A Curse of the Heart (17 page)

Gabriel pulled the chair out and sat down. “Does being a member mean I’m now on your list of respectable gentlemen?”

The corners of Wellford’s mouth turned up into a half-smile. “Have you come to declare your intentions?”

“There is nothing to declare,” he shrugged. “I had the utmost respect for your father, and I offer his daughter the same courtesy. What more do you want me to say?” It was not a lie, and so he could accept the fact it was not entirely the whole truth
.

Wellford leaned forward. “Look, I was angry when I insulted you. I’m sure your intentions towards Rebecca are respectable. Besides, last night you had the look of a man obsessed, besotted. Now you have the look of a man in love. Forgive me, if I jumped to conclusions.”

Gabriel snorted. He was a man in lust; a man ravaged by the needs of his body, there was a vast difference. He could not deny that his affections were engaged, but it would not be fair to either of them to allow it to develop into anything deeper.

“You have a right to your opinion, but that’s not why I’m here.”

The steward returned with their drinks and Gabriel informed him he would pour his own coffee, much to the man’s chagrin.

“Men like to earn their wages, Stone,” Wellford said once the steward moved out of earshot. “If everyone poured their own drinks the man would be out of a job.”

Gabriel did not need a lecture on etiquette
.
“Forgive me, if I lack the refinement necessary to lounge about at my club all day, waiting for the staff to wipe my nose.”

Rather than appear offended, Wellford chuckled. “What? Are we to share barbed insults for the rest of the afternoon? Don’t despise me for being concerned about my sister.”

“Don’t despise
me
for being concerned about your sister.” Gabriel knew he was provoking the man, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Wellford relaxed back in his chair. “Look, let us draw a line and begin again. You obviously see more of Rebecca than I do. It appeases my conscience to know someone is looking out for her, in a
brotherly
way.”

There was a hint of sarcasm as he stressed those last few words. Deliberate or not, it caused guilt to flare in Gabriel’s chest.

“Why do you even care what happens to her?” Gabriel sneered. The question was blunt and to the point, revealing an inner frustration and Wellford reeled from the shock of it.

“She’s my sister,” he said making a quick recovery. “Why would I not care about her?”

“Because she reminds you of your father’s indiscretion.” There, he’d said it and could not take it back now. “Do your brothers feel the same way as you do?”

Wellford shrugged, choosing not to address the first comment. “I assume so, yes. What is this all about, Stone? I came here for peace and relaxation not to be dragged over hot coals for some unknown transgression.”

Against his own counsel and because he thought it would help determine who wanted to hurt Rebecca, Gabriel revealed something he had always kept secret. “When my mother died, my father remarried quickly. I despised him for it. I despised my stepmother and chose to pretend that my sister did not exist. Your father’s indiscretion was deemed far worse.”

Gabriel saw a flicker of uncertainty in Wellford’s confident gaze. “I suppose you think one truth deserves another.”

“Isn’t that the way it works?”

Wellford reached for his glass and downed the remainder of his port. “My father’s actions were unforgivable. After Rebecca’s birth, my mother was never the same again. She died of a broken heart years before her body grew cold. Love does strange things to men, as I am sure you will agree. But I have come to terms with my parents’ weaknesses and have decided to respect the wishes of my father by protecting the daughter he loved.”

“Rebecca believes your interest lies in the museum. That she is an embarrassment to your family, and you want rid of her.”

Wellford gave a mocking snort. “My father was unfaithful to his family long before he met Rebecca’s mother. His work was his mistress, and we all suffered greatly for it. Why would I want to be reminded that he chose to worship the dead over the living?”

An unsettling thought entered Gabriel’s head, a recognition that his work was his mistress, and he preferred the dead to the living. “Is she an embarrassment to you?” he asked focusing his frustration elsewhere.

Wellford snorted and shook his head. “No, she is not an embarrassment. Would I have escorted her out into Society if she were? I want her to marry, to have protection and security. I want her to have the respect she deserves and not be judged for my father’s mistakes. That is all.”

Gabriel took a sip of coffee, letting the warm liquid soothe his agitated mind.

Was he guilty of judging his own sister for their father’s mistake?

He pushed the thought far from his mind and focused on the anger he knew would resurface with his next comment. “Two men broke into Rebecca’s house last night and used a knife to slash the painting of her mother. Thankfully, she managed to escape before anything untoward happened.”

Wellford almost shot out of the chair. “What the hell,” he whispered, yet the words conveyed vehemence. “Was she hurt? Where is she now?”

She was at the museum, as he had been stupid enough to let her leave without him.

“She’s fine,” he said in an attempt to convince himself. “Naturally, she is upset but insisted on returning to the museum. My man Higson is with her for the time being.”

Wellford’s eyes widened. “She’s gone back to the museum? Heavens above, I have never known a woman so stubborn.”

“In that we are agreed,” he said, remembering how she refused to move from his front steps. Remembering how her tenacity made him hard with need. “Do you happen to know where your brothers were last night?”

“Alex and Freddie?” he replied in a tone of disbelief. “Surely you don’t think they had anything to do with it?”

“They have a motive,” Gabriel shrugged. “Who else would ignore valuable antiquities to destroy a painting?” Only someone out for vengeance, he added silently.

Wellford fell quiet for a moment. “Alexander is in Italy. He dreams of being a great painter and has been away for months. Freddie was probably so inebriated he slept in his clothes. I will speak with him this evening.”

“Rebecca will not take kindly to your involvement, so it is best if you refrain from charging over there making ridiculous demands.”

“Well, you can’t expect me just to sit back and do nothing.”

Gabriel winced, knowing Wellford would be furious with his next suggestion. “Then you are going to have to trust me because if I cannot persuade Rebecca to leave the museum, I will be forced to stay there with her.”

Wellford did shoot out of his seat. “Like hell you will.”

“Sit down. You’ll make yourself ill if you keep jumping up like that.”

Wellford flopped back down in the chair. “It occurs to me that this is all very convenient. Maybe you slashed the painting yourself, as a ploy to get close to her.”

Gabriel tried to suppress a look of guilt as he recalled how deliciously close they had been. “I shall pretend I didn’t hear that. Rebecca doesn’t trust anyone. My only concern is keeping her safe, her reputation unblemished. She lives in an Egyptian museum for heaven’s sake. A hundred people must pass through there every day. No one will notice me entering.”

Wellford stared at him, his gaze intrusive, assessing.

“It was my idea to seek you out,” Gabriel added. “I wanted to be honest with you, to ask for your support.”

A faint smile touched the corners of Wellford’s mouth. “What choice do I have? Rebecca will refuse to see me, and I cannot leave her alone. So I am forced to concede. I concede because I believe you’re in love with her. And because your involvement has dragged you out of your Egyptian tomb, out into the daylight. I am hoping your influence will encourage her to do the same. Perhaps you could take her to Vauxhall or riding in the park. My father trusted you, Stone, and so I am trusting you.”

The words cut deep as Gabriel had already abused his trust, already fallen foul to temptation, to the weaknesses of the flesh and so all he could manage in reply was, “Thank you.”

“However, I do ask one thing in return.” Wellford’s tone had grown more solemn now.

“I can hardly wait to hear it.”

“Should anything untoward happen. I want your assurance, as a gentleman, that you’ll marry her.”

All the air suddenly escaped from Gabriel’s lungs. “Marry her?” he repeated as the words family, home and marriage pecked away at him like the crow of death.

How could he make such an oath when he’d sworn he would never marry? How could he agree to marriage when he believed it to be an institution for deception?

He was overreacting. Nothing would go wrong. As a partner in the museum, his presence could be easily explained. “I give you my word. I will make her an offer, but I cannot guarantee Rebecca will agree.”

Wellford chucked. “I am astounded that a man of your intelligence cannot see what is right in front of his nose. I trust you to protect Rebecca and in the meantime, I will go in search of Freddie and will inform you should anything arise.”

Gabriel stood and offered a respectful bow.

“At least stay and finish your coffee.”

Gabriel shook his head. He would feel safer in a cage of starving lions. “If my uncle finds me here I will be bombarded with invitations for the next six months. He will hound me until I am forced to bury myself away in my tomb and scratch a curse on the door.”

Wellford laughed. “Then I suggest you run. I have it on good authority that there is no such thing as a curse.”

Chapter 18

Gabriel sat behind his desk, flipped open the ledger and checked the columns for the fifth time. If only he could stumble upon a mistake, a grave error to occupy his mind and reinforce the feeling that his house was nothing but an institute, an emotionless vessel for his studies.

He heard Higson’s heavy gait trudge along the hallway and his thoughts flew back to Rebecca, his stomach performing somersaults at the prospect of seeing her again.

Pushing his hand through his hair, he took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the tears that would inevitably accompany any conversation involving the painting.

Higson rapped on the open door and stepped over the threshold. “I’m all done at the museum. The basement door’s been fixed and is secure like you asked.”

Gabriel’s gaze drifted beyond the man’s shoulder to the empty space behind him, to where he expected to see his flame-haired temptress with her luscious lips and sultry smile. Disappointment flared in his chest.

“How is Miss Linwood?” he said batting down the need to ask why the hell she was still at the museum.

Higson shrugged. “I think she’s bearing up under the circumstances.”

The man was as free with his information as he was his emotion.

“I assume she’s upset.”

Thankfully, Higson’s answer amounted to more than a few words, although the cryptic response proved just as frustrating. “The problem is, she looks on her possessions as though they are living things. She said it feels like her mother has died all over again.”

Guilt twisted its knife into Gabriel’s heart. He should not have let her go alone. He should have been there to offer support, to offer a shoulder to lean on.

“I left her in the storeroom, sorting through some wooden crates,” Higson continued, “sending that curator of hers running here, there and everywhere doing her bidding.”

A sense of relief should have swamped him; at least she’d not taken to her bed consumed with grief. Yet he could not help but be plagued by thoughts of his own inadequacy, by the uncomfortable feeling that she didn’t need him.

“Did she not ask to return here with you?”

“She never mentioned it, and I never asked. She seemed right enough to me.”

Gabriel struggled to hide his frustration. “Thank you, Higson. You may return to your duties. I won’t need the carriage again today.”

What was he supposed to do now?

Should he just sit and wait for her to knock on his door in the dead of night? Should he try to push aside the image of a mysterious intruder attacking her in her bed?

Forcing himself from the chair, he paced the room, waiting for the answer to pop into his head. He could not leave her there alone, and so had no option but to visit her in Coventry Street.

The clock on the mantel chimed three.

If he left now, no one would question him entering her house. He would just be another visitor to the museum. If he took one or two small antiquities, he could continue with the charade of being a partner in the business. At the museum, they were less at risk of causing a scandal — and no scandal meant no marriage.

Some thirty minutes later with his parcel in hand, he made his way on foot, walking down through Swallow Street and onto Piccadilly as that was the quickest route.

By the time he arrived at the museum, there were still a dozen people perusing the exhibits.