Mary Blayney (8 page)

It would mean taking him to her house. Was there any other choice? She considered the question while she watched him.

He dressed quickly and efficiently, as though clothes meant no more to him than body covering. None of the vanity of a society dandy for Gabriel Pennistan.

The scars on his back were an insult to an otherwise impressive body. She admired what little she could see in the half-light—the narrow waist, the well-formed legs—and imagined the grim determination it took to walk endlessly around the cell for weeks that had stretched into months. She added the word
resolute
to the mental list of attributes she could make use of. And while it might not be easy to bend him to her will, once he was convinced, he would be relentless in pursuit of the goal.

Her plans were in disarray but not compromised, thank God. The only option she could see was combining the two aspects of her mission. For it was imperative that they leave Le Havre as soon as possible. Lord Gabriel would understand that.

It would be easy to let him believe that he was the sole reason for this elaborate game. It could work. It had to work. Please God, let this not be her third mistake.

9

G
ABRIEL STARED OUT THE WINDOW
while he waited for Charlotte to dress. How long would it be before he was comfortable with a locked door, in a dark room? Exhaustion had overridden the fear last night. Now all he wanted was to be outside, breathing the less-than-pristine air of the city. Is that what his life would be reduced to: moments of panic, the urge to escape his self-made prison? Dr. Borgos would turn in his grave at such a waste of a life.

The floor creaked as Charlotte moved from the bed to the dressing area.

Had she done it out of pity?
If so, it would be the only time that ever happened. It made him feel like a pathetic excuse for a man.

Jess had taught him that he should be sure to ask the wallflowers to dance. It was, he’d said, a gentleman’s responsibility to ensure the comfort of all the women in his circle.

Gabe was sure that his brother had done it just to see them smile. If he was brutally honest, Gabe had done it out of pity.

Was Charlotte truly a whore? Did bedding a man mean no more than a single turn on the dance floor had meant to him?

How dearly he hoped that his occasional dance partners had never construed his gesture as pity. No moment of pleasure was worth the embarrassment, the mortification, the anger that came with the realization.

“Are you ready, my lord?”

Gabriel turned to face the woman who had spoken to him. “Where is Charlotte Parnell?” he asked, not entirely joking. There had been no sound of the door opening, so he knew who this woman must be, even if the evidence before him argued against it.

“There could not be an uglier dress.” He reached out and pinched a piece of the wool to see if it felt as uncomfortable as it looked. He stepped back. “Where is your red hair? I liked that wig, as did every other man in Le Havre.” He shook his head at the overall effect. “Well, at least your bonnet is bearable. Are you a governess?”

“With you by my side, I am a dowdy wife.” She did not react at all to his critique, only handed him a pair of spectacles. “Put these on.”

He did as she ordered but asked, “Why is this necessary?”

“Because the act continues. Last night your supposed mother hired me. And I am expensive, my lord. If you are cured of your grief, which we implied by our night together, then we would not be walking the streets together again this evening. We would be in bed. That is supposing you could afford a second night.” She stepped back and considered him as though he were a work of art. “Very good.”

“Did you plan this or do you keep clothes here to cover all possibilities?”

“A little of both,” she answered absently as she walked around him. “A stick would be too much. Stoop a little so people will believe we are a couple.”

“They believed we were a couple before.”

“Yes, but only because I painted you as a man desperately in need of my services.”

“A virgin. A man made impotent by grief.” He nodded. “And what am I to be now?”

“A man of science, of course.”

“A man of science with a mouse of a wife.”

“You learn quickly.”

She went to the door, picked up the key from the table and opened it.

They made their way down the back way, using the servants’ stairs. The passageway that ran the length of the basement was not well lit. Noise came from the kitchen, where everyone was busy preparing dinner.

Gabriel and Charlotte blended into the shadows. Moving down the hall at a confident pace, they left through the back door. Charlotte led him through the roughly cobbled alleyway as though she had done it a dozen times before.

When they reached the boulevard she took his arm. Anyone who bothered to look would think that she was clinging to him.

They walked toward the moonrise in silence and he looked up to fix his direction. There was a planet shining next to the new moon, a bold pinprick of light. They were headed west, but that meant nothing in a city he did not know.

There was something about this parade that did not feel right. It was more than his own anxiety. Twenty minutes ago he could not wait to breathe the night air and now he wanted to be back in the room, the bed, among the familiar.

He marked their route and watched for landmarks even as he considered his disquiet. It was not the situation that was a threat. At least not any more than it had been from the moment he stepped out of the prison.

They made their way down the street, without the twists and turns of the night before. Charlotte was not making any effort to confuse him.

That’s what it was. Her tight hold on his arm was another proof. It was as though her grip was the only thing that was keeping her from breaking into a run.

Leaning down closer to her, he whispered, “What is worrying you, madame?” He tried to sound like a solicitous husband. He slowed to look into her downcast face. “Are you afraid of who we might meet on the street or what is waiting for you at home?”

He felt her surprise. She drew a long breath and swore elegantly in French. “Gabriel Pennistan, I will be so happy to see the last of you.”

He took stock of that unexpected answer and then smiled. When he did not respond, she looked up at him.

H
E WAS SMILING,
damn him. Smiling as though he knew what she was thinking. What arrogance. She should never have stayed with him, slept beside him like some besotted woman with her first lover.

She loosened her grip on his arm. How did he know she was anxious?

No one was paying any attention to them, except for two boys who had been following them awhile. She was sure they were thinking of picking a pocket or stealing her reticule. She held it tighter.

The boys passed by, then the younger of the two turned back toward them. Charlotte watched as Gabriel looked over the tops of his glasses, giving the boy a stare that was a threat out of all keeping with his bent shoulders and shabby clothes. The boy reconsidered and moved on with a bob of his head.

“Very well done, monsieur,” Charlotte said in the meekest of voices.

“I’m not so sure. He knows I am not what I am pretending to be.”

“One who plays his sort of game can recognize another. Let us hope that he thinks you are a man making love to a pathetic dab of woman in hopes of winning her fortune.”

“Oh yes, a far better image than thief and spy,” Gabriel said with a cynical glance. “Why can I not be a tutor who longs for a wife and children and you are my last hope?”

“Because no teacher would be able to discourage a thief with only a glare.”

“From whom do you think I learned that look?” he asked, with a short laugh. “My tutor was a master at it. I had years to observe firsthand the stare that could freeze a boy in his tracks.”

“Tell me about your childhood.”
Talk to me; tell me anything that will stop me worrying about how Georges managed.
If he and the children were safe. What if he had not been able to claim them as the orphanage had promised? It would take weeks, if not months, to reconstruct another ruse. She should have gone home last night. She should have gone with Georges.
Please, please, God, do not let my weakness result in harm. Take me, take me, but not them.

They walked the length of the street before he answered her. He stopped at the next corner. The roadways were crowded and they would have to wait for a space before they crossed.

“You want me to tell you stories of my childhood? Of Lynford and Jess and how we used to hide from my father?” He could hear the edge in his voice. “Why are you so interested? Is it so I do not pay attention to the route we are taking? So that I am even more completely in your hands?” He directed their steps around a puddle from last night’s downpour. “I think not, madame. If you will not tell me what is worrying you, we will walk in silence.”

The road was clear and they crossed it. It was he who set the pace, slow and steady. Charlotte relaxed a little and allowed the less-than-amiable quiet. It would only add to the sober image they were trying to convey.

G
ABRIEL RECOGNIZED THE ALLEYWAY
that led to the back of her house. She urged him past it. They were going in the front door this time. Never mind that the hour for calling was long past. That was a nicety he was sure did not matter in this neighborhood.

Light filtered through a space in the curtains of a room on the ground floor. Who was waiting for them?

Charlotte did not use a key to enter. She knocked and waited. A man opened the door. It was Georges, dressed as a butler. Not well dressed, but with a face as impassive as the best porters in London.

Gabriel could feel relief replace Charlotte’s anxiety. Georges was the reason for her unease? He lived for the day when some woman cared that much for him. Georges nodded firmly and answered her smile with one of his own. Gabriel watched the wordless communication and wondered what triumph they were sharing.

Georges stepped back so they both could enter. He showed them into the small well-lit parlor. The room was far from welcoming. The one settee was old and worn. The fire unlit. There was a table with two chairs on either side. A rug old enough to be called an antique if it had not been faded from years of sun. The light was the only warmth in the place, leading anyone passing outside to think, as he had, that the room was cozy and in use.

Charlotte walked across the room and pulled the drapes fully closed. Had the bit of light been a sign that all was safe?

It was not until Georges closed the door that Charlotte spoke. Odd, Gabriel thought. Was there someone else in the house they needed to fool? Or someone else they needed to protect?

“Georges, would you please show our guest to the second-floor bedchamber in the front of the house?”

Her voice was neither the toneless mouse nor the flamboyant Charlotte. Even as he considered what that might mean, Georges moved to obey her. Gabriel shook his head, stepping farther into the room. He folded his arms across his chest. “May I remind you, madame, that we are together until I am in England.”

“It is as I said before,” the woman spoke, sounding more reasonable than Charlotte had. “The less you know, the safer we all are.”

“Be that as it may,” he bowed to her slightly, “I will not be led away. A struggle would gain the attention of everyone in the house. You can only accept my word that your safety will not be compromised.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment and he felt not one bit of remorse for making her task more difficult.

He could see Georges moving about the room as if to light more candles. Gabriel kept turning to keep him in sight, sure that the man would be willing to knock him unconscious to accommodate his mistress’s wish. In the end it was as it had been in the prison. Charlotte was between the two of them.

“Exactly what are you going to do, my lord?” Charlotte asked as she turned to face him. Her curiosity was sincere, judging by the confusion in her eyes. “Call for help? In
my
house? Leave and find your way back to Madame Rostine’s or to the soldiers at the tavern?”

“I have no plan, other than to cause turmoil.” He looked at Georges and then at Charlotte. “It would endanger not only me, but whoever else might be in residence.”

He let them consider his ultimatum for no more than a moment. “I know you must devise a new plan, and in the worst case you would sacrifice me to save your people. I will not be separated from you.”

“Oh all right,” she said with a sharpness that made her sound like a wife annoyed beyond endurance.

Gabriel nodded and leaned against the wall. He had what he wanted. He knew when to be quiet.

“I am sorry, Georges,” she said. It was her apology that convinced Gabriel the man was more than servant. “We do not have the time to make him do as we want. Last night was rife with complications, but it has convinced me that he has every wish to see home.”

“As you wish, madame.” Georges nodded and turned to Gabriel. “If we are trapped I assure you that you will be the first of us to meet your maker and our secrets will die with you.”

It was far from a welcome into the inner circle. More like a giant step into a pit of snakes.