A Curse of the Heart (21 page)

He felt like marble encased in soft silk. His body had a potent scent, an addictive essence that made her want to rain kisses along his torso, taste the skin stretched taut across his abdomen, to delve lower as she wondered what it would be like to take him in her mouth, to have the power to —

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

His languid voice startled her, and she felt her cheeks flame.

“Yes. I mean no. It’s the spider,” she said lifting her head and finding the courage to look at him. “I thought I felt it crawling up my leg and panicked, thinking it had found a way in.”

“The spider,” he repeated, his eyes alight with amusement. “Then let me offer my assistance.”

Without further comment, he dived under the sheet until his head was at her toes. “Did it do this?” he asked, and she felt a light tickling starting at her ankle and running up to the top of her thigh. “Or was it this?”

“Gabriel,” Rebecca squealed from the shock, from the excitement, from the pleasure of having him touch her again.

He settled between her legs as his head popped out from under the sheet. “I can’t find the spider,” he said, rubbing against her in such an intimate way she almost swooned. “But I think I know of a way to distract your mind.”

Without another word, he claimed her mouth; moments later he claimed her body and let her relive last night’s erotic dream.

An hour later, she sat on the stool in front of the mirror trying to style her hair. But the sight of Gabriel’s firm buttocks, as he climbed out of bed, was too much of a distraction.

“What are your plans for today?” she asked believing the conversation would occupy his mind enough to make his movements slow, less hurried.

“I shall return to Hanover Square,” he said dragging up his breeches and she felt a pang of disappointment. “I need to wash, dress and collect a few things if I’m to stay with you again tonight.”

The word
tonight
held a wealth of promise, and she had to curb her excitement. “I have a few things to do, but I shall be perfectly safe during the day. Perhaps if you came back sometime after six,” she said not wanting to rouse his suspicion and knowing it would give her enough time to accomplish her task.

He turned and regarded her with a solemn expression that was so unlike the man who had ravished her in her bed. “On the subject of safety, have you considered the possibility it was not one of the Wellfords who destroyed your mother’s portrait?”

“It is not destroyed, Gabriel, just a little damaged, that’s all,” she said with a weak smile. “Besides, I’ve not had a chance to think of anything as my mind has been somewhat distracted.”

He did not look the least bit guilty and instead raised an arrogant brow. “I’d get used to it, as I’m sure you’ll be suffering from a similar predicament later this evening.”

Good, she thought, as desire unfurled in her belly. She wanted him to push the past from his mind. She wanted him to focus on the future.

“If we stand any chance of moving beyond the door of this chamber today, I suggest we change the subject. In answer to your earlier question, I am confident George did not damage the painting. As for the other two, I have no idea what they are capable of.”

He pulled his shirt over his head and a tiny groan escaped from her lips.

“Well, it was not Alexander, either,” he said.

“How do you know?”

Gabriel paused. “I believe he’s away in Italy, probably painting angels and cherubs and frittering away his inheritance.”

Rebecca raised her chin. “Oh, I see. That only leaves Freddie. Now I think about it, the men in the museum had been drinking. And I do remember Freddie being rather inebriated at the Chelton’s Ball. Perhaps it was simply a drunken prank. Perhaps his accomplice didn’t know the sentimental value of the portrait.”

Judging by the look on Gabriel’s face, he did not believe that any more than she did, which reminded her she really should try loading the pistol.

“What about the gentlemen at the ball, the ones you refused to dance with? Did you get the sense they felt slighted in any way?”

She shook her head, dismissing the shiver running up her spine as she remembered the lecherous looks. “No, not at all.”

She caught his troubled gaze in the mirror, saw the cogs turning and wondered what he was thinking.

“You’re probably right,” he said, “I’ll wager Freddie had something to do with it. No doubt guilt will plague him until he feels forced to confess.”

“I’m certain of it,” she lied. The look of panic in his eyes was unmistakable. She would do more than try to load her pistol; she would carry it with her wherever she went.

Gabriel strode over to her and placed a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’ll see you later, around six. Will you have any more surprises for me?”

Only one, she thought, knowing he was not going to like it. “You mean you’re hoping I will seduce you again.”

Gabriel laughed, although it failed to reach his eyes. “Hoping, no. Praying, yes.”

“Then I shall rummage through the crate of erotic etchings in the hope of finding inspiration,” she said with a coy smile.

As she watched him walk out of the door, she hoped he would still desire her when she told him what she had done, or more precisely, where she had been.

Rebecca took a hackney to Bedford Square, relieved to find George Wellford at home and, after a brief absence, Winters returned to escort her into the study.

George stood to greet her but did not walk around the desk. “Rebecca. What a pleasant surprise.” He looked beyond her shoulder. “Are you alone?”

It was an odd question. No doubt he assumed Gabriel accompanied her everywhere. “Of course,” she said glancing at the oak cabinets lined with books and imagining her father rifling through them. “Who else were you expecting?”

“No one.” George shook his head numerous times and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Only the last few times we’ve met, Mr. Stone is often trailing behind, barking and snapping at your heels like an annoying little terrier.”

Rebecca pulled off her gloves, sat down and feeling rather defensive said, “Mr. Stone has been extremely kind and considerate to me, my lord. Annoying is certainly not a word I would use to describe him.” Indeed, the words handsome and sinful with a wicked tongue sprang to mind.

“You’re right,” George replied with a dismissive wave of the hand, “it was not a very good description. Perhaps a frustrated little terrier is more accurate.”

Rebecca looked down her nose at him and huffed. “I did not come here to discuss the character traits of dogs. But I did come here to talk to you about Mr. Stone.”

George sat up in his chair. “Has he declared his intentions?”

“Of course not.”

He looked disappointed. “Would you like him to?”

“No!” she said, lying for the second time in one day. “Perhaps you should stop asking questions and listen. You’re starting to sound like an old matron desperate to hear the latest gossip.” He accepted her criticism and conceded by gesturing for her to continue. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find Mr. Stone’s sister and her mother. I’m assuming they live in London and thought I would pay them a visit.”

“Does Mr. Stone know you intend to call upon them?”

“You’ve asked another question, George. And no, he does not know I intend to call on them else I would have asked him for their address.”

George opened his mouth, but promptly closed it again and then spent a moment examining her face. “When you talk about Mr. Stone you have a certain twinkle in your eye, a certain look that makes me wonder if the term
friends
is the appropriate word to define your relationship.”

Rebecca blinked but could not stop the heat rising to her cheeks. If George could read that in her eyes, what else was she giving away? Did he know she was in love with Gabriel, that he made her body tremble simply by speaking her name?

“Mr. Stone is my dearest friend, the only person I am able to trust. I would expect my eyes to twinkle with respect when mentioning the name of the man who has done his utmost to help me.”

The corners of George’s mouth twitched, but he did not smile. “I trust he is proving to be satisfactory?”

Rebecca almost choked on the lump that formed in her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“As your chaperone. I trust he is proving to be a reliable companion,” he clarified. “I hope you know I had nothing to do with what happened at the museum this time. I would never damage something so precious out of spite or jealousy.”

Had Gabriel told him about her mother’s painting?

Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation in her office, where Gabriel had told her he wanted to stay and implied it had nothing to do with duty or responsibility. She could not help but think it was a lie.

“Mr. Stone came to see you?” she asked her vision blurring. “He told you about the painting? He told you he would act as a chaperone?”

“I believe he thought we were responsible for damaging the painting and sought vengeance for the distress caused. Freddie has been avoiding me, but I am to meet with him later. Although I doubt him capable of making it up your stairs let alone anything else.” He sighed, and his gaze softened. “I understand why you feel you cannot trust me. I had to trust Stone. He is the only person who is close to you and one has to admire his commitment to your cause.”

Commitment! Had Gabriel stayed the night purely out of a sense of obligation?

“I thought you said his morbid fascination with the dead was no good for me,” she challenged, conjuring an image of an underground vault and her wounded heart trapped in a jar, withering before her eyes.

George shrugged. “I wanted to make him angry. I wanted him to rescue you from the Egyptian tomb you call a home. I wanted him to prove me wrong.”

Oh, Gabriel had certainly proved him wrong.

“Well, where has your meddling got you, my lord. I have just sat here and told you he is the only person I trust and yet you had to find a way of ruining it. I asked Gabriel not to tell you about the painting or the intruders,” she said aware she had spoken his name so intimately and without thought. “With your flippant remarks, you have shown him to be untrustworthy. You have managed to destroy the only thing that means anything to me. So ask yourself this, why would I ever trust you when you seek to hurt me at every opportunity?”

Rebecca stood and thrust her gloves on so fiercely she was in danger of fracturing a finger. “Stay away from me and stop interfering in my life,” she barked as she turned towards the door.

“Rebecca,” he called after her, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Sometimes arrogance gets the better of me. Sometimes, in a bid to prove my worth, I go about things the wrong way.” Her father’s blue eyes looked up at her, all sad and forlorn. “A week ago I would not have been able to help you. But since learning of your friendship with Mr. Stone, well — you will find his sister, Ariana, on George Street, number thirty-six.”

Chapter 22

Number thirty-six, a mid-terrace house of excellent proportions, looked clean and well maintained. While Gabriel failed to provide emotional support, he obviously had no problem when it came to his financial responsibilities.

“Do you want me to wait?” the hackney driver called out to her. “It’s four and six every half hour.”

Rebecca raised a brow at the extortionate price, the man shrugging in response as he flashed a mouth full of rotten teeth. “No, I don’t need you to wait,” she said thrusting the two-shilling fare into his greedy palm. Besides, the walk home would give her an opportunity to think; to prepare for the blazing row she knew would follow.

Although she had just as much right to be angry.

Against her wishes, Gabriel had colluded with George Wellford. He’d plotted and schemed as though caring for a child in need of coddling. It took every effort to suppress the feeling of betrayal, a feeling that threatened to poison her heart and contaminate her thoughts.

If she stepped inside his sister’s house, was she not just as guilty of deceit?

With a deep sigh, she turned to face the facade and spotted someone watching her from an upstairs window, a young girl petite and delicate of frame with hair as black as coal.

The scene reminded her of the first time she’d seen Gabriel’s handsome face, peering through his front window. She had thought him cold, heartless and downright rude. In stark contrast, this girl held up a dainty hand and waved, leaving Rebecca no choice but to wave back, no choice now but to knock on the front door.

A woman no older than twenty opened the door, her warm smile enhanced by hair the shade of wheat on a summer’s day. The loose strands poking out of the mobcap gave the impression she’d yanked it on in a hurry and wasn’t used to answering the door.

“Can I help you?”

“My name is Miss Linwood. I am acquainted with Mr. Gabriel Stone. He has asked me to call in and pay my respects to his family.” Rebecca would have to perform some sort of penance for the lies she had told today. Although lately, she seemed to have a weakness for all things sinful.

“Mr. Stone asked you to call?” the woman said with a shocked expression as though the man they were discussing had been dead for years and must have hollered to her from the grave.