A Secret Love (40 page)

“She does have a dowry.”

“She does?” He hesitated, then asked, “How much?”

Alathea calmly told him.

“Just enough to ensure not even the most censorious raise a brow. You have covered all the cracks.”

She inclined her head.

“Well, if Esher's unlikely to be concerned about money, Carstairs is even less likely to give it a second thought. While Esher's old money, well established, Carstairs is both old and new. They met at Eton and have been firm friends ever since, which should suit Mary and Alice admirably.”

“They are very close.”

“Carstairs's estate is just south of Bath—within easy visiting distance of Morwellan Park. His maternal grandfather had an interest in shipping, which Carstairs inherited. He's gaining a reputation as having a cautious interest in the right sort of ventures. He's ambitious in that area, and not about to become a silent partner.”

The approval in his tone was clear; Alathea shot him a glance. “A useful contact for you, perhaps?”

Gabriel met her gaze. “Perhaps.”

“How did you find out all this—about Carstairs and Esher?”

“I asked around. Quietly. I didn't think your father would have the right contacts to find out for you.”

“He hasn't.” Alathea hesitated, then inclined her head. “Thank you.”

She looked away, along the table, ostensibly scanning the guests, in reality letting her gratitude flare, then fade. The reprobate beside her—he who knew her far too well—needed no encouragement. She tried not to dwell on how much easier her life was with him beside her, supplying the reassurances she needed but could not gain for herself. Having his shoulder to lean on was a far too seductive proposition.

Her wandering gaze reached Lucifer, sipping his wine, his gaze on her and Gabriel. His expression was quietly considering.

Smiling serenely, Alathea let her gaze wander on, only to encounter more considering glances. It took her a few minutes to realize why Gabriel and she were so persistently raising questions in so many minds. It was the way they conversed with each other. They were so attuned to each other's tone, to every nuance in the other's repertoire, that they rarely needed to look at each other to be sure of the other's meaning. They talked as two who knew each other well, as two who, in the ton's parlance, shared an understanding of long duration.

They talked like long-standing lovers.

The last course was being removed before she again turned to Gabriel. All the guests were repairing directly to the ballroom. He was already standing; he offered her his arm. She placed her hand on his sleeve and allowed him to raise her—as soon as she was on her feet, he grasped her hand, tucked it in his arm, his hand possessively over hers, and led her to join the queue exiting the dining room.

The message he was sending the interested observers all about them was crystal clear. Although he could be devilish enough when he wished, she was certain that, at present, he wasn't deliberately putting on a show. His behavior was simply an instinctive extension of how he now felt about her.

He caught her glancing at him and lifted a brow. “What?”

She looked into his hazel eyes, then, lips curving, shook her head and looked away. “Never mind.” There was no chance she could get him to change and, deep down, she knew she would miss their newfound closeness if he did.

The ballroom caused a sensation. Standing in the receiving line Alathea fielded numerous compliments on the unusual decor while helping Mary and Alice greet the more intimidating dowagers. Unfortunately, more than a few of the old battleships, when distracted from Mary and Alice, were only too ready to turn their cannons on her.

“Absolutely criminal,” Lady Osbaldestone declared, scrutinizing her silk-clad figure through her lorgnette. “Waste, gel,
waste
!” One bony finger poked her in the ribs. “God knows
why
you've hidden yourself away, but it's past time some rake rattled your stays.”

Others took a different tack.

“So, my dear, do you spend much time in charitable works?” Lady Harcourt, of similar age to Alathea, smiled insincerely. “It must be so nice to live a quiet life.”

Alathea responded to all such queries with a serene smile and calm assurance. As soon as the incoming tide eased, Gabriel appeared and, with Serena's encouragement, drew her out of the line.

“But Mary and Alice—”

“Serena's with them. There's someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

His Great-aunt Clara was a sweet old lady, although a trifle vague. She patted Alathea's hand. “Your sisters are lovely, dear, but we'll have to see you wed first.”

“Precisely what I've been telling her,” Gabriel put in.

Over Clara's head, Alathea narrowed her eyes at him.

“Indeed, yes,” Clara said, and patted her hand again. “We'll have to find some nice gentleman for you—perhaps that nice Chillingworth boy.”

The look on Gabriel's face was priceless; Alathea only just managed not to laugh. “I don't think so,” she said, smiling at Clara.

“No? Well, then, let's see. Who else?”

Devil strolled up before Clara could consider other options. She released Alathea to clutch his sleeve. “Is Honoria here?”

Devil grinned. “She's on the other side of the room—I'll take you to her if you like.”

“Oh, yes—so kind.” Clutching her shawl with one hand and Devil with the other, Clara smiled in farewell and moved on.

“There are the Carmichaels.” Gabriel directed Alathea's gaze to a couple whose country estate lay not far from Morwellan Park and the Manor. They headed toward them.

For the next twenty minutes, they moved through the ever-increasing crowd, stopping here then there to chat, always at Gabriel's direction. Only when she spied Lord Montgomery, then Lord Falworth through the sea of heads did Alathea realize what he was doing. With them constantly moving from one conversation to the next, her court was given no chance to gather about her.

Alathea swallowed her protest—she'd rather move through the crowd on Gabriel's arm than stand surrounded by her all-too-often vacuous court. Feigning ignorance of his high-handed manuverings was definitely the sensible course.

Then the musicians started up and the crowd magically parted, clearing a wide space. As both Mary and Alice had been given permission to indulge long since, the first dance was a waltz. Keen to see if her expectation that Esher would partner Mary and Carstairs would partner Alice would be fulfilled, Alathea eagerly accompanied Gabriel to the edge of the floor.

Sure enough, Mary and Esher took to the floor first, Mary blushing delightedly, her smile declaration enough, while Esher looked the picture of pride. Alathea smiled mistily as they waltzed past, then looked back up the room. Alice was already in Carstairs's encircling arms—both seemed lost in each other's eyes, oblivious to the crowd looking on.

Alathea sighed. With her sisters, her hand was played and she'd won—they would have the futures she'd wanted for them, and which they patently deserved. They'd be happy, and loved . . .

Alice and Carstairs waltzed past.

The next instant, Alathea, too, was on the floor, whirling in Gabriel's arms. Her eyes flew wide. There were as yet no other couples on the floor. “What? . . .”

Gabriel raised a brow. “My dance, I believe?”

She would have loved to tell him what she thought of his arrogance, but under the curious eyes of half the ton, all she could do was fix a smile on her lips and let him sweep her away. She did, however, glare at him.

He only smiled, gathering her closer as other couples took to the floor in their wake. He leaned closer as they went through the turn. “Don't tempt me.”

The whispered words caressed her ear; Alathea shivered. “I should take umbrage.”

“But you won't. You know I can't help myself.”

She limited her response to a sniff; prolonging such a conversation would do nothing for her serenity. The nagging observation that she enjoyed waltzing with him, enjoyed the feel of his hand burning through the silk at her back, enjoyed the sense of being captive to his strength, whirled so effortlessly around the room, was more than distracting enough.

That her pleasure in life was increasingly dependent on him was a thought she wished she'd never had.

After the dance, they once more meandered through the crowd, chatting with acquaintances. They were leaving one group when Gerrard Debbington hailed Gabriel. Gabriel stopped; sidestepping this way, then that, Gerrard eventually reached them.

He smiled vaguely at Alathea.

She smiled brightly back, completely forgetting that she hadn't met him in the receiving line. “Hello.”

Gabriel pinched her fingers and introduced them. Alathea continued to smile as if she commonly spoke to gentlemen she'd never met. Gerrard, thankfully, was too well brought up to comment.

He looked at Gabriel. “If I could have a word . . . there's something you should know.”

Gabriel gestured to Alathea. “Thea knows of my interests—she knows of Crowley. You can speak freely.”

“Oh.” Gerrard's smile hid his surprise. “In that case . . . I was leaving Tattersalls yesterday when I literally bumped into Crowley. He was with a gentleman Vane said was Lord Douglas. Unfortunately, Vane and Patience were right behind me, and Patience spoke. From what she said, it was obvious she was my sister.” He grimaced. “Only a sister would say something like that. As she was on Vane's arm, it wouldn't need any great intelligence to guess the connection. Vane said I should tell you and ask what you think.”

“I think,” Gabriel said, “that we should discuss the possibilities with Vane.” He looked over the sea of heads. “Where is he?”

“Far left,” Gerrard said, craning his head. “Close by the wall. Patience was with him.”

Alathea spotted the purple plume Patience Cynster wore in her hair. “There—by the second mirror.”

They headed that way but in tacking through the crowd, Gerrard forged ahead. Gabriel drew Alathea closer. “I need to talk to Vane about this—Gerrard could be in danger.”

Alathea glanced at him, concern in her eyes. “From Crowley?”

“Yes. I need you to distract Patience while I talk to Vane.”

“Why can't you talk about the matter in front of Patience? Gerrard is
her
brother, after all.”

“That's why. And in case it's escaped your notice, Patience is increasing, so Vane will certainly not want her worrying over a threat to Gerrard that we're going to ensure never materializes.”

“So you want me to distract her? To connive at keeping her in the dark over something she has a perfect right to know—” Alathea broke off, another idea overriding all thought of Patience's sisterly rights. “Tell me—if there was any threat to Charlie or Jeremy, would you tell me, or make sure I never heard of it?”

The way Gabriel's lips sealed into a thin line was answer enough. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Men! Why on earth you imagine—”

“Just tell me—who wants Crowley stopped?”

Alathea blinked. “I do.”

“And who did you ask to stop him?”

“You.”

“I vaguely recall stipulating that you had to obey my orders.”

“Yes, but—”

“Thea, stop arguing. I need to talk to Vane and I don't want Patience unnecessarily upset.”

Put like that . . . “Oh, very well.” She threw him a stern look. “But I don't approve.”

They drew free of the crowd and advanced on Vane and Patience. With an assured smile, Alathea drew Patience aside; Gabriel hid a smile as he overheard her ask after Patience's condition. The perfect topic, the perfect excuse to exclude the menfolk from their councils.

The males in question quickly formed their own huddle.

“What do you think?” Vane asked.

“Altogether too dangerous. Crowley would have prised it out of Archie Douglas before they'd got to the first ring.” Gabriel looked at Vane. “I take it Archie was sufficiently
compos mentis
to recognize you?”

“Definitely—he was remarkably sober, but then it was before noon.”

Gabriel looked at Gerrard. “Nothing for it then—we've got to get you out of sight.”

Gerrard shrugged. “I could go home to Derbyshire for a bit.”

“No—too far. You have to be within reach of London and the courts. We'll need you as a witness to corroborate the details of the company's proposal to investors.”

“How do you think Crowley will react?” Vane asked.

“I think,” Gabriel replied, “that he'll pause and take stock. He's been in this game too long to act rashly. And he's very close to calling in his notes. I think he'll reason that Gerrard will have consulted me
after
the meeting—there's no reason he should suspect I knew anything about the meeting beforehand. Indeed, if Gerrard had mentioned one of Crowley's schemes to me
ahead
of any meeting, I would have advised against the meeting taking place. So he'll imagine I was consulted afterward, and that I've advised Gerrard against the investment. He hasn't heard from Gerrard again, and now he'll know why. He's so close to getting his hands on a small fortune, he'll be very hesitant over unnecessarily rocking his boat. I don't think he'll come searching for Gerrard yet, but I do think he will, and with a vengeance, the instant he hears there's a petition lodged against the company.”

“How dangerous is he?”

Gabriel met Vane's gaze. “He'll kill without a qualm.” Vane's brows rose. Gabriel continued, “The information I've received suggests he's plowed every last penny into this venture—if the company's notes fail, he'll be ruined. And he'll likely have some rather unsavory and irate creditors after him, too. Basically, I'd rate Crowley as more dangerous than a rabid rat cornered.”