by Olivia Drake
Meg didn’t yet know about Sir Charles’s crime, Kate thought with a twinge of guilty unease. Until she found the proof of his culpability, she hadn’t wanted to unduly alarm her sister. The less Meg knew about the baron’s possible role in their father’s death, the better.
With a confidence she didn’t really feel, Kate handed the candle back to Meg. “We’ve naught to fear. After all that racket, any intruder will be long gone.”
Hefting the rolled umbrella in one hand, she slowly turned the handle and gave the door a push.
A gust of chilly night air nearly doused the candle. Meg cupped her hand around the flame as they walked just inside the doorway. Kate’s gaze veered to the window, where the draperies flapped in the night breeze. A smashed pane showed where someone had reached inside and opened the casement.
Swallowing a gasp, she glanced around the small study. Everything else looked exactly as she’d left it. The tribal mask leaned against the crate, the beads and other mementos were scattered on the desk. Though shadows lurked in the corners, she could see by the feeble light of the candle that no one hid there, waiting to spring out at them.
Meg surveyed the window in horror. “Katie, we’ve been robbed!”
Cautiously, Kate lowered the umbrella and glanced around. She thanked heaven for the prudence that had induced her to hide Papa’s diaries and Gabriel’s sketchbooks in her bedchamber. “I don’t believe he took anything of value. Jabbar must have frightened him away.”
Meg knelt down to give the chimpanzee a hug. “What a clever beast you are—far better than a watchdog.” She glanced up at Kate. “Isn’t it lucky that Lord Gabriel gave him to us?”
Lucky. Kate suddenly wondered if Gabriel had left the chimpanzee there on purpose. To sound a warning in the event of an intruder.
Unwilling to voice the thought to her sister, Kate hid her jittery suspicions. A part of her still resisted believing the horrid story that Gabriel had told her. How could she be sure he wasn’t lying to hide his own guilt? Yet now she couldn’t forget the last thing he’d said.
When Damson wants something, he’ll stop at nothing to get it.
Kate was in the study later that morning, stowing books in a wooden box, when she heard the rumble of male voices interspersed with Meg’s excited tone. A huge history of Roman England fell from Kate’s nerveless fingers and thumped onto the desk.
Gabriel was here.
She took a deep breath to steady the wild surge of her heartbeat. Smoothing back her tightly pinned hair, she tucked in a few stray corkscrews that always seemed to escape despite her best efforts. Just as quickly, she scorned her vanity. She didn’t care what Gabriel thought of her. At the inn, she had seen him at his worst, an unshaven, half-naked scoundrel who looked capable of any dark deed.
That image bedeviled her. Who had tried to break in here? Sir Charles Damson? Or Gabriel himself?
After the foiled robbery, she’d returned to bed, but fear of the intruder’s return had kept her wide awake. So she had lit an extravagance of candles and busied herself with household tasks. Not only had she finished a considerable amount of packing, she had spent hours in the kitchen, and the fragrance of her baking permeated the cottage.
Upon reaching the doorway, she stopped short. Two men strolled toward the study. Lord Gabriel looked far too rakish in a charcoal-gray coat, opened collar, and black breeches. Beside him, a dapper, white-haired gentleman in a finely tailored blue suit escorted a smiling Meg on his arm.
Happy surprise leapt in Kate. Abandoning dignity, she dashed forward and threw her arms around his tall, lanky form. “Great-Uncle Nathaniel!”
He hugged her, too, spinning her around as if she were a child of five. “Call me plain Uncle Nathaniel, else you’ll make me feel like a doddering old pensioner.”
“But...how did you get here so quickly?” she asked in confusion. “I only wrote to you just yesterday.”
He raised his white eyebrows. “Wrote to me?”
“Yes, I had news to tell you—”
“We’ll have time enough for that in a moment. First, let me have a look at you.” Clasping her by the shoulders, Nathaniel Babcock held Kate at arm’s length. As always, he had a devilish smile and the jaunty air of a man who enjoys life. “Why, Katherine Talisford, you’re all grown-up and pretty as a princess. Both you and Margaret.”
“How kind of you,” Kate said wryly as she glanced down at her old black dress. “I fear we weren’t expecting visitors.”
“You’re ravishing, and well you know it,” Gabriel said. He gave her his hallmark smile, the smoldering smirk that caused an instantaneous tightening deep inside her. “I met up with your uncle at the garden gate,” he went on. “Recognized him at once. I vow, he hasn’t changed a bit.”
Uncle Nathaniel elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m no longer as wild as you young bucks. But don’t tell your grandmother that.”
“You know his grandmother?” Meg asked with interest.
“Aye,” Uncle Nathaniel said. “Lucy, one of the famous Rosebuds. By jings, those three were beauties in their day.”
Kate glanced quizzically at Gabriel. “The Rosebuds?”
“Grandmama and her two childhood friends—” Gabriel stopped, frowning over Kate’s head and staring into the study. “What the deuce—? Your window is broken.”
Kate followed his gaze to the window. “We had a little...incident last night. It was nothing, really.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He strode past the boxes and examined the shattered pane that Kate had patched with a sheet of oilpaper. “Who did this?”
“A thief,” Meg said in a dramatic rush. “He came to rob us, but Jabbar screeched terribly loud and frightened him away before that awful man could steal anything.”
Gabriel spun around, his face harsh. “You saw him?”
“Well, no, but it had to be a man. It was horrid! Kate was very brave, much braver than I. She marched around, holding an umbrella like a cudgel—”
“Whoa, slow down!” Uncle Nathaniel said. Worry intensified the lines of age on his face. “Are you saying a ruffian tried to ransack the place? And who the devil is Jabbar?”
“My chimpanzee.” Biting her lip, Meg slid a glance at Kate. “Or rather, Lord Gabriel’s chimpanzee. He’s in the kitchen if you’d care to meet him.”
“Later,” Lord Gabriel said tersely, his gaze snaring Kate’s. “Have you summoned the magistrate?”
She shook her head. “There was no point. The man was long gone by then.”
“You’re sure nothing was stolen?”
His sharp blue eyes pierced her, and she knew he was asking about her father’s journals. Trying to gauge his possible guilt, Kate looked him up and down. “Not so much as a petrified bone,” she stated. “I’m quite certain of that.”
“Nothing in here but a pile of old rubbish, anyhow,” Uncle Nathaniel commented, picking up a bronze coin of Celtic origin and rolling it between his fingers. “Never did understand why Henry collected this clutter. Where did all these boxes come from?”
“We’re moving,” Meg said, thrusting out her lower lip in a pout. “Into teeny-tiny rooms in town.”
“Leaving Larkspur Cottage?” Uncle Nathaniel asked in astonishment. Tossing down the coin, he waggled a gnarled finger at them. “Why, I’ll wager you girls want to be closer to all those fine lads at the university. Mind you, don’t trust any of those young rogues, d’you hear? Else I’ll have to tell your papa.”
A brief, painful silence descended on the study. Meg sniffled. Gabriel opened his mouth as if to speak, but Kate flashed him a quelling look.
“Papa isn’t coming home,” she said quietly, taking her great-uncle’s arm. “That’s why I wrote to you. Come into the parlor, and I’ll tell you everything.”
In short order, they were seated around the hearth with cups of hot tea. The last time they’d seen their maternal great-uncle was at their mother’s funeral, so Kate gave him a brief summary of their situation, beginning
with the embezzled funds and ending with Henry Talisford’s death. Out of a desire to protect Meg, she said nothing of murder and the missing statue. Gabriel stood at the window, staring out at the garden, an unreadable expression on his face.
Uncle Nathaniel sorrowfully shook his head. “All the years I was in Italy, I had no notion of the hardships you girls were suffering.”
“Didn’t you receive our letters?” Meg asked.
He aimed a guilty, sidelong glance at her and Kate. “ ’Fraid I don’t bother with the mail these days. Too many dun notices.”
Kate hid her disappointment. Much as she loved him, Uncle Nathaniel was another undependable male, a gambler and a black sheep. It was a scandalous family secret that he lived off the largess of his mistresses.
“I’ll gladly give you all I have to my name.” Uncle Nathaniel rummaged in an inside pocket and withdrew a handful of coins. “Alas, ’tis only six pounds and a few shillings. ’Pon my word, I’ve had a run of bad luck at the tables. First night back in merry old England and I near lost the shirt off my back.”
Kate waved away the money. “We have enough to live on.”
“But I must take care of you now.” Uncle Nathaniel snapped his fingers. “I’ve a capital notion! You two shall return to Italy with me. Ah, the wine, the cuisine, the love in the air. ’Tis a paradise, indeed.”
“Do let’s go,” Meg said, clapping her hands. “Please, Kate. Italy would be a bigger adventure than going off with the traveling players.”
The prospect of seeing new sights and exploring ancient Roman ruins tempted Kate. How lovely to think of escaping their money woes, to travel the world... The trouble was, she couldn’t count on Uncle Nathaniel to provide for them. The last thing they needed was to be stranded in a foreign country without tuppence to rub between their fingers. “I’m afraid it’s impossible, dear,” she said gently. “Our home is here. There’s the book I intend to write, don’t forget.”
There was the statue to find, too. And in the process, she would bring her father’s murderer to justice. She glanced at Gabriel, but he was gazing out the window and her fierce look was wasted.
“You’re too young to tie yourself down,” Uncle Nathaniel said, helping himself to another slice of ginger cake. “A dear friend of mine, the Contessa di Sarona, would be delighted to have you as her houseguests.”
“An Italian contessa?” Meg breathed, her face alight with interest. “Do tell us more. Is she fabulously rich?”
“Meg!” Kate chided. “Don’t be impertinent.” She knew about her great-uncle’s friends. Clearly, the contessa was one of his paramours.
Uncle Nathaniel grinned. “Rich? Why, Elena wears enough diamonds to dazzle your eyes at midnight. She rides in a golden coach pulled by six white horses and lives in a villa on the shores of Lake Como. She always entertains dozens of visitors and surely wouldn’t mind two more—”
“I’m sure it’s all very pleasant,” Kate broke in, “but we shan’t invite ourselves to a stranger’s house. I was hoping you’d agree to stay here with us, Uncle. Only for a few years, until Meg reaches her majority.”
Nathaniel Babcock shifted uneasily in his seat. “But I was planning to go back to Italy. Soon as I can round up the funds.”
As soon as he could coax a rich widow into lending him money. But if Kate had her way, he would be changing his plans. “You’re our guardian now,” she said firmly. “You must do what is best for us. And that means staying here in Oxford.”
“I’m leaving, but you can’t remain in England alone,” Uncle Nathaniel averred. “Not with a ruffian on the loose. It wouldn’t be right.”
“They won’t be alone,” Gabriel said suddenly. Turning from the window, he flashed Kate a hard, calculating look. “They’ll go to a place where they’ll be safe. To my grandmother at Stokeford Abbey.”
His words hit Kate like a slap. She sat up straight, her fingers gripping her skirt. “We most certainly will not. Tell him, Uncle.”
A considering look on his face, Nathaniel Babcock rubbed his jaw. “Stokeford Abbey, eh? Fine estate, noble company, why ’tis the very place for two orphaned girls.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Meg said, stars shining in her eyes. “May I bring Jabbar?”
“Of course,” Gabriel said with a charming bow. “You’re all invited for an extended stay.”
Kate leapt to her feet. “No,” she said fiercely. “We’ve no connection to your family. Uncle Nathaniel is our guardian, not you.”
Smooth as a serpent, Gabriel turned to her great-uncle. “Henry asked me to provide for Kate and Meg. If it’s agreeable to you, of course.”
“’Pon my word, it’s more than agreeable,” Uncle Nathaniel said with alacrity. “I’ll be pleased to see Lucy again, too.”
Then, as Kate watched in horror, the two men shook hands to conclude their transfer of guardianship.
The Rosebuds
No wonder Gabriel was so autocratic, Kate thought disparagingly as she stepped out of the traveling coach two days later, a battered leather valise weighing on her arm. Any man who had grown up in such grandeur would think himself superior to ordinary folk.
Awed in spite of herself, she lifted her eyes to the massive, pillared front of Stokeford Abbey. Somehow, she had been expecting a simple country manor, not ... this. Painted by the setting sun, the ivy-covered stone and medieval archways bespoke an ancient, noble heritage. According to Gabriel, the house had been built around the ruins of an old monastery, a fact illustrated by the scores of vaulted windows that marched along the enormous façade. His childhood home was now the residence of his elder brother, Michael, the Marquess of Stokeford. The mansion reeked of wealth and privilege and breeding, a life utterly foreign to her humble upbringing.
Kate’s stomach curled. She and Meg didn’t belong among the aristocracy. She wanted to climb back into the coach and head straight for the familiar trappings of home.
But it was too late. They no longer had a home. The new occupants of Larkspur Cottage, an elderly couple who were fond of gardening, would have moved in today. And as loathsome as it was to let Gabriel dictate her life, she couldn’t risk another encounter with thieves. For her sister’s safety, Kate had relinquished their small, rented rooms in Oxford and boxed their belongings for storage here at the Abbey.
A white-wigged footman reached for the leather case. “May I, miss?”
She gripped the handle. “Thank you, but I prefer to carry it myself.”
Looking somewhat startled, the servant turned to help her sister down from the coach. At a loud hoot from Jabbar, the footman leapt back in alarm, the freckles standing out on his pale face.
Meg picked up the chimpanzee, gave the disconcerted young man a sunny smile, and then bounded toward Kate with unladylike haste. “Can you believe the magnificence of this place?” she whispered, her eyes shining. “It isn’t a house. It’s a palace! To think we’re going to live here.”
Before Kate could speak past the lump in her throat, Uncle Nathaniel ambled over to join them. “Yes, I do believe we’ll all be quite comfortable,” he said with a jaunty grin. “’Tis my duty to see my dear nieces properly settled.”
“May I remind you both, this move is only temporary,” Kate said in a low tone. “We’re a family, and we mustn’t be dependent on anyone else.” She looked pointedly at her great-uncle, but he didn’t look abashed in the least.
“Wait until you have a taste of luxury,” he said with a broad wink. “Then you’ll count yourself fortunate to have a wealthy benefactor.”
Kate pinched her lips together. It served no purpose to debate principles with her great-uncle. For the time being, she needed to reside here at the Abbey so that she could keep a watch on Gabriel.
Little did Meg and Uncle Nathaniel realize, the goddess had been another determining factor in her decision. Gabriel meant to leave her and Meg with his grandmother while he went off to reclaim the valuable artifact. But Kate had no intention of meekly submitting to such a
plan.
To put it simply, she didn’t trust the man. He might hide the statue, declare he hadn’t found it, and she’d be powerless to prove otherwise.
Her gaze veered across the courtyard to Gabriel’s tall form. He stood by the baggage cart, giving orders to several footmen, who sprang to unload the luggage. A groom was leading away his mount. Gabriel had ridden alongside their coach, which meant that every time she’d glanced out the window she’d been confronted by the sight of him. But at least she’d been spared his disturbing company.
He tossed his leather gloves to Ashraf. There was something vaguely sinister about the dour, dark-skinned valet in his long white robes. Kate wondered how much Ashraf knew about the statue. Where had he been on the night it was stolen? That was a question she intended to have answered.
Not for the first time, she was glad she’d taken the precaution of secreting her father’s journals in the heavy case she carried. She wouldn’t entrust them to Ashraf or Gabriel—or anyone else for that matter.
Then Gabriel pivoted, and his deep blue eyes met hers. A gust of wind ruffled his burnished, dark hair. His mouth curled into a half-smile as he caught her in the act of staring. Without breaking their eye contact, he strode straight toward her.
Warmth poured through her in a limb-weakening rush, a warmth she disdained. He looked exceptionally rakish today in a hunter-green coat, buckskin breeches, and black knee-high boots. If his bold manner weren’t enough, his scorn for cravats gave proof that a less-than-civilized man lurked behind those sun-bronzed features. She could imagine Gabriel tramping through mountains and deserts, living off the land and befriending primitive tribes, as her father had alluded to in his notebooks.
On the journey here to Devon, she’d had plenty of time to read Papa’s cramped penmanship. She had hoped to determine why her father had trusted Gabriel so implicitly. But Papa had mentioned his traveling companion only briefly. He had devoted the pages to scholarly accounts of native toolmaking and detailed descriptions of poking through ancient rubble. The text had been rather dry and scientific—until that final, chilling entry, made on the day before he’d died.