CHAPTER 20

"WHERE ARE WE?"

As she took Gabriel's hand to descend from the hackney, Hannah looked up at the facade of the stone building in front of her. It was a handsome and well-built structure, with tall windows and imposing columns flanking the main entrance. All adorned with intricate carvings and ornamental flourishes.

"Baker Street Station. The first station built by the Metropolitan Underground Railway," he said with an expansive swipe of his arm.

"Oh! I heard about the Underground. It was opened earlier this year, wasn't it? I've been curious about it, but with Harold's health being delicate..." She trailed off and peered at Gabriel, wondering if she had committed a faux pas by mentioning Harold. Would he prefer that she not mention her husband, his father? God, this situation was so awkward. But Gabriel's expression remained unconcerned. She breathed a little easier.

"Would you like to ride the Underground?"

Her eyes widened as excitement swept through her. "Would I? But of course! But wait... is it safe?" she added, caution tempering her initial enthusiasm.

"I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think it was safe," he replied, looking at her with such possessive tenderness that something melted in her belly and trickled down to her core.

"Although, I must warn you, it can get a little smoky. The tunnels lack sufficient ventilation, as they were not designed with steam locomotives in mind. But the ride will be short. Less than twenty minutes. Do you think you'll be able to tolerate it?"

"A little smoke won't deter me from enjoying the first underground train."

He smiled at her and offered his arm. "In that case, let's go purchase our tickets."

They entered the station through the main entrance, which was covered by a heavy canopy of wrought iron that extended from the facade, providing shelter to passengers entering and exiting the station.

The interior was open and bright. Flooded in natural light by the large, arched windows. People scurried about, purchasing tickets or purposely walking to and fro. Gabriel directed them to the ticket booth and bought their fare.

"You seem awfully familiar with this place," she remarked.

"I invested in the Metropolitan Railway Company and take a great interest in everything related to it, so I've had occasion to visit."

"I didn't know you invested in railways. Are you interested in industry and innovation then?"

He smiled one of those boyish half smiles that disarmed her and made it difficult to think. "But of course," he replied. "Isn't that the future? There's been so many inventions in the past decades, and I predict a great many more will come into existence in the next few years. The world is changing. Industry is progressing rapidly. We who manage estates must adapt and embrace these changes, or risk being left behind."

"You are right, of course." She nodded before another thought struck her. "Where did you get the money to invest, since the earldom was in such dire financial straits?"

As soon as she spoke the words, she realized how indelicate they were. She clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. "I'm sorry. That question was unforgivably crass of me."

Gabriel looked at her and burst out laughing.

"It is quite all right, Hannah. I don't mind talking to you about anything. We have bigger secrets than the source of my funds. I used the money from the sale of my commission. It was not enough to save the estate, but I hope that by investing it thus, it will bring income for years to come."

They had descended to the platform area, a huge, vaulted tunnel punctuated by niches over which huge, recessed windows allowed light from the outside. Just at that moment, a whistle rent the air, and the locomotive emerged from the depths of the tunnel in a vast cloud of smoke.

"Our train has arrived," he announced.

They boarded the first-class compartment, which at this time of the morning was almost empty, and took their seats on the comfortable, padded benches.

"You could remove your veil," he whispered, leaning into her for his words to reach her over the relentless noise of the train.

"I dare not," she replied, fingering the edge of her veil for reassurance.

His mouth hardened, but he said nothing more.

Truth was, she was uncomfortable being in public with him. Her guilty conscience constantly provided reminders of her scandalous behavior and had her starting at shadows, making her feel observed.

The trip was exhilarating, but short. Soon, they had reached the end of the line and were disembarking in another part of London she had never visited before.

"Where are we now?"

"Clerkenwell," he replied, guiding her towards the building exit. "There's a lively street market. And a high street lined with shops and cafes. I thought we could stroll about the market and maybe take refreshments in one of the tea shops."

"Oh, that sounds splendid," she replied and meant it.

The energy of the place differed from that of the aristocratic streets of Mayfair and Belgravia. After walking around the market for a while, the aromas of fresh pastries teased her nostrils, and she spotted a stand that was selling mouth-watering beef pies.

"Fancy a pie?" Gabriel asked, and her stomach rumbled in response. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Sorry," she replied, appalled at her body's rude noises. "I had little for breakfast this morning." Between the nerves of yesterday's encounter with Mr. Blackwell and anticipating today's outing, she had not been able to eat much this morning. His eyes crinkled in amusement.

He looked at her with such understanding that she could have sworn he knew the reason she had not eaten. Could discern that she had slept poorly and was plagued by fears every time she was away from his presence. But he said nothing. Didn't prompt her or insist that she relax.

He led them to the stand and ordered two pies. When their fare arrived, she realized she now had a dilemma. She could not eat her food with her veil covering her face.

Gabriel brought his hands up, touching the edge of her veil, a question in his eyes. She knew what he meant. He was asking her permission to lift the veil, expose her face to the multitude of people on the street market. She gave a decisive nod, even though it would make her feel as exposed as if she were standing naked in the middle of the street. Anyone passing by could recognize her.

"Nobody here knows you, Hannah," he reminded her gently, as he lifted the veil.

"I just can't shake the feeling of being followed. Of being watched. I wouldn't put it past Blackwell to do just that."

"Would you feel more comfortable leaving the market? Maybe you would prefer wandering the less transited streets? There are many shops and establishments where we could seek refuge."

She almost wept with relief when he suggested that. She was so tired of walking this treacherous edge between keeping their relationship a secret as it needed to be and not acting as if she were ashamed of him.

Nothing was further from the truth. If she were a free woman, she would be so proud to walk on the arm of this magnificent man. But circumstances demanded they kept their relationship as a dirty secret, and nothing pained her more than that.

He offered her his arm and led her away from the market, down one of the smaller streets, as they enjoyed their pies. They found a small square with a garden and would have sat to enjoy the peace and quiet after the buzz of the market, but as luck would have it, the skies, who had been gray all morning, opened up and a freezing rain poured down on them without warning.

Laughing, they ran and ducked into the nearest shop, which turned out to be a rather well-stocked bookstore.

"Oh, lovely. We could not have sought refuge from the rain in a better place," she exclaimed, looking around at the thousands of volumes filling every square inch of space.

"I agree," Gabriel replied from right behind her. So close she could feel the heat emanating from his body.

She turned, her womanly instincts singing at his nearness. Her eyes flared when they connected with his, and for a second, an unfulfilled kiss hung in the air between them, conjured by their mutual desire.

The moment fractured when a portly white-haired gentleman lumbered towards them from the back of the shop.

"Good morning, sir, madam. I'm Mr. Kent, the proprietor. May I help you find a book in particular?"

"Mr. Kent. A pleasure to meet you, sir. My wife and I were seeking shelter from the rain, but it is a most fortuitous coincidence that the shop we happened upon is a bookstore, as we are both avid readers. I believe we will have a wonderful time perusing your shelves as we wait for the rain to abate."

Her breath seized in her throat at the casual way Gabriel introduced them as a married couple, and for a few seconds, she let her mind drift in the pleasant daydream. Ah, if only that was true. If only they were a middle-class couple on a relaxed morning stroll.

"Of course, of course. Browse to your heart's content and let me know if anything catches your fancy. We also have a second story. That's where we keep the more select books," the bookseller said, marketing his more expensive wares, no doubt gauging their attire and manners and judging them as potential wealthy customers.

"Are you truly an avid reader?" she murmured to Gabriel as they ventured into the depths of the store.

"I am. Always have been. When I was a child, books were my escape and my refuge from the hostility in my home. And when I joined the army... Well, there was no better way to pass the endless hours of tedium between training and skirmishes."

"How marvelous. As it happens, you didn't lie to Mr. Kent, for I am an avid reader as well. Or had you known that?"

"I had not. But I am glad to discover it. I have long admired the grand library in Stanhope Abbey. I am glad it belongs to a book lover."

A shadow crossed her face, and her smile was bittersweet. "The library. Yes, it is one of my favorite rooms in the entire house. I have added many volumes to it throughout the years."

"It will remain in your possession," he whispered, only for her ears, accurately discerning the reason for her mood.

Her eyes snapped to him. "You can't guarantee that. No one can."

He took her hand, and his thumb caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist, just above the glove. Such an innocent caress. And yet it produced a heat that was anything but innocent.

"I know. But I can do my best to ensure that outcome."

The heated promise in his eyes was unmistakable. It called to something deeply feminine in her. To have this man's child. To be his. When? was the pressing question in her mind.

The reasons had become less important than the means.