Sins of a Virgin (11 page)

Ian, on the other hand, laughed. “Why would you want to be nice? You’re well trained. That’s far better.”

But was that all there was to her? Training?

More importantly, did she care? She hadn’t a week ago.

Ian lifted a glass of brandy to his lips.

She glared at him. Of course, he hadn’t listened.

“It’s only a sip, I swear.”

Why did she bother trying to stop him? He was the Wraith, after all. What he wanted, he got. “The brandy will cost you.”

He sipped the amber liquid. “Of course. Everything does.”

“I need to find out all there is to know about Gabriel.”

“Huntford? Why?”

“He’s using the task I assigned him to pursue some personal agenda.”

“Have you asked him what it might be?”

“Yes. But now I need the truth.”

Ian patted her on the head. “I did train you well, didn’t I? He’s a bastard, you know.”

“I’ve experienced it.”

Ian laughed, handing her the rest of his brandy. “No, as in there is no Papa Huntford. I did some research before I gave him to you. His mother was a governess who found herself in the family way and changed her name to Mrs. Huntford before she gave birth to twins.”

“He has a brother?” For some reason, the idea of two of him running around was as amusing as it was frightening.

“No. He had a sister. She was murdered seven years ago, strangled. They never caught the killer. That’s why he became a Runner.”

Poor Gabriel. No one took the death of a family member lightly, but to lose a twin sister . . . And Madeline had seen the body of a woman who’d been strangled. Even though she hadn’t known the woman, the horrific image had stayed with her. What would it be like to go to sleep with the image of his sister like that imprinted on his thoughts—

Seven years.

“Gabriel asked for seven years of financial information from my suitors.”

“So he seeks something to do with his sister’s murder? I’ll see if I can find out what he’s looking for.”

“And anything else about him you think of interest.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she’d sooner face a Russian execution squad than explain her sudden yearning to know every last detail about Gabriel.

Ian massaged the back of his head. “Explain to me why I’m working while you spend the night at the theater?”

She wished she could simply delegate the investigation into Gabriel’s motives to Ian, but the puzzle nagged at her. “I’ll do my portion.”

“Will you torture or seduce the information from him?”

“I haven’t yet decided.” At the moment, both ideas appealed equally.

Grimacing, Ian rose to his feet, complaining about butlers who were fast with frying pans yet slow with tea. He paused by the door. “Are you sure you want to know what I find?”

She ignored the way her stomach dipped. “Isn’t it possible there’s nothing dark lurking in his past?”

Ian met her gaze with unflinching intent. “Everyone has secrets.”

Chapter Ten

I
n the middle of her dramatic, agonizing death, the actress on stage paused to glare at Madeline. Gabriel couldn’t blame her. No one had paid the redhead the slightest heed since Madeline had glided into the pit at the end of the first act. The ladies above peered over the sides of their gilded boxes with varying degrees of disgust, outrage, and envy. Their gentlemen escorts kept their heads averted, but after a few moments, although their opera glasses remained trained on the stage, the eyes behind them drifted to the far more entertaining performance below.

The gentlemen surrounding Madeline didn’t try to hide their ogling. Or their groping. Gabriel knocked away a hand reaching for her.

The actress on the stage finished dying to a smattering of halfhearted applause. She miraculously revived and flounced offstage before the curtain had fully closed.

With the pause on stage, more men gathered around Madeline. A drunken Corinthian, eager to press closer, stumbled into Gabriel, driving him backward into Madeline. He reached to steady her but two of her admirers were already hoisting her back to her feet.

Madeline laughed with abandon, as if she could imagine nothing more delightful than being tossed about by overanxious theatergoers. But rather than keeping the crowd at arm’s length as she’d done the night before, she pressed back against Gabriel, the softness of her derriere flush against his thigh. “It’s time to make a strategic retreat to the corridor.”

He threaded her through the mob of men surrounding them. “I thought you were succeeding well with your impression of a lively barmaid.”

“Barmaid? I’ll have you know that was lonely opera dancer to perfection.”

Gabriel couldn’t help grinning at her look of exaggerated affront.

“But I swear, if I get pinched once more, I won’t be able to sit for a week.”

People were already strolling about, taking advantage of the intermission. “I doubt you’ll be safer in the corridor.”

“I can keep my back to the wall. And if I’m in the corridor, the gentlemen will be able to create an excuse to leave their boxes and wander past me.”

He should have guessed even her escapes were carefully orchestrated. “You’re frightening.”

She laughed, this time a breathy chuckle meant only for Gabriel’s ears. “Why do I love your compliments the best?”

The refreshment vendor must have adored her because, true to her prediction, nearly every gentleman present found himself possessed of great thirst and in need of lemonade from the vendor directly to her left.

Gabriel settled against a wall a few feet away, allowing her free rein with her wooing.

Danbury arrived at his side a few minutes later. “I don’t know if I envy or pity you having to keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the one who bid on her. I’ll need the past seven years of your financials, by the way.”

“You know I’m good for the money.”

Gabriel did know. The man was incredibly wealthy, but Madeline was right—he couldn’t excuse his friends. “Same rules for everyone.”

Danbury focused on where Madeline stood sipping a drink, her lips moist and red from the spiced ratafia. “I suppose I will do what I must. Although I doubt she’s actually a virgin.”

“She claims she is.”

“Come now. There’s a ship at the docks waiting to take me to the other side of the globe. The only thing that holds me here is this auction. Surely you know the truth.”

Gabriel preferred not to think about Danbury taking Madeline to bed. “If you question whether she’s a virgin, why did you bid?”

One of Madeline’s bidders careened into Danbury. Grabbing the man’s port before it spilled, he steadied the man. “These men will bring shame on our entire gender if I don’t save them from themselves.” Danbury handed the glass back to the drunken man. “Do you suppose she cares if I woo her before I bed her?”

Slowly, Gabriel uncurled his fists. She wasn’t a lady whose reputation he needed to protect, after all. “No. Your bid is all that counts.”

Danbury exhaled dramatically. “Good. Then I’d better return to my box. I’m escorting the youngest daughter of the Earl of Riverton tonight. If she suspects where I’ve been, I’ll never hear the end of it. The woman can’t keep her mouth closed to save her life.” Danbury bowed and hurried off.

The ringing of the porter’s bell signaled the close of intermission. As the gentlemen returned to their seats, Gabriel worked his way upstream to Madeline’s side. “Are we returning for act two?”

She reached for him through the press of people. “Not a chance. Let’s—” She lurched, and her hand caught his in a viselike grip. Her head whipped around and she peered at the men jostling around them, her fingers digging into his hand. “—go.”

Despite the radiant smile on her face, the color had drained from her cheeks.

“Are you all right?”

Her free hand pressed against her stomach and her next step wobbled. “Who would’ve thought the punch wasn’t watered down?” She laughed, but then released his hand and folded both of her hands at her waist.

She darted and wove her way through the darkly clad gentlemen to the front entrance, her scarlet dress making her easy to follow. Several men called to her but she pretended not to hear.

Something was definitely wrong.

Frowning, Gabriel increased his pace. He caught her arm as she ran down the stairs in front of the theater. “Madeline—”

“Get my coach.”

“What is wrong?”

Her hands were shaking where they clenched against her stomach. “Curse you, just do it. Please.”

He spoke briefly to one of the lads nearby and tossed him a coin. The young man ran around the corner to where her coach was waiting.

The faltering lamps cast dark shadows over her face. “Madeline?”

She refused to look up.

Gabriel tucked his finger under her chin and tilted it up into the wavering light. “Are you ill?”

Shaking her head, she swallowed twice and lifted her gloved hands slightly from her body.

Odd. Why would the red dye from the dress—

Bloody hell
.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled them fully away from her stomach. A dark, wet spot marred her dress where her hands had been. “You’re bleeding.” His pulse pounded loudly in his ears. What had happened? How had he missed it?

She wrenched her hands free and pressed them against the wound. “Shh. Not here. The cut’s not a deep one.”

She must be in shock. He pulled out his handkerchief. “We must tend to—”

The carriage appeared at the end of the street and she hurried toward it.

Did he need to wrestle her to the ground? He trapped her again, clasping her shoulders with his hands. First, he needed to see to the bleeding. “You’re injured. Wait for the carriage to come to us.”

She glared at him. “I can’t risk anyone from the theater seeing me like this. It won’t help the auction if I’m seen bloody and hurt.” She winced. “It’s not precisely the image I’ve been trying to portray.”

Did the woman even have a heart beating in her chest? “We tend it now.”

The carriage stopped. She pulled away from him and opened the door, but when she tried to climb in, a muffled moan escaped.

If he put her in the coach, at least she’d have to hold still. With one hand tucked under her arm and the other at her backside, he lifted her in. Madeline fell back onto the seat with a gasp.

Swearing, Gabriel followed her, shutting the door behind him. He leaned over her. A thin slit, about the width of his palm, cut through the bloody circle in the middle of her dress. “You were stabbed?” Rage blurred the edges of his vision.

Madeline’s breath emerged in short, quiet pants. “So it appears.”

He removed his cravat. “Who?”

“I don’t know. There were too many people around me.”

“Why the hell didn’t you scream or cry out?”

She pressed her bloody glove against the cut. “I—”

“The dress is ruined no matter what, is it not?”

Her brows lowered, but she nodded.

He grasped the thin silk and ripped it, splitting the bodice open. A crimson stain glared against the white linen of her stays. The wound still bled, but it didn’t gush. She was right. It most likely wasn’t fatal. At least not if cleaned and properly dressed. But it must hurt like the devil.

Madeline studied her bloody undergarment, only a faint dotting of perspiration betraying her discomfort. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank heavens for my stays. The knife thrust hit the whalebone in the center and glanced off. If the criminal was more adept at stabbing women, I’d be dead. It was quite inexcusable.”

“On their part or yours?”

“Both, I suppose. But it was foolish of me to allow it.”

She sounded as if she were annoyed she’d left her reticule behind, not as if she’d nearly been killed.

During his watch. Hell, right under his nose.

Gabriel contemplated removing her stays, but now that the bleeding had slowed, he didn’t want to risk aggravating the wound while in the limited confines of the coach. He pressed his cravat against the gash with steady pressure. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

Her lips quirked in a wan smile. “Only half the population of London.”

“But most of them don’t hate you enough to kill you.”

“Fine. A quarter of the population of London.”

He couldn’t bring himself to smile. “How are you taking this so calmly?”

“Would it help if I panicked?” She gave a halfhearted cry. “Eek?”

He shook his head. His cravat was becoming sticky with blood, so he added a bit more pressure to the wound. “If there’s anyone threatening you, tell me. I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t think I’m paying you enough for that.”

He frowned. “I don’t care if you pay me. Who is it? I will deal with them.”

A brief uncertainty flashed through her eyes, then was gone. “I don’t know who stabbed me.”

The coach slowed. Gabriel placed her hands back on the cloth while he removed his coat. But when he tried to tuck it around her, she flinched away. “It will be ruined, and I can’t afford to pay to have it replaced.”

He draped it over her with a growl. “Not everything comes with a price. I don’t give a damn about your money. You’re injured and half naked. Take the blasted jacket.” He leaped from the coach, then pulled her into his arms and strode to her door.

“I can walk,” she protested, her voice muffled against his chest.

He was finished arguing. Her slender frame weighed hardly anything. She couldn’t afford to lose more blood. “No.”

Canterbury opened the door as they approached, a blue and yellow striped nightcap topping his head. His eyes widened with concern. “What happened?”

Gabriel walked past. “She’s been injured. I need hot water and bandages.”

Without wasting time on more questions, Canterbury hurried off to the kitchen.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked as he carried her up the stairs.

“You sure seem eager to get me in—”

Gabriel interrupted her witty comment. “Where?”

She sighed in defeat. “Third door on the right. I don’t need your help, but I don’t suppose you’ll listen to me, will you?”