Dancing with a Rogue (43 page)

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.