Chapter 20

Twenty

HART AND SUMMERS, SOLICITORS, LONDON - JUNE 14, 1816

WILLIAM

Bringing her to the office went against everything in me. Presumably they were watching this place, or had someone doing it for them. And I brought her right into the line of fire.

The distraught cry at the sight of my office nearly did me in. If that hadn't done it, the way she inspected me, with her eyes and hands, for injury that could not possibly exist, certainly did it. Her concern melted the last bit of resistance in my heart. No one had ever… cared before. Not like that, to the point of irrationality.

Oh, Adriane had cared in as much as I kept her fed, housed, and clothed. And she enjoyed toying with me. The late duke had cared as long as I continued to function as an example to hold up against his wastrel of a son. Mother cared, but my only memories of her were of her wasting away to illness. She hadn't enough left to worry after me. Kit cared, as a friend, a companion, perhaps even as a brother.

But this was different. I was enjoying it in a purely selfish way that I would never willingly admit. And when her hands ran over my torso, searching for nonexistent damage, it took more will than I thought I possessed to catch her hands in mine and reassure her.

I had bundled her into Kit's office for the three of us to talk. She wasn't listening, her gaze kept darting to the wall between his office and mine. Of course, I was too focused on her to listen to Kit's prattling either.

"Lady Rycliffe?"

"Celine, please. You've prevented Davina from being sold to a Prussian prince. I think we can dispense with the formalities. And I apologize, it has been something of a morning. Could you repeat that?"

"Austrian," he replied.

"Excuse me?"

"It was an Austrian prince."

"Well, that might not have been so bad. The gowns are better in Vienna," she retorted.

"I— But— She…" Poor Kit, he wasn't prepared for the full force of Celine.

"That was a joke. I appreciate your assistance in all of her scandals, even the ones that have the potential to end with tiaras."

"Right," he said. "Will seems to think this break-in was possibly related to your late husband's death. Is there… Are you able to tell me what you remember from that time?"

"You do not ask the easy questions, do you? Where should I start?"

"The beginning, I suppose?"

With a weary sigh, she began. "I had been out for several seasons when Gabriel and I met. After Mama and I left France, we relied on the generosity of the ton . My grandmere passed a year or so before I was presented, and for the first time since we left France, we were independent. I enjoyed the feeling of being beholden to no one, and I was in no hurry to wed.

"It made me very popular, you see. Men would trip over themselves for a dance. It's a flattering feeling. But Gabriel was different. He knew immediately what I was doing. It's difficult to describe—that feeling of knowing something—someone—is dangerous but wanting it more desperately than anything."

Celine was far away, back in 1806 or 7. Back with the man who still held her heart. Mine twisted uncomfortably, even knowing that the information might be essential.

"He tried to stay away, tried to drive me away. He insisted he didn't seduce innocents any longer. But he couldn't— I couldn't—wouldn't. I even allowed others to court me, Leopold Bennet, Earl of Champaign, specifically. But one night, Gabriel and I slipped out onto the terrace and walked back in engaged.

"After we wed, everything was wonderful. For a little while. Then he started arriving late, missing engagements entirely, that sort of thing. When I confronted him about it, he told me about most of his dealings. Before me, he had an exclusive relationship with a madam. Victoria was her name. They were… close. He even went so far as to invest in her brothel."

"Victoria White?" Kit asked.

"I do not know. It's possible."

"How do you know that?" I interjected.

"You stare at gentlemen's finances all day long. How do you not know the most popular brothel in the city?" I winced before shooting him a glare. He should not be discussing such crass matters in front of my—Celine. And she certainly did not need to know I was quite as inexperienced as I was.

"He said her benefactor was the most powerful man in the city. Because she knew all the secrets, you see. He had a few other less than honorable activities, boxing matches he fixed, that sort of thing. He also told me about a scheme he ran with his horses. He had one that was a particularly popular stud, and sometimes he would use a look-alike instead and collect the fees anyway. Then, a few years later, he would place wagers against that horse in races. But he said he stopped all of that when we met."

"And you believe him?" Kit voiced my thoughts, with much less incredulity than I could have managed.

"I do. I know I sound naive. But he loved me."

"All right, anything else?"

At his question, her eyes shot to mine. Adriane then.

"Might as well, love."

Her tongue darted between her lips before she began to tell my piece of this sordid tale. "Later, in Yorkshire, I met a girl. She was unwell and…"

"I believe the word you're searching for is mad ." She shot me a look for the interruption.

"William came and got her and took her away. And I knew she was the girl Gabriel meant when he said he didn't seduce innocents any longer . We had quite the quarrel about it."

They fought about it? She was upset about what he had done to Adriane?

"After we came out on the other side of that, things were good. Wonderful, really. In retrospect, something was off the day before he was killed. But at the time I didn't notice anything in particular. I tried to convince him to practice fencing with me. He managed to talk me back into bed instead." She muttered that last part, staring at the floor.

"He was your husband, love. Nothing wrong with that." It was the truth, though it felt like a lie on my lips. I was proud of how steady my voice was, barely reflecting the way I wanted to lay claim to her.

"We went to the races that day. We didn't go often, at least not together. But it was his mother's ball that night. We took Xander and Davina to keep them out of the house. He disappeared for a bit, and I saw him talking to someone, who turned out to be Will.

"When I asked Gabriel about it, he told me he thought Adriane had passed and that he and Will would meet later in the week to sort out funeral arrangements. We went to his mother's ball that evening. He disappeared for a while with some of the gentlemen, but that wasn't uncommon. That night when we went to sleep, everything was well—wonderful, even. The next morning I woke up in hell." Her voice had gotten thicker with each passing word.

I moved to stop her, to offer what little comfort I could, but she shook her head.

"I woke to a shout. By the time I made it downstairs, there was already a trail of blood to the dining room. He was stabbed in the back. On our front steps. He— I— We didn't have much time. He told me he loved me. He told me he knew I loved him when I couldn't get words out. And I kissed him. And he was gone."

My heart lay cracked open before her. For the way she wrapped her arms about herself. For the small, hollow, wooden quality of her voice. For the sobs I could hear in her words that she was bravely keeping at bay.

I didn't notice my own tears, not until the first one made its track down my cheek. Never in a million years had I thought I would shed tears for Gabriel Hasket.

I suppose I wasn't. Not really. I was shedding them for her. For the unendurable pain that was clear in her shuttered eyes.

Without warning, she bridged the gap between us and wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her face in my shoulder. Nothing could have stopped me from banding my arms about her shoulder blades. Her tears were silent, but the dampness spreading through my shirt was evident.

Between kisses pressed to her hair, I caught sight of Kit handing me his handkerchief with an uncomfortable shrug.

Eventually she pulled away, drying her tears on the aforementioned handkerchief. "Apologies," she whispered.

"We do some work with wills and such. It's not an uncommon occurrence." Kit's lie was a kind one. While it wasn't unheard of for someone to shed tears in our office, it certainly wasn't a regularity.

"A few months after Gabriel passed, His Grace demanded that Xander take over Rycliffe Place. I took some of Gabriel's documents with me, the ones I didn't think he would have wanted his father or brother to see. That's everything. All I know."

"I think Will is right. I think the break-in was tied to Gabriel's murder. I'd say it's most likely due to the nonsense with the horses. There is a great deal of money to be made in his scheme. And the timing of his death… I'd say the temptation to wager on one of his horses was too great. That he hadn't been gambling as regularly probably made the choice more noticeable," Kit said.

"We'll need to take a look at the General Stud Book. See if we can trace some of them."

"Dance something…" Celine interjected.

"What, love?"

"The horse that lost that day… It had dance in the name."

"That's helpful. Anything else?" Kit asked.

"Not at the moment. Maybe if I have some time to think."

"All right, I'll go hunt down the book. Will, do you want to stay with me tonight? Or I'm sure Kate could put you up in Grayson House."

"Beg pardon?"

"You can't stay here, Will. It's not as though they don't know where you live. It'll be the next place they check for the documents."

"He'll stay with me," Celine said.

"I will?" I asked at the same moment that Kit's incredulous "He will?" rang out.

"Yes. I won't be able to sleep otherwise. Go pack your things."

And just like that, I was staying with Celine. In her house. Where she lived. Without a suitable chaperone.

Suddenly the house that had seemed so overwhelmingly large yesterday felt impossibly small in my memory.