Anger flashed in Belinda’s eyes before she masked her emotions and turned fully toward him. He almost heard her mind whirling while she searched for a way to avoid being close to him. Then she smiled though the expression never touched her eyes. “I would be delighted, my lord.”
She placed her hand on his offered arm so lightly that no physical contact penetrated his sleeve, but still the heat of her body seeped through his jacket, blouse and her glove. Her intentions may have been to display indifference, but the effect was quite the opposite. She drove him mad with wanting.
He spoke as soon as they were far enough away from her friend that she wouldn’t overhear. “I wish you would mean those sweet words.”
“I wish you would not pursue me to the point of suffocation.”
Biting his tongue was the only possible help. The sharp pain successfully kept him from an angry response. His only clue to the cause of her disdain was his inability to communicate while in France. What did he have to do to make up for things that were beyond his control?
The dance began and as it was a promenade, several other couples were well within hearing throughout. A question for another time. The dance brought Belinda close to him and she took his hand. “I thought perhaps after last night you might be less hostile toward me.”
“This is hardly the time or the place to discuss my feelings for you, my lord.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the tension in her words cut through the din in the room and shot directly to his heart.
“Perhaps I might make an appointment when you would be free to discuss those feelings.” He responded lightly, but his heart pounded. His chest tightened and he fought the temptation to pick her up and drag her from the crowded house to somewhere private.
The dance ended, and she made her curtsy as he bowed deeply. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your lack of regard for such customs is quite obvious, based on your behavior the last few weeks. You show up at the most unexpected and ungentlemanly times and pretend to care for my feelings.”
Her voice rose and a gentleman who’d been passing turned at the sound. Gabriel took her elbow gently and directed her to a quiet corner of the room. “Go on.”
“I have nothing more to say.”
“You lie.” In spite of the accusation, his voice remained soft and calm.
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed several times. She was about to take the top of his head off. Slowly, the rage diminished and a tear popped up on her bottom lid. Her sorrow ripped his soul as it tumbled down her cheek.
She dashed the tear away. “Gabriel, stop pursuing me. We shall not repeat what happened last night, so there is really no reason for you to continue this charade. I wish to be released from our engagement.”
She had whispered the words, but if she had screamed them from the top of Parliament for all of London to hear, it would have had no greater effect on his heart. His chest pained him and his hand clutched at the pain. It was a moment before he steeled his emotions enough to respond. “Does what I wish have no meaning in this matter?”
“I cannot discuss this here.” Her words hung in a low whisper and another tear made its way down her cheek.
Gabriel caught the drop on his ungloved finger and closed his hand as if to keep her emotion, even if he couldn’t keep her. He closed his eyes willing the pain away. “I shall call on you tomorrow at eleven. Will that be a more suitable time, my lady?”
Her chest lifted and fell as she took a deep breath. She nodded once, turned and walking away from him.
Nothing he’d suffered in French prison hurt as deeply as hearing Belinda say she didn’t want to marry him. It was inconceivable. Planned almost since birth. What had changed?
He had ordered his coach and stepped toward it, when he caught a glimpse of yellow from the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see Belinda climb into an unmarked carriage unassisted. He yelled up to his driver to follow at a discreet distance.
Her carriage crossed London Bridge into Southwark. Every sensible idea in his head demanded he order his driver catch and stop her. If he stopped her now, he might never find out what she had gotten herself into. Still, the idea of her making a journey across the river on her own sent chills down his spine. She must have lost her mind.
Try as he might, Gabriel could think of no reason for a lady of Belinda’s station to travel into the south side of London in the middle of the night. Even if she was involved with another man, it was unlikely that their assignations would take place in the dodgier side of London.
They turned a corner and he saw her carriage had stopped a block ahead.
He banged on the roof of the carriage, and the driver immediately slowed to a stop.
Gabriel peered through his window as Belinda alighted from her carriage alone and stepped onto the filth ridden streets of South London. With a lantern in her hand and a dark cloak covering most of her gown, she looked around cautiously. She stared briefly at his carriage parked a block away, but in the dark street, she’d have trouble making out the crest. He was surprised she’d noticed the carriage at all.
He stepped down as soon as she crossed into the alley. “Wait for me here,” he ordered the driver.
“Yes, milord.”
As soon as he stepped into the open, a woman slinked out of a shadowed doorway. Time and wear faded her red dress and left it frayed around the collar. It had probably come from someone’s old trunk or been handed out to the poor. It was far too tight on her and her ample bosom spilled over the top. She had rouged her cheeks and lips and there were dark rings under her eyes. “Lookin for some company, gov?”
The woman’s face was drawn and hollow. As he stepped in closer, he saw the cosmetics hid pockmarks and perhaps a few bruises from less caring customers. She pulled her stained and torn skirt up high enough to expose her left leg to the thigh.
The prostitute’s arms and legs were thin and streaked with dirt. He pulled several coins from his purse and handed them to her without stopping.
“Don’t you want nuthin’ for your coin, gov?”
“Not tonight, my dear. Go and get yourself something to eat before you fall ill.” He spoke over his shoulder not wanting to lose Belinda’s trail.
The prostitute said something, but he was already too far down the street to hear her.
He crossed one alley and turned down the next where Belinda had disappeared. The street was pitch, and he had no lantern. Ahead, soft footfalls lead the way and he followed. Sporadic lamps along the way revealed drawn faces in the arched doorways.
A bit of yellow turned the corner to the right. A cat cried then hissed in the distance. Gabriel followed her skirts, keeping far enough away so she wouldn’t see or hear him.
Another turn and he nearly fell over a man standing in his path.
“‘Elloo, gov. You seems in a mite of a hurry. Where’s it yur goin’ so late? Mayhap Taker can be of ’elp.”
Gabriel took a step back from the hulking figure of Taker. The man’s breath was putrid from rotting black teeth and his clothes had not seen a washday in a month or more. “I’m not in need of assistance tonight, my good man.”
“Oh, but I think you is,” Taker replied.
Initially Gabriel’s reaction was to dismiss the inconvenience of street rabble delaying his pursuit. Taker was not easily dismissed. Gabriel looked the larger man in the eye.
Taker’s pale-blue eyes stared back.
The memory of men in war flashed in his mind. The hatred twisting this man’s face was the same. “I’m curious Mr. Taker as to why you stopped me and not the young woman who preceded me down the alley. She would have been a much easier mark. I do not care to boast, but