A Curse of the Heart (26 page)

His face grew dark, his lids almost obscuring his black eyes. “This is not about my mother,” he said, his voice slicing through the air like the swipe of his blade. “Her death pales in significance to what happened to me after that.”

Rebecca examined his fine wool coat, the starched cravat tied in the latest style. This was not the figure of someone abandoned to the streets, left to pull a dust cart and scavenge for scraps.

“The laird had no real interest in my mother,” he continued, “and was quick to accept me as his ward. I became the entertainment at his debauched parties. While you were educated in a whole host of feminine accomplishments, I became accomplished in other areas, more base, more …”

He did not complete the sentence.

“And you blame my parents for what happened?”

“I have a long list of those responsible, and I’ll see vengeance brought down on every last one of them. Starting with you. And so we come back to our play, to the final act, where your suicide will avenge my mother’s death.”

“My suicide?” Rebecca gasped. The man was insane.

“Don’t worry,” he said removing a small brown bottle from his pocket. “I’m not going to pull a poisonous asp from a fig basket. In this case, an overdose of laudanum will be far more fitting.”

He would have to pin her to the floor and pour it down her throat. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking it will be an act of suicide. It will be murder.”

A dull thud resonated from beyond the auditorium and his gaze flew to the door. During his lapse of concentration, Rebecca slid her fingers into her reticule and wrapped them around the handle of her pistol.

Hearing no other sound, he shook his head and turned to face her. “You will drink this,” he said with a sense of urgency. “Every last drop of it.”

“And if I refuse?”

He flashed the silver blade. “Then I’ll gut you like a fish.”

One jab was all it would take to pierce her clothing, for the blade to sink into her skin. The only hope she had was to try and distract him long enough to escape.

Taking a deep breath, she whipped out the pistol and with as steady a hand as she could muster, pointed it straight at his head. “Take one step closer and I’ll pull the trigger,” she said, cocking it for effect.

The threat took him by surprise, and he took an awkward step back.

Then Rebecca saw a vision: an angel from Heaven in the guise of a Greek god, as Gabriel appeared in the wings, his burly coachman at his side.

Chapter 27

Rebecca was alive.

An intense feeling of euphoria flooded Gabriel’s body: a giant wave of emotion scooped him up in its dizzying heights, so he felt light and free. He could have drifted along on the wave forever, but elation turned to anger as the reality of the situation brought him crashing back down to the rocky shore.

“Rebecca.” Her name tumbled from his lips, the muttered whisper the only way of expressing his frustration, the only way of offering reassurance.

As though hearing the familiar sound, Rebecca glanced at the dark corridor, a look of relief flashing across her face when she spotted him. Without speaking a word, she replied. Her silent plea a distress call, piercing his heart like the razor-sharp tip of an arrow.

The muscles in his arms and legs twitched, urging him to sprint across the stage and smash his fist into Pennington’s smug little face. But he saw fear in her eyes, saw that Pennington brandished a knife, and she held a pistol.

Pennington noticed her lapse in concentration and with an accurate swipe, knocked the gun from her hand. It landed on the floor with a heavy thud, and he winced as Pennington kicked it across the wooden boards, sending it skittering into the pit.

Higson placed his hand on Gabriel’s arm, the claw-like grip a way of reminding him not to do anything rash, anything stupid.

The action caused him to glance at the doors of the auditorium, to where George, Frederick and Sarah were waiting for his signal. All three of them were likely to storm in at any moment without a care or thought. Indeed, Gabriel could only look on in horror as his premonition unfolded before his eyes.

Humming an old country tune that roused an image of dancing around the maypole, Sarah sauntered through the doors, her self-assured gait in harmony with her cheerful countenance.

Pennington’s head turned sharply, and he focused his gaze on the merry figure skipping towards them. Without lowering his weapon, he wrapped his hand around Rebecca's wrist and tugged, drawing her closer to his body.

Gabriel gritted his teeth, the need to rip the man’s head from his shoulders, overwhelming.

“We’re closed,” Pennington growled in a menacing tone.

“I know,” Sarah laughed, pulling off her gloves. “We’re rehearsing today for
The Virgin Unmasked,
but I don’t remember there being a scene with a knife.”

“There’s been a fire,” Pennington said sternly. “There’s no need to come in today. Go home.”

“No one told me. I was told I need to work on my delivery. Apparently, my laugh is unnatural.” She jerked her head towards the door as she walked down the aisle. “The others will be along in a minute.”

Like a rabbit trapped in a snare, Pennington’s head moved back and forth, his limbs jerking in response. After a moment, he appeared to regain his confidence and said, “Then you had better come and join us on stage.”

Sarah’s mask fell, uncertainty causing her to hesitate. “I’ll just sit here and wait for the others,” she said, sliding into one of the rows. “I’m losing my voice, and if I overdo it there’ll be hell to pay.”

Pennington narrowed his gaze, the corner of his mouth curving up. “I’m not a fool. I’m familiar enough with actresses to know you’re not one. You’re the woman on George Street. What I don’t know, is how you knew we were here.”

Sarah studied him, and Gabriel could almost hear the cogs turning. “We know all about you,” she said. “We know all about your obsession.” She turned her head and called out over her shoulder. “You can come in now.”

The doors burst open. George and Frederick Wellford stormed into the room, their hands clenched by their sides, their faces red and puffy.

“Ah, Freddie, it’s a little early in the day for you,” Pennington hollered. “At this time, I’d expect you to be crawling out of your bed in a drunken stupor, wiping vomit off your chin.”

“You bloody liar,” Freddie yelled. “If there were no ladies present, I’d say something a damn sight harsher. I thought we were friends.”

“I’m no one's friend. A fact you would have discovered when I called in your promissory notes.”

Freddie’s face blanched. “But you said —”

“I lied. I do not have time to explain the dastardly plans I had for you,” Pennington said, yanking Rebecca’s arm. “Now, thanks to your father’s by-blow here, I get to exact the perfect revenge. I must thank you, Freddie. Had you not pointed out the fact that Miss Linwood was your sister, I would never have made the connection.”

George spoke up as he shuffled closer. “Revenge for what?”

“For everything,” he sneered, pulling Rebecca to his chest and pressing the knife against her throat. “Do not come any closer, not unless you want to see her blood splattered across the stage.”

Gabriel flinched, his head throbbing with uncontrollable rage while is body felt weak and helpless.

“Wait,” Higson whispered, holding Gabriel back. “This’ll be his only way out. Best we keep out of view.”

“You won’t get away with this,” George cried. “I swear to you, I will hunt you down. I will make your life a living hell.”

Pennington bared his teeth. “There are worse places. I should know. Nothing you could do to me could be any worse than the nightmare I’ve already lived.”

Holding Rebecca tight against his chest, Pennington shuffled back across the stage. “If you follow us, I’ll kill her.”

They were almost out of view when Sarah cried, “We’ve seen the names on your list, and we’ve seen your sketches. We know what you plan to do and will inform all those mentioned. They will come for you. They will track you down.”

Pennington froze, his face turning deathly pale. “Y-you can’t,” he mumbled. “You have no right.”

“I have the list right here,” George said, tapping his chest. “I will offer you a trade.”

Pennington lowered the knife and shoved Rebecca forward. “Give it to me,” he demanded, yet fear seemed to form the basis of his emotion. “Bring it here to the front or I will kill her.”

George made no argument and sauntered down to the stage. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a folded note. “Here,” he said, “now let her go.”

Relaxing his hold on Rebecca, Pennington bent forward and snatched the note. At the same time, Gabriel charged him from behind, delivering a powerful blow to his right kidney.

The knife fell to the floor as Pennington’s knees buckled underneath him and he sagged down into a heap, howling in pain.

Rebecca scrambled away to the opposite end of the stage as Gabriel picked Pennington up by the collar of his coat, swung him round and punched him on the nose. He heard the sound of the bone cracking before he saw the blood and as Gabriel pulled his arm back to deliver another jab, Higson rushed to his shoulder.

“We’ll deal with this scoundrel, sir,” he said, grabbing Pennington by the upper arm as though he was a flimsy doll. “You see to Miss Linwood.”

Gabriel blinked rapidly, his anger subsiding as he turned to face Rebecca. The strange emotion that bubbled away in his stomach erupted in a rush of longing, of desire … of love.

She returned his gaze, her eyes brimming with tears, and as he strode towards her, she ran and jumped into his arms. “Oh, Gabriel. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Forgetting they were not alone, he rained kisses over her face, caressed her back and smoothed out her hair. The feel of her soft, pliant body soothed his soul. “If I’d lost you,” he said, shaking his head as he could not bear to contemplate the possibility.

Unable to cope with the flood of emotion, he did the only thing he knew would bring comfort: he pulled her tighter to his chest, his mouth settling on hers with overwhelming urgency. The need to taste her, to get lost in her mouth, drowned out every other thought.

She did not protest, even when Pennington released a tirade of abuse as he was dragged from the room.

George cleared his throat, forcing Gabriel to tear his lips away and look down. “We’ll need your carriage,” he said with a disapproving glare. “Freddie said the hired coach has disappeared, and we cannot risk him escaping.”

“Very well. I will see Rebecca and Sarah safely home. I’ll call on you in the morning.” Gabriel added no further explanation. Naturally, he would want to know what happened to Pennington, and he would need to make a formal statement. In light of the fact that he held Rebecca in a passionate clinch, he knew George would expect some form of declaration. “Don’t forget the list,” Gabriel added, gesturing to the crumpled note lying on the floor.

“That’s not the list. That’s my tailor’s bill,” George replied with a smirk as he picked it up and moved to walk away.

“George.” Rebecca called out to him, the one word revealing a hint of tenderness. “I know what Pennington’s done, but I don’t want him to hang.”

His mouth fell open as he arched a brow. “The decision is not mine to make. He’ll be committed for trial. It will depend upon the evidence,” he said offering a weak smile.

Based on the evidence, Gabriel knew the man would most certainly hang.

George’s gaze drifted to Sarah, and he strode over to her, took her bare hand and brought it to his lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stone,” he said lingering for longer than necessary before turning on his heels and marching from the room.

Sarah’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson, and as she climbed the steps to the stage, she struggled to make eye contact. “Come,” she said, looking up from the floor to Rebecca. “I will help you change out of your costume.”

Rebecca took Sarah’s hands and hugged them. “I cannot thank you enough. If you had not run after the carriage. If you had not gone to Gabriel, then …”

Sarah pulled her into an embrace.

To give them some privacy, Gabriel dropped down into the pit to search for the pistol. He heard them whispering and Rebecca’s sly glance told him they were speaking about him.

“Your pistol, m’lady,” Gabriel said returning to Rebecca’s side. “Thank goodness you didn’t get a chance to fire the thing.”

“Oh, it’s not loaded,” she said. “I was in too much of a hurry this morning.”

He arched a brow. “Yes, I hear you’ve been very busy.”

Rebecca’s mouth fell open, and Gabriel tapped her chin to close it.

Gabriel turned to his stepmother. “Rebecca is right, Sarah. I cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done. I was ready to leave Pennington’s apartment, yet you encouraged me to keep searching.” He nodded towards the door of the auditorium. “It was a courageous thing to do, to walk in here on your own and I can’t wait to see you perform in
The Virgin Unmasked
.”

Sarah laughed. “I would do anything for my family, Gabriel, but I draw the line at being pelted with rotten apples.”