Page 62 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

“So I heard, or I wouldn’t be here asking this of you.” Gabriel paused. “The problem comes in that the person I would like you to find has been missing for twenty-three years.”

Coolidge betrayed no dismay at this statement. “I’ve located people who’ve been lost for longer than that, milord. You don’t need to worry about me not succeeding.”

“She may be dead.”

“Ah, so she’s a lady. Yes, it’s possible a lady, or anyone, really, that was alive twenty-three years since might be dead by now. But if she is, she’ll have left a trail for me to follow. I’ll still find her. Tell me a bit more about what sort of woman she is. Do you have her name?”

Discussing his mother like this felt far too clinical. In fact, Gabriel found it engendered a detachment from her that made it easy to reel off the information he had. She was, as yet, nothing to do with him, but just an abstract idea. The longing to make her real surfaced and he swallowed the lump of emotion that came with it.

“I’m afraid I don’t know her name,” he said. “As far as I know, she was poor and alone. Her clothing indicated she was from the lower classes, at any rate. And I’ve been led to believe she might have lived in or around the St Giles Rookery, as she was last seen running from that direction, in Soho Square. But that was twenty-three years since. She might, in the intervening period, have moved away to any part of London, or into the country. Or even returned to France.”

Coolidge’s hooded eyes lit up. “So, she’s a French lady? A refugee, I’m thinking. Twenty-three years ago, the Terror was in full swing. I know my history, milord, and I also know that some of the Frenchies that fled over here to save their heads have indeed gone back now the emperor’s gone and they think it’s a bit safer.”

“I need you to follow her trail if you can, even if it leads you to find she’s returned to her homeland.” Gabriel paused. If she had done that how easy would it be to find her? “If she turns out to have died, might your previous employers have her death on record, for example?”

Coolidge nodded. “They might, but only if she was murdered and it came across their desk. But don’t fret. I’ll be able to have a gander, if necessary.” He scratched his sparsely covered head. “You’ve not given me much to go on. Can you at least tell me what she looked like? Might help matters a bit.” He grinned. “Although I can see from the look of you that you’ve likely never met her yourself, being so young.”

Gabriel nodded. “You’re correct.” A small lie. He conjured up the image he had of her in his head. Sadly, apart from the eyes, her face was a blank. “She is, or was, tall for a woman, with dark-auburn hair but that might well have gone white. She must at least be in her forties by now, if not older. But one thing she can’t have changed, if she still lives, is the color of her eyes. They were most unusually violet.”

Coolidge nodded again. “Good description. Not many born with truly violet eyes. I’ve never seen anyone with ’em myself. I’ll find her for you and your young lady, milord, have no fear. And now, to my fees.”

*

Atkins was looking most agitated when finally, Phoebe and Gabriel emerged from the Brown Bear hostelry, rubbing her hands together to keep warm and hopping from one leg to the other in impatience, or was it anxiety for her mistress? The horses, however, did not appear unduly bothered by the length of time they’d been left standing. Lovat, who seemed to be an excellent driver and groom, had produced canvas rugs to throw over their backs to keep them from becoming chilled. Phoebe’s papa, who’d been very fond of his horses, would have approved of that.

At least it wasn’t raining, although the sky appeared heavy with threat.

“I told you everything would be fine,” Phoebe said to Atkins. “And you must remember you are sworn to secrecy over this visit. You are not allowed to reveal to my aunt where I’ve been. If you do, I shall never forgive you.”

Atkins nodded. “Yes, milady.” She could be trusted not to outright betray her mistress, but if she was directly asked to say where they’d been this morning, Phoebe was not at all sure she’d stand firm. An outright lie was something her honest maid would not want to come out with. It was to be hoped Aunt Fanny, who’d been somewhat preoccupied when they’d left as the duke was due to call on her, would be too distracted to ask any questions. Her aunt’s foray into the marriage mart was turning out to be most useful.

Gabriel opened the door of the carriage and gave his hand to Phoebe to help her in, then climbed in and slumped down beside her with a sigh. He did not sound as enthusiastic about this as she’d hoped he would be.

Outside, Lovat clicked his tongue to his horses and the carriage moved off.

A tingle of electricity ran through Phoebe at the closeness of his body, at the feeling of warmth creeping through her gown from his thigh against hers. He appeared oblivious to her proximity, however, which was disappointing as she’d donned some of Mattie’s best perfume before coming out with him. How could he be so blind to her, when she was so very aware of every part of him in the confined space of the carriage?

Something had to be done about this. She couldn’t bear another nearly silent journey with him wrapped up in his own thoughts. At the very least, he had to be persuaded to share his worries. Papa had been a great exponent of sharing troubles to make them seem less bad.

Phoebe put a daring hand on his knee, reveling in the feel of him. If he wasn’t careful, she was never going to remove it. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong? We found your man, and he’s going to undertake a search. And he comes highly recommended by one of his old colleagues as well as your Donald. I don’t think there’s any more either of us could do.”

“I have no great hopes of this,” he said, with another sigh.

She shook her head, determined to cheer him up. “Nonsense. He says he has an excellent record in finding even those who have been missing for many years. I have complete confidence in his skills, and so should you.” Easy for her to say, she supposed. She wasn’t the one who didn’t know who her parents were.

Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair, something she would have quite liked to have done for him, for it was thick and wavy and would undoubtedly be silky to the touch. A delightful shiver ran down to her toes at the thought. He sighed again. “I’m not so sure I share your convictions.”

Now was a good opportunity. She turned in her seat so she was facing him and took his good hand in both of hers, clasping it between them. If only she weren’t wearing gloves this would have been much better. “Well, I have every faith in Mr. Coolidge, and I’m never wrong about people.”

He stared down at their hands.

Another even more delightful shiver ran through her making her scalp tighten and her toes curl. She probably shouldn’t be feeling like this at such a momentous moment in Gabriel’s search, but all she could think of right now was how he’d kissed her in the alcove at the ball and how much she wanted him to do it again.

However, his thoughts were clearly running along different lines. “Since when were you, an avowed wallflower who has only been to two balls in her life, an expert on people?” He sounded defeated.

She lowered her brows at him, although not really meaning it. “If you are going to be rude to me, then I shall give up trying to make you feel better about this.”

He lifted his head and met her gaze, which was an unfair move for someone in possession of such eyes. Her heart began to pound a little harder. He shook his head. “I’m sorry for being rude, but you must see that two balls don’t give you enough experience to read people.”