Reckless (36 page)

Lydia smiled sweetly. "Everything is just fine between Phoebe and Wylde, dear. But there appears to be a slight problem with that odious Neil Baxter."

Clarington glowered at Gabriel. "Damnation, man, why don't you do something about Baxter?"

"I intend to," Gabriel said.

"Excellent. I shall leave Baxter to you, then. You seem quite capable of dealing with that sort of problem. If you need my assistance, feel free to call on me. In the meantime, I must be off." Clarington nodded at his wife and walked out of the drawing room.

Phoebe waited until her father had left and then she smiled very brightly at Gabriel. "I have some wonderful news, Wylde. Mama and Meredith are going to help me track down the truth about Neil Baxter. Never fear, we shall get to the bottom of this."

"Bloody hell." Gabriel choked on the tea he had just swallowed. Anthony walked across the room and pounded him helpfully between the shoulders.

"Don't look so stunned, Wylde," Anthony said as Gabriel coughed and sputtered. "You should know by now that there is rarely a dull moment around Phoebe."

Gabriel managed to restrain himself until his in-laws had finally departed. The moment the last of the clan was out the door, he confronted Phoebe.

"You will put this insane notion of investigating Baxter out of your brain immediately," he said. "I will not have you getting involved in this."

"I am already involved," Phoebe pointed out. "And in any event, it will be Mama and Meredith who do the investigating. I have been forbidden to leave the house, if you will recall."

He wanted to shake her. "You don't understand how dangerous Baxter is."

"Mama and Meredith are not going to take any risks," Phoebe said soothingly. "They are merely going to make a few inquiries. Mama will bring up Neil's name over a hand of whist and Meredith will mention it to some doddering old peer who is in his cups at one of her soirees."

"I don't like it." Gabriel started to pace the drawing room. "I already have Stinton working on the matter."

"Stinton cannot move about in Society the way Mama and Meredith can."

"Your brother and I will deal with Society."

Phoebe shook her head. "You and Anthony will not be able to get gossip out of Mama's card-playing cronies. And Meredith can talk to people at her parties in a way you and Anthony could not. Admit it, Gabriel. My plan to investigate Neil is extremely clever."

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair and gazed at Phoebe in frustration. The worst of it was he knew she was right. Lady Clarington and Meredith could probe in ways that he and Anthony could not. "I still don't like it."

"I know you don't, Gabriel. It is because you are worried about me. It is very sweet of you."

"Sweet?"

"Yes. But I am perfectly safe here in the house and Mama and Meredith will not be in any danger so long as they merely ask a few discreet questions. Admit it."

"Perhaps," he said reluctantly. "But the thought of your family getting involved in all this makes me extremely uneasy."

Phoebe got to her feet and walked across the room to stand looking up at him. A gentle, rather wistful smile played about her soft mouth. "Do you know what your problem is, Gabriel?"

He eyed her warily. "What?"

"You are not accustomed to being part of a family. You have been on your own for so long you don't understand what it means to have others around who care about you. You don't know what it is to have people about who are always on your side, regardless of the circumstances."

"This is your family we are talking about, not mine," he muttered. "They arc rallying around you, not me."

"It amounts to the same thing now. As far as they are concerned, you're a member of the family because you are married to me." Phoebe's smile widened. "You must face the fact that you are no longer alone in the world, Gabriel."

No longer alone. He looked down into her warm eyes and felt something inside him start to loosen and untwist. Instinctively he resisted the hint of weakness he sensed within himself. That way lay disaster. He must not let emotion rule him.

"You think this is just another grand adventure, don't you, Phoebe? None of you knows what Baxter is really like." Gabriel paused, thinking it through. "But I suppose there is little I can do to stop your mother and Meredith from asking their questions. Perhaps they will learn something useful. In the meantime, you are to stay here in the house."

Phoebe made a face. "Yes, my lord."

Gabriel smiled briefly, in spite of his dark, uneasy mood. He clamped his hands around Phoebe's shoulders, pulled her close, and dropped a quick, hard kiss on her forehead. "Remind me to add ten pounds to your quarterly allowance."

"Why are you increasing my allowance by ten pounds? I am not short of funds."

"I owe you the ten pounds. It is in the nature of a debt of honor." Gabriel released her and started toward the door. "Your brother wagered that amount that you would not obey my command to stay inside the house. As 1 fully intend to collect from him, I feel it's only fair to give the money to you. After all, I could not have won without your assistance."

Phoebe gasped in outrage. "You won a wager based on the fact that I obeyed you? How dare you." She launched herself across the room, grabbed an embroidered pillow off the sofa, and hurled it straight at Gabriel's head.

Gabriel did not bother to turn around. He put up a hand and caught the pillow as it sailed past his ear. "I congratulate you, my dear. At the rate you are going, we shall soon turn you into a paragon of wifely virtue."

"Never."

Gabriel grinned to himself as he went out the door. He hoped she was right.

Two hours later Gabriel was no longer grinning. He walked through the door of the nondescript tavern and quickly scanned the small, nearly empty room. Stinton was sitting at a table, waiting for him. Gabriel crossed the wooden floor and sat down in the chair across from the little man.

"I got your message," Gabriel said without any preamble. "What is this about?"

"I don't rightly know, yer lordship." Stinton lifted his mug and took a deep swallow of beer. "But you asked me to hire a boy to keep an eye on yer town house while I was tryin' to dig up information on Mr. Baxter. I took the liberty of usin' my son for the job. Might as well keep the income in the family, if you see what I mean."

"I don't give a damn who you hired. Has something happened?"

"Could be nothin' at all. Might be somethin' in-terestin'. Hard to know."

Gabriel made a bid for his patience. "What are you talking about, man?"

"My boy says a message arrived at the back door of yer town house about an hour ago."

"What sort of message?" Gabriel demanded, exasperated.

"Don't know. He just said a message was delivered. Thought you'd like to know."

Gabriel was disgusted. "It could have been anything. One of the maids might be exchanging love notes with a footman in another household."

"Don't believe this was a love note, yer lordship." Stinton looked thoughtful. "Or if it was, it weren't directed to one of yer maids. My boy heard the messenger say it was for the lady of the house."

Gabriel surged to his feet and flung a few coins on the table. "Thank you, Stinton. That will cover your beer. Keep working on the other matter."

"Not havin' much luck in that department." Stinton sighed. "No one seems to know much about Mr. Baxter. Appears to have disappeared sometime during the past few days."

"Dig deeper." Gabriel was already halfway to the door.

Twenty minutes later he went up the steps of the town house. Shelton opened the door at once.

"Where is her ladyship?" Gabriel asked quietly.

"In her bedchamber, I believe," Shelton said. He took Gabriel's curly brimmed beaver hat. "Shall I send a maid to inform her you are at home?"

"That will not be necessary. I shall tell her myself."

Gabriel went past the butler and started up the staircase. He took the steps two at a time.

When he reached the landing, he strode quickly down the hall to Phoebe's door. He opened it without bothering to knock.

Phoebe, dressed in a bright violet gown trimmed in yellow, was sitting at her little gilt escritoire. She looked up, startled, as Gabriel stalked into the room.

"Gabriel. What on earth are you doing here? I did not know you were home."

"I understand you received a message a short while ago."

Her eyes widened in dismay. "How did you know?"

"That is not important. I would like to see the note, if you please."

Phoebe looked stricken. At the sight of her face, Gabriel's worst fears were confirmed. Whatever had been in the note was dangerous.

"My lord, I assure you, the note was insignificant. Merely a message from an acquaintance," Phoebe said quickly.

"Nevertheless, I wish to see it."

"But there is no need for you to concern yourself with it." Phoebe swallowed visibly. "Indeed, I am not certain I still have it. I probably tossed it away."

Gabriel's fears rose like flames, threatening to consume him. He quashed them beneath a cold, disciplined anger. "The note, Phoebe. I want it. Now."

Phoebe got to her feet. "My lord, I assure you, it would be better if you did not read it. I am certain it will only serve to annoy you."

"I appreciate your concerns," Gabriel said grimly. "But you will give me the note immediately, or I shall start searching for it."

Phoebe sighed. "I vow, my lord, you are turning into an extremely trying sort of husband."

"I am well aware I am not the man you once believed me to be," Gabriel said. "But as you yourself pointed out this afternoon, you are stuck with me now." He smiled thinly. "I am a member of the family, if you will recall."

"Only too well," Phoebe grumbled. She yanked open the small drawer in the center of her escritoire and pulled out a sheet of folded foolscap. "Very well. I was not going to show this to you because I knew it would alarm you, but since you insist … "

"I insist." He stepped forward and snatched the paper from her hand. He opened it and read the message swiftly.

My dearest Phoebe:

I grow increasingly concerned for your safety as each day passes. I recently learned how close you came to drowning and I know about the fire in your bedchamber. I fear for your life, my dear.

I have concluded your husband seeks to murder you in such a way that your family will believe it to be an accident. Like the pirate he is, Wylde wishes to seize your inheritance. He is using the methods spelled out in the curse at the end of The Lady in the Tower. Have you noticed?

You have married a cruel and dangerous monster who has always had a taste for the macabre. Just ask any of the handful of men who survived his vicious attacks at sea.

My dearest Phoebe, I must speak with you. I must have a chance to explain everything. I have no doubt but that Wylde has told you nothing but lies about me. I know you will not believe his malicious tales, but you undoubtedly have questions. For the sake of what we once meant to each other, let me answer those questions. 1 have proof. Let me save you from him.

I remain your most devoted admirer,

Lancelot

"Bastard." Gabriel crumpled the note savagely in his fist. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed down into Phoebe's anxious face. "You do not believe him, of course."

"Of course not." She stared at him as if she were trying to see beneath the surface of his skin. "Gabriel, are you angry?"

"What do you think? Baxter is attempting to seduce you into believing that he is innocent and that I am a villain who is attempting to murder you for the sake of your inheritance. Furthermore, he makes it clear he is still determined to play the role of Lancelot."

"I told you once, I am no Guinevere," Phoebe said proudly. "I am a great deal smarter than she was. Gabriel, you must trust me."

He smiled grimly. "Really? Tell me, my dear, when would you have gotten around to showing me this note?"

She paled. "I told you that I did not wish to alarm you with it."

"I assure you, I am far more alarmed by the fact that you had no intention of showing it to me."

"You don't understand."

"I understand only too well," Gabriel said. "I have got to find Baxter. And I must do so quickly. I must put a stop to this nonsense."

A knock on the door of Phoebe's bedchamber broke the tension in the room.

"What is it?" Phoebe called.

The door was opened by a maid who gave a quick curtsy. "Beggin' yer pardon, madam. Lady Clarington is downstairs askin' to see you at once."

"I'll be right down," Phoebe said. She glanced at Gabriel as she started toward the door. "Perhaps you should come also, my lord," she said coolly. "Mama may have news for us."

"Phoebe, wait." Gabriel started to put out a hand to restrain her and then changed his mind. He knew he had hurt her again, but he did not know what to do about it. Damn Baxter, he thought. This is all his fault.