same thoughts about her less than an hour ago.
Gabriel never used his height and muscular form to intimidate men. He had never needed to. His title had been enough—until now. Now, he would use whatever means to deter Mr Donaldson from pursuing any suspicions about Olivia. ‘My wife is the embodiment of all that is good. I will not have you besmirch her character. If I thought she was involved in any of this, do you honestly believe I would have you here to question that man?’
It appeared Mr Donaldson was suddenly at a loss for words.
Gabriel needed to return home and sort out his jumbled thoughts. He knew he had been right to pay attention to the facts that pointed to Olivia. However, he now began to realise she was probably the last person in London who would want to harm the King or Regent. And it hadn’t escaped his notice he had been more worried for her facing the gallows than himself. He had much to consider—but there was one thing he needed to do first.
Hanover Square was nearly deserted at this late hour of the evening—or rather early morning if one was to be exact. However, one building stood like a beacon with the glow of candlelight in one of the upper windows. Thankfully for Gabriel it was not the building he needed to break into.
As Andrew stood guard, Gabriel crouched before the front door. Squinting in the dim light, he pressed two metal pins into the lock and jiggled them.
‘Are you certain you do not wish to have me give it a go?’ Andrew asked over his shoulder.
‘I almost have it.’
‘Do you even recall how it’s done? I cannot imagine you’ve had a need to do that for quite some time.’
How he wished he could go back to a time when he was not the kind of man who would pick the locks of his wife’s possessions—to a time when he had no idea of the horrors of betrayal. What would his life be like now if he had never gone to his uncle for advice?
A satisfying click broke the silence. Slowly he turned the handle of the door to the building that housed Manning’s studio. Hopefully the man’s landlord was a heavy sleeper. The last thing he needed was to have to explain his presence in the house.
He pulled Andrew inside the darkened hallway by the sleeve. Faint streaks of moonlight from the transom over the door lit their way to the staircase. They took the steps gingerly, hoping to avoid potential squeaks. When they finally reached the third floor, both Gabriel and Andrew took a deep breath.
With all the practice he’d had recently, this time it only took Gabriel two tries to pick the lock. Moonlight flooded into the studio from the large windows, making it easy to navigate the large room.
‘What exactly is it you believe we will find?’ Andrew whispered.
Gabriel’s gaze landed on the easel, draped with a white cloth. That was what he had been hoping to find. ‘We are looking for anything that might prove he was blackmailed.’
‘But we agreed he was telling the truth. Why are you questioning it now?’
‘It’s prudent to be certain.’
Andrew studied him carefully. ‘How do you propose we divide and conquer?’
‘I’ll search out here. There is another room behind that screen. See what you can find.’
Gabriel waited until Andrew was in the next room before he removed the knife from his boot and uncovered the painting of Olivia. Most people would never know it was the Duchess of Winterbourne reclining on the divan—but he would. He would not leave it here unattended. Should Manning be executed or transported, who knew what would become of this painting? He needed to bring it home. He needed to protect her reputation. It was the least he could do after today.
With a resolved breath he sliced the canvas from the frame, rolled it up and secured it with a strip of black ribbon.
‘What are you doing?’ Andrew asked from the doorway.
‘It’s of no concern of yours. Did you find anything?’
‘Amazingly, I did not. Have you even begun your search or have you spent all this time taking Olivia’s portrait?’
‘What do you know of her portrait?’
Andrew walked closer to him. ‘I know she was sitting for the man. Was he able to complete it?’
Gabriel shook his head.
‘Pity. I’m sure it would have made a nice addition to the gallery.’
Thank God this painting would never see the light of day in any gallery, but Andrew did not need to know that.
‘Yes, a shame. Well, if you are finished in there, perhaps you can help me look out here.’
With the portrait secure, Gabriel was eager to finish searching the studio and put this day behind him.
Throughout his ride home, guilt over his suspicions about Olivia continued to plague him. She didn’t deserve his suspicions and had never done anything to indicate she could not be trusted, or that she hated the monarchy. She wasn’t Peter.
For over five years Gabriel had had to live with the fact that Matthew’s death was all his fault. He was the one who had confided his responsibilities to his uncle. When Peter asked to accompany Matthew up north to gather intelligence on the rumblings of a plot against the Crown, he should have said no. He knew Peter was a zealous supporter of Catholic emancipation. And that year Prinny was very vocal he was not. But in his wildest dreams Gabriel never thought Peter would try to prevent them from stopping an assassination attempt over it.
He would never know if Peter had intentionally killed Matthew to stop the intelligence they uncovered from reaching Gabriel. It might have been an accident. Peter took that knowledge to his grave. What Gabriel did know was that night when his uncle stood over him with cold rain pelting them both, Peter had every intention of killing him.
After that night, Gabriel vowed he would never again be responsible for anyone else’s death. He would never again share what he did or the names of those that worked for him with anyone else. But his feelings for Olivia were running deep. During Manning’s interrogation it became apparent he cared more for her life than his own. He wanted to trust her. He wanted a real marriage. Perhaps there was a way to have one.
* * *
When Olivia awoke the next morning, her suspicions about Gabriel and the mysterious package in Richmond continued to plague her. Luckily she would be spending her morning in Manning’s studio. He would be a welcome diversion and today she would make him hold an extended conversation with her, whether he wanted to or not.
* * *
When she knocked on his door after breakfast no one was home, which did nothing to improve her mood. At least he could have sent a note cancelling her sitting for the day.
There was no sense in returning home where she would be tempted to enter Gabriel’s study and probably get caught trying to pick the lock to his desk again. So she took Colette with her to Madame Devy’s to lose herself in a morning of shopping.
* * *
When she walked out of the dressmaker’s shop an hour later, she spotted Janvier standing in front of the milliner next door, deep in conversation with a willowy, dark-haired woman with fine features and a prominent brow. Olivia couldn’t recall seeing the woman before, and from the simple appearance of her dress one could assume she did not move within Olivia’s elevated circle.
Having no desire to interrupt their conversation or stand on the pavement on such a windy day, Olivia was about to walk towards her carriage when Janvier appeared startled to see her. She gave him a friendly smile and he whispered something in his companion’s ear before he left her and approached Olivia.
‘What a pleasant surprise,’ he said with