She blew a long breath and looked around. The room was far larger than her own and far more luxurious. There was something to be said for immense wealth. She moved to the bed and saw that nightclothes had been laid out for her. They no doubt belonged to the Lady Regina, who probably wasn’t at all pleased about the loan of them.
Gabriella changed quickly, extinguished the lamp, and climbed into bed. And stared unseeing at the ceiling.
Well, this hadn’t turned out as she had planned. The plan, as ill-conceived as it now appeared, was simply to find some sort of proof of the Harringtons’ involvement with the seal. Now, she had agreed to accept their assistance, and was furthermore installed in their home as a guest. Which, admittedly, could prove to her advantage.
She had not anticipated Lady Wyldewood’s response to her situation. Not her insistence that the family provide their help, and certainly not the countess’s intention to talk to her about her mother. In truth, she had thought the fact of that long ago friendship might well prove a valuable weapon to keep her out of the hands of the authorities. Lady Wyldewood surely wouldn’t have the daughter of an old friend arrested. It was the one thing Gabriella hadn’t revealed to Xerxes about tonight’s plot.
Admittedly, on occasion, she’d wondered about her mother. Who she had been and who her family was. The letters she’d found gave no clue, even though nearly all the notes were from her mother’s sisters. They were the kind of letters sisters wrote to one another, bits of gossip and that sort of thing. One mentioned a necklace her mother had apparently left in England. But while the letter from Lady Wyldewood had been on her stationary, in the letters from her mother’s sisters there were no surnames used, no addresses included, and no clue as to where these sisters might be found. Not that she cared beyond simple curiosity. Her jaw clenched. After all, they had had no interest in their sister’s only child, so why should she have any interest in them?
Gabriella closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. How different her life might have been if her aunts had taken her in after her father’s death. She would have grown up as a proper English lady in a proper English home, rather than the Gypsylike existence she had lived with Enrico. Not that she would have changed any of it, she amended quickly. Her years of traveling with her brother, sharing his work, had been the grandest of adventures. Still, it would be nice to feel one had a permanent place in the world. A home, a family, people who cared if you existed or not. She had lived in London for nearly a decade now yet still felt out of place. She did not belong here, not really, and there was nowhere she did belong.
She couldn’t help but wonder if her mother had lived whether she would be like Lady Wyldewood—kind, generous, and very nice. She rather hoped so, not that it made any difference now. It was pointless to consider what might have been. Her thoughts tonight, here in the dark, were probably attributable to seeing the bond shared by the countess and her family, and of no more significance than that. But if her mother hadn’t died or if her aunts had taken her in and she’d been raised as a proper English lady…
She would be the perfect match for Nathanial Harrington.
Where on earth had that come from? It was absurd. She huffed, rolled over and punched the pillow, then curled up and tried to push the annoying thought from her head. No doubt it was all his fine words that had made her think such a ridiculous thing in the first place. She had never wanted to be a proper English lady. She had accepted long ago that she would never be any man’s wife, let alone the wife of the son of a noble family. No matter what path Nathanial’s life took, he would always be the brother of an earl, and she was not part of that world. She simply did not belong and never would.
And if she had wondered, if only for an instant, when he’d held her in his arms to dance, how lovely it would be to dance with him always, it was a ridiculous notion. And if, when he had kissed her hand, she felt the oddest longing deep within her, if just for a second, for him to keep her hand in his forever, it was an absurd thought. And if, when he’d come so very close to kissing her tonight, she’d wanted him, if for no more than a moment, to truly kiss her, often and quite thoroughly, it was insanity and best forgotten.
No, Nathanial would be…well, he would be her partner in this quest, and when it was done, they would go on with their separate lives. Even if, at the moment, she had no idea what hers might entail and no plans beyond recovering the seal. She had more than enough time to decide her future when Enrico’s legacy was assured. Right now, that was all that was important and the only thing she wanted.
And in that last moment before sleep claimed her, when all rational thought had faded and dreams beckoned, the oddest thought drifted through her head. Just possibly Nathanial Harrington might well be all she’d ever wanted.
Five
There was indeed a servant waiting to escort her to breakfast. Gabriella wondered briefly if he had been outside her room all night, then discarded the idea. It made no difference, after all. She had no intention of leaving the house and had been far too tired to resume any kind of search last night.
No more than a minute or two after she climbed out of bed, a maid had appeared at her door bearing a fashionable dress and appropriate undergarments. No doubt these too were Lady Regina’s. The maid, a young woman named Edith, helped Gabriella dress. In spite of the look of curiosity in her eye as to who this stranger was who had taken up residence in the middle of the night, Edith was apparently too well trained to speak unless spoken to. And this morning Gabriella had no desire to explain herself again.
Morning sun flooded the elegant breakfast room. It was already half past nine, far later than Gabriella usually slept. Even so she found herself alone save for the butler—Andrews, if she recalled correctly—and a maid who was leaving as she arrived. Andrews filled her plate from an enticing array of dishes laid out on the sideboard and set it before her.
“Will there be anything else, miss?” the butler said, pouring her a cup of tea.
“No, thank you.” Gabriella stared at the heaping offering. There were kippers and kidneys, coddled eggs, bacon and toast, and far more than she was used to. “This will do, I think.”
“Very well, miss.”
She took a bite of the eggs and realized just how hungry she was. She had been too nervous last night to eat much of anything, and this was delicious. She finished half her plate before she realized she was eating entirely too quickly. In spite of concealing the true state of her finances, she wouldn’t want anyone to think she was starving.
“Mr. Andrews?” She glanced at the butler.
He had taken up his position beside the breakfast room door. “Just Andrews, miss.”
“Andrews, then.” She nodded. “I rarely sleep this late. Am I the last to come down for breakfast?”
“No, miss.”
“Oh.” Apparently he was also too well trained to offer information that had not been requested. “Who else is about this morning?”
“His lordship rides in the park every morning. Today, Master Nathanial joined him.”
“And Lady Wyldewood?”
“She has not yet come down.”
“And the others?”
“It was an exceptionally late evening, miss.” A hint of chastisement so vague she might have been mistaken sounded in his voice. “Neither Lady Regina nor Master Quinton have yet arisen.”
“I see.” Gabriella slathered some jam on a piece of toast. “Will they return soon? Lord Wyldewood and his brother, that is.”
“I cannot say, miss. However, Master Nathanial suggested you might enjoy waiting for his return in the library. The collection includes a great number of books regarding ancient civilizations he thought you might appreciate.” The butler paused. “He also requested that I remind you of your position here as a guest.”
“Tell him—” She bit back the words. Andrews was nothing more than a messenger, and it really wasn’t fair to take any annoyance triggered by Nathanial’s comments out on the butler. She forced a
pleasant smile. “I shall tell him myself.”
“As you wish, miss.”
Obviously, Master Nathanial had no intention of allowing her to forget for a moment that while she was to be considered a guest, she was certainly not to be trusted. Nor, if truth were told, could she blame him. If the circumstances were reversed—if he had been caught trying to find evidence of her wrongdoing in her own home—she would be hard-pressed to trust him.
She took a bite of her toast and considered exactly what she’d gotten herself into. She was now committed to searching for the seal with a man she didn’t trust who didn’t trust her. In that respect it did seem a fitting partnership. And admittedly, it would work to her advantage. While she was familiar with some of the older members of the Antiquities Society, as well as the director and his wife, she didn’t know those men who followed the same path as her brother had. Like Enrico, they were more likely to be found perched on the back of a camel or sleeping beneath the stars than on the streets of London. For most of them, their infrequent return to the seat of the civilized world was a chore to be avoided as long as possible. Necessary only to acquire funding or negotiate with museums or consult with scholars. Even though she’d spent a great deal of time in the society’s library, she had never so much as seen any of the men, save one, that her brother suspected of having the seal.
Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, as a man, Nathanial had entrée to places she did not, and could move about far more freely than she as well. It was at times like this that she longed for the days of her childhood when she had dressed as a boy and Enrico treated her as one. It could have gone on forever had her waist not narrowed and her chest blossomed, and had a young man not much older than she discovered that Enrico’s little brother was in truth his sister.
She brushed aside the faintest touch of regret. There was no point in looking backward. Life unfolded as it would, as it was meant to be. The ancients knew that. Even in the Bible it said there was a season for everything. Which didn’t mean, of course, that one should sit back and wait for life to happen. One needed to pursue one’s destiny. Even if one was female.
Gabriella finished her breakfast and a footman led her to the library. As irritating as it was to be accompanied everywhere, she had to admit, if grudgingly, that this was an exceptionally large house and she would have been lost if left to find her own way through its many twists and turns.
The footman opened the library door. She stepped inside and pulled up short. “My apologies, I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
A gentleman sitting behind the secretary’s desk rose to his feet. “Miss Montini, I presume?”
She walked toward him. “And you must be Mr. Dennison.”
The earl’s secretary was not especially handsome, yet not unattractive either. Rather, he was one of those unassuming men one might pass on the street and never notice. He nodded in a curt manner. “I have been instructed to give you whatever assistance you require.”
“How very accommodating of his lordship.”
Mr. Dennison pulled open the drawers on one side of his desk, then the other, and indicated them with a wave of his hand. “Perhaps you would like to go through my files? Again.”
Heat washed up her face and she ignored it. “A very thoughtful offer, Mr. Dennison, and most appreciated.”
“Would you care to look through the drawers of the earl’s desk, then?”
“I’m not sure at this point it’s necessary,” she murmured.
“It most certainly is not. I can assure you, Miss Montini, I am not aware of any correspondence, documentation, or anything else in reference to the Montini seal.”
She raised a brow. “The Montini seal?”
“That’s what Mr. Harrington called it.”
“I see.” The Montini seal. “Nathanial Harrington, you mean?”
“Of course.”
“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” she said under her breath. Apparently the man had meant it when he had assured her that credit for finding the seal would go to her brother. Again she wondered if Nathanial might be a far better man than she had expected.
“While I do handle all manner of paperwork for Mr. Harrington and his brother, as I was saying, I had never heard of this seal before this morning.” His eyes narrowed. He no longer appeared the least bit unassuming, but rather, looked very much like a man one would not want to cross. “However, you may certainly search through both desks, as well as anywhere else in the library.”
“That’s not necessary, Mr. Dennison,” she said in as contrite a manner as she could muster. It wouldn’t do to continue to irritate the earl’s secretary. He could prove an ally at some point. Although given the way he glared at her, that did not seem likely. “I wouldn’t dream of questioning your word.”
Mr. Dennison snorted in disdain. No, she and Mr. Dennison would probably not be friends.
“Now then, Miss Montini—”
A knock sounded at the door, and it opened without pause. Andrews stepped into the room and cast her an almost apologetic look. “Miss Montini, you have a—”
“Stand aside, my good man.” Florence prodded him out of her way with the umbrella she routinely carried—because one could never be too prepared—and stormed into the room. “Gabriella Montini, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Good morning, Florence?” Gabriella said weakly.
“It’s not the least bit good. It’s confusing and more than a little upsetting.” Florence’s gaze slid to the earl’s secretary. “And who are you?”
“Edward Dennison, miss.” Mr. Dennison drew himself up straighter. “Secretary to the Earl of Wyldewood.”
“Hmph.” Florence cast him a disdainful look, then turned back to her. “Gabriella, I insist you tell—”
“And you are?” Mr. Dennison cut in.
“I am Miss Florence Henry. Miss Montini’s com—”
“Friend,” Gabriella said quickly. “She is a very old and very dear friend. She has been so good as to allow me to live with her.”
Florence glared at her, then huffed. “Yes, I am her friend.” She fixed Gabriella with a firm look. “Now then, Gabriella, tell me what on earth is going on here.”
“What is going on, Miss Henry,” Mr. Dennison said coolly, “is that your friend was caught breaking into the house in the middle of the night like a common criminal.”
Gabriella winced.
Florence stepped toward Mr. Dennison like a lioness defending her cub. “I can scarcely believe that. Furthermore, Miss Montini is not now, nor has she ever been, a criminal of any sort, let alone common!”
“Florence…” Gabriella started.
Mr. Dennison crossed his arms over his chest. “Ask her for yourself, then.”
Florence glared at the secretary but directed her words to Gabriella. “Is what this man says true?”
“Didn’t I mention that in the note?” Gabriella said under her breath.
“You most certainly did not.” Florence continued to stare at Mr. Dennison. “Regardless of the inappropriate nature of her actions, I am certain she had good cause for her behavior.”
Mr. Dennison snorted. “Her criminal behavior, you mean.”
“Her necessary behavior to uncover the criminal activity of others!” Florence aimed her umbrella at him. “Activity you, no doubt, had a hand in!”
Gabriella leaned toward Andrews. “Perhaps you should send for help.”
“Before they kill one another, you mean?” Andrews shook his head. “Mr. Dennison is a gentleman, he’d never strike a lady.”
“I wasn’t worried about Mr. Dennison’s behavior but his safety,” Gabriella murmured. She should do something to stop this, but the sight of dear, mild-mannered Florence filled with fury directed at the heretofore unassuming Mr. Dennison was so unimaginable that she couldn’t seem to do more than stare.
Florence’s eyes narrowed. “You—”
Mr. Dennison glared. “You—”
“You are
the most sanctimonious man it has ever been my displeasure to meet! You, sir, are—are—” Florence raised her chin. “—no gentleman!”
Gabriella gasped. In Florence’s view of the world, not being a gentleman was the ultimate failing.
“And you,” Mr. Dennison’s eyes narrowed, “are probably the most overbearing and irritating female I have ever encountered.”
“I have never seen anyone so—so—” Florence shook her umbrella at him.
“And I have never seen…” Mr. Dennison grabbed the umbrella and, as Florence would never surrender her umbrella, her along with it. He stared down at her. “I have never seen…”
“What, Mr. Dennison?” Florence snapped. “What have you never seen?”
“I—” He huffed. “I don’t believe I have ever seen—” He squared his shoulders. “—eyes quite as remarkable as yours, Miss Henry.”
“Flattery, Mr. Dennison, will not win my favor,” Florence said in a lofty manner. “However, oddly enough, I was thinking the very same thing about your eyes.”
They stared at each other for a long moment as if there was no one else in the room. The initial tension between them changed abruptly, to something far more…intimate. It was distinctly uncomfortable.
At last Mr. Dennison drew a deep breath and released her umbrella. “Miss Henry.”
“Mr. Dennison,” Florence said coolly.
“You may wish to speak with Miss Montini privately, so I shall take my leave.” He paused. “Regretfully.”
“That would be most appreciated, Mr. Dennison.” The tiniest hint of a smile curved the corners of Florence’s lips. Gabriella wasn’t sure she had ever seen a smile like that from Florence. “And equally regretted.”
Good Lord, Florence was flirting!
Mr. Dennison flushed.
“I should need someone to escort me to my carriage when I am finished speaking with Miss Montini. If you would be so good as to return in a few minutes?”
The Virgin’s Secret Page 7