by an English lord. If he knew she was leaving England, he might use any means to prevent it.”

“I know your reputation, Captain,” Morris said. “I will say nothing. But be aboard by midnight tomorrow night. We will sail at dawn.”

“I will bring payment tomorrow,” Gabriel said.

“It will be my honor to have you aboard,” Morris said. “Perhaps you would share some of your experiences with me.”

Gabriel nodded, though he would not be there to do so. That conscience that continued to get in the way nudged him. It was becoming very annoying.

It was for her own good, he told himself.

A seaman took him by the cabins. They were small and plain, but clean. There were some belongings there, and he suspected the first and second mates occupied them when there were no passengers. “They will do very well,” he said.

Then he was back on deck. Billy’s unseaworthy boat rocked back and forth against the side of the ship. Gabriel quickly climbed down, timing his jump to the roll of the boat.

It was done.

Monique sent for her detective. Mrs. Miller found a boy to deliver the message.

In two hours he was at the door. She ushered him into the small parlor. “I am ending the investigation of Lord Manchester,” she said.

He had a sheaf of papers in his hand. “But … I have learned about his background. His father was accused of treason.”

Monique started to stop him, then allowed him to continue. Perhaps he had discovered something Gabriel did not know.

Gabriel. How easily the name now came to her mind. She had pushed him away by trying to think of him as Manchester. Now he was most definitely … Gabriel.

“He shot himself, according to the official report,” the detective continued, “but he had protested his innocence. He had claimed that the signature on a contract was not his. A magistrate ruled that it was.”

“Does it mention any other names?”

“Aye. His partners were the Earls of Stanhope and Daven. But they were cleared of any misconduct.”

“Anything else?” she asked.

He hesitated.

“Do not hesitate,” she insisted. “I want to know.”

“Some people thought the offense was not Mr. Manning’s but the two earls,” he said. “One who voiced such an opinion disappeared. No one else dared speak out.”

She mused over that piece of information. “Is there more?”

“Aye, the marquess has engaged a room in a waterfront inn. Apparently he meets a lady there.”

Monique went still. “I thought you lost him.”

“I was afraid he might see me. I placed a young lad here and a lady on a street where I once saw him. She followed him to a tavern. The young lady paid the tavern keeper for information. The gentleman took the rooms two weeks ago to meet with a lady. He implied she was married.”

“Has anyone seen her?”

“No. They are very discrete.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her heart pounded. How much was true? He had said nothing about rooms on the waterfront. How much else had he not told her?

“Anything else, miss?” the detective said.

She hesitated.

He shifted from foot to foot, then said, “Did you hear the news about Lord Stammel?”

“What news?”

“He was found dead on the road to London. Highwaymen, they say.”

Gabriel had planted jewels in his room.

Stanhope! Apparently, the plan had worked only too well.

It struck her, then. She had known how dangerous he was. She had heard it for years. But this was here and now. A chill ran down her back.

And Gabriel? His life was certainly threatened as well.

If he left …

She had been picking at an idea all day, ever since their conversation last night. She had been debating herself.

Now she knew.

“Can you do something else for me?” she asked.

“I am at your service, miss.”

“See if there is a ship that is bound for America in the next few days.”

He nodded.

“And I will need the services of two men. Trustworthy but not beyond breaking a law.”

He stiffened.

“I know that you told me you will not break the law,” she said soothingly, “but perhaps you might know someone without your … scruples. I assure you that no one will be hurt.”

“Then …?”

“There is someone in danger. The same kind of danger I believe Lord Stammel found. I wish to get him out of the country. He does not wish to go.”

“The Marquess of Manchester,” he said.

“I mentioned no names.”

His gaze did not leave hers. Then he looked away. “I will ask two gentlemen to call. After that, it is none of my affair.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do you have your bill?”

He handed her a sheet of rough paper with figures jotted on it. The sum was more than reasonable. She paid him.

“If you need anything else, miss …”

“I will call on you,” she assured him.

“The two men are Mickey Kelley and Sam Barr. They look rough, but they are intelligent enough, and loyal.”

He left, and she sat down in a chair. She would have to leave for the theater soon. But a thousand thoughts rushed through her mind. Stammel dead. And Manchester—Gabriel—had a room in the dock area. Why? He’d not mentioned it to her.

But then she had not mentioned some things to him, either.

And if she proceeded with her plan, how would he feel then? It would end every possibility of a future with him.

But his life was more important.

He had mentioned going to America together. Had he meant it? Could either of them just leave Stanhope to continue killing?

She honestly believed she had the best opportunity to safely bring him to justice.

She finally stood. It was time to get ready for theater.