Miss Gabriel's Gambit (26 page)

The flushed face in the looking glass on the dressing table opposite the bed regarded her with bewilderment. Was that her? She stared at the dark circlet forming round her neck, recalling the strange look in Hugo’s eyes while he had all but choked the life from her.
To think that she had once considered marriage to that madman. Aye ...dance with a fool ... she was waltzing round with David ... whirling black and white. . . You are a rich woman now, but not a penny to Hugo... rather die ...’If it were done, when ‘tis done’ ... Lady Macbeth said that, but that was murder not suicide ... the first choice was preferable...Would they hang her? ...a cleaner death, hanging... .‘twere well it were done quickly... Where was all the blood coming from? ... Oh yes, her finger ...out damned spot.
Sylvia wondered looking at the spots of scarlet on her jade dress. It was utterly ruined.

Through the foggy haze, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side of the door. She tried to put the shard to her wrist, but her hand was far too unsteady. The key turned and the door swung open. “No!” she screamed, terror driving her in a rush of strength. “I won’t let you! “ Sylvia sprang up with a cry, rushing at the man with the point upraised.

“Sylvia,” David caught her hand as the wicked piece of glass struck downward, barely missing his cheek. She struggled, her eyes wild as she snarled like a cornered cat.
What had Highslip done to her?
he wondered as he attempted to wrest the weapon from her hold. Her hair was disheveled; a streak of blood was smeared across her face. With growing rage, he noticed the marks upon her neck and the blood upon her skirts and bodice. She reeked of brandy. “Hush, my Kali, hush!” he choked.

“Oh, you are not Hugo,” Sylvia said, confusion creeping across her face.

“No, ‘tis David.” Although it was difficult to control his voice, he forced himself to speak, running on in a nonsensical prattle in an attempt to try to calm her. “There is no need to cut my jacket. Mr. Weston would take it amiss, after all you have already ruined one. You should pay attention to the way you handle sharp objects Sylvia, you have already hurt yourself, you know. Let me help you.”

“David?” She spoke uncertainly, her tongue heavy, letting the shard slip to shatter upon the floor. “I thought you were Hugo, coming back to ravish me. I do not have to kill you then. You are my friend.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I am your friend. You may wish to kill me and be entirely justified, but I suggest you wait until your wits are about you,” David said. She spoke slowly, as if with effort. “Where has Highslip gone?”

“Went back to the ball. I suggested it. Divert suspicion, you know. Played him for time. Never noticed he was a lackwit. I am glad that it’s you.”

“Are you?” David asked, realizing that his hands had become slippery with blood, her blood. He mulled over her words while attempting to locate the source of the bleeding sighing with relief when he found the cut on her finger. He loosed his neckcloth.

“Another neckcloth gone for a bandage. Ruined anyway... all bloody.” She sighed mournfully. “Always ruining your clothes, David.

“You may ruin my entire wardrobe and welcome,” David said, unwinding the length of white.

“So glad . Don’t have to kill myself now. Was thinking about how to go about it before Hugo came back. Would’ve raped me. Hard to get it right with shaky hands. Complex business - killing yourself, deucedly difficult. Finding the right place. Veins kept moving, silly things. Messy. Ruins your clothes. Bled all over,” Sylvia babbled, staring at him owl-eyed. “Ruined mine too. Better ruined clothes than ruined me.”

There was a grim determination below the rambling chatter. Taking one look at her solemn face, David locked his arms around her, drawing her close. His blood chilled at the horror in her matter-of-fact description of contemplated suicide. Only a few minutes more and he had little doubt that she might have found those elusive veins to bleed her life away.

“Feel so safe.” She nestled beneath his chin, closing her eyes in bliss, then opening them as she felt his body tremble “Are you chilly, David? You’re shivering. Wonderfully warm, wonderful, I am!” She reached up brushing, his hair back from his forehead. “You? You are sweating!”

“I was told that gentlemen do not sweat,” David said softly, stroking a smear of blood from her cheek.

“Well you are! Might be sickening for something. Should take care.” She stroked his hair slowly. “Always wanted to do this. Perpetually in your eye, your hair. Like a little boy.”

Indeed, he was growing warm; as her fingers ran through his hair, he felt his slim control disappearing. Like a friendly cat, she rubbed herself against him, murmuring words of concern. It was ironic beyond measure that
she
was attempting to comfort
him
. He wanted to keep her in the circle of his arms. He didn’t want to let her go. Ever. The utter trust in those eyes penetrated the heat, reminding him that he had to get her home. He released her and set her at arm’s length.

“Don’t like holding me?” She asked sadly, her lower lip trembling.

“To the contrary, Sylvia. I like holding you entirely too much,” David said, his voice deep with emotion and desire. “You are flying high, my love and I would not take advantage.”

 “‘Tis not drink, but laudanum, if you would know!” She declared, moving closer once more, putting her hands around his neck, kneading the tense muscles. “Wound tight as a watch, you are, David. Ought to relax. Here ...” She removed his spectacles. “Your eyes. Like a woodland in March, all brown but a hint of spring.

 Opiate ... her inebriated yet lucid behavior began to make sense. The pupils of her eyes were wide dark pools banded by green. “If I relax myself now, Sylvia, there will be the devil to pay.” David smiled ruefully, putting his glasses back on. “I want to kiss you senseless.”

“Sounds wonderful. I’m very close to senseless. Should be simple.” She felt the chuckle rising through his chest, the movement of his ribs tickling against her as she moved closer still. She caught hold of a stray thought. “Did you call me ‘my love?’” she asked, eying him glassily.

“I believe I did,” David said, his lips drawn irresistibly to brush her forehead.

“Does that mean you love me?” There were two Davids, most disconcerting to have them both nod like that.

“I love you,” David and David said.

“I am so glad!” Sylvia declared. “Two Davids! Both in love with me! Which of you shall I kiss first?” To solve the problem, she closed her eyes pulling his mouth down to meet hers.

Her kiss was tender, timid with innocence as his fingers tangled themselves the silken coils of her hair. Honor warred momentarily with desire as David fought for control, but the temptation was too great. Desire won as soon as David tasted the velvety sweetness of her mouth. She moaned softly, pulling him tighter, closer, and his hand brushed aside the last of the remaining pins in her hair to let it cascade down her back in a flow of molten gold. When she opened her eyes at last, he saw a fire amidst that glowing green.

“David.” He heard her whisper hoarsely. “Must go... he’ll kill you. Entshaw. Colber. Monster. Must-” Her eyes lost focus, the lids slowly closing as she went limp in his arms.

David hoisted her up, her head cradled against his shoulder while he carried her down the stairs. As he placed her into the carriage, she stirred, whimpering as he covered her with a blanket. Within a few minutes they were behind the Gabriel house at Berkeley Square.

Miles was waiting at the garden door. “Sylvia?” he asked, anxiously.

“Is sleeping in the back of my carriage,” David said, swallowing his rage and smiling to reassure the boy. “Get William or Mr. Petrov.”

Miles obediently ran and soon came back with both his cousin and the Russian. David lifted Sylvia from the seat, reluctantly handing her into her brother’s arms.

“Where is he?” David asked Petrov.

There was no need to specify which
he
was meant. “The supper rooms,” Petrov said, uttering a Russian obscenity. “Filling his mouth. We have told all asking Sylvia had megrim.”

“I will kill him,” Will declared, tears forming in his eyes as he saw the smears of blood on his sister’s gown. “I swear, I shall kill that ruddy bastard.”

“No,” David said, starting forward, “I have reserved that pleasure for myself. I feel I have earned that right.”

Will took one look at David’s hard expression, his bloody clothing and nodded slowly.

“Not here. It would be bad move, causing much scandal,” Petrov said, putting a restraining hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We are being convincing the Ton that your Sylvia is resting, overdrawn.”

“Overset,” David corrected automatically, his eyes narrowing as he formulated his plan. “You are quite right, Ivan. Much as I would enjoy wiping the floor with the earl, I shall have to wait. Highslip will no doubt leave as soon as he thinks it safe. You and William let him go when he pleases, for I am certain he will return to Marylebone Lane. Then, I vow, every minute of fear, every drop of blood shall be paid for with a cent-percenter’s interest. ”

Sylvia moaned softly. “David?” she whispered.

“You are safe, my love,” he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek gently. “I will be waiting for Highslip at Marylebone Lane. Tell Petrov to meet me at my rooms once Sylvia wakens.”

It was to be hoped that Sylvia would recall nothing, David told himself as he took up the reins. Highslip, the tawdry room, her brush with death, would all be forgotten. Sylvia had been too full of laudanum to be truly conscious of anything. And the kiss? Likely, she would never retain the memory of a kiss on the edge of insensibility. If she had indeed forgotten it would remain his own private treasure, something that she would never remember and he would never forget.

* * * *

It was just past dawn. David slammed his way into his apartments, roaring like a tiger on the prowl. “Petrov!”

His friend tried not to cringe as he set his teacup on the breakfast table.

“I waited for you, Petrov,” David spoke from between clenched teeth. “It was nearly sunrise before I gave it up and I realized that something must have gone horribly awry. And then I met Brummel, who told me the news! The devil take you, Ivan Dragomir!” David crossed the room; his fist slammed down on the table, rattling the china, causing the tea to slosh into its saucer. “You had no right!”

“I am having every right!” The Russian said defiantly, rising to his feet. “I am sorry to be depriving of your vengeance, but it was only choice.”

David’s answer was an angry glare.

Ivan looked at his friend, the dark shadows beneath David’s eyes told the tale of the sleepless, anxious night. Indeed, Petrov had not slept himself. “You know I am being correct,” he said wearily. “Arrest of Highslip is meaning scandal for mine Caroline and her family, for your Sylvia, too. Are you wanting that? Is worth it to tear Highslip apart with bare hands, no jury or judge. I offer him sure imprisonment or death by his own hand. He chooses pistols and now all Ton is thinking he kills himself because of debts. No scandal.”

David scowled angrily at Petrov, the sense of what the Russian was saying, slowly penetrating his rage. “And Sylvia?” David asked, at last.

“No connection to Highslip. Entire town is talking of the Gabriel fortune.” The Russian gave a sigh of relief. “They are believing our story, how all is discovered when room is cleaned for ball! Mine Caroline’s Mama is at sevens and eights. Is saying how happy she is for her niece and nephew, but really, she is tearing out her hair for how she has been treating them like poppers.”

In his anxiety, David did not even bother to correct the Russian’s English. “But Sylvia, man! How is she? You have not told me a blasted thing about Sylvia!”

“I came here as soon as I am finding this out. Girl has devil of the head, this morning,” Petrov responded. “Caroline said that she has been, how you say? Shooting the dog.”

“Shooting the cat, Ivan,” David said, glumly, still feeling cheated and betrayed. Nonetheless, he had to admit the Russian was right. The scandal would have been enormous had David given the earl his just due.

“Perhaps you should be bringing Sylvia some of your man’s amazing headache potion, David,” Ivan suggested hopefully. “It might be helping.”

“Excellent idea, It might be just the thing,” David said, seizing upon the excuse to visit Berkeley Square.

At David’s request, Harjit mixed up a bottle of his vile brew and as soon the two were tooling their way to Berkeley Square.

“You were correct, of course, Ivan to do as you did,” David admitted reluctantly as they drove up Hyde Park Corner.

“I know. It was right move.” The Russian accepted the apology with a shrug of his shoulders.

As he turned up Berkeley Street, David recalled Sylvia’s words last night in Marylebone Lane. Of course much of it would have to be discounted. She had been chirping merry, entirely top heavy as the result of the laudanum. “You are my friend,” she had declared solemnly. It had been clear, though, that there had been far more than friendship in the way her arms had twined about him and more than friendship in those fuddled eyes.

How much would she remember, David wondered? Would cold sobriety prove that her feelings had merely been nothing more than gratitude and relief? He found himself hoping that the scene at Marylebone Lane was entirely forgotten, as much for his own sake as Sylvia’s. If Sylvia came down from the altitudes with her memory intact, his confession of love might very well come back to haunt him. The realization that his feelings were far more than mere comradeship could easily destroy their fragile
entente
. Yet, if she recalled nothing, would he have the courage to give voice to those feelings once again, in the clear light of day?

Unfortunately, it soon appeared that David would not have the chance to find out. Mrs. Gabriel took the proffered cure from David and firmly advised him that Sylvia was not up to company. The woman did take the time to point out the various congratulatory floral tributes that her niece had received, from a marquis, a wealthy earl and even a duke, telling David without words that he was running a poor last in the titled suitor stakes. Petrov gave David a look of apology as he accepted Caroline’s invitation to stay.