Dear Impostor (41 page)

          Gabriel grabbed her hand. “Run,” he said.

          They did. At least she was not hindered by
huge powdered wigs or long mermaid tails, Psyche thought as they fled through
the laughing guests. Perhaps her costume had been well chosen, after all.

          And Gabriel had shed his cloak and hat, and
his trousers and boots were easy enough to run in. They pushed their way
through the edge of the ballroom and paused long enough to take stock.

          “Are there more of them?” Psyche asked,
breathing hard.

          “It’s likely,” Gabriel said.

          And even as he answered, two more ruffians
came out of the crowd. One held a rough club, and both looked unshaven and
dirty.

          She felt Gabriel tense. “Get behind me,” he
muttered.

          “Look out,” she said, stepping back a little
so as not to hinder his defense. “There’s another!”

          The big clean-shaven man who stepped out from
the other side of the room wore slightly better clothes and a determined expression.

          Strangely, Gabriel laughed. Psyche glanced up
at him in surprise, then saw that the last man had stepped in front of their
attackers and held up his fists. But he faced the gang members, not Gabriel.

          “Get along with you, Gov,” he told Gabriel.

          Gabriel nodded. “They will be well occupied,”
Gabriel explained while Psyche grappled with the surprise that this man was an
ally, not an enemy. “I hired him from Gentleman Jackson’s Academy. But it is
time for us to leave.”

          They hurried on into the hall, and Gabriel
waved to a footman, who approached and bowed. There was a quick exchange of
coin, and Gabriel said, “Summon our carriage, quickly, and you’ll get another
of these. And bring our cloaks, and then remain beside the lady; do not let her
be accosted by drunken revelers.”

          His eyes bright, the footman hurried away.

          “Don’t leave me,” Psyche said before she
thought, reaching for his arm. She found she was shivering, more with shock
than with cold; the night was mild.

          He put his arm around her; she leaned against
his comforting strength. “I won’t,” he agreed. “Where is David? We could use
another good man, and the lad is strong for his age. Did he go back inside? We’ll
never find him now. There are too many people in this crush, and too many
damned mice!”

          The tightness in her throat seemed to strangle
the laugh that tried to emerge. Madness, this night had been mad, from
beginning to end.

          She watched the crowd for signs of the men who
had attacked them, or for even more members of the gang. She heard shouts of
encouragement from inside the ballroom and looked back to see that the
impromptu round of fisticuffs, which already had one of their assailants on the
floor with a bloody nose, was a hit with the company, who still appeared to
think this was all devised for their entertainment. Whatever would Sally say?

           Psyche glanced uneasily over her shoulder
through the open double doors. No more assailants emerged from the crowd. Yet
Psyche felt a prickle on the back of her neck, as if vigilant eyes watched from
the cover of the oddly-garbed mass of guests.

          “Gabriel,” she whispered. “Do you think
Barrett is here? I mean, I know that Sally would not have invited him, but–”

          ”But he could have walked in, disguised like
the rest of us?” Gabriel muttered back. “I would not be surprised.”

          Psyche shivered. And the masquerade had seemed
like such a good chance for a safe outing. Safe? She bit back another slightly
hysterical giggle.

          The servant returned, bowing and handed them
their cloaks. “Your carriage awaits, my lord.”

          “Good, you may accompany us to the door.” Gabriel
pressed another coin into the footman’s gloved hand. “The lady is a bit giddy
from too much excitement.”

          Psyche shot him an indignant look, but he met
her gaze with a bland smile. Oh very well, they had to say something to excuse
their abrupt departure. The footman held open the door and they hurried out,
almost falling over a prone body on the outside steps.

          “David!”
Psyche exclaimed. “Is he all right?”  

          Gabriel knelt to touch the boy’s throat, lift
one of his eyelids. “He’s been knocked out; here, get him aid at once,” he told
the servant. “We cannot stay.”

          The man shouted toward the open door, and
another servant scurried out to assist.

          Psyche lingered for only a moment to make sure
that the young man was breathing evenly.

          “What about Sally?” she whispered to Gabriel.

          “We’ll make our apologies later,” he answered
absently.

          “No, the gang members; we can’t just leave
them here!”

           He nodded and added to the footman bending
over David, “There are some roughly-dressed men who have taken advantage of the
costume gala to slip inside and look for purses to pick; I’d round up some more
servants to scour the crowd and get them out of your mistress’ house before
they do any more serious harm. They are the ones who must have attacked my
friend here.”

          “Yes, my lord.” The footman looked alarmed,
but he handed Psyche into their carriage and then hastened back to help carry
David up the steps of the mansion.

          Gabriel conferred for a moment with the driver,
then took his seat beside her, calling, “Drive on!”

          With a clatter of horses’ hooves and a jangle
of harness, the carriage pulled away from the house. Psyche took a deep breath.
She hoped that David was not seriously hurt, but at least she could stop looking
over her shoulder; perhaps they had left the danger behind..

          “A good thing you had coin on you,” she said. “I
would not have expected you to be so prepared, especially in this costume.”

          “I never go anywhere without funds,” Gabriel
said, his tone noncommittal.

          Psyche remembered his uncertain existence, his
years of exile, and flushed. “Of course.” Then her eyes widened. Back in the
ballroom he had shed the remains of his satin cloak, and now she saw dark
stains on his white sleeve.

          “Are you wounded?” The assailant with the
knife had injured him, after all. She leaned closer to see his arm in the dim
light, touching his ruined sleeve lightly. The fine silk had been slit, and she
could detect blood still seeping from a long gash.

          “We must bind it up,” she said, distressed. “You
never said a word.”      

          “It’s only a scratch,” he told her. He pulled
out a linen handkerchief, and she wrapped it around the wound.

          “Like the last cut was only a scratch?” Psyche
frowned as she tightened the knot. “You are very nonchalant about having knives
thrust into you.”

          “Why shouldn’t I be when I have your heavenly
hands to tend me, goddess.” Gabriel wagged his brows comically. It wasn’t easy
to glare at him in disapproval when she was laughing, but she managed.

          “When we reach home, we must wash it,” she
said, “so it doesn’t turn septic.”

          He shrugged. “We are not going home,” he said,
his voice calm. “Barrett’s gang is growing too bold; we must give them the
slip.”

          Psyche knew that her eyes had widened. She
glanced out the carriage window and saw that indeed, they had already passed
their own square. “But where are we going?”

          “I think it’s time I examined my new
property,” Gabriel said. “And I need a quiet place to lie low for a time, till
my ownership is established and I can find a way to defeat Barrett once and for
all.”

          “But isn’t that the worst spot to evade
Barrett?” She tried to grasp his audacious plan.

          “From what the solicitor tells me, the
scoundrel hasn’t visited his former estate in years,” Gabriel said. “He is a
most indifferent landlord. And sometimes the obvious card is the most
unexpected one to play. I will be vigilant.”

          A flicker of light from a street lamp
momentarily threw light into the carriage‘s interior; she made out an
unexpected object tucked between his body and his shirt, a lethal outline clear
beneath the thin fabric. Then the shadows thickened once again.

          “What is that?”

          But she knew the answer as soon as she spoke
the words. It was the dagger that the first of Barrett’s hired killers had
brandished. Gabriel must have taken it away from the man after he had knocked
him out; she had missed his action in the strain of the moment.

          Gabriel raised his dark brows. “Never throw
away a weapon,” he murmured.

          She remembered the old woman’s gossip, the
whispers from Gabriel’s past.
They said he’d killed her
. . .

          She was riding off into the darkness with an
accused murderer as her only companion, and no one else even knew their
destination.

          But her anxiety was premature; Gabriel seemed
quite anxious to be rid of her.

          “If they had not already discovered Sally’s
location, I should have left you there,” he told Psyche as he stared outside at
the dark streets. “But with the gang already in the house, it hardly seemed advisable.
What other friend or relative would you feel best about visiting?”

          She had a sudden absurd vision of turning up
on Percy and Uncle Wilfred’s doorstep. She laughed, then swallowed hard; this
was not the time for hysterics. No, having to explain her danger would offer
too much support to all of Percy’s warnings about Gabriel and his lack of
authenticity. Besides, to be forced to listen to Percy lecture all day and to
be too available for his amorous advances, no indeed, not even to save her
life. And aunt Mavis and her sour chatter–Psyche could not brook that idea,
either. Despite her abundance of relatives, she could think of no one to whom
she wished to turn in her moment of deepest need.

          The fact was, she felt safest with Gabriel by
her side. She had reached out to him instinctively in the ballroom. Despite the
fact that he was the one who had attracted the assailants in the first place,
his presence made her feel most protected, and she did not want to part from
him. It was illogical, but the strength of her feelings could not be denied.

          “No.” She shook her head. ”I won’t.”

          Gabriel turned to regard her through the
dimness. He sounded concerned. “You need to stay out of sight, too, Psyche, for
your own sake. Believe me–”

          “I’m going with you,” she said.

          Silence, then he spoke again, and she could
not read his voice. “Psyche, my dear Miss Hill–”

          What had happened to goddess? The formal title
was a reminder of the great gulf that lay between them. He was a fraud, an impostor,
and he had no right to remain in her company.

          “We have no chaperone; it will cause your
ruin–”

          ”If anyone in the Ton finds out,” she finished
calmly. “We shall have to be sure they do not. Besides, your enemies are
entirely too persistent. They know where my house is, they know my family. No
matter where I go in London, what if they find me again? If it’s a choice
between getting my throat cut and having my reputation tarnished, I think I
should choose the latter.”

          He didn’t answer; did he hear her remark as a
rebuke? She didn’t intend it so; he had not asked for this life and death
struggle.

          Leaning her head against the squabs, Psyche
closed her eyes and thought of her years of careful deferment to the strictest rules
of decorum, of her anxious observance of all of Society’s edicts. Having a band
of murderers after them made those concerns seem almost insignificant. Almost .
. . a respectable reputation was still essential for a woman of good birth; had
she not made that her touchstone ever since her parents’ death? And now she had
thrown it all to the winds. She should be distraught. Instead, like her
costume, this turn-about made her feel strangely free.

          “Are you sure?” Gabriel said at last; his
voice still husky with emotions she could not identify. “You must understand
that I cannot guarantee your safety, my dear.”

          “Yes, my mind is made up.”                

          He made no comment; did he not wish her to
come? Before she could worry about this, another thought struck. Circe and Aunt
Sophie. She spoke her thought aloud. “Circe and my aunt will be anxious,” she
told Gabriel, “if we do not come home after the ball.”