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“We’re here.”
She looked up, startled. He was watching her. His gaze caressed her face, taking in each feature, and then he sighed and cupped her chin in the palm of his hand.
“Don’t look so worried, sparrow,” he murmured, and kissed her lips gently, barely a brush of naked flesh, but one she felt to the very tips of her toes.
He turned away and climbed out of the cab, handing her down and ushering her into a building with a brass plaque fastened beside the door which said “Thorne Detective Agency.”
Gabriel knew Martin and Lil O’Donnelly well. They ran the Thorne Detective Agency, and were known for their discretion as well as their success rate. As soon as Antoinette had mentioned her need for information, he’d thought of them.
Lil sat Antoinette down, offering refreshments, smiling and friendly, and Gabriel watched her slowly relax and unfurl, like a tightly closed flower that has been afraid to open. Anger simmered inside him at the thought of what she had been through because of Appleby, and his anger included himself. He’d contributed to her distress, even though he’d done so unwittingly.
But he was aware of other emotions swirling around inside him, too. There was relief, because she wasn’t Appleby’s mistress after all and there was no “duke” waiting to set her up in style. His initial instinct, that she wasn’t the woman she’d been portrayed, was correct. He wasn’t going out of his mind. And then there was a chance that he might claim her for himself, when this was over.
And Gabriel wanted to. He just didn’t quite know how to go about persuading her it was the right thing for them both.
“I’ll have the information for you by this evening,” Martin’s words seeped through his thoughts. “I know someone who knows someone, if you know what I mean, Gabriel.”
“I know what you mean.” Gabriel smiled. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask why you wish to find this patient?”
Gabriel glanced at Antoinette for approval in giving up what was, after all, her secret. She nodded.
“Do you know Lord Appleby, Martin?”
“I know of him.”
“He claims to be a widower, but Miss Dupre has discovered his wife is locked away in an asylum.”
Martin gave a silent whistle.
“Oh, Gabriel,” Lil declared, “does that mean you can get your manor back? And Madame Aphrodite will be able to open her club again?”
“I hope so. At the moment she and Jemmy Dobson sit twiddling their thumbs all evening.”
“Oh dear.” Lil turned to Antoinette. “And what of you, Miss Dupre? What will Lord Appleby’s downfall mean to you?”
Antoinette smiled. “I’ll be free to return to Surrey. I have a house there and I am mistress of it, and I live my life very much as I please.”
“An independent woman,” Gabriel said.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin as if preparing for a fight.
“So you spend your days ordering your servants, tallying your accounts, checking that Cook hasn’t sold off the best ham?”
“I also visit friends and go riding, I read and write letters, I walk in my garden, I chat with my sister. I am very happy with my life, thank you. And my cook has never sold my ham in her life.”
“You haven’t mentioned any suitors calling, Miss Dupre. No gentlemen who escort you to church on Sundays or call on a pretext so that they can admire your beautiful eyes?”
She wrinkled her brow at him. “There was one who wrote me very bad poetry. I’m afraid I didn’t accept his proposal. I don’t think there is a single man of my acquaintance I could think of marrying with any certainty of being happy.”
Gabriel caught Martin and Lil exchanging a glance. They were amused by the conversation, but he felt frustrated. He wanted her to admit she missed him, that her life was not complete without him. He wanted some hint that he might win her if he set about it single-mindedly enough.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all he said.
“And what of you, Gabriel?” Lil asked. “Is there a young lady you plan to make mistress of Wexmoor Manor?”
Gabriel gave his wicked grin, pretending he wasn’t feeling lonely and depressed. “I only have one stipulation when it comes to a wife. She must never get seasick.”
