Rogues Gallery (17 page)

He straightened, keeping her hand clasped in his, and sauntered to the terrace doors. Her heart beat faster. Did he mean to leave with her now? She glanced up at him, not entirely surprised to see a serene smile on his face. Three more steps, and they would be outside, breathing in freedom.

"Marisa, here you are," Edmund said. "I had hoped to have at least one dance with my future bride tonight."

***

G
abriel stiffened at the sound of his uncle's voice. Outwardly calm, he squeezed Marisa's hand for reassurance before releasing it.

"A dance, my lord?" She cleared her throat before continuing, "There are still many opportunities this evening."

Lord Westbrook smiled with seeming indulgence, but Gabriel could see how it did not reach his uncle's eyes. "I have missed too many opportunities already."

Edmund had chosen a lavish costume depicting Henry VIII, another vain man consumed with producing male heirs. Everything about the ensemble was designed to showcase Lord Westbrook's virility. The black velvet doublet, threaded with gold, emphasized the man's shoulders with its snug fit. His breeches, slashed to show the vivid red silk beneath, were also tight fitting.

It was no surprise the codpiece was prominently displayed.

Gabriel concealed his amusement as he took a step backward, preparatory to a quiet departure. Though he was thankful for the sliver of black leather that partially concealed his face, he relished not having to hide. In truth, he had grown tired of hiding, and waiting.

"It would appear the local highwayman has quite caught the fancy of the shire," Lord Westbrook said, eyeing Gabriel's costume. "Nearly every gentleman present has chosen to portray him this evening."

Edmund rested a proprietary hand at the small of Marisa's back. Since he was looking at Gabriel, Lord Westbrook did not see Marisa's small shudder, or the careful blank look that came over her visage. Gabriel's teeth were almost clenched at the effort it took not to run his uncle through at that moment.

"Well, it can come as no surprise," Marisa answered, "for he is rather a dashing figure. Not quite the everyday occurrence, my lord."

"I am sure it seems that way to you, my dear." Lord Westbrook pretended to frown. "How can a mere mortal such as I ever hope to compete with such a mythic figure?"

"Precisely my thoughts," Gabriel murmured.

Marisa shot him a warning look before deliberately drawing her betrothed's attention back to her. "I am astonished you were not set upon by him when your carriage was forced to stop the other evening."

Gabriel swallowed a smile, for he knew how much joy that would have brought the young miss.

Lord Westbrook gave Marisa a reassuring squeeze at her waist. "It gladdens my heart that you are so concerned for my well-being, dearest. Of course, I am certain I could have handled this scoundrel quite handily. From the newspaper accounts, he is neither dastardly nor bloodthirsty. He is merely adept at loosening the Quality from their material goods."

"Yes," Gabriel added, "he is not the unscrupulous sort who kills to attain his ill-gotten possessions."

A look of puzzlement crossed Lord Westbrook's face. Gabriel knew Edmund could not suspect his true identity. Edmund had not seen him, or heard his voice, since Gabriel was a mere lad of ten years of age.

Still, Marisa was visibly nervous by his continued presence, and there was no need to prolong her agony. Her anxiety for his safety would have increased tenfold had she had any idea of the men's kinship. With any luck, she would never learn of their connection.

Gabriel reached once more for her hand, depositing a quick kiss on her gloved fingers. "I must thank you for the rare pleasure of the waltz. You have diverted this highwayman from further thoughts of robbery." A devil provoked him to add, "Lest it is to steal you from this gentleman."

Her fingers dug into his hand.

"Admirable aspiration, my good man. But not one with any probability of success." His eyes claimed Marisa with undeniable satisfaction. "Isn't that so, my dear?"

Marisa fluttered her hands, as if overset by all the male attention.

Gabriel clenched his hands into fists to keep them away from his uncle's throat. Edmund had no idea his life was forfeit simply for gazing upon Marisa in such a possessive fashion. It nearly outshone the crimes that had set Gabriel on his path for revenge.

Yet it was difficult to depart without knowing if Marisa had withdrawn her pledge—as well as her sweetly-bestowed trust.

"Once again, my gratitude for the dance, Mistress."

Gabriel bowed before gazing at her as though he could extract an answer.

Marisa's expression was polite, betraying nothing as to her intent.

"Perhaps there shall be another opportunity in the future," Gabriel persisted.

Lord Westbrook said, "At her wedding, I daresay."

Gabriel managed a tight smile. "It would seem so."

He spun on his heel and disappeared into the milling crowd.

***

G
abriel lounged by the doors leading to the terrace. It was folly to remain, particularly when several young ladies strolled by to shoot him "come hither" looks behind their silk fans. He could imagine the depth of Marisa's displeasure at their bold behavior, though he was not interested in the least. She held every bit of his attention, and always would.

He admired how she danced with partner after partner, none of them Lord Westbrook. She adroitly avoided her betrothed, and in such a manner as to make Edmund believe she did so with the greatest regret, but had an obligation to her guests.

Perhaps her flurry of activity was an attempt to avoid him as well. There had been no doubt of her disapproval, not to mention disappointment. Yet he could not tell her he had avoided her because he could not bear to see the hopefulness in her gaze, knowing he would extinguish it forever if she ever learned he could do nothing to aid her.

Still, during his self-imposed exile he could not help but dwell on the impossible, utterly alluring, notion of having both Marisa Dunsmore and revenge.

Watching her in his home, dancing in his ballroom, made Gabriel even more determined to reclaim the life Edmund had stolen from him.

A slow smile spread across Gabriel's face at the crescent moons adorning his angel's gown, as well as her headdress. There could be no doubting the reason for her defiant choice of costume. It would not surprise him if she also wore his silk scarf somewhere on her person.

His loins tightened at the memory of holding Marisa in his arms, and at the thought of uncovering the hidden token he had given her on his last visit. If only he dared to claim another waltz with her. In truth, it was more than a waltz he wanted to claim.

"Bernard, are you enjoying this evening's festivities?"

Gabriel inhaled sharply, unaware until that moment that Edmund and the man he had addressed were nearby. Gabriel twisted to see the men were behind him, on the terrace, and oblivious to his presence.

"Yes, as much as can be expected," Bernard replied.

Gabriel shifted to the side, so that he might better view the speakers without being noticed. He passed over Edmund, having noticed during their earlier encounter that the vile creature appeared not even to have aged in the past fifteen years. There should have been something—a tic, a limp, a horrible deformity—to alert the world this man had sought to murder his only kin, yet he bore no physical blemish.

Bernard no doubt caught the ladies' eyes with much frequency, with his golden curls tousled
à la Caesar
, and the long fashionable sideburns. His demeanor, though wry, would surely make many female hearts beat faster. The bucket boots and tri-corner hat, as well as the rich brocade doublet, announced to the ladies a pirate was amongst their midst.

"Come, Bernard," Edmund chided. "You cannot still be worrying about the loss of a few hundred pounds. You have been glum ever since our return from London."

"How could I be worried?" Bernard said with unmistakable sarcasm. "I have been freed from the burden of what to do with my next two years' allowance."

Edmund laughed with hearty abandon. Bernard's eyes narrowed, as if he did not enjoy being the source of Edmund's levity.

"I told you, we went to Town for a bit of sport, not recriminations and regrets." Edmund squeezed Bernard's shoulder as though they were boon companions. "As we are practically family now, I shall see to it that your debts are covered."

"I thank you for your generosity, my lord, but there is no need."

Despite his brave words, Bernard looked as if a noose were tightening about his neck, with little option but to assist his executioner by leaping into eternity. Gabriel felt a moment's empathy for the young man outwitted by Edmund's schemes.

"We should return, I suppose," Edmund said. "I do not want your sister thinking I have cried off."

Gabriel choked back a laugh.

Bernard did not exercise any such restraint. "I can assure you, my lord, my sister would be quite unlikely to entertain such a notion."

Gabriel wished he could be provided such an easy resolution to Marisa's predicament. In the next instant, Bernard and Edmund re-entered the ballroom. Gabriel stepped aside, but not before Bernard bumped against him.

"My apologies," Bernard said.

"Think nothing of it," Gabriel demurred.

To his surprise, Bernard examined him for some moments, in the same disconcerting fashion as his sister had earlier. Too late, Gabriel realized Bernard was sure to recognize him, for he had taken pains to ensure his appearance was identical to that of the initial robbery, knowing how much it would please Marisa.

Gabriel's heart thudded for several long moments. He had no weapon with him, so his only hope was to flee. Yet he did not want to alert the young man of his intentions by glancing toward the door. He returned Bernard's bold stare.

Even if Bernard wanted to change his allegiance, he had no ability to aid his sister in any appreciable way, thanks to Edmund acquainting Bernard with the pleasurable pain of London's gaming hells.

Edmund now controlled Bernard's financial destiny, so it was even more likely that Marisa's brother would utilize any means possible to extricate himself—including a monetary reward for the arrest and capture of a rogue highwayman.

After several prolonged heartbeats, Bernard flashed Gabriel an apologetic smile. "These dashed boots. I suppose I was not meant to be a pirate after all."

He followed Edmund into the ballroom.

Gabriel expelled a sigh of immense relief. Even a man as reckless as he could appreciate the peril he had just evaded. He turned toward the dancers, needing one more glance at Marisa before he departed.

In the next instant, he realized, with remarkable clarity, what his next action would be. After the events of this evening, he could do nothing else.

***

M
arisa sipped on her champagne, grateful for the respite from Edmund's company, as well as from the numerous guests with whom she had danced in an effort to avoid her betrothed. She had managed to find a little alcove that permitted her to view the ballroom without being seen, and she gazed unabashedly at Lord Midnight across the room.

Her heart beat faster, even though she knew she should not react so to him. He had proved himself unreliable when she most needed him. He had even persuaded her to forego a certain escape by pledging to prevent her wedding to Edmund. In spite of all of those crimes, he thrilled her beyond measure.

No! She could not place her future in this man's hands. He had vowed his assistance and then disappeared.

Yet he was here tonight
, her heart whispered.

How could she trust one who flirted shamelessly with his female victims, whose rakish pursuits were published in the papers for all the world to see?

He had danced with none but her that evening
, her heart countered.

She knew the wisest course of action was to release him from his vow. She did not even know what his plan entailed. For all she knew this was merely an amusing diversion, an episode to relate when highwaymen gathered together each year to boast of their exploits. There was no reason to portray him as a knight errant.

Highwaymen did not pledge to rescue damsels in distress. Perhaps it was his intention to desert her once she was free of Edmund's grasp.

Yet his vow had come after he had detailed to her the dangers of traipsing helplessly about the countryside.

Marisa shook her head, desperate to outrun the seductive arguments her heart offered at every turn. She had been bewitched by him, of that there was no doubt, but it was folly to continue in that vein. She could not permit herself to lose her heart to him.

She watched him over the rim of the champagne glass, despite her mind's stricture to cease. At last she was forced to end her denials and face the truth.

Her heart was his, and had been for a long time.

Marisa was nearly swamped with hopefulness, having refuted every logical argument for not believing in Lord Midnight. It was a kind of madness to consider it, but once the notion took root there was no stopping it.

Her fear of being betrayed once more had almost blinded her to the fact that he was the only one she could trust, the sole person solicitous of her needs. He had understood her fears about Edmund, and had commiserated with her over her father's threats to Aunt Althea.

More importantly, she had found the man who could make her smile.

She set the glass on a nearby table, intent on telling him she was throwing her lot in with his. She could not wait a moment longer, for she had left his side without confirming she indeed wanted his aid.

And oh, so much more.

"Poppet, where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Marisa tried to brush past her brother. "I must see to my guests."

"You have proved so popular I have not had an opportunity to dance with you," he said. "In truth, I am beyond thrilled to have you speaking to me again."

"I shall save a dance for you after supper," she bargained, impatient to cross the ballroom floor before another minute ticked by.