me if I say I do not believe you. If you do not intend to tell me what you were hoping to find, perhaps you can tell me why you are here?’
‘I sat for my portrait today.’
‘I see. And is there a reason you are telling me this?’
‘Yes, because the oddest thing occurred when I left the studio.’
His entire body stilled and Olivia was almost certain he was holding his breath.
‘Apparently my carriage was in need of repair,’ she continued, ‘and when my driver returned at the designated hour to collect me, he arrived in what could only be described as a hackney coach.’
It was refreshing to know she could still shake his composed demeanour.
‘He collected you in a coach for hire?’
‘No, I was told it was a spare carriage that we keep. They brought it out since you were using yours.’
He leaned forward. ‘What did this carriage look like?’
‘As I said, it resembled a hackney coach. It was a dusty black with no coat of arms and the windows were decidedly dirty.’
‘And John Coachman took you home in this?’ he asked, fiddling with his ring. There was no mistaking he knew of this carriage. And he was not happy she was now aware of its existence, as well.
‘He did. Why do we keep such as a conveyance?’
He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I imagine it to be one of the carriages the staff uses to move between town and the country.’
Olivia had seen those carriages before and this was not one of them. And there was also the matter of the box. She was certain there was more to it than her husband was letting on. ‘There was something else odd about the carriage,’ she said.
‘What?’
The slightest reaction on his part might be the only clue she would gather. She leaned closer. ‘I discovered a trapdoor at the bottom of one of the benches and inside I found a box.’
He broke their gaze for just a moment. If she wasn’t looking so closely, she might have missed it.
‘What kind of box was it?’ he asked, appearing nonchalant.
‘It was a box quite similar to the ones that are used for amateur theatrics.’
Not one bit of surprise crossed his features.
‘Isn’t that odd, Gabriel? Why do you suppose such a box as that is stored in one of our carriages? To my knowledge we do not even own a box for that purpose.’
He remained composed—too composed for her liking. ‘I could not say. However, you are correct. There appears to be no reason we would own such a box.’
‘So you have no explanation why it would be there?’
He shrugged again and picked an unseen string off the sleeve of his navy tailcoat. He knew something.
‘Perhaps Bennett would know,’ she said, as if she truly thought she would find out the answer from a man so loyal to Gabriel that he supervised the cleaning of this very room. Then it occurred to her. There was something in this room Gabriel wanted to make certain wasn’t discovered by a maid while she cleaned away the dust and ashes.
Olivia glanced at the fireplace. It would be an ideal place to destroy letters he did not want other people to see.
She rose abruptly, knowing he would not give her any of the answers she needed. ‘I will leave you now Gabriel. I am certain you have many matters that require your attention.’
He stood up and nodded at her—always striving to appear the perfect gentleman. ‘Good day, Olivia,’ he replied and she felt his gaze follow her until she crossed the threshold and closed the door.
* * *
Demmit! Gabriel shoved his chair back. Who in the hell thought it best to place her in that carriage? Very few members of his household even knew of its existence and those that did knew it was only to be used for surveillance.
Someone would be made to answer for this. Now, more than ever, they had to be operating with extreme caution. One small blunder could lead to Prinny’s demise.
Olivia wasn’t foolish. She knew there was significance behind the contents of that carriage and he was fairly certain she knew it led back to him.
He took a seat at his desk, scanned the room and took in her perspective. His gaze settled on the portrait of his father. He rubbed the Pearce coat of arms on his ring. His father knew enough not to trust anyone with what he did. He was even wise enough not to trust his closest brother. Gabriel had learned that lesson the hard way.
Olivia had been about to pick the lock to his desk drawer. Of that, he was certain. He just had no notion of what she would have been searching for.
Taking off his ring, he slid out the small shaft that was hidden within a well behind the stone and twisted it until it clicked securely in place, forming a small key. He used it to unlock his desk drawer. His gaze skirted past the loaded pistol and sheets of blank paper to the small red box tucked into the corner—the box that held the reason he always kept this drawer locked. He placed it on the centre of his desk and stared at the square that was smaller than the palm of his hand. It hadn’t been opened in years.
Letting out a deep breath, he raised the lid and stared at the gold oval pin, outlined with seed pearls. His attention was drawn to the centre of the brooch, to the painting of his wife’s fine brown eye. He removed the lover’s eye from its silk nest and held it between his thumb and forefinger. It had been painted from her wedding portrait and delivered to him in this very room the day after their son was born—the day after Olivia told him she no longer wanted him in her life.
It was purely sentimental drivel that made Gabriel wear it on his waistcoat every day for a year. She had just delivered their son. It was his way of honouring her for that. Originally he believed Olivia would eventually forgive him for his supposed indiscretion, just like most women of the ton were apt to do. However, by the time Nicholas turned one year old, it became apparent she would not. The day he returned the trinket to its box and locked it away, he understood the level of sacrifice he would have to make in order to continue his work and protect his people. Now he was relieved he’d never wavered and told her about Madame LaGrange.
At the soft knock on the door, he returned the brooch to its hiding place and called for his intruder to enter. The door slowly opened, and Bennett hesitated before walking into the room. Good. The man should be nervous to approach him after that carriage had been used to fetch Olivia.
It wasn’t until Bennett was a few feet away from the desk that Gabriel noticed the missive in his butler’s hand. All thoughts of railing at the man left him when Gabriel spied the smooth, black seal used by Andrew for confidential communications. Surely Manning could not have tipped his hand this quickly. Then he remembered Olivia had been there to sit for the man that morning. His heart thundered in his chest. Dismissing Bennett with a nod of his head, Gabriel waited until he was alone once again before he slid his knife under the seal and unfolded the paper. It was only one line—but it said so much.
An urgent package has arrived for you in Richmond.
He crumpled the note as he walked to the fireplace. Knowing they were one step closer to finding out who was behind the assassination attempt should have filled him with relief. Instead he was filled with trepidation.
The watchful gaze of his father looked down at him as he tossed the note towards the fire. Then that familiar voice rang in his head one last time.
Trust no one and suspect everyone.
* * *
Gabriel approached the observation room in the small brick house in Richmond to find Andrew waiting for him outside the doorway. To expedite his journey, Gabriel had taken Homer and raced him through London. Even though it took him about an hour, it was