by Judith James
“It’s not you, my lord, and I suppose you might call me Sarah now that you’ve kissed me,” she said, drying her eyes. “You asked me a few days ago if I had any significant attachments and I didn’t answer you. I really didn’t know how. There is someone … was someone … I don’t know! Someone I love very much. I haven’t seen him for a very long time. Two years ago he simply vanished, swept into the sea.”
“Ah. I’m so sorry.”
“He … My brother and my cousin tell me that he’s dead, but I find it very hard to believe. There is no proof of it, you see, and I promised him that I’d wait for him as long as it takes. Lately I’ve been so confused. I’m really very sorry, William. It was not my intent to lead you on. I’m just so tired of being alone and I find you so amusing and appealing. I thought maybe …”
“Please don’t apologize, my dear,” he said, patting her hand and rising to fetch her a brandy. “I don’t deserve it. I’m a conscienceless rogue, bent on seduction, and deserved a good set down. It must be deuced awkward for you,” he continued, returning with two drinks and lounging alongside her again, this time keeping his hands to himself. “If you accept that he’s dead, you betray your promise to him if he’s yet alive.”
“Yes, exactly! No one seems to understand that. And I don’t feel that he is dead. Do you see?”
“I do. But what if you’re wrong? If you spend your life waiting for a dead man, you deny yourself the future and spend your life in sorrow. Would he expect that of you, my dear?” he asked gently.
“No, he wouldn’t. I’m certain of it. But then he’s never really expected anything much from anyone.”
“So … you will wait?”
“I will wait. But I will continue on with my life and stop being such a bloody martyr about it.”
“How long does one wait in such circumstances?”
“It’s a very good question, William. I don’t know the answer, but I expect that somehow I’ll recognize when it’s been long enough.”
“And what of me, fair Gypsy? Was I to be a purely medicinal diversion, a cure for the melancholy, or do you like me, if only a little?”
“False humility ill becomes you, Killigrew. You are well aware that I like you rather a lot.”
Grinning broadly, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Then perhaps you would allow me to call upon you, should my affairs bring me to Cornwall in the future.”
“I should be most delighted,” she said with an answering grin.
The snow had changed to rain overnight, followed by mild winds, and by morning the roads were rapidly drying out. Sarah spent part of the morning negotiating an exchange of broodmares with the new earl, and the rest of it getting ready to resume her journey. She was dressed in breeches and boots, and just about to take her leave when two carriages came rolling up the drive. They stopped in a commotion of hooves and greetings and flouncing petticoats, and spilled a glittering assortment of lords and ladies into the courtyard.
“Are you certain you can’t stay another day?” Killigrew asked her mischievously.
“Quite certain, my lord,” she said, climbing into her carriage and offering him her hand.
“’Pon my word, I do believe that’s the Gypsy Countess, and dressed as a lad!” one of the gentleman remarked. “Wonder what she’s doing here?”
“I should think that would be obvious,” a glacial blonde responded, to amused titters.
“Oh, dear me! Have I annoyed your mistress, William?” Sarah asked sweetly.
“What? Do you mean Barbara? Lady Wilmont? You wound me, dear girl! I am known for my good taste and fondness for a challenge.”
Sarah’s eyes lit with amusement as Killigrew kissed her hand. “Well, in any case, I am publicly accounted one of your discards now, my lord. The least you can do is offer me a mare, as compensation for accepting my congé with such dignity.”
“And so I shall, Countess, if you promise not to disclose that ‘twas you who rejected me,” he said, walking alongside her coach.
“Well, my reputation is already ruined. I see no point in damaging yours. Your secret is safe with me. Till we meet again, sir.”
“Till we meet again, Sarah,” he said with a laugh, rapping on the side of the coach and stepping back. He stood in the drive watching her leave, even as his company clamored for his attention. So … his rival was a dead man. He would have to be, to leave such a jewel unattended. It presented some interesting difficulties, but nothing insurmountable. With a satisfied smile, the Earl of Falmouth returned to his guests.
Sarah loved approaching London after dark. From eight miles out, the roads were bordered by lamps lit with crystal balls, providing a beautiful glow that transformed the squalid and mundane into something magical, and full of promise. One never knew what adventure might await. The town house was situated in the west end overlooking a pleasant square. The skeleton staff, forewarned by Ross, had managed to open and air it and fill it with the welcoming odor of roast beef and baked bread. Sarah unpacked, had her dinner, and tumbled into bed, exhausted.
The next few days were busy ones. She visited the circulating library on Bond Street, and bought Christmas presents for Jamie, Ross, and Davey. Going through her mail, she found several interesting invitations. Her family had kept up a lively correspondence with many of the leading thinkers of the age, and though she was not welcomed by the best society, she was warmly received by the most interesting.
She visited galleries and museums and attended the salon of Lady Webster, a semirespectable friend from before her marriage, who was now a writer. Sarah found these evenings in the company of writers, scientists, musicians, and others from the demimonde, far more interesting than any she might have spent in the stifling bosom of the ton. The night she enjoyed the most, however, was one she spent at William Herschel’s, an astronomer friend and music teacher who had constructed a large telescope with the aid of his brother and sister, from which they had discovered two satellites of Saturn.
Heading home, she realized that she’d crowded more living in the past three weeks than she’d done in the last two years. It was a grand day. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, and she was glad and grateful to be alive. She’d really only had a year with Gabriel, and come the spring it would be two and a half years since he’d left her. She thought about what William Killigrew had said, and knew that he was right. Gabriel would never expect her to wait.
She wondered what life might have been like had he returned home with Davey, as he was supposed to do. She’d thought never to marry again. Her own experience, and what she’d witnessed amongst her friends and acquaintances, had convinced her that she would never let any man rule her body, her fortune, or her life, but Gabriel had been different. She knew he’d been faithful to her, much against the fashion, and much to the disappointment of the maids and village girls. He’d had no thought of ruling her, content to be friend and lover, and he’d been far more concerned about leaving her fortune to her own use than she was. Above all, he’d taught her the joy and pleasure a man could give a woman. Her lips and toes curled as she remembered his heated kisses. She’d not hesitated an instant when he’d come to her in the night asking her to marry him, and she didn’t regret it now. At least she’d had that time with him.
The problem was that he had taught her to appreciate a man in a way she never had before, and to be lonely in a way she had never imagined. She thought of Killigrew, and wondered for the first time, if Ross hadn’t known damn well what he was about, hadn’t put him deliberately in her path. The thought should have made her angry, but it didn’t. He was a challenge that any sensible woman would stay well clear of. Charming, handsome, and very wicked, he was a licentious rake, but she’d sensed something more, and his cynical good humor held great appeal. Sensible, or not, she found herself interested in someone for the first time in years.
Arriving home two days before Jamie did, she was immediately caught up in the bustle of holiday preparations. Her good cheer comm
unicated itself to the rest of the household, and although they passed a quiet Christmas, it was a very pleasant one. When Davey came, tentative and careful around her, as he always was these days, she threw her arms around him and gave him a great hug, knowing he’d taken her silence for blame. “I’m so sorry, Davey. I’ve been unforgivably selfish. I don’t blame you for it, you know. It wasn’t your fault. Not at all. It’s just been so hard.”
He hugged her back, relieved, and thankful for the return of the easy camaraderie and deep affection that had always been between them.
Sarah greeted the New Year with excitement. She’d received several letters from London, including one from her old friend Lady Webster, inviting her to go mountain climbing in Italy with her and Lady Spenser in the spring. There was also a very charming letter from the Earl of Falmouth, thanking her for her visit and inviting her to call upon him in London should she find herself so inclined. She thought that she might take him up on it. Perhaps she would write and invite him to visit her in Cornwall. But not yet. She felt as if she’d finally woken from a deep sleep, and she had no intention of losing herself in it again, but every night she dreamed of Gabriel, and she supposed, even though he’d not expect it, she would wait a while longer.
The coming of spring found Sarah in the stables helping Simmons with the foaling. She was expecting to leave for Italy within the month, after a quick stop in London to renew old acquaintances. The thought made her grin. Ross had gone to Holland on business and was expected back anytime, and when a servant came to inform her of his return, and his request to see her immediately, she hurried to the house. He greeted her with a warm hug, but he was clearly uneasy, eyeing her with a mixture of trepidation and solicitude that he hadn’t shown in months.
“Good God, Ross, whatever’s the matter? You’re making me nervous.”
Sighing, he poured them both a drink. “Sarah, I’ve recently had some information from a fellow who served under me almost ten years ago. I’m not sure how reliable it is, and I’ve debated telling you. I want you to understand that I put very little credence in it, but I feel you have a right to know.”
“Tell me what, Ross? What information?” Sarah asked, her heart pounding.
“Well, my dear, the fellow claims to have been taken prisoner off the Barbary Coast a few years back. He had recently escaped his captivity you see, and he came to me, as his former commander, to see if I might help him back on his feet. He claims to have served some corsair captain, as a renegado, a fellow who’s turned Turk, as they say. He says he escaped with two Frenchmen and some other crew members, when they were placed on a prize ship. One of them was the second in command. The thing is, Sarah … it seems most unlikely, but from the way he described this man, he sounded somewhat like Gabriel.”
“Oh, my God!” Sarah threw herself at Ross, hugging him excitedly, laughing and crying at the same time. “He’s alive! I knew it. Oh, I knew it. Oh, thank God! Where is he, Ross? Surely you asked the fellow where he is?”
“Calm yourself, Sarah,” Ross said, gently detaching himself and guiding her back to her chair. “You mustn’t get your hopes up. As I told you, I doubt very much it could be him. Surely if it were, Davey would have found him long before now. The man I spoke with made good his escape ten months ago. He says the Frenchmen went to Paris, and then on to London. Surely if one of them were Gabriel he would have contacted you immediately. I tell you this not because I believe it. I simply felt it was something you needed to know.”
“You’re quite right, Ross,” Sarah said, stunned and elated. “I most certainly needed to know.”
CHAPTER
31
Napoleon, upon his triumphant return to Paris, had proclaimed a general amnesty for most classes of French exiles, and within the first year of the consulate over forty thousand families had been permitted to return, the chevalier’s among them. By the time Gabriel and Jacques arrived in Paris, the city was thriving, teeming with soldiers, citizens, returning old guard, and eager British tourists who’d swarmed across the channel shortly after the treaty was signed. It was a cosmopolitan city, particularly in the summer of 1802. Even so, they created somewhat of a stir as they strode down the streets of Paris in flowing burnooses, armed to the teeth.
“Il faut d’argent,” were the chevalier’s first words upon entering the city.
“What do you propose, Jacques? We left a bloody fortune behind us. That’s two I’ve lost now. We do have this, though.” Gabriel reached under his burnoose and pulled out the purse he’d pilfered from de Sevigny, tossing it to his companion.
“But this is very nice, indeed, Gabriel! I propose we invest it at the Palais Royale.”
“Are you suggesting we apply ourselves to vice, Chevalier?”
“Most assiduously, yes. I have led une vie manquée until now. It’s hardly the time to stop. I assure you I’m very well suited to it.”
“I don’t doubt it. I have had some small success at the gaming tables myself. I’ve noted that with the proper skill and attitude one can reliably turn the play to one’s advantage.”
Well, then, my friend,” Valmont said, tossing Gabriel back the purse, “I suggest we prepare our offensive. We must divert and distract. We must shimmer, dazzle, and shine, and above all, we must not appear à la bourgeois.”
The Palais Royale was the center of Parisian political and amorous intrigue, and one of the most celebrated gambling dens in the world. It was here they launched their campaign of gambling and gallantry, with an eye to replenishing their lost fortunes. The society of professional gamblers that roamed the major courts and cities of Europe had largely forgone the distinctions of birth, the willingness and ability to play deep, being the great equalizer. It was a mobile society of cynical, cold-blooded, hard-eyed men and women, that lived by their own rules, and Gabriel and Valmont fit right in.
They implemented a strategy that quickly elevated them to the top rank of predators in Paris at the time. They didn’t cheat. They didn’t need to. Pooling their resources and sharing their winnings they played only those games where skill, attitude, and a cool head, gave them an advantage over their opponents and the odds. Affecting the flamboyant mannerisms and dress of the ancien régime, wearing velvets, silks, jewels, and high heels, tall men both, they towered above most gatherings. Outrageously beautiful, glittering, and painted in powder and kohl, they were always the center of attention.
Gabriel found himself a cousin again, claimed as the chevalier’s not so distant kin. They were widely rumored to be lovers. It was nothing obvious, a smile across the room, a touch on the arm, an unguarded look, and a certain je ne sais quoi of style and manner. Pederasty and incest. Even the most laissez faire of their dissolute society was enthralled by the gossip, which suited them both. The chevalier’s family, trying to reestablish themselves and their fortune, were uncharitably dismayed at the prodigal’s return, loudly and publicly disowning him. They were dead to him, but their shocked outrage at his scandalous behavior fueled gleefully malicious gossip that both the chevalier and Gabriel welcomed. By drawing attention to themselves, they diverted their opponents from the play.
A player who was adept at identifying situations where he had the advantage over the casino, could make a good deal of money at vingt-et-un, and Gabriel taught a delighted Valmont his system for counting the cards. Choosing their games, remaining relentlessly sober while those around them surrendered to excess, they pitted sang-froid, knowledge, and experience, against ignorance and reckless self-abandon. Within three short months they had recovered all the fortune they’d left behind in Algiers, and were well on their way to doubling it.
Gabriel’s return to Paris revived feelings and memories he had long thought dead and buried. His nightmares had returned with a vengeance. His sleep was filled with grisly horrors of blood and death; towering waves and snapping bones, and sweet kisses that ended in twisting hatred. Awake, he was plagued with thoughts of Sarah, constantly aware that she was now within his reach, th
ree, maybe four days away. He wondered how she had taken the news of his death, what she was doing now, and if she ever thought of him. He wondered if she’d married again, properly this time, to someone whom her brother would gladly accept, someone worthy of her.
The thought of her with someone else twisted through him like a knife in the belly. He no longer harbored any illusions though, about who or what he was. He’d come to understand what Sarah had tried to tell him, that as a youth, and even later, he’d never really had a chance to choose for himself. What de Sevigny had done to him years ago was not of his choice, or his making, and when he’d been given the chance it was Sarah that he’d chosen. He’d even started to believe that maybe she was right. Maybe he deserved to love and be loved as much as anyone else did, but he couldn’t believe it anymore.
He’d been given the opportunity to know something better. He’d been given Sarah, and he’d betrayed her with the most intimate gift he had to give. It hadn’t been taken, or forced. He’d given it freely, deliberately, to de Sevigny. One kiss, followed by others, to charm, to seduce, to destroy. He’d finally become the whore that de Sevigny and others had always thought him, not for money, not for favors, but for revenge.
He’d betrayed her, and he’d betrayed himself, and for that alone he’d be too ashamed to look her in the eyes, but there was more. Nothing had mattered after that. He had killed, cold, mechanical, and merciless, dealing death and being paid for it. Even now he preyed on the weak and the pathetic. He was familiar enough with the rituals of self-destruction and despair to recognize them in others. He saw it in the faces of the foolish boys and desperate men who haunted the casinos, seeking the perverted solace of debasement and ruin. He knew them intimately, and he preyed on them, using their weakness to his advantage, and helping them along their way.