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And neither did Gabe, but to say that so openly... “Shh!” He lifted his finger to his lips. God forbid anyone at Rosewood overhear that awful truth. Any shred of respectability they possessed would be gone in the blink of an eye.
But his brother laughed in response. “No one knows, Gabriel. And I doubt they would care if they did.”
“Beckbury knows,” Gabe said. “He’s the one who told me, Clayton.”
His brother nodded, clearly remembering that detail. “Yes. But as long as you stay away from his daughter…” Then he shrugged. “An easy exchange, Gabriel. So many women in the world, certainly you can stay away from the one.”
Gabe snorted. “Says a man who’s never been in love. I could look forever and a day and there’d never be anyone else like Sophie.”
Clayton laughed. “Says a man who clearly needs to know more women.”
Of course if Clayton knew fewer women, he might not be dying of syphilis.
“Take a page out of father’s book,” his brother continued. “Marry a number of them, don’t even bother with annulments.”
“For God’s sake, Clayton!” Gabe grumbled. “It’s hardly a joking matter.”
“When you’re dying none of it matters anymore.”
“Well, I’m not dying. And you can get better. If we just—”
“Gabe!” Sophie’s voice sounded so strange, so far away, almost like a dream.
What in the world was she doing at Rosewood? He glanced toward the corridor in surprise.
“Gabe!” She sounded so panicked as though she was in trouble.
Gabe sat bolt upright and his eyes flew open. The coach was stopped, though the rain still battered the conveyance.
“Gabe!”
Damn it all! That was definitely Sophie!
Gabe scrambled from the bench, tossed open the carriage door and…
Sophie was dressed as a boy and being dragged backward on her arse toward the stables by the Weybourne coachman. Panic seized Gabe’s heart as he bolted into the rain after the pair.
“Unhand her this instant!” he ordered, reaching the two of them a second later.
“Her?” the coachman said, releasing Sophie and backing up several paces.
But Gabe paid the man no attention, not with Sophie lying in the middle of the coaching yard, staring up at him and drenched from head to toe. Dear God, his heart ached for her, but what the devil had she done now? How was she even here? Gabe shook his head, scooped her off the ground and made a direct path to the coaching inn.
Sophie trembled in his arms which pushed Gabe to quicken his step to get her into the safety of the establishment. He hastened inside the taproom and immediately caught the barkeep’s eye. “I need a room, and I need a bath drawn,” he barked at the man behind the counter.
“Of course, sir,” the barkeep said, not even batting an eye at Gabe carrying a drenched pageboy in his arms. Of course, who knew what sort of things the man saw on a regular basis in his line of work? “Up the back stairs—” he gestured to the far corner “—then the second door to your right is available. I’ll send Millie along with the bath in a thrice.”
“G-Gabe,” Sophie stuttered slightly as he started up the stairs. “Don’t be angry with me.”
For God’s sake. He’d never been angry with her, not one day in his life. Even still… “What the devil have you done, Sophie?”
She shook her head and it looked like she might cry. “I-I, well, I just wanted to talk to you.”
To talk to him? Was she serious? Gabe stopped on the landing and looked down into her miserable blue eyes. How he hated that expression on her face. She was so lovely, so exuberant, the last thing she should ever be was miserable. “So you dressed like a boy and followed me out of London through the rain?”
Sophie winced. “I didn’t follow you. I told Lord Kelling’s driver that I worked for you. I rode up top with him.”
Honest to God, she was lucky he didn’t drop her right then. She had not been this reckless four years ago. If she had been, he’d have remembered it.
