“I intend to make her a member of this family.” Nate grinned.
Sterling raised a brow. “Because she has a fortune and a respectable family?”
“No,” Nate said sharply. “Because she is the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met. Because I cannot imagine living my life without her. And because regardless of who she is or what she has or doesn’t have, she holds my heart in her hands.”
Mother beamed. “Wonderful, Nathanial.”
Sterling cast him an approving smile. “Best wishes, little brother. Now…” He leaned forward and studied Nate. “What is the progress regarding the Montini seal?”
Twenty-three
Even the vast number of treasures that might well take as long to document as Lord Rathbourne had taken to collect could not diminish the unease that settled more firmly about Gabriella with every minute in his house.
Now, she sat on a wrought-iron bench in the tiny walled garden off the library. When the butler, Franks, had shown them in, he pointed out the French doors, hidden behind velvet drapes, that led to the garden. He had said as well that Lord Rathbourne suggested she might like to make use of the garden to avail herself of fresh air should the treasure room become too stuffy. It was unexpectedly thoughtful. A gravel path led from the door to a tall hedge. On the other side of the hedge, hidden from the house, the wrought-iron bench faced a small tiered fountain.
Sitting here, one might well imagine they were somewhere far from the dark, brooding house looming behind them. Gabriella wondered if Lady Rathbourne ever sat here and imagined just that.
She wasn’t sure she could spend day after day in this house, in the windowless room she couldn’t stop comparing to a tomb. Lord Rathbourne was not at home today and she was grateful for his absence. When she’d been in the treasure room, Xerxes positioned himself just outside the opening in the viscount’s library. Right now he stood behind her in the doorway, vigilant and watchful. Even though the hedge obscured her view, she knew he was there. Any other time, she would have found his protectiveness annoying. Here and now, it was a comfort.
Today, she had planned to start making a preliminary list of the separate and varied collections, if only to begin to determine the enormity of the job. Instead, however, she’d spent most of her time studying the seal that was so similar to the one her brother once had. While she was certain it wasn’t the same, she would very much have liked to see an impression and compared it with her brother’s. Which reminded her, she needed to stop by her own house to see if Florence had found the impression on her way home.
Home. When did she start thinking of Harrington House as home? It wasn’t that it was grander than anything she’d ever known; size and affluence had nothing to do with it. There was a sense there of family and tradition and belonging. An air of continuation. The feeling that no matter what else happened in the world, regardless of where family members might wander, this would always be a place that welcomed them.
Perhaps if she hadn’t experienced the easy affection in that house, Rathbourne’s might not seem as grim, although she doubted it. The few servants she had met thus far, while not overtly unpleasant, were not particularly friendly either. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but it struck her that there was no warmth in this house. No feeling of occupancy. No sense that this was something other than a showplace, a display cabinet. She shivered at the thought.
In spite of the opportunity Rathbourne’s collections offered for her future, she knew now she had to reconsider her decision to accept the position.
That would please Nathanial. Not that she cared. She blew a long breath. Of course she cared. She was lying to herself if she thought otherwise. At least being at Rathbourne’s house took her mind off Nathanial. And off Quinton’s comments.
Was it at all possible that Nathanial’s heart was at stake? Some of the things he’d said—and so much that he’d almost said—might lead one to believe, if one were silly and foolish—
“What are you thinking, girl,” Xerxes said, rounding the path.
“Nothing of significance.” She shrugged.
“I thought you might have been thinking about Mr. Harrington.”
She started to deny it, then couldn’t. Besides, Xerxes always seemed to know when she was less than truthful.
“Perhaps you should—think about Mr. Harrington, that is.”
“Thinking about Mr. Harrington in any manner whatsoever is pointless.”
“Why?”
“Why?” She stood and turned toward him. “Because he and I…” She shook her head. “We would never suit.”
“Oh?” Xerxes raised a brow. “From my observation, there is no one who would suit you better.”
“Regardless.” She shook her head. “It’s really not possible.”
“Not if you won’t let it be possible.” He studied her carefully. “It’s up to you, girl. It’s all in your hands. I would hate to see you let happiness slip through your fingers.”
“Happiness?” She thought for a long moment. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been truly happy, and not sure she’d know happiness if it came her way. She’d been content enough, she supposed, although now it struck her that most of her life thus far had been spent in preparation for something that would never come. Had been spent waiting. “Do you really think so?”
“I think,” he chose his words with care, “Nathanial Harrington is the best thing that has ever come into your life. And I think you are the best thing that has come into his. I further think if you don’t understand that and accept it, then you are not as intelligent as I have always known you to be. However,” he shrugged, “what I think isn’t nearly as important as what you know.”
“What I know?” What did she know? She knew she loved Nathanial. She knew she didn’t want to leave him. As for his feelings…Didn’t she know those as well? Didn’t she know when he called her “my love” or when he tried to protect her or when he held her in his arms or when she gazed into his brown eyes—didn’t she know then that he shared her feelings? She met Xerxes’s gaze. “What if I’m wrong?”
“What if you’re not?” Xerxes smiled. “You should talk to the man. I suspect you haven’t done that.”
She shook her head. “We talk all the time.”
“About how you feel? What you want?”
“Nathanial says everything is about what I want.”
“And?”
“And.” She drew a deep breath. “And Nathanial Harrington is what I want.”
“Then perhaps it’s time to do something about that.”
“Perhaps…you’re right, it is indeed.” She smiled. “And I will. Now, it’s time to go.” She started back into the house, her voice brisk, her tone decided. “We need to stop at my house. I must speak to Florence and you should probably see your wife.”
Xerxes chuckled. “Your Mr. Harrington doesn’t stand a chance.”
“He’s not my—” Resolve washed through her and she grinned. “But he will be.”
She would talk to Nathanial as soon as possible. Confess her feelings and pray he felt the same.
By the time their carriage rolled to a stop in front of her house, the most intoxicating sense of hope bubbled within her. She had learned to trust him, she loved him, and it was past time to take the greatest leap of faith of all.
“I was just about to send you a note.” Florence hooked her arm through Gabriella’s and steered her into the parlor. “Miriam and I are going to take the first train north in the morning. We have received word that her mother is ill.”
“Oh dear,” Gabriella murmured. “How bad is it?”
“We’re not certain. The note we received was rather vague.” Florence seated herself and indicated Gabriella should sit beside her. “But it did say we should waste no time. Miriam is quite concerned.”
“I can well imagine.” Gabriella frowned. “But shouldn’t Xerxes go with you, then?”
“Absolutely not,” Florence huffed in indignation. “He needs
to stay here with you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Especially as you insist on working for that dreadful viscount.”
“I see you have been talking to Mr. Dennison.”
Florence’s expression remained firm but a smile lit her eyes. “Why yes, I have. Now about this position of yours with Lord Rathbourne—”
“You needn’t worry about that.” Gabriella blew a resigned breath. “As great as the opportunity is, I have decided not to accept his offer. Being there today, however, did give me the chance to look for the seal.”
“And?”
“And he has one that might well be its mate, but I found nothing more than that. Nor did I really expect to. Lord Rathbourne’s arrogance is such that if he had my brother’s seal, I doubt that he would hesitate to tell me.” She shrugged. “Unless I could prove it was Enrico’s—have you found the impression yet?”
Florence shook her head.
“I doubt it will matter. I am afraid we might never recover the seal. As for Lord Rathbourne, I intend to tell him tomorrow that I will not accept his offer.”
“Excellent.” Relief washed across Florence’s face. “I cannot tell you how worried I have been. As has your Mr. Harrington.”
“Mr. Dennison again?”
“He is a fount of information as well as…”
Gabriella raised an amused brow. “As well as?”
“Gabriella.” Florence took the younger woman’s hands. “I suspect Mr. Dennison may soon ask me to marry him.”
Happiness for her friend washed through her. “How wonderful.”
“Yes, it is,” Florence said slowly. “However, I am not certain what my answer will be.”
“Why ever not?”
“If I marry Mr. Dennison…” Florence paused. “I am concerned as to what will happen to you.”
“To me?” Gabriella widened her eyes with surprise. “You should not concern yourself with me.”
“Your welfare has concerned me for nearly a decade,” Florence said firmly. “I do not intend to abandon you now.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Gabriella scoffed. “You wouldn’t be abandoning me at all. Besides, you and Xerxes and Miriam are my family. Even if we no longer reside in the same house, that will never change. And we are not so large a family that we cannot include one more.”
“But things will change.”
“For the best,” Gabriella said firmly. “You must follow your heart, my dear friend. You have always told me to do so.”
“And are you following it now?” Florence’s gaze searched hers.
“I think I always have really.” Gabriella thought for a moment. “I followed my heart when I studied to make myself indispensable to Enrico. In many ways the search for the seal was following my heart. As for anything else…yes, Florence.” She cast her friend a brilliant smile. “I am going to follow my heart.”
But it seemed the moment she had decided to confess her feelings, there was no opportunity to do so. It was late afternoon by the time she arrived back at Harrington House, and Nathanial was nowhere to be seen. Still, his absence gave her time to decide exactly what she would say. Simply blurting out her feelings didn’t seem quite right. She’d never been especially good at being coy, so anything other than a forthright approach might be even more awkward than necessary. She should tell him as well that she wasn’t impoverished, and perhaps it was also time to mention her childhood…and oh, yes, the fact that she was the brother he had met in Egypt. She cringed at the thought of all she had kept from him. Still, if he did love her, it might not matter. If he didn’t, then it wouldn’t make any difference at all.
She was hopeful that after dinner there might be time for a moment alone. But Nathanial and his brothers had again gone to the earl’s club for the evening. Lady Wyldewood had invited her to accompany her and her daughter to some event or other, but she’d begged off. Instead she retired to her room with a book. She had selected, of all things, a work of fiction from the library, something about a young woman attempting to find the perfect matches for her friends. Utter nonsense, really, but surprisingly engrossing. She had intended to read until she heard Nathanial in the hall, and left her door open a crack to ensure that she would. Then she’d talk to him.
And if her visiting his room again led to something other than conversation and confession, well, apparently once one was truly ruined, one wished for nothing more than to be truly ruined again. And again.
But before long the words swam before her eyes and the book fell from her hand and she slept, to dream of dark-eyed men with hair streaked by the sun, and kisses in the moonlight, and leaps of faith.
Nate made his way along the corridor to his rooms. Even though he, Sterling, and Quint had spent a long evening at Sterling’s club, he wasn’t the least bit inebriated. Well, perhaps he was the least bit inebriated, but certainly not extensively.
He glanced at Gabriella’s door and pulled up short. It was slightly open and a light still burned inside her room. Was she waiting for him? He grinned. What a delicious idea. Even before last night he knew he wished to share her bed every night for the rest of his life, but he hadn’t expected to do so quite so soon. Not that it wasn’t an excellent idea.
“Gabriella,” he said softly, pushed open her door and slipped inside the room.
She lay curled on her side, one arm flung off the bed, a book she had been reading on the floor beneath her hand. She was obviously asleep. Disappointment stabbed him. As much as he would like to do so, he wasn’t going to wake her up. He moved quietly to the side of the bed, picked up the book, glanced at the title and smiled. Fiction. And romantic fiction at that. She had certainly come a long way since they first met. It was such a short time ago and yet it seemed he had known her forever. In his dreams perhaps or in his heart.
He set the book down on the table by the side of the bed, started to extinguish the lamp, then paused to look at her. He would never tire of looking at her. Not if they lived to be as old as the relics he hunted. And one day there would be children and…
And he certainly couldn’t continue hunting for antiquities if he had a wife. The thought pulled him up short. How could he leave her? Regardless of what Gabriella had hoped for her life, he couldn’t possibly drag her around with him. Not now that he knew how she had grown up. It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be what she deserved. She deserved something…well, better. If he wanted Gabriella in his life, his life was going to have to change.
He looked at her once more, then extinguished the lamp. It was a small enough price to pay. Indeed, it was well worth it.
Twenty-four
Would you be so good as to tell Lord Rathbourne I should like to see him,” Gabriella said to his lordship’s butler. Today as yesterday, Franks had greeted them with as few words as possible, and then escorted Gabriella and Xerxes into the library.
“As you wish, miss.” The butler hesitated. “I have not yet spoken with his lordship this morning but, as the treasure room has been opened, I assume Lord Rathbourne is occupied elsewhere in the house. I shall inform him of your request as soon as I see him.”
“There’s nothing to be done about it, I suppose,” Gabriella said to Xerxes when the servant had left the room. “I might as well finish the list I began yesterday. It’s the least I can do.”
Xerxes frowned. “You don’t owe this man anything, girl.”
“Aside from an apology, you mean?” She shook her head. “I agreed to take this position and now I am about to renege on that agreement. It does not sit well with me but…” She glanced around the library and shivered. “I think it’s best.”
“We all think it’s best,” Xerxes said firmly.
No doubt Nathanial would agree, if she ever again found the opportunity to speak with him. Today, she thought. She would definitely tell him everything today.
She took up where she’d left off yesterday, filing page after page with notes on the various collections. By late morning Lord Rathbourne had still not made an appearance.
“We could simply write him a note and leave,” Xerxes suggested hopefully. He didn’t wish to remain there any longer than she did.
“No,” she said firmly. “However, I am going to step outside for a moment.”
She pulled open the drapes that covered the French doors to the garden, sunlight flooding the dark room. What a pity, this could be such a pleasant house. She opened the doors and stepped down two steps onto the pathway. As he did yesterday, Xerxes stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, her guardian. And like yesterday, his presence was reassuring.
She walked the few steps around the hedge and stopped short. Lord Rathbourne sat on the end of the bench closest to her, his back to her, his head tilted to one side as if he were listening to something. In all honesty, lord or not, it was insufferably rude to have ignored her request to speak to him. She had no idea how he might have slipped out there without either she or Xerxes seeing him, and yet obviously he had.
“My lord,” she said firmly and stepped closer. “I should like to have a word with you.” It would be best just to say it quickly and get it over with. She drew a deep breath and released the words in a rush. “As much as I appreciate the opportunity the position as your curator affords me, I do regret that, after further and due consideration, I cannot accept the position.”
Surely he’d want a reason? Surely she had one that would sound better than she couldn’t work with the unease that surrounded her in this house, in his presence? She stepped closer. “My plans for the future—my future, that is—have changed.” That wasn’t exactly the truth but it wasn’t a complete lie either. Her plans had changed, or at least, if she were lucky, they would. “Well then, my lord, you do have my eternal gratitude for your faith in me, and my apologies, of course. So, that said, I shall take my leave.” She turned on her heel and started off. And stopped in mid-step.
This was certainly the height of cowardice. Why, she hadn’t even allowed the man to get a single word in. She at least owed him the courtesy of listening to his response. She braced herself and turned back. “My lord?”
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