The Wife He Always Wanted (27 page)

“Then do not stop until the first cramp comes. Then you may stop. Until then, proceed as you are.” He did so for a long time, moving from her back, down her legs, to her feet, and back again. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“From a young woman in San Francisco. She was trained in the art of healing with her hands. Albert and I both proposed to her several times, but she only laughed. She had a lover who was highly placed in government there, and we were young and with only the coins in our pockets. She wasn’t about to give up everything to wander the continent with one of us.”

“Did you love her?”

“I loved her massages.” He leaned to whisper in her ear. “I have only loved once, sweet.”

She smiled into the pillow. “Only once?”

Gabriel slid off her. She rolled onto her back. “Yes, unless you count a housemaid when I was thirteen.” He leaned to kiss her. “It took a country mouse with a sharp wit, a steel spine, and the body of an angel to finally claim my heart.”

Smiling, she ran her hands down his body to toy with the buttons of his trousers. “I think you are so besotted that you cannot see my many flaws.”

He tugged his shirt loose from his trousers and removed it. “If there are flaws, I do not see them. Perhaps I should have a closer look.”

Once naked, he leaned to examine her feet. “You do have one toe that is slightly crooked and another that is somewhat clubbed.”

Sarah pushed to her elbows. “I do not have a clubbed or crooked toe,” she exclaimed. He moved to her ankles.

“Your ankles are mannish, thick, and post-like.”

“You are a horrible man.” She peered at her trim ankles. “There is nothing mannish about them. They are perfectly acceptable.”

“Hmmm.” He ran his hands up to her knees. “Though knock-kneed, your legs will do. There is little we can change there. Perhaps if you learned to walk with a different gait . . .”

“Oh!” She pulled the pillow out from under her head and whacked him with it. “You are despicable! I shall never speak to you again!”

Laughing, Gabriel leaned to avoid another blow and they wrestled for the pillow as Sarah used skill to keep her weapon. Finally he wrenched it from her hands and tossed it away. He pushed her back on the bed and loomed over her.

She pushed against his shoulders when he made to steal a kiss. “If I had a sword, you would not mock me.”

“If you were armed, I’d quiver in fear.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “I do have a sword and know very well how to wield it. Would you like a lesson?”

Her lips quirked. “I should say no.”

“You will not.”

Sarah tangled her hands in his hair. “You are arrogant beyond measure.”

“And yet you love me still.” He nipped her ear. Sarah sighed and pulled his head up for a kiss.

“That I do.”

* * *

G
abe kissed her, tasting her sweet mouth, feeling her body become compliant beneath him. Half-closed lids and a fan of lashes all but hid her eyes from view.

She was warm and soft and lovely. Although he’d teased her for calling herself flawed, there was nothing about her he’d change, had he that power.

He ended the kiss and returned his attention to her neck.

“Have I ever told you that orchids are my favorite flower?” He skimmed his lips up to her ear. She wriggled.

“You have not.” Perhaps he had, but at the moment all she could think about was his mouth on hers. Her hands moved over his shoulders, her touch featherlight.

“Until you, I never gave fragrances much notice.” He trailed kisses across her skin, stopping at the neckline of her chemise.

“I see.”

He took one end of the pink ribbon between his teeth. She smiled when he pulled the bow apart. “It is true. There are many things I’ve recently discovered that entice me; violet eyes, for example. Who could prefer brown or blue when you can have violet?”

“Go on.” She watched him tug her chemise down to expose her breasts. Her nipples tightened.

“We must speak of nipples. There are many shades.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I assume you learned this during your travels, with many examples on which to base this conclusion?”

“I tried to remain saintly, but your brother was a terrible influence.” He shrugged. “If not for him, I would have married you largely untouched.”

One brow cocked up. “Surely you do not expect me to believe such nonsense?”

“I cannot do anything more than tell my tale.” He lathed a nipple. “I can, however, tell you with all certainty that I prefer rose nipples to brown or pink.”

Sarah laughed. “You are indecent.”

“ ’Tis a curse.” He teased her nipples, made free with his hands, and tempted her until they were both ready. When he slid his cock inside her, she was warm and eager, his seductive wife.

It was impossible to believe their marriage had begun with one disastrous wedding night.

He whispered naughty words in her ear, told her he loved her, and brought them both to release.

Later, when they were back to examining the boxes, Gabe grimaced. “Do we have to stay with my parents next week?”

“We do.”

“Doesn’t my mother realize what she is asking? Putting Brenna in the same house with Simon and me is like shooting a cannon into a crowded ballroom.”

“Are you likening your sister to a cannonball?”

“She is explosive.”

Sarah dropped a page into the growing pile. “One would think that you three would eventually get past your childish squabbling and make peace; if not for yourselves, then for your mother. She finally has her children all together again. Can you not set aside your differences for her happiness?”

“I will do my best.”

Sarah reached for a journal. “I envy your family. I never knew my mother, and I had Father and Albert for such a short time. I would give anything for the chance to share confidences with Albert or have Father beg us not to quarrel.”

“I can loan you Simon. He knows how to tweak my sister to maximize her ire. I’m certain he could do the same for you.”

“It is not the same. But thank you.” She fell silent. The clock ticked. “Although you are wary of the visit to Harrington House, I now look forward to it with great enthusiasm.”

“Including the madness?”

“The madness is what I long for most,” she said softly. “For so many years I lived with only my aunt for company, or alone. I cannot wait to give up quiet for a week or two of laughter, bickering, and late-night chats with my new sisters and cousin Noelle.”

“Then I will go into the fray with you on my arm and my head high,” he groused. “However, if there is bloodshed, do not say I did not warn you.”

Chapter Twenty-six

G
abriel poked his head around the open parlor door where Sarah sat on a chair before the fireplace. “Crawford is here.”

Sarah set sketches for the new mantel aside and hurried out of the room. She caught up to her husband halfway down the hallway. He moved along at a rapid clip.

“I hope he has news,” she said. Banging sounded from overhead. After cleaning up the mess, and worried about further damage, Gabriel hunted down Mister Rice. Under threat of a pummeling, or worse, the workers arrived early yesterday to finish the roof. They were making excellent progress.

“As do I.” His eyes were red. He’d spent the last three nights up to well after midnight, going through the boxes and organizing what they found that might prove helpful. Then he met with Mister Crawford each afternoon and gave the investigator his findings.

Lady Seymour, Brenna, Noelle, and Laura had returned yesterday, each with a page of names and notations they hoped might prove helpful. With their efforts and his, Gabriel winnowed the lists down to a couple of dozen names.

“He’s only had a couple of days to investigate the men from my first and second lists,” Gabriel said. “Do not expect substantial results.”

“I will keep my expectations low,” she assured him.

Sarah helped where she could while organizing for the repairs to the parlor and the temporary move to Harrington House. Between them, they were exhausted.

Crawford was waiting in the drawing room, a glass of port in his hand, looking rather fatigued himself.

“Good afternoon, Mister Crawford,” Sarah said.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Harrington.” He waited for her to be seated and claimed a chair. His limp was more pronounced today. Likely it came from racing about London, chasing down clues.

She tried not to seem too eager, but with each visit, her hopes of finally solving the case grew. She struggled not to fidget. She braced herself for disappointment.

“I have information to share,” he said. “I think I may have found where your spies have been hiding.”

Sarah nearly leapt from the couch. “That is astonishing news! Where?”

“Summerdown Manor is just outside London. It belongs to one Mister Charles Downing. He is a merchant who spends much of his time traveling to the Orient and is rarely at home. From what I could gather, several men and a woman have let the property for six months. When I contacted his man of affairs, he had no information other than to say he knew nothing more than that they made their payment in full.”

“What leads you to conclude they are our traitors?” Gabriel asked. He poured a drink and sat next to Sarah.

“The man you captured on the road was unwilling to talk under the worry he’d be killed. Once Brown promised to send him off to Scotland to serve his sentence, and the pain over losing his brother, he finally confessed the information his brother gave him. He did not know the exact location of the manor they were taken to. However, he did know the direction and an approximate distance from here to there. As you know, the Runners were already sent to the area. It was through my own investigating that we discovered the manor.”

She rubbed her hands together. “I cannot believe we are making progress so quickly.”

Crawford smiled. “The information came at a cost. I had to hire men to help me search. I know time is important to Mrs. Harrington.” He paused. “One of my men spent an evening at an inn about halfway between London and Luton. He talked to several of the patrons and learned of Summerdown Manor and the strange happenings there. One man, a neighbor named Travers, was loose-tongued. He confided that he’d walked over to introduce himself to the lady of the house and was stopped at the edge of the forest by the sight of many heavily armed men walking the grounds. He turned and fled home.”

“This does sound promising,” Sarah said. She’d given up her plan not to raise her hopes. They could not be higher. “When do we leave for the manor?”

Gabriel started shaking his head even before the last words were out. “
We
are not going to the manor. Crawford and I are leaving in an hour and will be staying a day or two.”

Sarah puffed up to argue, but Crawford spoke first.

“Please excuse my interference, but I have worked both for the Duchess Eva and your cousin Lady Noelle, as well as other members of your family. If your wife is anything like the rest of the Harrington women, you will spend much of this next hour arguing with her, and Mrs. Harrington will win ultimately. If you let her come, then you won’t worry about her following us anyway or stumbling into mischief.”

He sent Sarah an apologetic smile. She returned it.

Gabriel’s jaw muscle pulsed. “I am not pleased to be outnumbered.” He glared at Crawford. “If anything happens to my wife, I’ll hold you responsible.”

The investigator nodded. “I accept. I have spent enough time in the company of your family to know that a Harrington woman, bent on revenge, is to be feared. We will not have to worry about Mrs. Harrington.”

Sarah did not take insult at the teasing words. She rather enjoyed being put into the same pot as the duchess and Noelle. Further, she was delighted to be allowed to travel along without wasting time arguing first.

Well, delighted was not the best choice of sentiment.

She stared down her husband. “I will not be left behind to spend my time sipping tea and staring at the hole in our ceiling, while fretting over what has become of the case . . . and you.”

Gabriel said something under his breath that she assumed was not complimentary, but he nodded despite his misgivings. “You have fifty-five minutes to ready yourself of I’ll leave you behind.”

“I shall pack a valise.” She stood and left them. Gabriel’s grumbling voice followed her down the hallway.

With a full fifteen minutes to spare, she was at the front door, dressed in a simple black riding habit and matching hat with her valise clutched in her hand.

Gabriel’s temper had not soothed in the time she’d spent preparing herself. She walked to him and put a gloved hand on his chest.

“I promise not to endanger myself,” Sarah said. A snort was his response as he led her out. She shook her head. “Do you plan to grouse for the entire trip?”

“I’ve not decided.”

“Then I am pleased to be traveling with the charming Mister Crawford. I’m certain he has many interesting stories to tell. We’ll not need you to speak. We will amuse ourselves.”

Crawford was already atop a gray mare. Gabriel helped Sarah mount and soon they were ready.

“I hope to make the village by nightfall, and we will stay at the inn nearby,” Crawford said and kneed his horse. “I will acquire the rooms and you will enter through the back. As I am the only one of us three who is unknown to our spies, it will be best if we do not draw attention to you and Mrs. Harrington. The six men I hired will already be in place.”

Gabriel moved up beside him. “Is six men enough?”

“We’ll not know until we arrive.”

On horseback, they did not press their mounts and still made good time. As the ride was not a great distance, they did not have to change horses. They reached Summerdown Manor, slowed to view only the top two floors of the house through the trees, and continued on into the village.

The inn stood just off the road, and the exterior appeared tidy through the curtain of dusk. They stabled their mounts and Sarah and Gabriel hastened around to the back. She’d pulled her hat low to disguise her face. Gabriel did the same. Once secreted beneath a low overhanging roof, they waited for Crawford to fetch them.

“Your modest skill with pistol and blade notwithstanding, I continue to have misgivings.” Gabriel pulled her close.

“I know,” she said. “I’ll not do anything foolish.”

“My worry is not that you will make mistakes,” he assured her. “You are most competent. My worry is about these men. Given the opportunity, they will not hesitate to shoot you.”

“Please do not fret, dear husband.” Sarah cupped his face. “You will not lose me.”

“How can I not worry, love?” He kissed her palm. “We may be desperately outmanned in the lair of killers.”

“You’ll not be outmanned.”

Sarah turned to see Mister Brown walking toward them, trailed by a full dozen men. The group joined them in the shadows.

Relief flooded her. “I did not know if you’d receive my note or if it would be too late.”

Gabriel released her. “Explain, Wife.”

She took his arm and led him away from the group. She felt the tension in his body and saw the anger in the tightness of his jaw. “I sent a note with Flora to Bow Street,” she whispered. “Although we are not entirely convinced Mister Brown is trustworthy, I knew we needed him. The Widow is his wife. He knows her best.”

He glanced back at the Runner. After taking a moment to reflect on her words, he sighed. “I had not considered using Brown. Your instincts were correct. Well done.”

The door creaked open and Crawford stepped into the opening. He spotted the shadowed men and his hand went inside his jacket.

Gabriel stepped forward. “These men are Runners. Sarah called for additional assistance from Bow Street. Mister Brown and his companions are at the ready.”

Crawford drew in a deep breath and dropped his hand. “I shall acquire a few more rooms.”

Once everyone was settled in, they gathered in Gabriel and Sarah’s room. Between Gabriel and her, Crawford and his men, and the Runners all together, the room was near bursting.

Several men eyed her curiously, but none protested her presence.

“I think the best time for launching an attack on the manor is after midnight,” Gabriel said. “The people inside will be sleeping and the guards not as alert.”

“I agree,” Crawford said. “We must go in as quietly as possible and remove the guards, without an alarm being raised. My men are trained fighters. We will leave the guards to them and the occupants of the house to us.”

Gabriel turned to Brown. “Sarah and I will enter the house with Crawford and make certain all is quiet. We’ll open the front door to you and your men.”

The Runner agreed. “They will not be taken easily.”

“We do not expect so,” Gabriel said. “If The Widow, as we suspect, is working with current or former spies, they will be well trained to fight. We cannot make mistakes.”

* * *

G
abriel watched Brown’s face and felt his inward struggle. Still, the man had not given any indication he was a traitor or that his presence was spurred by anything outside the desire to see the case come to its rightful conclusion.

Even so, he and Sarah had to remain alert to any possibility. They’d not be taken by surprise.

“Then we shall meet in the yard at one o’clock,” Crawford said. Gabriel indicated he stay behind as the other men filed out. After the door closed, Gabe took Crawford into his confidence.

“I did not tell you of this earlier, but there is something you need to know. The Widow is Brown’s wife, Solange.”

Crawford’s eyes widened. “You’ve chosen now to divulge this important piece of information?”

“I did not want this to prejudice your investigation,” he said. “Brown was a friend of Sarah’s father, and we do not believe him capable of harming her, or me. However, we both think he is still in love with his wife and do not know in what form that love may take if it comes to saving Solange’s life, or ours.”

The investigator ran both hands over his head. “What a puzzle. A Bow Street Runner is married to a notorious spy, who plans to kill you both, once the evidence against the French spies is unearthed. How many people know of their connection?”

“We are not privy to that,” Sarah said. “However, I can only imagine there are few people he trusts with this secret.” Sarah sat on the chair. “I wonder how much my father knew. If he was aware of the truth, would it have strained their friendship? If Solange
is
Father’s killer, she was married to his friend. What did my father think when he saw her face right before he died?”

“We will never know, love,” Gabe said. He expelled a breath. “We have another confession, Mister Crawford. We have not told Brown about the boxes of papers. Yet. We feared he might try to alert Solange so that she may flee.”

Crawford stared, annoyed. “First Brown’s connection and now this?”

“Once she has returned to France, my father will not be avenged. We did not intend to exclude you forever, merely for a few days until we put everything together.” Sarah looked at Gabriel. “I have a confession for you also. If we do not return to London tomorrow as planned, Flora has been instructed to take the boxes to Lord Seymour.”

“Why did you keep these plans from me?” Gabriel asked. His ire returned full force. “Did you not trust me?”

“This is
not
about trust,” she said. “You decided, on your own, I might add, that I should stay home with my needlepoint like a good wife in the safety of our town house. To be perfectly honest, I was a bit insulted by your lack of faith.”

How could he respond? She was right. His temper settled. “You do not needlepoint.”

Glowering, she continued, “As such, I felt you left me free to do as I wished. While you were plotting with Mister Crawford without me, I made certain that not only did we have additional men to help keep us safe, but in the event that we do not come out of this caper unscathed, Lord Seymour will both know of our whereabouts and have the evidence needed to conclude my father’s case.”