The Wife He Always Wanted (18 page)

* * *

D
espite Gabriel’s urgent note, Mister Brown did not respond to his plea for a meeting. Impatient, Gabriel traveled to the Runner’s offices on Bow Street. He returned to find her pacing the library. “Mister Brown is out of the city. According to a man there, Brown will not return for several days.”

“This is discouraging news,” Sarah said. “We shall never find the killer with all these delays.”

“Have heart, Sarah. Ten years have passed and the case has only recently drawn new attention, thanks to your interest,” Gabriel said. “You must also resign yourself to the possibility of the murder never being solved. The killer may be dead.”

This was the first time he’d put her own fears into words.

“I understand your point but cannot think negatively.” She had to cling to hope. “I think I shall travel to where Father was found. I would like to see if the area holds any clues.”

She walked from the parlor and retrieved her cloak. Gabriel followed. “I shall go with you. Two people are better than one for clue searching.”

Any other time she might have welcomed his presence. However, she was not feeling up to spending another couple of hours with him, when her heart still stung. Still, his set face told her that arguing over the matter would not change his mind.

And he thought her stubborn. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He helped her into her cloak. “Besides, it will give me time to charm my way back into your good graces.”

Her nose went up. “I would not expect such an outcome. You have done nothing since we met but lie to me.” She left out the part about not wanting her as his wife. “You cannot expect a swift resolution to this matter. I may never forgive you.”

* * *

G
abe wanted to argue that he’d only lied to her to save her from harm; however, it was a big lie and he thought it best to let her win this one. She’d only dig in her heels if he pressed the issue and tried to defend himself. When she had her hackles up, there was no soothing her with charm.

“Then perhaps we should focus on your father and leave our squabble for another time.”

Sarah sighed. “I’ll await the carriage.”

They spoke very little on the short ride. Sarah sat stiffly on the seat and left him free to examine her profile. Her delicate cheekbones and thickly lashed violet eyes held him fascinated. Letting his mind drift to their lovemaking, he felt a stirring in his trousers.

Hell. His wife knew how to both exasperate . . . and fire him up. Even with annoyance still obvious on her face, he wanted her naked and moaning beneath him.

Just when he thought she was softening toward him today, her temper flared again and all politeness vanished.

Damn his bungled confession!

Truthfully, despite her anger, the admission had assuaged some guilt. Albert would never have given him his blessing to marry Sarah, but he would have admired Gabe for taking Sarah’s verbal battering as his due and found some humor in his current suffering.

“We are almost there,” he said through gritted teeth. “Turn to the left and follow, almost to the end of the street.”

Sarah sat straighter on the seat. He knew she’d tried to be brave, but her quivering hands bespoke her anxiety.

The carriage turned and pulled to a stop before a tidy little bookstore on a tree-lined street. There was nothing evident to show a murder had taken place in this spot. It was all very ordinary.

“I thought I’d see something of note,” Sarah said softly, echoing his thoughts. “A mark on the walk . . . something. There is no sign of the violence committed here. Not that I’d expect there would be.” She expelled a breath. “Truthfully, I did not know what to expect.”

Greenery spilled from window boxes, and a colorful sign over the door said,
FARNESS AND SON’S BOOKS
.

“I agree.” He helped her from the carriage. “I cannot imagine your father meeting his end on this quiet street. Whitechapel or the wharf, perhaps, but not here.”

Sarah stood on the walk, looking down at the stone beneath her feet, up at the store, scanning her eyes over everything in sight. She clasped her hands together and touched them to her chin. All was quiet for a few minutes.

“There is something about this place I cannot put to words,” she said finally. “I feel an odd sense of peace here, almost as if my father is watching us.”

“I believe he is,” Gabriel said. He was rewarded with a small smile. “He loved you very much.”

The smile slowly faded and her face turned pensive. “I miss him terribly.”

“I know, sweet.” A lively group of a dozen or so men and women appeared from around the corner. They chatted and laughed, their voices upraised. “We should go,” Gabe said.

Sarah nodded and he helped her back into the carriage. The driver clucked his tongue and they were off.

“Do you think I am doing right by wanting to find his killer?” Sarah asked. “My father is at peace. Should that not be enough to satisfy me?”

“What do you think?” Gabriel faced her. “Will you be able to accept that the killer never meets justice?”

She stared off at the passing buildings. “I would not be pleased with that outcome. From the time I was around twelve years old, I wanted to come to London and solve the case. It was in your arrival at my door that I saw my chance.”

The admittance raised his brows. “I thought my lie was the only reason for the marriage. You had another reason for your quick acceptance?”

Her jaw tightened. “Albert’s wish was the most important reason. But as I considered the betrothal, I knew you were likely my only and last chance to get to London. I thought our marriage a worthy price for the chance to avenge my father.”

The admission stunned him. “What a calculating woman you’ve proven to be. I’ve underestimated you time and again.”

“Not calculating. Practical.” She adjusted her hood against the wind. “As you said, I was starving and facing certain death. You offered me a chance to live a better life and to serve my father. What would you have done?”

“The same,” he admitted. “Your fortitude is one of the reasons I admire you.” Despite the hood, he saw her smile. The compliment was well timed and genuine. “There are many.”

Slowly, he felt her relax beside him. It was a small but significant victory.

“Thank you for coming today,” she said and glanced up at him. “Though I hate to admit this, I think my father would have liked you.”

He chuckled at her sour expression. The admittance cost her much, his spirited wife. “A man without sense, your father.”

Her mouth twitched. He placed his hand on the seat beside hers, their smallest gloved fingers touching, and she did not snatch her hand away. Another victory.

“None of us Palmers ever had any sense,” she groused and accepted his touch.

Chapter Seventeen

I
suspect the woman you speak of is a French spy called The Widow,” Mister Brown said three days later when he arrived at Harrington House unannounced. With a grave expression, he continued, “She always dresses as a male, in black, and is shrouded in mystery. No one knows her true identity. However, it has been seven years since anyone has heard from her or seen signs of her work. Many Runners thought she was dead.”

The description fit their peeper. This worried Sarah.

“If this is The Widow, then something has drawn her from hiding,” she said. “Could it be Albert’s death?”

“It’s possible,” Mister Brown said. “Your brother hid you well. When you arrived in London and started looking into your father’s death, you not only drew our attention but hers. As long as Albert was out of England and you were not a threat, she was content. Your curiosity has piqued their interest.”

“Who are they?” she asked. “We only saw her.”

“The Widow would not work alone,” Mister Brown said. “Doubtless, someone is paying her to come out of hiding.”

Sarah glanced at Gabriel and saw his concern as he met her eyes. “I assume from her title that The Widow is dangerous,” he said. “How dangerous?”

Mister Brown went silent for a moment. “You would not want her as your enemy.”

A burn flamed in Sarah’s belly. “Excellent news, that,” she said. Worry turned to fear. The spy’s appearance outside the town house did not bode well for her. “I’m innocent of any wrongdoing and pose no threat to anyone. Yet, I may be in the path of a killer.”

The Runner nodded. “I will give this new information to my colleagues. Hopefully, we can find and stop her.”

Gabriel stepped forward. “Pardon me if I am not convinced that Bow Street will succeed in capturing The Widow. You’ve had ten years since Palmer’s murder to flush out and arrest any French spies who remained after Napoleon’s exile. And if this woman was a spy during the war, then she’s had many years before and after the murder to hone her skills. She will not be caught easily.”

“This is a complicated matter,” Mister Brown said defensively. He puffed up his chest. He obviously didn’t like his failings pointed out. “Palmer was a master spy and made many enemies. It’s near to impossible to whittle the suspects to one.”

“Then we shall continue our own investigation,” Gabriel replied. “We have our entire town house to search. I plan to leave no hidden panels uncovered.”

Sarah led the Runner out. Without speaking, they gathered his coat and her pelisse and drove to the town house. She went off to see if any work had begun inside; it had not, and she returned to find her husband back to the shelves. “Mister Brown is not pleased with you.”

“Mister Brown needs to find The Widow and her nest. It is not my job to coddle him.”

They were in agreement there. “It was easy to dismiss Mister Brown’s warning of danger when there was nothing on which to base his conclusion. With her arrival here, she has confirmed his worries. I am in danger.”

Gabriel did not immediately answer. “Not necessarily. As long as we do not have what they want, they will not harm you.”

“They want access to this house,” she said. “If they kill me, the house will be overrun with Runners tearing the house apart looking for evidence. Our spy will not want the Runners to find the papers before we do . . . or she does.”

“That is why we need to keep searching.”

“Do you truly think my father hid his important papers here, in this house?” She wrinkled her brow and looked up at the immense collection of books. The shelves went from floor to ceiling on three walls. “Wouldn’t it have brought danger to our family?”

He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “I do not know what to think. But I do know that until your father’s papers, journals, or whatever documents he used in his cases are found, you will not be free.”

“What a muddle.” She inhaled deeply and walked to the shelves. Thankfully there was only a small section left to search. They finished within an hour.

“Damn.” Gabriel raked both hands over his head. “I was certain we’d find something here.”

The disappointment was not only his. “I agree.” She returned the last books to the shelves and straightened them to line up in a perfect row. “This was the obvious place to hide secrets.”

Gabriel slumped into the desk chair. The desk had been emptied before they ever arrived on the first day. “Too obvious, perhaps? Still, we had to start somewhere.” He tapped his fingertips on the desk and glanced around. “Where did you hide your mysteries, Palmer?”

Sarah walked around the room, tapping on the walls, unwilling to accept defeat. “We have many rooms left to search. Do not give up quite yet.”

The next two days began and ended in much the same way. Rise, eat, travel to the town house, search the rooms, return home, eat, and sleep. Sarah and Gabriel developed a routine of sorts, pointedly ignoring the lingering tension between them. They were painfully polite, though Sarah found her dreams not at all in that vein.

There was nothing polite about dreams of his mouth on her breasts and his hand between her legs.

“Lud,” she mumbled on the morning of the third day after another night of restless and heated sleep. “I wish he’d never taken me to bed.”

“Mrs. Harrington?” Flora queried from the wardrobe.

“It’s nothing, Flora.” She rose and stretched her arms overhead. “I think I shall wear the gray today.”

She ate alone and met Gabriel in the foyer for the trip to the town house. An hour later, the last of the rooms on the lower floor were thoroughly examined. Gabriel stood back and scanned the wood-paneled walls of the dining room.

“Hell. This is becoming a futile effort.”

Sarah joined him. They stood side by side. “Many hours of work and no more hiding places are to be discovered in here. What a time waste.”

“Not a waste, for we have cleared several rooms,” Gabriel said. “If not for our spy confirming that your father possesses damning information, and the presence of The Widow, I’d think this matter nothing but the paranoia of one Mister Brown.”

“What about the cottage fire?”

“It could be nothing more than vandals.”

“Your missing trunk?”

“Thieves.”

“You believe this?” she pressed.

He rubbed his neck. “At this point, I do not know what to believe. All I know is that we don’t really know anything except at least one woman is curious enough to peep in our window. She could be nothing more than a common housebreaker.”

“Without proof she is The Widow, you might be correct.”

The maid arrived with tea and sandwiches. She laid the tray out on the desk. If the servants thought their new employers’ behavior was odd, they were well trained not to let it show on their faces. All were unfailingly efficient.

“Thank you, Franny.” The maid left.

Sarah sat behind the desk and reached for a sandwich. “How long before rumors abound through the Ton about the mad Mister and Mrs. Harrington, the couple obsessed with moving their books around and banging on walls?”

Gabriel pulled a chair over and sat. “It depends entirely on the discretion of our servants.” He took a bite of sandwich. “They have not been in our employ long enough to build loyalty. I’d say the whispers have already begun.”

Her mouth quirked. He grinned. Her bones turned to mush.

Drat! She tried, and failed, to turn away. Instead, her eyes roamed over his face, his unruly hair, the way his muscles moved under his shirtsleeves. If only he were not so frustratingly attractive!

“By the time we finish all the rooms, the servants will petition to have us committed to Bedlam,” she managed, just.

Green eyes lit with humor . . . and something a bit more scandalous. “As long as we can share a cell, I will accept my confinement with grace.”

Warmth prickled through her as she stared at his mouth. He had an excellent mouth. “I despise you. I do not trust you.”

“I know. Do you need trust to share a bed?”

“Hmmm.” She reached for and sipped her tea. Every part of her wanted every part of him, naked. Could she accept the sensual parts of her marriage while still angry with him? Could she bed him while knowing their marriage was nothing more than a matter of convenience?

Marriages were built on much less. And she wanted him so desperately. Her sleepless nights demanded a resolution.

“The master bedroom is ready for occupancy,” she said tartly and stood. Her body flushed with anticipation of a lusty romp. “I think I shall test the worthiness of the mattress.”

Hurrying from the room, she heard the chair scrape behind her. She smiled as she went up the stairs. The sound of hurried boot steps pounded up behind her. Sarah laughed as she reached the top, lifted her hem, and raced for the bedroom door.

She managed to close a hand over the door handle when Gabriel caught her around the waist and swung her about. He slammed his mouth over hers in a delicious and heated kiss.

“Mmmm,” Sarah moaned. He pushed her against the wall and then molded her body to his. Gabriel overwhelmed her and she was lost in his heat.

The door somehow opened behind her and she was spun around and nudged into the room. Gabriel kicked the door closed and rattled a lamp on a table nearby. He reached for her. Locked together, with his mouth eagerly mating with hers, they stumbled to the bed. The advancement halted when the backs of her legs hit the mattress.

Sarah tore at his cravat and shirt until his chest was bare. Her hands greedily explored the muscled expanse. He turned her around long enough to unfasten her gown then twirled her back to reclaim her mouth.

“I want you,” she said beneath his lips.

“Then let us get you undressed. He removed her gown, her undergarments, everything down to her garters and stockings. Then he ran his gaze over the feminine items and grinned. “I think we shall keep those on.”

Sarah laughed and he removed his boots and trousers. “How wicked you are, Mister Harrington.”

His hands slid, open palmed, up her thighs. “Do not forget insane. With you, I would spend a lifetime in Bedlam.”

Her laughter deepened as he nudged her back on the bed. Her body ached and her heart lightened with the knowledge that he cared for her enough to be committed to a place for the insane with her. Even in jest.

“I shall take that as a compliment, though I’d rather limit our romps to a comfortable bed.”

“. . . or the floor, the tub, under the bushes in the garden . . .” he quipped and leered. “Of course, there are always coaches.”

“Scandalous, scandalous man.”

Without pause, he joined her on the mattress and into her waiting arms. Sarah pushed him onto his back and rose over him. He groaned when she closed her hand around his erection and nipped his chest.

“You smell spicy,” she said, trailing kisses down to his taut belly. She placed a kiss on the tip of his erection, then back to his stomach, still too shy to attempt anything more. The sounds Gabriel made during her exploration assured her he was fully engaged.

Fingers worked on the knot at the back of her head, and her hair tumbled about her in a mass of brown and light. “I once thought your hair uninteresting,” he admitted. “I was mistaken.”

She lifted her head and peered through the strands. “I once feared you,” she replied. “I was right in that belief. You are a dangerous draw that I cannot resist.”

Laughing, he pulled her up and kissed her. “You are a minx.”

Sarah climbed atop him and straddled his thighs. His hardness brushed her core. She wriggled to find a better fit then rubbed against him. “You are an infuriating cad and I refuse to forgive you for lying to me. However, I feel that withholding my body from you will only cause me extreme physical discomfort, so I will allow you to take me whenever I see fit.”

Two hands fondled her breasts. She sighed.

“Someday I will earn back your trust.” He rolled her onto her back and settled between her legs. “Until then, I am your devoted slave.”

In a swift motion, he pushed inside her. Sarah emitted a breathless sound. He slid in and out of her, slowly at first then faster as their passion grew. He kissed her, kissed her breasts, and made free with his hand until Sarah was ready for her release. As if sensing the moment, he reached between them and used his fingertips to push her over the edge, following quickly with a shudder as he spilled himself inside her.

“Lud I missed you, this,” he groaned.

With a sigh, Sarah pulled him down and played with his damp hair, weaving her fingertips in the dark locks. “It is
I
who am your slave,” she whispered, and he lifted his head. His expression was serious. “We are a pair, you and I.”

He slid up to kiss her. “Despite my cutting words to the contrary, I have, and never will, regret marrying you, Mrs. Harrington. Never.”

Tears sprung to her eyes. The tenderness in his voice rocked her emotions. She had no appropriate response, not when disappointment still simmered deep inside her. For now, all he’d get from her was her body. Nothing more.

Instead of speaking, she eased him off her and snuggled up to his side. His hand caressed her back.