A Curse of the Heart (18 page)

Gabriel spotted Mr. Pearce explaining the history of the stone tablets to a few who had gathered around to listen. He waited for the group to depart before calling out to the curator. “Mr. Pearce, a moment of your time, if you please.”

The man scurried over to meet him, his eyes flitting about in their sockets, moving left and right, up and down before settling on Gabriel’s chin.

“I have brought a few antiquities to display,” Gabriel said gesturing to the parcel. “Is Miss Linwood home?” It was not really a question, as he presumed to know the answer.

“No, Mr. Stone. Miss Linwood has gone out.”

“Out?” He had not thought to say the word aloud but supposed it was better than saying —
where the hell has she gone
?

“Yes,” Mr. Pearce nodded, wringing his hands as he struggled to make eye contact. “She went shopping about an hour ago.”

“Shopping? On her own?”

Mr. Pearce looked confused. “Miss Linwood always goes out unaccompanied.”

Gabriel shook his head. The woman’s logic confounded him at every turn. Was she not the least bit worried about the men who had broken into her home? Those same men could be trailing behind her while she ran her errands.

Then a sudden feeling of apprehension flashed through him.

Perhaps she had gone to see George Wellford, to berate him over the damaged painting. What if Wellford told her about their earlier discussion, where he had said he would act as chaperone, where he said he would marry her should any problems arise?

Pushing the thoughts aside and with a frustrated sigh, he said, “Very well, I shall wait for her in the office.”

Mr. Pearce bowed, and as he moved to walk away, Gabriel called him back. “Despite Miss Linwood’s leniency with regard to your disgraceful conduct, I want you to know I am not so forgiving.”

Mr. Pearce’s thin lips disappeared even further into his mouth.

“Your personal opinion, or Lord Wellford’s for that matter, is of no concern,” Gabriel continued. “In future, I expect you to treat Miss Linwood with the respect she deserves.”

Mr. Pearce offered no excuse for his crime. “I understand, sir,” he said with a solemn bow before walking away.

Gabriel wandered down to the office, feeling awkward entering Rebecca’s private space, uninvited. His gaze drifted beyond the crude wooden chair, to the small sofa. The red damask covers were worn and threadbare in places, but it looked comfortable enough. So he unbuttoned his coat, brushed the seat to remove the fine layer of dust and settled down to wait.

When the clock chimed four, Gabriel closed his eyes. Suffering from a distinct lack of sleep, thanks to the passionate Miss Linwood, he decided to take a nap.

But peace eluded him, driven away by the recurring
ding dong
ringing out every fifteen minutes. He thought he would grow accustomed to the sound, yet found himself glancing up at the clock, counting each slow revolution until it chimed five. By the time the hands approached six, he was restless and impatient, anger brimming beneath the surface.

Indeed, if the hollow clang mocked him one more time, he would throw his damn boot at it.

Where the hell had she got to?

This was the reason he preferred to be alone: the endless worry, the vivid images painting one distressing picture after another. He hated the thinking, the guessing, the waiting — the fear that gripped his heart with its sharp talons and refused to let go.

“That’s it,” he shouted to no one other than himself. What was he supposed to do, sit there until midnight? He would be fit for Bedlam if he waited a moment longer. The sound of ticking clocks haunting him in his dreams, the repetitive ringing like a death knell.

Jumping to his feet, he made for the door and decided to peruse the displays, to hound Mr. Pearce, to rip the place apart if only to satisfy the torment raging within. Then he heard the echo of footsteps moving along the hallway, the light, yet purposeful strides no doubt belonging to the lady in question.

With a disgruntled huff, he yanked open the door to find her happy countenance peering over a mound of parcels as she smiled back at him.

“Mr. Stone,” she said with some surprise as the packages wobbled in her arms. “I was not expecting to see you today.”

Not expecting to see him?

Not expecting to see him!

Mere hours ago she had fled his house in a state of terror. She had sought comfort in his arms; lay naked in his bed, run home with her emotions in tatters. What the hell was she expecting?

“Where have you been?” The words came out exactly as he intended: dark, menacing and resentful. They were the words of a cuckold, of a jealous lover, of an over-bearing parent.

She ignored the question completely. “Well, are you going to help me with my parcels or are you going to stand there like a bear forced from hibernation?”

With a huff and a noise resembling a growl, he scooped the parcels from her arms and plonked them on the desk.

“Be careful with those,” she said and then her face lit up into one of her illuminating smiles. “Wait until I show you what I’ve bought.” The smile turned coy, sultry. “I think you will like them all.”

His head threatened to explode with anger, his body threatened to explode with lust. If he carried on like this, he would be the first person ever to volunteer for Bedlam.

“I have been waiting for hours. I had no idea what had happened to you.”

She stopped abruptly and stared at him. Closing the gap between them, she placed a gloved hand on his cheek, traced the line of his jaw. “I did not know you were here, Gabriel.”

Damn.

Her sensual tone managed to penetrate his ire, and so he did the only thing he knew would placate his pounding head and racing heart. He drew her into an embrace and devoured her mouth until she gasped and moaned in his arms. Leaning back against the desk, he pulled her between his legs, letting her feel the evidence of his passion, his pain. Heavens above, he would take her right now if he could. He would take her right there on the desk, her naked body writhing amongst the parcels, papers and ink while his loud roar of satisfaction rumbled through the museum.

Then the blasted clock chimed six.

Gabriel tore his lips from hers, his irate gaze boring holes into the grandfather clock behind her.

“I think I will take the key to that thing and throw it in the Thames,” he said.

Rebecca considered his mood, which despite the noisy clock, was calmer than when she first arrived. “It is not as loud as some I have heard.”

“Trust me. It is loud enough.” With a deep sigh, he turned his attention to her. “You seem happier than you did this morning. I had visions of finding you weeping inconsolably, as I know how much the painting means to you. I know how I would feel given the circumstances.”

It’s the same with Mr. Stone … he needs you, miss.

Higson’s words drifted through her mind.

Wedged between Gabriel’s muscular thighs, she placed her hand on his chest and felt the wild beat of his heart pulsating beneath her fingers. “I thought so, too, but your man Higson is very wise. He made me see that the important memories are locked away safely in my mind. The painting is just an object and can be repaired or replaced.”

“Higson?” he asked, his brow raised in a look of utter disbelief. “Higson offered council in matters of the heart? Higson talked about his emotions?”

Rebecca nodded, feeling somewhat privileged to have been party to such an enlightening conversation. “He did. I have never met anyone so perceptive. Well, at least not a coachman.”

“Could the day possibly be more surprising?”

She stepped out from between his legs and rifled through the packages. “I think I can answer that as there are three more surprises here. This one is for you,” she said handing him a rectangular one. “It is just a little something.”

Gabriel turned it over in his hand. “What is it?”

“You will need to open it to find out,” she beamed, watching him untie the string.

When his hesitant fingers pulled off the paper, a tickling sensation formed in her stomach. With excited curiosity, he turned the leather-bound book over to examine the writing on the spine before meeting her gaze with a look that was difficult to define.

He swallowed visibly. “I do not know what to say.”

“Please tell me it is not one you have already?”

“No,” he whispered.

“There are only three chapters covering Egypt, I know, but the plate engravings are truly remarkable, particularly the ones of Alexandria and Aswan.” She leaned across him and flicked to the relevant page. “See.”

When she looked up at him, he was not looking at the engraving; he was looking at her with a level of intensity that warmed her to her core.

“I … I am speechless.”

Rebecca smiled. “Don’t worry. When you see the next item, you truly will be lost for words.”

Well, probably not lost for words, she thought, probably so angry he would struggle to get the words out. She hoped the third item would also render him speechless but for an entirely different reason.

The second parcel was square and much larger than the first, deeper too. Under his watchful gaze, Rebecca opened it to reveal an oak box.

“Can you guess what it is?” she asked, enjoying herself immensely.

Gabriel glanced down at the inlaid box, his brows drawn together. His face grew solemn as he mouthed the words
John Brown
and
London
. “I hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Rebecca flicked the brass catch and opened the lid to reveal the plush burgundy lining. “Only the finest pair of over and under flintlock pistols you will ever see,” she said running her fingers over the cold metal stock in admiration. “They’re made small enough to fit into a pocket or a reticule. What do you think?”

Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said, “I think you have completely lost your mind. Do you even know how to use them?”

“Of course,” she chuckled. “Mr. Cutter was very attentive and gave me a thorough demonstration.”

“Indeed. I’m sure he did.”

“Would you like me to show you?”

“No!” he cried. “Rebecca, please tell me you do not intend to carry one of those things around with you?”

“Of course not,” she groaned. “I will keep one under my pillow at night in case of intruders and the other one in the top drawer of this desk.”

Gabriel placed his book on the wooden counter and rested the weight of his body on his knuckles. With his head bent low, he whispered, “Heaven help me.”

“Surely you did not expect me just to sit here like a pheasant waiting to be plucked. I should think you’d be pleased I am able to protect myself. You’ve been neglecting your work, and it is all my fault. This way you won’t have to worry.”

“Lately, all I seem to do is worry,” he said straightening. “Now, I can add murder to the list of things to fret over. Without a steady aim, it is impossible to hit the intended target.”

Rebecca shrugged as she closed the box and secured the catch. “I doubt I will need to use them. Are you staying for dinner?”

He appeared shocked at her question. “Dinner? Rebecca, after what happened here yesterday, I am staying the night.”

The words caused a tightening in her stomach that pulsated all the way down her legs to the tips of her toes. She had been waiting to hear him say those words, although she did not intend to make it easy for him.

“There’s no need. I will be fine now I have Mr. Brown’s wonderful inventions. Besides, I’m sure it must be a terrible inconvenience, having to chaperone me when you could be immersed in your books.”

His gaze turned dark, brooding. “You don’t want me to stay?”

Inside she was smiling, but she kept her expression indifferent. “Do you want to stay?”

“I do not want to leave you here alone.”

Did she need to strap him to the rack and crank the handle to gain a confession? Even then, the sound of crunching bones would still render him mute.

“I have been alone for a very long time,” she said. “Another night will not make any difference. If you want to spend time in my company, then by all means, you are welcome to stay. If your reasons stem from a sense of duty or responsibility, then I would prefer you didn’t.”

He was silent, and she could imagine the battle within — the questions, the fears, the doubts. If he walked away, then that was the end of it. If he stayed, then it was only the beginning.

“You know the answer, Rebecca.”

She raised a challenging brow. “Sadly, I do not have the power to read minds. What if I guessed and got it completely wrong?”

His mouth curved into a mischievous grin, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Now you’re teasing me. You know I want to stay.”

Finally! She felt like dropping to her knees and praising the Lord.

“We have a few hours before dinner. If you want to, you could help me in the storeroom. I have been sorting through the boxes, but I shall tell you more about it over dinner.”