“I put eyes and ears out for Marie Fournier, but nothing has turned up. She had the foresight to dispose of her belongings from the hotel prior to trying to take my son, so I have little to go on.”
“You have the handkerchief she dropped at the zoological gardens,” Thea reminded him.
Longing throbbed, deeper than his wounds. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful and astute? His every fantasy come true—and now a reality he would never have.
Reaching into his pocket, he removed the item, placing it on the coffee table for all to see. The handkerchief was plain, white, of middling quality. The kind one might find for sale in any shop in the city. Nothing notable about it except the governess’ initials, “M. F.,” sewn in prominent blue thread at the center.
Kent examined the handkerchief. “It’s not much to go on, but I’ll ask around at a few shops. If you have the names of her references, I’ll follow up there as well; chances are, those, too, are false. Which leaves the explosion as the more viable lead. When I examined your carriage, I found remnants of a gunpowder cartridge attached to the underside. My guess is that the overturned cart was part of a diversion; while you were stopped, someone lit the fuse. Do you have any memory right before the blast?”
Gabriel focused on the minute or so before the explosion. The carriage slowing. Vegetables strewn across the path, the cart tipped over. People starting to mill around the scene. He’d put his hand on the door handle, intending to get out and investigate, but he’d paused because—
“A man. He walked past my door just as I was about to get out. He was dressed in working garb, had brown hair and average features.” Gabriel put himself back in time, back in the carriage when he’d glanced briefly at the passing stranger. Why had he looked, what had caught his notice…? Memory glimmered. “He had a limp. Favored his left leg.”
“It’s a start.” Kent closed his notebook. “When we question the witnesses, we’ll ask about a man with a limping gait. Perhaps someone will remember something.”
“What can I do? I’d like to help,” Thea said.
Her words stunned him, warmth flaring in his chest. The flame was extinguished in the next instant by unadulterated horror. His every muscle tensed in denial.
“You are not getting involved,” he stated.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m already involved. I foiled Freddy’s kidnapping, after all. Who is to say that I can’t be helpful in this instance?”
Aware of their audience, Gabriel strove to hold onto his control. No way in hell would he let his noxious history touch her. Time to nip this in the bud.
“This is a dangerous affair. A woman has no place in it,” he said firmly.
“But a woman is involved. Lady Blackwood is a suspect.” She canted her head. “Actually, at her ball, she was quite friendly to me. I could call upon her, use the opportunity to investigate—”
“Out of the question,” he growled.
“Tremont’s right, Thea.” Her brother, thank God, had the sense to back him up. “This is too dangerous for you.”
“Emma works with you. She’s in dangerous situations all the time,” Thea pointed out.
The duchess cleared her throat. “That’s not entirely true. I do help with cases, yes, but not the ones involving physical peril.”
Thea’s eyes narrowed. “You helped to find Strathaven’s would-be murderer.”
“In that instance, I had no choice. His life was in danger,” her sister said earnestly. “I couldn’t stand by and watch the man I love come to harm.”
Strathaven put an arm around his wife’s shoulders.
Thea folded her arms beneath her bosom. “Then you’ll understand why I can’t bear to see the man I care about get killed.”
Her declaration struck the room into silence. A rush filled Gabriel’s ears, his heartbeat spinning into an exhilarated rhythm. She cared… about him?
She doesn’t know all your dark secrets. All that you’ve done and what you are, his inner voice whispered. She’s too bloody innocent to recognize the beast inside you.
Seeing the glances being exchanged around the room, he knew he had to act. To protect Thea from a future of disillusionment and pain. Whatever it took, he had to head this off at the pass.
“Your concern over a guest is a testament to your kindness, Miss Kent,” he said with chilly civility, “but, I assure you, unnecessary. I have everything in hand.”
She stared at him. “Concern over a guest? That is how you characterize our relationship?”
“How else would I characterize it?” he said tonelessly. “Your hospitality to me and my son do you credit, but the last thing I need is an interfering female. Especially one with a delicate constitution.”
A coral flush spread over her cheeks. “Damn you, Tremont.”
He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d slapped him in the face. The Thea he knew never used anything but gentle language. She surged to her feet, and all the men hastily followed, himself included. Even though he towered over her, he was the one held captive—by a slender princess with honeyed hair and golden fire in her eyes.
“If you think for one second that I’m going to let you face this danger alone, then you don’t know me at all.” Her voice trembled not with fear but… anger? “For the last time, I am not delicate. Play hot and cold if you wish, but I am not going to stand by wringing my hands, waiting for you to get killed.”
Her hands clenched in elegant little fists, she walked out of the room.
Well… damn. He suddenly had trouble breathing. Beneath his jacket, he’d gone rock-hard, arousal rushing through his veins.
“He has a point,” Kent muttered to the room in general. “It isn’t safe for Thea.”
“Wouldn’t want my wife Annabel mixed up in such business,” McLeod agreed with masculine sympathy. “Ladies have no place in murder and mayhem.”
Mrs. Kent rose, her skirts swishing. “We ladies should make ourselves useful, then, don’t you think, Emma?” she said in saccharine tones. “We could, for instance, check on the housekeeping or do some embroidery.”
“Or we could just wring hands with Thea,” Her Grace said.
As the two swept out of the room, Strathaven muttered, “God help us, gentlemen. Prepare yourselves for battle—on more than one front.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I didn’t mean to lose my temper,” Thea said as she let Emma and Marianne into her bedchamber.
“You had every right. Tremont was being quite boorish,” Emma declared.
The understanding in her sister’s eyes caused a threatening prickle behind Thea’s own. Emma might be overprotective, but she could always be counted on to take one’s side.
Thea refused to give into tears. “I am not as delicate as he believes.”
Surveying the chamber, Marianne chose the chair at the vanity, her skirts draping gracefully as she sat. “All considering, I think your sensibilities are proving rather hardy. I daresay not every lady would handle the news of Tremont’s past with such equanimity.”
Em sat on the bed and patted the coverlet beside her.
Curling up next to her sister, Thea admitted, “It is shocking. But also not altogether surprising, if that makes any sense.”
As difficult as it was to conceive that Gabriel had been involved in espionage, it also sort of... fit. In some ways, she felt relieved because now things made more sense. His carefully controlled façade, the restless power beneath. Why he guarded his passions and secrets so tightly. Recalling the way he’d dispatched Rathburn and his deadly accuracy with darts, she wondered what other hidden skills he possessed.
She didn’t find the notion so much disturbing as intriguing. His aura of enigma, of potent self-containment, had always fascinated her. The discovery that he’d done his duty for his country added to her admiration of him. There were so many layers to his complexity, and she wanted to peel them back, one by one, to get to the true heart of him. To the powerful lover in the ca
rriage and the tender suitor in the billiards room.
Dash it all… I’m falling in love with him.
Unfortunately, the tingling revelation was dampened by a healthy dose of annoyance. Why did she have to love a man who’d rejected her time and again? Who couldn’t seem to make up his mind about her?
Emma pursed her lips. “The shoe does sort of fit, doesn’t it? Spies must be rather cold-blooded to do their work, and I’ve always thought that Tremont was a bit of an iceberg.”
“Only insofar as he has hidden depths beneath the surface.” Despite her irritation with Gabriel, Thea jumped to defend him. “He might not wear his emotions upon his sleeve, but he is a man of deep feeling. I wouldn’t care about him otherwise.”
“Does he returns your affection, my dear?” Marianne said gently.
“We came to an understanding the night of the masquerade.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “At least, I thought we did.”
Emma’s gaze narrowed. “Did Tremont take advantage of you?”
“No. In fact, one might say the opposite occurred,” she said truthfully. “I may have taken advantage of him.”
Her sister’s brows inched upward.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” Marianne said. “Has Tremont proposed?”
“Before he was attacked, he said he wanted to discuss our future. Now he’s acting as if we’re no more than polite acquaintances.” Her frustration bubbled over. “From the start, he hasn’t been able to make his mind up about me, and it hurts. One minute he wants me, the next he’s pushing me away.”
“Most aggravating,” her sister-in-law agreed. “Although, in this instance, I do believe he’s trying to do the noble thing and protect you from his past.”
“I don’t care about his past. I care about him.”
Emma sighed. “Then I suppose we’d best put our heads together and get him out of this mess.” She wrinkled her nose. “Despite assertions to the contrary, I’ve personally found that the female perspective always comes in handy during investigations. Especially when one of the suspects is a woman.”
“And all the suspects are members of the ton—of which I am an expert,” Marianne added.
Thea had never loved the other two more. “What do you know about Lady Blackwood, Marianne?”
“As a matter of fact, Pandora does have rather mysterious beginnings.” A line formed between Marianne’s brows. “As I recall, she showed up in Society about a dozen years ago, claiming to be the daughter of one Henry Hudson. Hudson had held a minor title and been an adventurous sort—you know, the kind who lives abroad, digging up things. As far as anyone knew, he and his wife Flora had died during an expedition years ago. No one knew they had a child, but apparently Pandora had been raised at a finishing school on the Continent all these years. She furnished proof that she was indeed the Hudsons’ legitimate offspring and, as it happened, the last remaining member of that family.”
“How can you keep all that in your head?” Thea said, amazed. “You’re like a walking copy of Debrett’s.”
Lips curved, her sister-in-law continued relating the facts. “Within weeks of her return to England, Pandora met and married Blackwood. Theirs was a whirlwind courtship, but Society was willing to overlook it due to Blackwood’s status and position in the ton. Nonetheless, there were whispers about his impetuousness—especially when his heir arrived a scant eight months after the wedding.”
Thea recalled the genuine affection she’d witnessed between the Blackwoods. She bit her lip. “Do you think Lord Blackwood has any inkling that his wife was a spy?”
“I doubt it,” Marianne said. “He is an honorable gentleman and a military man to boot. Such knowledge would not sit well with him.”
“And if Lady Blackwood were indeed a double agent? What would happen to her marriage… and her family?” Thea’s throat constricted. “She told me she has three young boys.”
Marianne’s expression turned somber. “It is a disquieting notion, certainly.”
Thea’s instincts balked at the idea that Lady Blackwood was evil. “At the masquerade, she was so kind to me. And she was clearly in love with her husband.”
“According to Tremont, the lady has a talent for deception,” Marianne said.
“As a spy, I imagine that skill was necessary for survival,” Thea said. “She—and Tremont, for that matter—performed a great service for our country. They risked life and limb whilst the rest of us slept easy in our beds. And they did so knowing that their valiant efforts would never see the light of day. To me, that makes them heroes.”
“You have a point, and yet I fear you underestimate how the business of espionage might shape a person. You don’t know what Pandora Blackwood is capable of.” Marianne paused. “Or Tremont, for that matter.”
Thea stiffened. “What are you implying?”
“No need to get your back up, dear. I’m not trying to impugn your marquess’ character. But I do think he may have certain complexities at odds with your own optimistic view of the world.”
“I’m not a foolish miss,” she protested.
“No, you are a Kent,” Marianne said gently, “which means you have a good and loyal heart. I do not wish to see it broken.”
Irritation scuttled through Thea. “Why does everyone think I’m fragile? Doesn’t anyone see that my health has improved? I’m not as weak and useless as I used to be.”
Frowning, her sister said, “Who said you were weak and useless?”
“I know I was once the runt of the litter. But I’m stronger now, and I can help Tremont—”
“You’re not a runt. How could you think that?” Emma sounded genuinely surprised. “Dearest girl, you’re the rock of the family.”
She blinked. “I’m not the rock. You are.”
“According to Strathaven, I do have the impact of a boulder when I’m after something,” Emma said with a rueful grin, “but when it comes to being the stabilizing presence in our family—that is your role, Thea. It always has been.”
“No it hasn’t. I’m the sickly one,” she said, bewildered. “You’re always worried about my lungs, my health… ”
“Is this your way of saying that I’m too overbearing?”
“You are especially protective of me. And not without reason.” Thea’s throat worked. “I know my constitution is not as robust as everyone else’s.”
“If I’m overprotective, it’s a habit from when you were a little girl. In truth, it says more about me than it does about you.” Sighing, Emma said, “I am trying to be less managing.”
“You are caring, loving, and no one could ask for a better sister,” Thea said.
“And you, my dear, are even-tempered, kind, and the fulcrum of family peace—just like Mama was.” Em’s voice grew wistful. “She rarely took sides and saw the best in everyone.”
It stunned Thea that Emma saw her this way. “I always thought you were the one most like Mama. You’re so practical and industrious. When times were lean, you made sure we had food on the table, kept us clean and clothed. We survived because of you.”
“And thrived because of you. You never complained about anything and set an example for us all.” Emma’s head tipped to one side. “Remember the year we spent Christmas in the schoolhouse?”
Frost melted from a window of the past. Thea saw that long ago day clearly.
“You’d stretched that cheese and loaf of bread as far as anyone could, even giving up your share,” she said in soft tones, “but the younger ones were still so hungry. I can still remember Vi’s stomach rumbling.”
“The only thing louder was Violet herself.” Emma shook her head in fond reminiscence. “The way she was carrying on you’d think she hadn’t eaten for weeks. She got Polly and Harry going too, and soon they were caterwauling about everything, from the lack of plum pudding to the dearth of presents that year. Christmas might have been ruined entirely if you hadn’t remembered the keys.”
“Keys?” Marianne asked.
; “To the schoolhouse. Papa had just been dismissed from his position as the schoolmaster because of his illness,” Thea explained, “but I remembered he had a set of spare keys—”
“And she convinced everyone to bundle up and tromp through the snow to the schoolhouse,” Emma reminisced. “There was a pianoforte there, and Thea played Christmas hymns for us all night. Everyone sang along, laughing, forgetting everything but being together.”
Thea smiled. “It turned out to be a fine Christmas after all, didn’t it?”
“Thanks to you. Which is why you must never doubt your strength,” her sister said.
“Emma has a point.” Her expression thoughtful, Marianne said, “Moreover, Tremont’s concern about your being ‘delicate’ may say more about him than you. For instance, what do you know about his first marriage?”
Only that it was perfect.
“From what little Tremont has said, Lady Sylvia was the ideal wife and mother,” Thea said with a pang. “They were very happy, I think.”
How can I compare with such a paragon? Her throat constricted. If the true source of his reservation was his devotion to his dead wife, then Thea could never win his heart. It was ironic, really. Because what she loved about him—the driven intensity of his passion—might be the very thing that kept them apart.
“Your description matches the on dit about Lady Sylvia. From everything I’ve heard, she was the epitome of female virtue. The fact that Tremont has never remarried or taken a lover adds a special shine to her halo.” Marianne cleared her throat. “You do know how she died?”
“Yes, in childbirth.” The moment Thea said it, the realization struck her. “Goodness. Do you think that is why he’s so concerned about my delicate health?”
“That is a question for him, my dear,” Marianne said.
Resolution rooted in Thea. Whatever his reasons, she was tired of being led back and forth like a toy on a string. She was a rock, according to her sister; from here on in, she would lay the foundation for her own future.
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