“How curious.” Maurice didn’t blink. “That’s exactly what I was going to say to you.”
Gabriel stared back, wordless. Tension surrounded him, invaded him, but he wouldn’t blink. He wouldn’t move an inch. Lord Maurice was king of London, yes—but this was not London.
“Don’t you dare—” He stopped, annoyed. A firm, brisk knock had sounded on the door of the study.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Oh! Forgive me. Am I interrupting something?” The door swung open, leaving both men blinking as Caroline walked into the room. “Good Lord. What a frightful atmosphere. But, then, I suppose this isn’t the type of work one does in a meadow. Bryce was going to come up and disturb you, but seeing as he’s drowning under a mountain of dustsheets I thought I’d relieve him of a task. Of course, there’ll be the kitchen garden to weed afterwards, but I imagine there’s a pair of gloves somewhere in this—”
“Caroline.” Gabriel tried to speak gently, acutely aware of Maurice’s open mouth. The man looked as if he’d been struck. “Perhaps you could tell us why you’re here?”
“Lunch. Slim pickings, given that we can only use what’s here, but apparently Bryce can work miracles.” Caroline smiled at Maurice with a sunniness seemingly designed to irritate. “I must say, your brother has excellent taste when it comes to—”
“No. No lunch.” Maurice looked back down at his papers, his expression inscrutable. “Work.”
“Oh, well. All the more for us.” Caroline looked at Gabriel, her glance full of sly amusement. “Perhaps we could bring up a tray?”
“I fear it would be a waste of food. And, perhaps, a waste of consideration.” Gabriel looked back at Maurice, who raised a single eyebrow in response. “I will join you shortly. Please go before you begin to cough.”
“Oh, now. I’m sure my delicate lungs will survive.” Caroline moved closer to the wall, looking at the pinned papers with a rapt, appreciative eye. “I see you found Sussex’s club expenses. Those must have been taxing to acquire. Did you know that he frequents the Broken Rook, on occasion? I’m sure there must be at least one woman there with a story to tell.”
“Investigated. To no end.” Maurice sounded oddly dazed. Gabriel knew his own confusion would be written on his face—apparently Caroline kept up with more London correspondence than he did. “All he does is play whist and sleep in corners.”
“I can imagine. An atrociously dull man, all told.” Caroline shrugged. “His wife is just as tedious. Always hinting at her husband’s secret goings-on, working for the Crown... I mean, such nonsense. The only incident of any note connected to the Sussex title was the Madingley Diamond Affair, and she did nothing but leave her jewellery box open at the wrong time. At least, from what I’ve heard.”
“Excuse me?” Gabriel tried not to sound completely out his depth, but Caroline’s sympathetic gaze told him he had failed. “The Madingley Diamond Affair?”
Maurice pointed to a seemingly nondescript paper half hidden under a pile of near-identical documents. “Storm in a teacup. Investigated. Not that there was much to investigate. Eleven years ago, now—a fair quantity of jewellery stolen during a country house weekend, including the Madingley diamond necklace. An old Sussex heirloom.”
“The poor woman was distraught. It was quite the story back then.” Caroline bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have spoken so badly, I know—but my goodness, even in the depths of despair she managed to inform all of us girls that only the best men would be investigating. Graves and Holcombe, I think. The ones that found the Duke of Morcombe’s statue two years ago. She must have repeated their names ten times in a two-minute conversation.”
“You’re mistaken. Or she was.” Maurice gestured at another pile of papers. “Graves and Holcombe report to me. They’ve never been hired by Sussex—I’ve been given every record they’ve kept. The other twenty detectives of any note in London have never been hired by him either. He must have chosen someone cheaper.”
“Oh.” Caroline stood, hands clasped, seemingly lost in thought. Gabriel noted an unusual quality to her silence, an edge of deep concentration. “Oh...no. No, I am not mistaken. I remember it so well. Graves and Holcombe. Those were the names.”
Another period of silence. Gabriel looked at his sister, then at Maurice, wondering when was the last time he’d felt so dramatically out of place. Both seemed to be thinking, staring at one another but not seeing one another...
“That’s it.” Caroline’s eyes were ablaze. “Yes!”
“He never hired anyone at all.” Maurice grabbed another piece of paper, scribbling fast. “Because what was reported as a crime—”
“—was something very different. A gift to someone. A woman.” Caroline reached up, gently tracing the words of a document with her fingers. “But he wouldn’t have given her the necklace as it was, of course. Too recognisable.”
“Yes. That’s a start. A thread to pull, even if it’s thin.” Maurice strode over to a pile of papers in the corner of the room, gripping one in his fist. “Only the best would have been able to take that necklace apart without breaking it. Marsley, no doubt. I can write and enquire—threaten, really, Lord knows his wife wouldn’t want to hear about the pleasure house in Covent Garden he attends...he’d remember Sussex, or at least the necklace...”
Gabriel jumped as Caroline gently took his hand. Putting a finger to her lips, she backed slowly out of the room. As Gabriel stood blinking in the corridor, fresh air filling his nostrils, Caroline gently closed the door of the study—leaving Maurice talking to empty air.
“I’m famished. And I believe we would only irritate him.” She ran ahead, leaving Gabriel struggling to match her pace. “I must say, parts of this are almost enjoyable. Quite the adventure.”
Quite the adventure. Gabriel’s mind filled with Edward saying the same words, full of bleak melancholy. Caroline and Maurice meant well, of course, but in the rush of solving the mystery—the plot of which seemed to keep thickening with every passing moment—they seemed to be forgetting the man at its heart.
But then, people did forget other people. Sometimes his job seemed less of a mediator between God and man, and more a gentle reminder to man that other men existed and needed helping. A sort of chief Rememberer, to take on the difficult, often thankless task of recollecting that there were other people in the world.
Right now, remembering Edward for all these years seemed utterly stupid. Edward, for all his delicious charm, didn’t seem to truly remember him at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Gabriel.” Caroline’s voice, ever patient, hovered on the edge of his concentration. “Come back to me. There are things to do around the house, you know.”
“Of course.” Gabriel smiled. There was always, always something to do, a never-ending list, and none of the tasks would help him forget the feel of Edward in his arms last night. The bitter tone of his voice as he’d sent him away.
“Do you still feel weak? Feverish? The doctor told me it looked very bad.”
“No. Really. I do wish you’d stop worrying about me.”
Caroline halted in the middle of the corridor, a small line appearing between her brows. She looked from side to side, as if assuring that no one was listening, before replying in hushed tones.
“I worry about you. I’ve always worried about you, ever since we were small.” She smiled, but Gabriel could see the sadness in her eyes. “Call it sisterly duty. I consider it more of a privilege, albeit a taxing one.”
“But have I ever given you cause for real concern? Really?” Gabriel reached for his sister’s hand, squeezing it tight, trying to shake off the cloud of obscure guilt that her work provoked. “I know that the Church isn’t the—the most prestigious of careers, but surely you—”
“Your prestige or lack of it makes no difference to me whatsoever. It never has.” Caroline paused, her face full
of a concern that Gabriel hadn’t seen in a very long time. “How can you think that of me? Have I ever questioned the choices you’ve made, the path you took? Even when you took every liberty in questioning mine?”
Gabriel stood in front of her, helplessly remembering the arguments they’d had over Lord Ploverdale’s proposal of marriage. He’d judged Caroline harshly; he knew that now. Judged her for making a rational choice, one that would keep a roof over her head. “I... I am more sorry than you can imagine.”
“I had already forgiven you for it.” Caroline softly shook her head. “Marriage for love is a wonderful thing, brother, but it is something of a luxury. We could afford luxuries in childhood. Not now.”
There was a queer significance to her final words. Gabriel stared at her, his stomach dropping as understanding dawned. “I... I’m not entirely sure what...”
“I think you are.” Caroline gripped Gabriel’s hand, her voice full of love and concern in equal measure. “Forgive me, brother. No doubt this is indelicate, or unseemly, or something that women simply don’t speak of. But...did you really think I didn’t know about your...your inclinations?”
Gabriel blinked. He’d been so consumed with how to best conceal his inclinations that a conversation like this one had seemed impossible. He’d never come up with a convincing lie—and certainly couldn’t come up with one now, face to face with his sister.
In the end, Caroline’s own honesty compelled his own. “How?”
“In all our years of sibling-hood, you have never once expressed a liking for a woman. Not once. This was unusual enough, to a curious child...and then one rainy afternoon, I decided to explore what was under the dust sheets in the library.” Caroline bit back a smile. “I found all those Italian and French volumes that you’d squirrelled out of the main collection.”
Gabriel opened his mouth, attempting to make a sound, but was unsuccessful. He silently thanked God, right then and there, that he wasn’t a blushing man.
“They were...illuminating.” Caroline stifled a giggle. “Some of the illustrations seemed exaggerated, to put it mildly. But it did add depths to my understanding.” She shook her head, smiling. “The nature of their contents ensured my silence, even before I knew that there was anything to be silent about. So we went along as we had before, except that I understood a little more about why you never courted anyone.”
“And...and you didn’t hate me. You didn’t cast me out, even though it is a sin.” Gabriel kept her hand gripped tight, half afraid that she would run away. “A crime.”
Caroline snorted. “What crime? Owning a book? Thinking a thought? If we were all brought before judges for thoughts, no doubt we would all be hanged twice over. You are a fine vicar, a fine man...your conduct has been completely without reproach, in all the years we’ve shared. No doubt that will continue.”
There it was again, that strange, significant note of warning. A small spear of panic lodged in Gabriel’s throat. She couldn’t know...she’d only just arrived...
“We will not discuss this directly.” Caroline’s voice dropped to a whisper. She glanced at the drawing-room door, as if to ensure that no one was listening. “I know that would cause you pain, and me no insignificant embarrassment...all I ask is that you remember what is a necessity, and what is a luxury. Having...an attachment to someone desperately unsuitable, someone infamously inconstant that would only devastate you, is a luxury none of us can afford. Especially if it could lead to public condemnation, or public ruin.”
“Caroline, I—”
“Please. Let me speak.” Caroline leaned closer, her voice low and anxious. “I do not say this for myself. I say it for you, to help you remember who you are, and who we are, and what we both have lost. What you always told me, when I was younger. Do not trust men like him.”
Gabriel kept Caroline’s hand in his, stroking it, trying to bring back the carefree Caroline of mere minutes ago. “I... I would do nothing to harm you, or bring shame upon you. Believe me.”
“I do believe you. I know you would never harm me. Alas, your care never extends to yourself.” Caroline smiled bravely, pulling her hand away from Gabriel’s grip. “I can’t have you heartbroken. It would be worse than breaking my own. Be careful.”
How could he refuse a request from his own sister, whose eyes were more beseeching than those of the cat? “I will be.”
“Good.” Caroline began walking. “Now come along. We must write a letter to Carstairs informing him of his duties, and there are probably a great quantity of poultice herbs hidden in the kitchen garden if we are allowed to enter it.”
Hidden. Gabriel turned back towards the morning room. “I forgot to inform Lord Maurice. I saw someone on the drive this morning. A child.”
“A child can be discounted, I think.” Caroline clicked her tongue. “A great swarm of them find their way to the apple orchard here every autumn, after all. He was probably attracted by the coaches. Did he see you?”
Gabriel remembered the boy’s pinched, shrewish face. “I don’t think so.”
“Then good. We very probably have nothing whatsoever to worry about.” Caroline looked at Gabriel, a shade of her former concern in her eyes. “Do we?”
“No.” Gabriel tried to drive away all thoughts of Edward, warm and yielding under his hands. “Nothing whatsoever.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The day wore on busily, the house bustling with activity. The morning room rustled with paper, the garden buzzed and hummed with bees as well as Caroline’s enthusiastic weeding. Within the high walls that protected the back half of the house from prying eyes, the house shone with a spark of life that it hadn’t seen in at least a decade.
Most of the house, that is. As the afternoon wore on, the bedroom housing Edward acquired the glassy stillness of a museum after dark.
Edward sat hunched against the wall, for all the world as if the richly decorated room were a prison cell. Every so often his eyes darted to the sunlit window, then back to the wall in front of him.
What the hell was he meant to do with himself? He’d tidied every object in his room three times over, and played with the kitten until it had given him a decisive bite on the wrist. He’d gone down to the kitchen to help Bryce, only to be angrily waved away with a dishcloth. He’d even entertained the idea of helping to garden, albeit briefly, but Maurice had been very clear that he should stay inside...and the slightly aggressive way in which Lady Ploverdale had been stabbing her trowel into the soil couldn’t help but make him a touch uneasy.
What on earth did he do in London? Smoke, drink, gossip, gamble, or...well. Something else.
Something that brought Gabriel irresistibly to mind.
Gabriel wouldn’t be frittering his day away. The man would have found at least seventeen undeniably useful things to do. Perhaps things that involved taking his shirt off, or getting wet, or being out of breath...
His lip curled into a decidedly predatory smile.
He could chalk the previous night up to an attack of nerves, something that had never happened before, and never would again. He would stalk down the stairs right now, a tiger in his prime, and bring Gabriel back to his bed with nothing more than a well-chosen word.
Just as soon as he could stop his mind from flinching whenever he heard a slamming door or footsteps. The ghosts were present, even in daylight.
“Come on.” He spoke sharply to himself, forcing his unwilling muscles to move. “Up, damn you. Up.”
He stood with a sudden rush, looking askance at the window. For a moment he was sure he saw something racing through the flowerbed—a large dog, perhaps, or a child—but before he could look properly, the figure had vanished.
Turning away, he headed for the door. If he’d begun seeing things, then he really was in trouble.
* * *
It didn’t take long to find Gabriel. All he had to do wa
s follow the sounds of work, of heavy lifting, scraping furniture, and the occasional muffled sigh of exhaustion. He was in the library, moving piles of books with the easy grace of someone used to hard labour, clearing away a bare patch of wall.
For a long moment, all he could do was stand and simply look at the man. Years of work had left Gabriel’s body tightly toned, massive, his towering frame sculpted into a harsh beauty a thousand times more compelling than the pale prettiness of London gentlemen. A thin sheen of sweat covered Gabriel’s body as he moved, his curls damp, his hands unexpectedly tender as he moved the more delicate books aside.
He looked noble. More noble than any man Edward had ever seen. But more than that, he looked...
Beautiful. Edward felt the word running through him, fixing the image of Gabriel in his mind. So, so beautiful.
As if he’d heard the thought, Gabriel turned. They stared at one another warily, Gabriel’s dark eyes burning as he looked Edward up and down.
“I noticed these books were out of sequence. Smelled mouldy, too.” He shrugged, apologetic. “Given as I have no tasks here, and everyone else seemed occupied...”
“Of course.” Edward nodded, suddenly acutely unsure of himself. “Do what you like.” Vaguely aware of needing to say something else instead of simply staring slack-jawed, he gestured to the books. “How many have been lost to mould?”
“Not many. Most are salvageable.” Gabriel smiled, and Edward felt his knees weaken. “Come and help. I’ve got two more shelves to inspect.”
In another place, with another man, Edward knew that his well-oiled seduction technique would be slipping faultlessly into place. Here, however, with Gabriel...well, he appeared to be picking up a large pile of books, briefly staggering under their weight, and beginning to inspect them for mould.
The Vicar and the Rake (Society of Beasts) Page 10