[Victoria Alexander] The Virgin's Secret (Harringt(BookZZ.org) (33 page)

But it seemed the moment she had decided to confess her feelings, there was no opportunity to do so. It was late afternoon by the time she arrived back at Harrington House, and Nathanial was nowhere to be seen. Still, his absence gave her time to decide exactly what she would say.

Simply blurting out her feelings didn‟t seem quite right. She‟d never been especially good at being coy, so anything other than a forthright approach might be even more awkward than

necessary. She should tell him as well that she wasn‟t impoverished, and perhaps it was also time to mention her childhood…and oh, yes, the fact that she was the brother he had met in Egypt.

She cringed at the thought of all she had kept from him. Still, if he did love her, it might not matter. If he didn‟t, then it wouldn‟t make any difference at all.

She was hopeful that after dinner there might be time for a moment alone. But Nathanial and his brothers had again gone to the earl‟s club for the evening. Lady Wyldewood had invited her to accompany her and her daughter to some event or other, but she‟d begged off. Instead she retired to her room with a book. She had selected, of all things, a work of fiction from the library, something about a young woman attempting to find the perfect matches for her friends. Utter nonsense, really, but surprisingly engrossing. She had intended to read until she heard Nathanial in the hall, and left her door open a crack to ensure that she would. Then she‟d talk to him.

And if her visiting his room again led to something other than conversation and confession, well, apparently once one was truly ruined, one wished for nothing more than to be truly ruined again.

And again.

But before long the words swam before her eyes and the book fell from her hand and she slept, to dream of dark-eyed men with hair streaked by the sun, and kisses in the moonlight, and leaps of faith.

Nate made his way along the corridor to his rooms. Even though he, Sterling, and Quint had spent a long evening at Sterling‟s club, he wasn‟t the least bit inebriated. Well, perhaps he was the least bit inebriated, but certainly not extensively.

He glanced at Gabriella‟s door and pulled up short. It was slightly open and a light still burned inside her room. Was she waiting for him? He grinned. What a delicious idea. Even before last night he knew he wished to share her bed every night for the rest of his life, but he hadn‟t expected to do so quite so soon. Not that it wasn‟t an excellent idea.

“Gabriella,” he said softly, pushed open her door and slipped inside the room.

She lay curled on her side, one arm flung off the bed, a book she had been reading on the floor beneath her hand. She was obviously asleep. Disappointment stabbed him. As much as he would like to do so, he wasn‟t going to wake her up. He moved quietly to the side of the bed, picked up the book, glanced at the title and smiled. Fiction. And romantic fiction at that. She had certainly come a long way since they first met. It was such a short time ago and yet it seemed he had known her forever. In his dreams perhaps or in his heart.

He set the book down on the table by the side of the bed, started to extinguish the lamp, then paused to look at her. He would never tire of looking at her. Not if they lived to be as old as the relics he hunted. And one day there would be children and…

And he certainly couldn‟t continue hunting for antiquities if he had a wife. The thought pulled him up short. How could he leave her? Regardless of what Gabriella had hoped for her life, he couldn‟t possibly drag her around with him. Not now that he knew how she had grown up. It

wouldn‟t be right, and it wouldn‟t be what she deserved. She deserved something…well, better.

If he wanted Gabriella in his life, his life was going to have to change.

He looked at her once more, then extinguished the lamp. It was a small enough price to pay.

Indeed, it was well worth it.

Twenty-four

Would you be so good as to tell Lord Rathbourne I should like to see him,” Gabriella said to his lordship‟s butler. Today as yesterday, Franks had greeted them with as few words as possible, and then escorted Gabriella and Xerxes into the library.

“As you wish, miss.” The butler hesitated. “I have not yet spoken with his lordship this morning but, as the treasure room has been opened, I assume Lord Rathbourne is occupied elsewhere in the house. I shall inform him of your request as soon as I see him.”

“There‟s nothing to be done about it, I suppose,” Gabriella said to Xerxes when the servant had left the room. “I might as well finish the list I began yesterday. It‟s the least I can do.”

Xerxes frowned. “You don‟t owe this man anything, girl.”

“Aside from an apology, you mean?” She shook her head. “I agreed to take this position and now I am about to renege on that agreement. It does not sit well with me but…” She glanced around the library and shivered. “I think it‟s best.”

“We all think it‟s best,” Xerxes said firmly.

No doubt Nathanial would agree, if she ever again found the opportunity to speak with him.

Today, she thought. She would definitely tell him everything today.

She took up where she‟d left off yesterday, filing page after page with notes on the various collections. By late morning Lord Rathbourne had still not made an appearance.

“We could simply write him a note and leave,” Xerxes suggested hopefully. He didn‟t wish to remain there any longer than she did.

“No,” she said firmly. “However, I am going to step outside for a moment.”

She pulled open the drapes that covered the French doors to the garden, sunlight flooding the dark room. What a pity, this could be such a pleasant house. She opened the doors and stepped down two steps onto the pathway. As he did yesterday, Xerxes stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, her guardian. And like yesterday, his presence was reassuring.

She walked the few steps around the hedge and stopped short. Lord Rathbourne sat on the end of the bench closest to her, his back to her, his head tilted to one side as if he were listening to something. In all honesty, lord or not, it was insufferably rude to have ignored her request to speak to him. She had no idea how he might have slipped out there without either she or Xerxes seeing him, and yet obviously he had.

“My lord,” she said firmly and stepped closer. “I should like to have a word with you.” It would be best just to say it quickly and get it over with. She drew a deep breath and released the words

in a rush. “As much as I appreciate the opportunity the position as your curator affords me, I do regret that, after further and due consideration, I cannot accept the position.”

Surely he‟d want a reason? Surely she had one that would sound better than she couldn‟t work with the unease that surrounded her in this house, in his presence? She stepped closer. “My plans for the future—my future, that is—have changed.” That wasn‟t exactly the truth but it wasn‟t a complete lie either. Her plans had changed, or at least, if she were lucky, they would. “Well then, my lord, you do have my eternal gratitude for your faith in me, and my apologies, of course. So, that said, I shall take my leave.” She turned on her heel and started off. And stopped in mid-step.

This was certainly the height of cowardice. Why, she hadn‟t even allowed the man to get a single word in. She at least owed him the courtesy of listening to his response. She braced herself and turned back. “My lord?”

He still didn‟t respond. He was no doubt furious.

“Lord Rathbourne.” She squared her shoulders and approached him. “I fully understand—” And froze.

Shock clutched at her throat. It was obvious the man was dead. The glassy unfocused look in his eyes would have told her that even if it weren‟t for the slash that stretched from one side of his throat to the other and the drying reddish-brown blood that had soaked his clothes and settled in a thickened puddle at his feet.

Gabriella couldn‟t pull her gaze away. His face was ashen, drained of color. The thought

occurred to her that any other woman would have swooned or at least screamed. She, however, was made of sterner stuff. She had seen and studied more than a few mummies over the years.

Still, it was one thing to look at a three-thousand-year-old Egyptian and quite another to look at a newly dead British lord. Her stomach heaved. She turned on her heel, stumbled a few steps to the nearest flower bed, bent over and retched.

Almost at once she heard Xerxes hurry up behind her. “Gabriella, are you—”

“I‟m fine.” A slight touch of queasiness lingered but she did feel much better. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, straightened, and turned back toward the grisly scene.

“You shouldn‟t look at him, girl,” Xerxes said grimly, handing her his handkerchief.

“I‟ve already seen him.” She dabbed at her mouth. “I can‟t imagine he looks any more dreadful now than he did a moment ago.” She studied the dead man. “His throat‟s been cut, hasn‟t it?”

“It would appear so.” He grabbed her arm and steered her back along the path and into the house.

“If you‟ve seen enough…”

“More than enough.” She shook her head. “It‟s not the type of thing one expects to see in the middle of London. In more uncivilized parts of the world, of course, this sort of thing is not

unexpected. I daresay it happens all the time in places like Asia Minor or Egypt. Why, one might not even be surprised to see a man with his throat slit sitting in a garden on a pleasant spring day,” she said brightly.

Xerxes stared at her. “You‟re babbling, girl.” He set her down on the sofa, strode to the doorway and called to the butler.

“Utter nonsense,” she said under her breath. “I don‟t babble. I‟m not the type of woman who babbles.” She was simply keeping up a steady stream of observation. After all, she‟d never seen a dead man before, and never imagined she‟d see one with his throat cut. In the back of her mind she had the oddest conviction that if she stopped making relatively rational comments, she‟d start screaming and never stop. Regardless, at the moment she couldn‟t stop talking.

Franks sent for the authorities, and it seemed as though the library was filled with people in no time at all, although it could have been hours. She‟d lost all track of time. She wished Xerxes would stop looking at her as if she were mere seconds away from insanity. She was fine.

Perfectly fine. Why, even her stomach had settled down. And that nice constable who was the first to arrive hadn‟t seemed the least bit annoyed by her observations as to his lordship‟s nature and her opinion that very nearly anyone who had ever met him might have a certain desire to slit his throat. Not her, of course, she had no reason to wish him dead. After all, he had offered her an opportunity few women would have imagined. And an exceptionally fine salary as well. No, no, it wouldn‟t have made any sense for her to have killed him.

The constable had asked where they could be found if it was necessary to speak with them

further, then sent them on their way, but not until he and Xerxes exchanged knowing glances.

The kind of looks men traded when dealing with an irrational woman. It was most annoying. She might well be babbling, although it did seem to her that every word was significant, but she was certainly not irrational.

She kept up a steady stream of chatter in the carriage on the way home. Had Xerxes noticed the expression on Rathbourne‟s face? Admittedly it might be in her own mind but she thought his lordship looked somewhat surprised. Although she supposed surprise was to be expected unless one had known one‟s throat was about to be slit like a pig‟s. In which case one would certainly take steps to prevent such a thing. Didn‟t he think so? And didn‟t Xerxes think as well that the viscount had been dead for some time? After all, she and he had been in the house for a good three hours and they certainly would have seen his lordship and whomever might have been with him go into the garden. Even if they hadn‟t, surely they would have heard something. A man probably couldn‟t have his throat cut without making some sort of sound. Gurgling or something of that nature.

The moment they crossed the threshold of Harrington House, Xerxes ordered a footman to send for Nathanial, then took her into the parlor. Apparently, the older man‟s tone left no room for hesitation, as Nathanial arrived within minutes. Xerxes joined him outside the parlor doors, obviously warning him about her state of mind. Which was absurd. Her state of mind was

perfectly fine, even excellent if one considered it had only been a short time ago that she had found a blood-soaked, surprised-looking, very dead viscount in a garden.

“Gabriella?” Nathanial stepped into the room, Andrews right behind, bearing a tray with a decanter of brandy and glasses. Probably the very one he had brought on the very first night she was there. How appropriate, or perhaps ironic; she wasn‟t sure. Nathanial nodded at Andrews, and the butler left the room. Nathanial looked as if he wasn‟t sure what he should do now.

“Brandy?” he asked her.

“I would think tea would be more appropriate at this time of day.” However, in spite of the pleasantness of the day, the tips of her fingers were icy. “But I am a bit chilled. I find brandy to be excellent when one is chilled. Or nervous. Don‟t you? It does seem to soothe the nerves.”

He filled two glasses and handed her one. She took it and noticed that her hand shook. He raised a brow.

“You needn‟t look at me that way.” She took a long sip of the brandy, its warmth comforting and welcome. “I am fine. Perfectly fine. Admittedly, my hand is shaking, but then it‟s been that sort of day. I suspect anyone would shake a bit upon finding a dead viscount in a garden.”

“Yes of course.”

“Lovely garden,” she murmured. “Quite peaceful.” Except of course for the dead, blood-soaked man with the staring eyes and the surprised expression.

He sipped his own drink and studied her warily.

“I am not a delicate, fragile flower, you know.”

“I know.” He moved closer. “You are not like most women.”

“I most certainly am not.” She shrugged. “Most women, at the very least, would have screamed at coming upon a scene like that. I simply…”