The Virgin’s Secret

by Victoria Alexander

  “That is a discussion for another time.” His mother’s firm gaze slipped from Quinton to Sterling and then to Nate, no doubt simply for good measure, as he had yet to join in. “I do not wish to open that particular kettle of fish tonight.”

  It was a ongoing debate within the Harrington household, as well as among scholars and, God help them all, politicians, and it was certainly not new. The continuing question as to whether the treasures of antiquity should be saved by foreigners spiriting away artifacts to institutions far from their point of origin or whether such activity constituted theft of a nation’s heritage had been a topic in this house for as long as Nate could remember.

  Influenced by intellectual scholarly articles or something as simple as a conversation on a train, current members of the family switched sides of the debate nearly as often as it lifted its head. All except Reggie, of course, who thought it was dreadfully boring and couldn’t they talk about something else for a change? Mother had often said the ease with which they all changed their minds and the passion with which they then pursued their new positions had nothing to do with the issue itself, but with their love of a good argument.

  Better to argue about something they could do little about, Nate thought, rather than Sterling’s continuing failure to find a new wife, or Quint’s disregard for anything that smacked of proper behavior, or his own…well, whichever flaw of his was uppermost in the others’ minds at the moment.

  Mother turned to Gabriella. “This particular discussion has been raging in this household for generations.”

  “A philosophical matter of debate.” Regina rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “That’s what they call it.”

  Mother cast her a chastising look, then continued. “My late husband, Charles, said even in his own childhood the question of Britain’s possession of the Elgin marbles had been a subject of heated debate around this very table.”

  “Said discussion no doubt prompted by our great-grandparents’ search for lost gold in Egypt.” Nate leaned toward Gabriella. “As we understand it, it was quite an adventure, with kidnappings and murderous suitors and that sort of thing.”

  “It sounds most exciting,” she murmured.

  Nate wasn’t sure if she was bored by his family’s less than perfectly proper demeanor at the dinner table or overwhelmed. It would not have surprised him. Aside from her brothers, she was apparently alone in the world.

  “Regardless,” Quint continued, returning to the topic at hand, “one would think if countries were truly concerned about the loss of their artifacts, they would make it more difficult to spirit them across borders. Hire civil servants perhaps who did not see bribery as an expected portion of their incomes.”

  Mother winced. “That is a problem.”

  “It’s simply the way things work in much of the world,” Nate said. “A necessary evil, if you will.”

  Gabriella choked back what sounded like a gasp but was probably just a cough.

  “But rest assured, Mother,” Quint said. “Nate is keeping me within the confines of legality as well as upright behavior.”

  “And I am most grateful to him,” she replied. “It eases my mind to know that your brother is watching you.”

  Nate scoffed. “I scarcely watch him, Mother.”

  “Watch over him then,” she continued. “I know Quinton is the older brother and should be the one watching over you—”

  Quint cast her his most unrepentant grin.

  “—but his nature is not conducive to responsibility of that sort.”

  Quinton laughed. “Or responsibility of any sort.”

  She fixed her middle son with a firm look. “I am confident that will change someday.”

  Reggie snorted in a most unladylike manner.

  Mother sighed. “I had once thought my youngest sons would become scholars like their father.”

  “Like Father?” Sterling smiled. “Father was scarcely more than an amateur scholar, Mother. And there was no one more delighted than he when Quinton first abandoned the path of scholarly pursuit to accompany Professor Ashworth on his journeys. And delighted too when Nathanial joined him.”

  “It was the adventure, you understand,” his mother said to Gabriella. “I suspect my husband always rather longed for adventure. It was different, you know, in the past. Charles grew up on stories of the Earls of Wyldewood and their exploits.” She glanced at Sterling in a speculative manner. “Today, the earl has little opportunity to chase smugglers or battle pirates or rescue fair maidens.”

  “However, I keep myself busy,” Sterling said mildly.

  His mother considered her two youngest sons. “At best, this is a questionable business you are engaged in. And, I suspect, often dangerous and certainly disreputable on occasion.”

  “Can’t be helped, Mother,” Nate said.

  “It certainly has its moments.” Quint chuckled and turned toward Gabriella. “That’s something your brother no doubt well understood, Miss Montini.”

  Nate would have kicked him under the table if he could have reached. The last thing he wanted was a discussion of Enrico Montini.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said.

  “He understood that there was a fine line between a discovery and a theft. A lauded archeologist or a thief.” Quint shrugged. “Enrico Montini was certainly not above doing whatever was necessary to acquire what he wanted. He understood that deceit, illegalities, ignoring moral standards, and so forth are often necessary to achieve the ultimate goal.”

  “In that we all understand as much,” Nate said quickly, and cast his brother a warning glance, “that’s what he meant.”

  “Yes.” Quint took a sip of his wine. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Has there been any word from your brother, Gabriella?” His mother turned to Gabriella, thankfully changing the subject. “The one Nathanial met in Egypt. What was his name?”

  “Antonio,” Gabriella said.

  “Ah.” Mother nodded. “Named for your father then.”

  “Yes and no, I have not heard from him. But he has never been good about that sort of thing.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow we can talk about your mother.” Mother smiled. “And her family.”

  “Lady Wyldewood, while I would like to know something of my mother, as I understand it, her family had no use for her, nor for me. Besides, I suspect we will be rather busy for the next few days.” Gabriella’s tone was polite, but Nate had the distinct impression she wished to avoid that particular chat. “What with our plans and the ball.”

  “I should have thought of that.” His mother looked at her youngest sons. “As you are in London this year, I shall expect you both to attend.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Quint said under his breath.

  “Come now, Quinton, it’s quite exciting,” Sterling said in a wry manner. “Upward of six hundred people all discussing the newly excavated ruins of somewhere or other. Most enjoyable.”

  “It’s an obligation, Sterling, as you well know. As a board member and as benefactors of the society it is our duty to make an appearance,” Mother said firmly and directed her words to Gabriella. “My oldest son is not overly fond of events like this.”

  Sterling grimaced.

  “In deference to him, we rarely stay very long.”

  “This year we shall stay longer,” Reggie announced. Sterling cast her an annoyed glance. “Well, it’s a ball. A grand ball, and I am quite looking forward to it.”

  “I have always enjoyed the Antiquities Society Ball,” Gabriella said with a smile. “My brother and I and Miss Henry have attended every year since I have been old enough to do so.”

  “Have you? And yet I have never noticed you.” His mother winced. “Forgive me, that sounded dreadful.”

  Gabriella laughed. “Not at all, Lady Wyldewood. The ball is a huge crush, and as you don’t stay very long, it’s not at all surprising that our paths have never crossed.”

  “Every year, hmm. Imagine that. And right under my very
nose.” Mother studied Gabriella thoughtfully. “We shall save our talk about your mother for another time, then. A few more days will scarcely matter.”

  Gabriella smiled. “I shall look forward to it.”

  The remainder of the meal was uneventful, and the feeling Nate had had earlier—that his family was trying to glean information from Gabriella—did not recur. Dinner concluded without major incidents, disclosure, or arguments. The ladies retired for the evening, leaving Nate to follow his brothers onto the back terrace for cigars.

  The moment they stepped through the doors, Nate turned to Quint.

  “What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I probably wasn’t.” Quint took a cigar from the humidor Andrews placed on a table on the terrace every evening. Cigar smoke was not allowed in the house when Mother was in residence. “What, precisely, are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your comments about Enrico Montini.”

  Quint trimmed his cigar. “Why shouldn’t we talk about Montini?”

  “Because I don’t think Miss Montini is aware of the type of man he was.”

  Sterling selected a cigar. “What kind of man was he?”

  “Montini was…” Nate chose his words with care. “Not well liked.”

  “He was cold, callous,” Quint said, lighting his cigar. “Merciless, as it were, when it came to acquiring what he wanted. My reputation may have once—”

  Nate snorted.

  “—been ‘questionable,’ but no one has ever suspected me of resorting to whatever means possible to get what I wanted.”

  “Whatever means possible?” Sterling said slowly.

  Quint nodded, a grim look in his eye. “If this seal was stolen from anyone else, and the alleged owner were dead, Montini would be at the top of my list as a suspect. For theft and murder.”

  Sterling studied his youngest brother. “Why do you think she isn’t aware of her brother’s nature?”

  “I don’t know.” Nate plucked a cigar from the humidor. “There’s something about the way she talks about him. She adored him—idolized him, I think—and she will do whatever necessary to restore his professional reputation.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine she would feel the same if she knew the type of man he was.”

  “And yet we don’t know she isn’t exactly like him,” Sterling said mildly, lighting his own cigar.

  “She isn’t the least bit like him,” Nate said staunchly.

  Quint and Sterling traded glances. Sterling chose his words with care. “Still, we really know nothing about her.”

  “Mother knew her mother,” Nate said quickly, ignoring the fact that he had already come to the same conclusion and was taking steps to learn more about the intriguing stranger in their midst.

  Quint lit Nate’s cigar. “And yet Mother has said nothing more about that. Don’t you find that odd?”

  “She is up to something.” Sterling’s eyes narrowed. “She has been preoccupied since Miss Montini arrived. And she studies her with a look in her eye that is most curious.”

  “As interesting as that is, it’s of no concern at the moment,” Nate said firmly. “I would prefer, and request, that there be no more discussion of Miss Montini’s brother in her presence.”

  Quint leaned against the terrace balustrade and blew a perfect smoke ring. “You honestly believe she doesn’t know what kind of man her brother was?”

  “I do.” Nate ignored the niggling thought that he might be wrong. He might be wrong regarding any number of things about the lovely Gabriella. There was a reserve around her that she carried like a shield. Even so, there was something about the woman that called to something deep inside him. From the moment he met her, he had the oddest feeling of inevitability, of anticipation perhaps. The vague sense that something extraordinary and unique and wonderful had stepped into his life. It was an absurd idea with nothing whatsoever to base it on save the ridiculous feeling that washed through him when he so much as thought of her.

  There was lust, of course. With the fire in her blue eyes and the fervor to right what she considered a grievous wrong, one couldn’t help but wonder what other passions might lie just beneath the surface. He had known lust before, but this was tempered with something as yet unknown. And whereas she would do whatever she had to do to recover the seal, he would do whatever necessary to protect her from harm. Besides, he had given his word.

  “It scarcely matters, the man is dead now and we have promised to help her.” Nate pinned Quint with a hard look. “The lady has been through a lot this past year. I do not wish to upset her further by discussion of her brother’s character.”

  “Or lack of it,” Quint muttered.

  “I do have to wonder, though…” Sterling blew a stream of blue smoke then met his youngest brother’s gaze. “…why you are so vehement about this. You scarcely know the woman.”

  “I was wondering the very same thing.” Quint studied Nate, then snorted back a laugh. “You want her! I should have known.”

  Nate’s jaw clenched. “That’s enough, Quint.”

  “You devil.” Quint grinned “You want her in your bed.”

  “I—” Quint had done this to him most of his life. Bait him until he inevitably blurted out whatever truth he was trying to conceal. He had long ago learned there was only one way to handle Quint’s teasing. He forced a wicked grin to his face. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No, not at all.” Quint shook his head. “She’s pretty enough, with those deep blue eyes of hers and that luscious figure and that seductive hint of an accent—”

  Nate narrowed his eyes.

  “—but she’s too bloody damn smart for me. God save me from an intelligent woman. She’d do for you, though.” Quint’s eyes widened. “Good God you don’t just want her—you like her!”

  “She’s very…nice.” Nate tried and failed to hide the defensive note in his voice. “She’s quite easy to like.”

  “Really?” Sterling murmured. “I haven’t found her particularly easy to like.”

  “I have spent a great deal of time with her,” Nate said. “I have come to know her better than anyone else.”

  “She’s stubborn and independent and has a streak of larceny in her,” Quint said. “No man in his right mind would ‘like’ her.” He laughed. “Want her, definitely, but not like her.”

  “And yet I do,” Nate said defiantly, and glanced at Sterling. “You don’t think it’s too fast, do you? To like her, that is?”

  “Admittedly, you still know little about her.” Sterling puffed on his cigar thoughtfully. “So yes, in a rational sense it may well be too soon. However, I suspect rational thought has little influence here. I would, however, be cautious if I were you until you know more.”

  “I would say it all depends on what you have in mind.” Quint studied his younger brother. “Seduction and a short but passionate affair is one thing. I know you are familiar with that concept.”

  Nate gestured with his cigar. “Go on.”

  “It’s quite another if you have in mind something that will last the rest of your life.”

  Sterling scoffed. “Nonsense.”

  Nate nodded, the oddest sinking sensation settling around his heart. His brothers were right, of course. “And it’s entirely too soon for that.”

  “In my opinion…” Quint paused for a moment. “…it’s just the opposite.”

  Sterling stared. “You can’t mean that.”

  “Oh, but I do.” Quint nodded. “I have long suspected that if I ever meet the right woman, a woman I would be content to spend the rest of my days with, I will be struck with the certain knowledge that she is right with the efficiency and speed of a bolt of lightning.” He met Sterling’s gaze. “You know what I mean.”

  Sterling paused, then nodded.

  Abruptly, Quint grinned. “Although I admit it is a somewhat trite and overly romantic idea.”

  “And unbelievable as well, given its source,” Sterling said.

  Quint
shrugged.

  “Take care, little brother.” Sterling’s gaze met Nate’s. “Miss Montini might not be as you see her.”

  “But then again she might be.” Quint blew another smoke ring. “And if so, yes, I think she’d do nicely for you.”

  “Well, I’m not looking for anyone to do for me,” Nate said quickly. “Not at the moment.”

  “Of course not,” Sterling said without an ounce of conviction, and changed the subject. “Have you noticed, by the way, the number of bouquets that have arrived for Reggie in recent days?”

  Quint chuckled. “She has certainly made an impression on the eligible young men of society. Still, I suspect Reggie is in no hurry to select a husband. Although I suppose we—and when I say ‘we,’ I really mean Sterling—should keep a close eye…”

  The conversation between the brothers droned on until late in the night. Nate told them what little he and Gabriella had thus far uncovered. Usually, they would have joined the ladies when they had finished their cigars. Tonight, however, Mother had said she wished to retire early, and both Gabriella and Reggie had taken that as their cue to do the same. Regretfully so. He had hoped to again escort Gabriella to her room.

  In spite of the absorbing nature of the discussion, ranging from Reggie’s potential suitors to the current state of politics to the latest scandals, his thoughts returned again and again to Quint’s comments about knowing the right woman at once when she came along. He couldn’t help but wonder if—as odd as it might seem at first glance, and given the unusual circumstances they found themselves in—Gabriella might well be the right woman for him.

  Or if she was very, very wrong.

  Twelve

  Gabriella perched nervously on the edge of a red velvet sofa. Nathanial stood beside the fireplace looking substantially less apprehensive than she felt. And why not? He at least knew Lady Rathbourne.

  The parlor they had been shown into was, if possible, even more elegant than the Harringtons’. Whereas their home had a feeling of warmth to it, this house seemed cold and unwelcoming. The parlor was perfectly appointed, in the height of fashion, but it struck her as rather more like a stage setting than a place where living people resided. It was far and away too, well, perfect. The temperature was warm, but a chill shot through her.