Chapter 19

G AbrIELLE HURRIED DOWNSTAIRS after being told the name of the visitor waiting for her in the parlor. She wouldn't have come downstairs for anyone else. She was still somewhat in shock after last night. She couldn't believe Drew had done that to her, deliberately tried to ruin her chances for a good marriage.

He didn't succeed, fortunately. He even insisted he wasn't serious when Georgina, just as shocked as Gabrielle was, started to upbraid him. Of course, what else could he say at that point?

Gabrielle didn't buy his innocence, though. She didn't doubt at all that the remark was a deliberate attempt to sabotage her husband hunting. But he was foxed to the gills. That his inebriated state was so obvious was probably the only reason Lady Dunstan believed that he'd only been joking and had merely suggested that he leave, which he did.

Wilbur had left, too. He'd taken quick advantage of the distraction to slip away so he wouldn't have to answer Lady Dunstan's probing question. Or so Gabrielle had assumed later. She'd wanted to leave at that point, too.

"Don't let this upset you," Georgina had said, patting her hand. "My brother can be quite careless in his comments when he gets foxed, and he usually does get foxed his last few nights in port. But Lady Dunstan knows who my husband is. For that matter, she won't risk having any of the Malorys annoyed with her by repeating what she thinks was no more than tasteless joking. She knows very well that by the time the comment made the rounds, it would no longer be considered a jest. So she'll say nothing."

Gabrielle didn't hear anything beyond "last few nights in port." Drew was leaving. And she wouldn't even have known if his sister hadn't mentioned it. She was sure he wouldn't have told her. Why should he? She was nothing to him.

And yet she was crushed. First he tried to ruin her prospects, then he intended to leave before the scandal broke. She should be furious with him. She wished she was furious. That would be so much more preferable to feeling hurt and disappointed.

"There you are, m'dear."

Gabrielle turned to see James Malory leaving his study. She didn't tense up like she used to in his presence. Since the night of the theater when he'd bandied quips back and forth with Georgina's brothers and she'd seen how they could provoke him without dire consequences, she'd lost most of her fear of him. And his expression wasn't guarded for once. He actually looked concerned.

"How are you feeling this morning?" James asked, putting a fatherly arm about her shoulders.

She thought he was referring to the couple days she'd hidden in her room claiming illness, so she said, "I'm fine now."

"No urge to shoot anyone?"

She chuckled at the way he put it, understanding now. "You heard about what happened last night, I take it?"

"Indeed. No more than I would expect from one of those barbarians I'm forced to claim kinship with, but George is quite annoyed. She actually expects her brothers to behave like gentlemen. But I'll make sure there are no repercussions due to Drew's foolishness, you may depend upon it. I'm going to bite the bullet, as it were, and join you and George for the rest of the Season."

She was surprised, and touched, that he'd be willing to do that. She knew how much he hated social gatherings. "You don't have to."

"I want to. Consider this, if you will. If not for your father, I wouldn't be here, my children wouldn't be here, and George wouldn't be the happiest woman alive."

He said it with such a warm grin, she couldn't help but return it. It made her realize the debt he owed her father was more important to him than she'd guessed.

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Exactly. Now run along. I believe I heard one of your suitors arrive for a visit."

She would have explained that her visitor wasn't a suitor, but James had already turned to go upstairs, and she'd kept the young man waiting long enough. James had managed to cheer her up, but her visitor was going to take her mind off last night completely, she was sure.

"Avery! How nice to see you again!"

She held out her hand as she approached him. He didn't see it because he couldn't take his eyes off her face. "Good God, I barely recognize you, Miss Brooks. I knew you had promise, but you've far exceeded it."

She blushed at the compliment; actually, it was his expression that embarrassed her. He really did appear incredulous—and delighted.

"You're looking well yourself, Avery. But how did you know to find me here?"

He was blushing now, severely. "I'm afraid I bring you bad news."

She immediately thought of her father, and yet this couldn't be about him. She'd made a point of finding out what had happened to Avery after she'd left that pirate isle. Her father had assured her that he'd been ransomed and had returned to England shortly thereafter to find a less "exciting" occupation. So Avery couldn't know anything about Nathan. And he hadn't actually answered her question. How did he find her or even know she was in London, when they didn't travel in the same circles?

He could have just seen her about town, she supposed. She'd ridden in the park twice, attended a day concert, even gone shopping on Bond Street several times with Margery. She'd also gone to the less affluent side of town last week when she'd wanted to warn Richard of Malory's lethal promise. So Avery could have just noticed her out and about and merely followed her to this location.

"What is the bad news?"

"Your name is on everyone's tongue this morning. That's how I found out that you were in town and why, and even who you're staying with. Half of the town is apparently aghast that a pirate would try to infiltrate their ranks through marriage, while the other half finds it hilarious, seeing it as quite the joke on the ton. Oh, dear, so you didn't know?"

She was so shocked her complexion must have gone white, giving him that clue. "Lady Dunstan," she said tonelessly. "I was assured she wouldn't spread what she overheard last night, but obviously she thought it was a juicy enough tidbit to risk even James Malory's wrath over it."

"I don't know about that," Avery said. "Never heard of the lady. It's Wilbur Carlisle who's telling anyone who'll listen that you aren't who you pretended to be."

She almost laughed. It would have sounded hysterical, though, so she cut it off. Wilbur? Unassuming, nice, desperate-for-a-wife Wilbur? Why would he do this to her? Why wouldn't he demand proof first before launching her into a scandal? Because he felt she'd deceived him?

It's not as if she wouldn't have told him about her father if their relationship had grown more serious. Well, she might not have confessed that her father actually plied the seas as a pirate, but she would have warned him that he was in trade. Many upper-crust families would consider him a black sheep of the family, but it wasn't as if many of them didn't have black sheep of their own. And her mother's social credentials were impeccable.

She'd been so deep in her thoughts that she hadn't heard the knock at the front door, but the scuffle going on out in the hall was certainly loud enough to draw her attention. She glanced quickly at Avery and said, "Excuse me for a moment."

"Certainly."

But she no sooner stepped into the hall than she gasped, incredulous at the sight of Ohr grappling with the Malory butler on the floor. There was no contest, of course. Ohr was barely straining. He was a strapping man in his prime, while Artie was a crusty old sea dog, very slight of build.

She almost laughed, but instead prudently mentioned to Ohr, "That's not a proper way to come calling."

"It is, when you get the door slammed in your face," Ohr countered, glancing up at her.

Ohr was lying there on the floor with his arm locked around the head of the butler, who was also lying on the floor, one hand gripped tightly to Ohr's long braid. The men were clothed in a similar fashion, with scuffed boots, cut-off pants, and billowing shirts. She never had got used to the fact that the Malorys had a butler who looked and sounded as if he belonged on a pirate ship.

The two men had stopped struggling as soon as she'd spoken. Now Artie told Ohr, "Think I didn't 'ear the cap'n say ye weren't welcome 'ere? I know m'duty, ye bleedin' blighter, and that's keeping ye unwelcome."

Ohr made a scoffing sound. "I would have been happy to stand outside the front door and wait, you old salt, if you had agreed to let Gabby know I needed to speak with her, instead of telling me to get lost."

"She were busy! I told ye that, too!"

"And I told you this couldn't wait."

Gabrielle tsked. "Let him up, Ohr. What is it that couldn't wait?"

Ohr got to his feet and stepped wide of Artie, in case the butler thought to throw any more punches when he stood up. Glancing back at Gabrielle, he said, "We need to talk privately." He looked too serious by half and sounded it, too.

He didn't wait for her to question him further. He took her arm and started toward the front door with her, but Artie leapt in front of it to block their path.

"Don't even think about it, mate," the butler warned. "Ye ain't takin' 'er anywhere, or I'll be callin' the cap'n and ye'll be wishing ye were dead."

Ohr growled, "I've had about enough of you—"

But Gabrielle interrupted him with a gentle hand on his arm and told Artie, "It's all right. He's a very good friend of mine and one of my father's most trusted men. I'll be fine with him."

Ohr didn't wait for the butler's permission. He led her out the front door to the coach he had waiting outside. She hadn't expected to go farther than down the street, where they could talk, but she didn't try to stop him.

"You've heard about the scandal already?" she guessed.

"What scandal?" he asked.

"Never mind, we can discuss it later."

"Good, because we have some decisions to make. Pierre is holding your father for ransom, and the price he's demanding is you."