Sins of a Virgin (18 page)

Gabriel swore. Bourne must have staggered home only a few minutes before he arrived. He shouldn’t have tried to meet him at night. The man would likely be more sober in the morning.

Frowning, Gabriel reentered the tavern. Danbury had secured a table next to the fireplace. Danbury waved him over and Gabriel settled into a chair. It was stained and worn, but at the moment, perfectly comfortable.

“No luck, eh?” Danbury asked.

Gabriel shook his head. “Not tonight.”

Danbury grimaced. “I’ll drink to that.” He waved the barmaid over. As Loretta approached, he smiled lazily at her, then flipped her a guinea.

She flushed and straightened, the sway of her hips exaggerated. The anticipation that lit her eyes made years of hard living melt from her face. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

“Bring a pint for my fine Runner friend here.”

She curtsied low, her eyes never leaving Danbury, her fingers playing with her bodice. “As you wish, my lord.”

Danbury patted her on her backside. Loretta giggled and tapped him playfully on the lips before sauntering away.

Gabriel raised a brow. “I would have thought you’d outgrown barmaids by now.”

Danbury chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Do you know what I like about barmaids? They’re honest. There’s no hiding behind the pretense of morality. They are what they are.” He lifted his mug in an imaginary toast. “And I’m quite grateful for it.”

Gabriel shook his head as Loretta hurried back with a tankard. She clanked it down on the table and pressed plump breasts against Danbury’s arm. “Anything else?”

Danbury met Gabriel’s gaze. “See? Honest.” He shook his head. “Not right now, love.”

She sighed, glaring at Gabriel as if it was his fault Danbury had refused her. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Gabriel sipped the liquid, then grimaced. “This is worse than I remembered.”

Danbury nodded but took a swig from his half-empty tankard. “It gets more tolerable after the first pint.”

Gabriel pushed the mug away. “I don’t think I’ll test that.”

“So did the man you were going to meet have to do with Miss Valdan?” Danbury asked.

“No.”

“Miss Valdan. Now there is a woman who could use a lesson from the barmaids in honesty.”

Gabriel’s muscles tightened across his shoulders at the other man’s words. “You don’t have to bid.”

Danbury didn’t seem to notice Gabriel’s quelling tone. “Of course I do. Do you know how she is going to fake her virginity?”

When Gabriel remained silent, Danbury looked at him incredulously. “You don’t actually believe her, do you?” He slapped his knee. “Perhaps you aren’t the crack Runner I thought. I knew most of my peers are too blind to see her for what she is, but I thought the truth would be obvious to you.” He leaned in, propping his elbows on the table. “Well, let me tell you. I’m sure she’s not. Other men might be paying for her virginity. I’m paying to see how she intends to get around not being one.”

The tension in Gabriel’s jaw made it difficult to speak. “As I said, there’s nothing forcing you to bid.”

Danbury gave a bark of laughter. “She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she? So much that you can’t even talk about her. But how well do you really know her?”

Gabriel stood, the idea of prowling the dark streets of London in the icy rain suddenly preferable to sitting at this tavern with Danbury. “She’s an assignment. As to her virginity or lack thereof, I simply don’t care. I apologize, but I have other business I must attend to this evening.” He flipped a shilling on the table, the thought of Danbury paying for his drink no longer palatable.

Danbury shrugged and motioned the barmaid over with a smile. “I have business this evening as well.”

Chapter Sixteen

A
s they exited the milliner’s, Madeline handed Gabriel a large package. “You don’t mind, do you?” Her lips curved into a beguiling smile, her eyes sparkling.

And Gabriel had never hated an expression more.

His hand tightened on the cord encircling the box. Since he’d collected her this morning, she’d teased and flirted and laughed. But it was as if she were a pretty china doll with nothing behind the glossy eyes and sable curls.

And she hadn’t changed. That was the worst part. As he watched her banter with the other men, she was exactly the same as she’d been every other day. They fawned and lusted and she responded in kind, still as gorgeous and teeth-achingly seductive as always.

The difference was, now she treated him the same as her other male acquaintances.

The occasional wry glance when one of her suitors said something particularly outlandish was gone. Absent, too, were any hints she was something more than she appeared: a desirable, young courtesan eager to hold court over her swains.

He should be happy. She was upholding her bargain.

Yet his jaw ached from grinding his teeth together. He was mad. Who but a madman would want her to be cold? To ignore him? To be angry at his words last night? To be anything but this glossy caricature?

It was as if he’d been tossed from the wings of the stage into the audience with all the other fools.

But that didn’t make him one of her suitors, eager to jump at any small task to win her favor. “Perhaps instead of buying a hat, you should have hired a footman.”

She laughed. “Why, when you’ll be providing me one free of charge?”

“I’ve assigned you a guard. Two very separate things.”

“Really? Do you think he’ll hesitate to assist me if I ask?” She ran her tongue over her lip.

“Kent has a wife and child.”

“Well then, he shouldn’t be tempted by me.”

“Don’t torment him because you’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you. I would have to care about you to be angry. Besides, I don’t dally with my servants, remember?” Her tone was cheerful and patient. She could have used that tone to ask after the health of his mother. “If the package is too heavy for you to carry to the carriage, I can have the milliner send it around later,” she added.

He shifted the large box to his other hand so he’d be free to draw his knife, then paused. The box actually felt remarkably light, even for a bonnet. “What did you buy?”

“The box.”

“What?” He jostled the box from side to side. “There is nothing in here.”

She grinned. “I know.”

That made no sense.

“I didn’t actually buy a hat. I only need to appear like I have.”

But she’d looked incredibly beguiling in the black riding bonnet, and he’d seen the way her fingers trailed over the brim. “Why didn’t you buy the hat?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps once I have my fortune. But until then, I only buy what I can pay for, which at this point is an empty box.”

“Why shop then?” Why not sit in the comfort of a coach, rather than forcing herself to saunter about London on foot? Not once, even when they were alone, had she given him a glimpse of the agony she must feel from her wound as she strolled around Bond Street.

Madeline winked at a gentleman passing by on his horse. “Appearances. I’m bright, beautiful, and expensive. Do you think I’d be nearly as appealing if I appeared poor, downtrodden, and desperate?”

She could be dressed in burlap and still be appealing.

He should let this conversation go. As much as he wanted the real Madeline again, it was easier for them both if she stayed hidden away. He’d done remarkably well resisting beautiful faces over the years. But she had gotten to him somehow. Perhaps through the damnable way her eyebrow twitched before delivering a quip, the way she wore huge flannel nightgowns when she thought no one would see, or her ability to delve to the core of every situation.

Yet Danbury was right last night. He still knew almost nothing about her. “Are you desperate?”

She shrugged, smiling at two pinch-faced matrons. They sniffed, wielding their fans like shields as they skittered away. “Desperation is a relative term, is it not?”

Let it go
.

But he couldn’t. Gabriel wanted to blame it on his years as a Runner. Or the mystery she presented. But although the contradiction she embodied intrigued him, the woman responsible for creating the contradiction intrigued him more.

Gabriel placed the box prominently on the seat of her carriage. “I’m sure the store would’ve extended you credit until after the auction.”

Her lips thinned, the first time that rosy flesh had expressed anything but polite cordiality. “And if something happened and the auction was never completed? Do you know what debt does to a person? The duns that knock on your door and take the linens from your bed? How the threat of prison flays you until you’re willing to sell your wife to put an end to it?” Her charm deserted her, replaced by a desolate intensity.

One of the things Gabriel watched for in an interrogation were the outliers—facts, stories, and tidbits that weren’t asked for but the subject gave. “Selling a wife? That seems a bit extreme.”

Madeline inhaled deeply, her mask dropping back in place. “You’re right, of course.” But her jaw was too tight and her lips stretched too far.

Interesting. He continued to probe. “Lose too much in a game of piquet?”

But her brief moment of candor had passed. She laughed, tilting her head to her precisely practiced seductive angle. “I never lose.”

He stepped to the side, forcing her to alter her pose. “You’re skilled at cards as well?”

She placed her hand on his arm and stood on tiptoe, her breath whispering over his neck as she spoke. “My skills are moderate at best.” Her breasts brushed against his arm. “But my partners find it difficult to concentrate.”

Lust resumed its familiar cadence in his groin. But she hadn’t befuddled him as completely as she might have hoped. He trapped her hand when she would have trailed it down his arm. “I find that difficult to believe.” He traced a slow circle on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, unable to resist making her suffer as he did. “Oh, I believe men find it difficult to concentrate around you, but I don’t doubt you know the card each man holds before he plays it.”

Her brow lifted with idle amusement he might have believed if not for her pulse fluttering under his finger. “You’re accusing me of cheating?”

“You might indeed cheat on occasion, but I’m referring to your talent for observation.”

She freed herself from his grasp and strolled away to peer at a fanciful display of fans in a shop window. To anyone else she would’ve seemed enthralled with the merchandise, but Gabriel could see her eyes studying him in the reflection.

“People watch me, not the other way around.”

He walked behind her and met her gaze in the glass. “You watch with a trained eye.” He knew the truth of his words as soon as he spoke them.

She whirled away, allowing two agitated strides before her pace slowed and her hips resumed their customary sway. “Well, I’m trained in many arts.” Her voice rose slightly as she spoke, snagging the attention of a gentleman riding past.

The portly man reined in his horse and, with several strained grunts, dismounted. “What arts, Madeline?”

Her arm barely encircled the gentleman’s pudgy arm as she attached herself to his side. “What arts are you interested in, Percival? I’ve many interesting abilities. You served in India, a few years back, did you not? I’ve gleaned a few interesting talents from that area of the world.” The slender curve of her back presented an effective wall, cutting Gabriel from the conversation.

“N
o, I could never make a choice now. I need to leave room for one of you to surprise me.” Madeline laughed, clinging to the ornamental cement railing behind her. She desperately hoped the pose looked languid and carefree, unlike truth—that if she let go, she’d collapse.

Her suitors continued to press in around her, jostling and vying for a better position on the bridge. Their brightly colored waistcoats swam around the edges of her vision in gaudy blurs. A cool breeze blew off the Thames below, its sour, fishy smell fueling her desire to be done with her morning outing.

“Come now, Madeline, if there were no money involved, which of us would you pick?”

With lingering consideration, she scanned the dozen eager faces around her, proud as she kept her gaze from straying to where Gabriel stood a few feet behind the crowd. “I think that man knows who he is.”

As if pulled by marionette strings, all the gentlemen straightened, their chests expanding in unison as each of them came to the conclusion she’d intended.

A flicker of movement to the left caught her attention. She shifted, trying to see past the male bodies pressed around her without appearing as if she were giving anything less than her complete interest.

What had captured her attention?

There. A disjointed flicker of color in the gap between two men’s shoulders. To their left, in the space created as Tupe lifted his hand to smooth his balding pate, she glimpsed another flash of dark.

A group, then.

Her smile at Lenton drew him forward and allowed her a brief glimpse of the men approaching. It was a pack of dockside toughs dressed in assorted castoffs, moving with the ease and arrogance only youth provided. Seven of them.

While they were a good distance from docks, Ranleigh Bridge connected the more fashionable shops of London to the brothels and gaming hells on the other side of the river. All types frequented it.

Yet the youths had captured her attention, and she’d learned to not take that lightly.

“Well, gentlemen, since you’re obviously my favorites, there is a little thing I’d like to tell you.” She leaned forward as she spoke, hushing her tones, drawing in the circle of men until they provided a solid layer of protection. Or at least as much protection as Englishmen who thought boxing at Jackson’s preparation for a real fight could offer.

Although Madeline could no longer see him, the knowledge that Gabriel stood a few feet away soothed her far more than the wall of flesh surrounding her.

“I’ve been thinking about the night I’ll spend with the winner.” She closed her eyes and released a pleased sigh. “Do you know what I am looking forward to most? How I will—”