NOTORIOUS ANGEL

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Thank you to my boisterous brothers, motherly sister and siblings-in-law, and all the legendary characters in my family for inspiring my fictional worlds. To my many WhoSim supporters and friends for encouraging me to share my stories with the world. And a special thank you to Dawnie, an angel who dared to be my first literary critic and avid reader.

To my parents, who through 40 years together, taught me what a true fairy tale marriage is made of.

Chapter One

February, 1816

East Chatham, Southern England

"STAND AND deliver!"

The thieves growled like hungry human wolves. Lady Seraphina Montgomerie hid beneath her brother's cloak in hopes the highwaymen didn't recognize their prey was a woman. Midnight shadows on a barren country road were the only protection Sera had.

In retrospect, setting off on her own that night proved foolhardy, but she had no choice. Her dearest friend was depending on her. Like her patriotic brothers, Sera simply could not betray a noble trust. Even if it meant facing bloodthirsty highwaymen at midnight.

She only wished she hadn't gone on this reckless mission alone.

Gripping the reins of her gray-speckled mare, Sera bit back her fear of wolves and stared firmly ahead.

"Aye, ye be smart about it, guv!" hissed the thief behind her. "No tricks and we'll do our business in peace."

Sera said nothing. In dawning horror, she realized she was trapped. A large man with a bulbous nose pointed a pistol at her heart. His partner, a thin man with a young raspy voice, cut off the path back to her home. Both highwaymen looked and smelled fouler than their horses. Sera buried her nose within her cloak to avoid the stench.

"I'm sorry, but I have nothing to give you, gentlemen." She tried to deepen her voice, but it echoed with a distinctive high pitch. She winced at the thought she sounded like her nephew with a cold.

"Gennelmen, is it?" mocked the man with the pistol. "We got us a right cove 'ere, don't we Charles? I bet 'e always remembers to say please and thank you even to 'is whores."

"Enough of the chit chat, Georgie!" snapped the second thief. He warily eyed the dark road for intruders. "Just get 'is money and let's be off afore trouble starts."

"Nothing ever 'appens in East Chatham, brother." Charles gleamed with wicked humor. "We got all night afore any of the locals emerge from their cozy beds. Only ones about at this 'our are up to no good. Where ye 'eaded, boy? Into port for a bit o' muslin?"

Sera's hands trembled beneath her brother's cloak as a chill night wind whipped through her. It seemed even Nature taunted her, making her feel alone and unprotected. "Don't go pale on us now, boy!" barked the big-nosed thief. "Right bred coves are easy to fright, ain't they Charles?"

"Just give us yer purse and we'll be on our way!" growled the other in Sera's ear.

"No," she defied in a small, determined voice. "I told you gentlemen, I have nothing to interest you."

"I'll be the judge of that." Charles ripped the cloak from Sera. In the brief struggle, her long golden-brown hair tumbled out of its bindings.

Her assailants stared at each other in stunned recognition. "She's a bloody chit!" the younger balked.

Stomping down her terror, Sera shot a repressive glare at the highwayman. "I would thank you not to use such language in front of me, Mr. Charles. Now please return my cloak. It is a cold night and I want to go home to bed. I suggest the two of you do the same before someone gets hurt."

"Aye, she's a chit with a mouth on her," crooned the elder brother. "Listen to the way she lectures us like a prim and proper lady."

"I am a lady!" Sera demanded stiffly. "The Earl of Thornbridge's sister to be precise. Harm me and you'll have him to deal with."

"So you're Thornbridge's bit o' muslin, eh?"

"I am his sister," Sera corrected in clipped tones. She twisted her mare's reins; Persephone fidgeted beneath her.

"Thornbridge is an old blue blood like all his clan," retorted young Charles. "His sister wouldn't be caught dead running around in britches."

Sera thought dead an inappropriate word to use at that moment, but kept her opinion to herself. Aptly, she sensed if these two thieves realized how terrified they were making her, they'd become even more appalling and dangerous. And she needed to get hold of her rampant fear to plot an escape so she could get home to hear her brother lecture her again on the arrogance of headstrong, foolish females.

"What are ye doin' out on the road at midnight, luv'ly?" Georgie prodded. "Did ye tire of old Thorny already? Lookin' for a little adventure?"

The way the man was looking at her made Sera want to go straight home and take a bath. Instead, she stared rigidly ahead preparing herself for action. There was no time to be afraid, no time to bemoan her reckless adventure. She got herself into this mess and now she had to get herself out of it.

"Obviously, you are as stupid as you are ugly," Sera retorted in a tone she hoped was haughty. "It would be pointless for me to answer your questions."

"Ugly am I?" he taunted. "Aye, I guess ye pretty pieces are used to the perfumed gents ye indulge. But a whore's still a whore no matter which bed she lies in. Get between her knees and she 'owls whether ye're a duke or a devil."

Sera blushed at the thief's words, though she wasn't exactly positive what they meant. Part of her wanted to run and hide, part of her wanted to strangle him and another part of her wanted to be sick. The closer he leaned to her bestowing noxious whiffs of his unwashed self, the more her stomach reeled.

To his delighted chuckle, Sera slapped Georgie's hand away from her leg.

"Feisty piece, ain't ye?" He chortled. "Tell me, does Thornbridge like ye to wear britches or is that yer preference? I never 'ad a woman in britches afore. It'd be an excitin' adventure."

"Georgie, let's just git 'er money and go," Charles griped.

"You can't have my money," Sera decreed like a school matron.

"Keep it, luv," cooed Georgie. "We'll take a samplin' of yer wares instead."

"My what?" Sera blinked in confusion.

"Now ye be nice and quiet while we find ye a spot in the woods o'er there. Not as soft as yer protector's bed, but I expect ye'll be forgettin' that soon enough."

When Georgie snaked a lecherous arm around Sera's waist, instinct overwhelmed her senses. Howling in outrage, she jabbed a sharp elbow into his chin. The attack knocked her groping attacker completely off-guard. His pistol fell, exploding as it hit the ground. Panic gripped the horses. Sera's mare bolted down the lane giving her only seconds to hold on.

The world spun in terrifying madness. Her attackers shouted a litany of curses after her. Thunderous hooves roared behind Sera as the thieves chased her down the empty road. Her heart pounded fast. Cold air rushed by her at a dizzying pace. She thought she was going to faint and held onto Persephone praying her mare knew where they were going.

Sera trembled low against her horse's neck as they rounded the blind bend in the road. Trees loomed out of the darkness casting menacing shadows that always frightened her. This was the haunted stretch of road where ghosts waited for a chance to terrify the living. Fleetingly, Sera wondered if the specter of an angry warrior would spring up just in time to scare off the thieves who refused to give up their pursuit.

It was on that thought Sera looked up. She saw him the same moment her wide-eyed mare drew to a halt.

At the crest of the hill, atop a monstrous steed shrouded in an eerie moonlit fog, the dark figure glared at his intruders like a medieval knight waiting to enter a battle. Bewitched by the ghastly sight, Sera failed to register Persephone's reaction until the mare reared in surprise and unceremoniously dumped her mistress on the ground.

Splitting pain shot up Sera's weakened leg, but she staunchly ignored the old injury. Hastily, she righted herself to her knees. Then she felt the earth rumble beneath her. It was the unmistakable sound of approaching horses. Charles and his lecherous brother were closing in.

Sera looked toward the eerie phantom as the ground began to tremble louder. The mysterious rider was bearing down on her. Horrified, she realized she was caught between the thieves behind her and the dark knight before her.

Scrambling for cover behind her mare, Sera prayed for redemption. Miraculously, the rumbling halted a scant pace before her. She felt the phantom's eyes scrutinize her from the shadows of a cloud. "Stay here," he commanded in a harsh whisper. Mutely, she nodded and watched her rescuer charge past her. In one fluid motion, he drew a rapier and cornered the thieves at the bend.

Georgie never had a chance. As soon as he raised his pistol at the intruder, it was sliced out of his hand. Sera heard an almost reverent gasp escape young Charles as he drew to a sudden halt before their challenger. Even from a distance, she could see the greedy brothers pale.

Sera was amazed. Her phantom terrified and defeated her pursuers with a simple look and a few hushed words. She tried to hear what they said, but only caught the brothers' brief apology before they took flight. Then she watched him.

For a moment, her rescuer sat poised atop his mount with sword still drawn like a ready sentry. Calm and confident, he seemed as if being a guardian was natural for him. She wondered if he was a soldier and imagined him in the horseguards bearing down on Napoleon with her friend Percy. Then he casually sheathed his sword and turned his mount toward her.

Flexing its long powerful legs, the black stallion was a beautiful creature. As lean and agile as his master, the beast had a curious aura denoting a wild creature tamed by a gentle hand. Sera noticed how both rider and mount seemed suited to the glowing mist of the night. Moonlight and shadows bathed them in an alluring array of mystery. As he drew closer, Sera strained to piece together the image of her rescuer's face.

They were barely a foot apart before Nature conspired to unveil the mystery. He just dismounted when a large cloud rolled by in the heavens and illuminated the barren road.

Silver shadows cloaked her rescuer suggestively. Dressed in black, he had a dangerous quality about him. Dark eyes studied her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. As Sera pondered his hauntingly familiar expression, recognition slowly beckoned.

"Gabriel St. Clair?" she gasped in wonderment.

Gabriel St. Clair, the new Earl of Blackstone, was an enigmatic figure. Sera had never met the prodigal son in person, but his portrait captivated her the afternoon she called on his reclusive father. At the time, she thought the artist was much too inclined towards the romantic style of painting, but to see the actual subject standing before her took her breath away.

He was much taller than she imagined from the canvas replica hanging in his father's country estate. Muscles bulged beneath his snug-black britches. A tiered great cloak swirled about his giant six-foot height. He could block out the sun just by stretching, she thought whimsically. Sleek, dark leather gloves covered his fingers as he cradled the hilt of the sword hanging about his waist. Sera noticed he shared his father's distinctive features: a hawk-like nose, commanding chin and eyes that sparkled with intelligence.

More than his father had, Gabriel personified his grandfather's buccaneer past. His midnight-black hair was unfashionably long and swept back over the edge of his collar. His neck was notably absent of a gentleman's cravat. Undoubtedly, it was a habit he picked up from his adventurous sea days.

Sera huddled on the lane oblivious to her disarray or her blatant stare. Like a transfixed doe, she gazed at the notorious earl as if he were the most fascinating creature she had ever seen. She was content to study the living portrait until it rumbled to life.

"Are you hurt?" Polite concern edged his deep voice.

When she noticed him studying the hand massaging her knee, awkwardness filled Sera. "No," she lied. "It's just a little nuisance from an old injury. The stiffness acts up now and again."

To not appear an invalid simpleton, Sera rigidly climbed to her feet. The once-mangled muscles groaned in familiar agony, but she doggedly refused to indulge the whim to brace them with her hand. She stumbled slightly, but quickly righted herself in practiced formality. All the while, her polite smile remained defiantly unbroken.

Sera brushed the dirt from her and affected a dignified pose as she faced her rescuer. It was difficult not to become entranced in his countenance.

"Forgive me for staring, Lord Blackstone," Sera blurted. "It's just that you look quite different from your portrait, yet so similar."

"My portrait?"

Sera nodded. "The one hanging in your father's Study. I assume it was done when you were younger, before you left on your travels. It's quite good, or so I thought at first, but now I realize the artist must not have had a keen eye for his subject. Why, it doesn't even begin to do justice to your majestic size nor your graceful strength."

The earl raised an inquisitive brow at the compliment. "As you seem to know my identity, I fear you have me at a disadvantage, madam." His voice rumbled mysteriously. Despite a casual air, his shadowy gaze glimmered shrewdly. Almost as if he was testing her.

"Of course, my lord, I was forgetting myself. What with all this unexpected excitement," Sera flustered. "You really were most magnificent dispatching those ruffians, sir." She smiled in youthful admiration. "You have my unending gratitude."

"I would settle for your name and your direction."

"My direction?" Sera hesitated. At first she thought he wanted to know where she was going and knew instantly she'd have to lie. Then it occurred to her that he wanted to know where she came from instead. Both thoughts horrified her.

It suddenly dawned on Sera that she was standing in the midst of a barren road, dressed most inappropriately and conversing with a virtual stranger as if she'd met him at a country social. Most gentlemen, as the new Earl of Blackstone most assuredly was, would think the situation highly scandalous of her.

Then, Sera realized her entire mission tonight was scandalous and possibly foolhardy. Assuming she actually survived this night unscathed, no one could ever know what she was doing when her brother's staff believed her sleeping. Otherwise, her overprotective brothers would confine her to her bedchamber until she was a blue-haired old spinster.

"Does your silence mean you've forgotten where you live, my lady?" Lord Blackstone prodded. "If you will tell me your name, I can help you find your way home."

"Why would you do that?" she asked warily.

"Call it a whim," he shrugged. "I hate to leave a task unfinished. And as I have been obliged to rescue you once this night, I would find it quite annoying to my pesky code of honor to allow a young lady of breeding to wander about darkened roads unescorted when there are thieves and other miscreants lurking in the shadows."

Something about the mention of other miscreants lurking in the shadows sent ripples of alarm through Sera. Warning tolled silently in the back of her mind as she gazed at her imperious rescuer.

"I fear this is a bit awkward for me, my lord." Shyly, she twisted her hands together and spoke to his boots. Part of her advised a brief thank you and a hasty retreat before she embarrassed herself by giving her identity. Another part hesitated leaving her rescuer's side, knowing that the darkness down the lane was both lonely and dangerous.

"I wasn't expecting to meet anyone of significance tonight," she lied. "It's not appropriate of me to introduce myself, given the circumstances. I wouldn't want to cause embarrassment, sir."

"I assure you, I am not so easily embarrassed," the earl assured.

"I was speaking of my own embarrassment, actually," Sera confessed. Heaving a determined sigh, she hesitantly faced the earl. "Since you were kind enough to come to my assistance, I suppose I owe you an introduction, at least."

"You have no need to fear ridicule, my lady," the earl promised. "Knight-errants know the meaning of discretion." The reassuring deepness of his voice soothed Sera. It rumbled in his chest like controlled thunder, promising a tender spirit waiting to be unleashed.

With a polite smile, Sera curtsied gracefully concealing the slight misstep of her lazy leg. Her oversized male attire marred the practiced feminine greeting. The long sleeves she'd rolled up slipped past the edge of her fingers. Her rope belt was coming undone forcing Sera to fight the trailing edge of a large pant leg that covered her stumbling foot. Her voice brightly chimed over the task. "I am Lady Seraphina Montgomerie, my lord. The Earl of Thornbridge's daughter, although my brother has that title now. My family's home is just a little up the road." Sera pointed toward the direction from which she came.

Dutifully, the earl nodded. A glimmer of humor shined in his eyes before the shadows claimed the whimsical emotion. He stared at her impassively.

"May I be so bold as to inquire how you found yourself in need of a rescuer this evening? It is not customary for young ladies of your stature to set out at this hour without an escort."

"Well, I can be quite uncustomary at times," Sera hesitated. "I was a bit restless, you see, and it was such a pleasant night I thought I'd take a ride to clear my mind. It was too late to wake any of the servants to go with me, and I am used to riding alone anyway."

"Is that your usual riding attire?"

A faint blush crossed Sera's face at the biting question, but she didn't hesitate to answer. "No, these are just some hand-me-downs from my brothers. I know that it looks risqué, but I figured it would provide me a little more security in case I encountered any undesirables on the road. It's a most clever disguise, don't you think?"

The earl seemed amused by the ridiculous boast. He studied her haphazard costume in a long surveying look. "I believe your assailants tonight might not agree with that assessment," he commented dryly.

"Oh, that was only because my hair came undone when they ripped off my—" Sera gasped in sudden alarm. "Oh good heavens, my brother's cloak! I completely forgot about it when they were chasing me. Excuse me, my lord."

In a flurry of motion, Sera climbed atop her mare. Hastily, she prodded Persephone into motion. "I do hope they didn't run off with it. My brother would be furious if he knew I took it. It's his favorite country cloak."

With silent command, the earl grabbed her mare's reins. "Before you rush off into more danger, I believe I see the garment."

Blackstone stalked down the lane, disappearing in and out of the shadows with all the romance and mysticism of Sir Walter Scott's adventures. He moved with lethal grace defying the foreboding darkness like a panther on the prowl in East Chatham. As if confirming her fancy, his cat eyes spotted the crumpled cloak in the darkness of a tall oak tree. Shaking out the earthen debris, he bundled it in his arms and sauntered toward her.

When he returned the garment, Sera carelessly folded it in her lap. "I don't know how to repay your kindness, Lord Blackstone. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't happened along tonight. I take it you were restless for a midnight ride as well?"

"We are neighbors, Lady Montgomerie," the earl rumbled politely. "I would be remiss if I did not come to your assistance when the moment presented itself."

"Then we must be friends as well as neighbors, my lord." Sera smiled brightly. "I have a habit of befriending just about everyone in East Chatham, or so I'm told. My brothers have nicknamed my collection of familiars my menagerie. They say I haven't the heart to turn away a friendly face be it an earl's, a spinster's or a stray dog's. I would be honored if you would consider yourself my friend."

"I would be equally honored, my lady." Despite his casual tone, Sera glimpsed shadows dancing dangerously within his eyes. In the next moment, he was reaching for his restless stallion and obscuring her view.

"My friends call me Sera," she corrected. "Do your friends have a special name for you?"

"I fear, I don't have many friends, Lady Sera," the earl replied as he regained his mount. "Save you, of course. I have just recently returned to England." He gently nudged his black stallion down the lane. Sera followed automatically.

"You were gone a long time?" It was more of a statement rather than a question, but Sera didn't explain that. Of course, everyone in East Chatham and many in the ton in general heard about the notorious exploits of Lord Julius Blackstone's prodigal son. The Blackguard of Blackstone supposedly made some ladies swoon just to hear the name, but Sera ignored that piece of rumor. Certainly, he was an impressive man to meet, but he wasn't at all threatening. He seemed more like the gentleman and protector his father was.

"I've been abroad no longer than any other man in my position," the earl professed. "My business took me far afield." Bitterness filled his shadowy eyes.

Belatedly, Sera realized her companion's business had apparently kept him away from home longer than he expected. So long, he hadn't even been able to attend his father's funeral. But then Lord Julius's death had been most sudden and tragic. Surely, that was why his son seemed so intense when he studied her like someone considering a distant desire.

"You were engaged in shipping?" Sera asked conversationally.

"Yes." A belying edge clung to the quick confirmation. "My family has a healthy investment in that quarter. While my father was alive, I undertook some of his more delicate contracts abroad."

"It must be wonderful to travel so," Sera crooned like a wistful child. "I assume you have been to the East Indies and the Ancient World?" To his nod, she continued enthusiastically. "I've read about such places, in my brother's library, but to actually see the Seven Wonders would be marvelous. I've read the domes of the Taj Mahal and the pillars of the Acropolis are huge when stood next to a man."

"Each seems large enough to swallow the sun," the earl declared with the irrefutable air of authority. The fanciful idea captivated Sera. She imagined her imperious rescuer plucking the sun's light with a simple stretch of his spine. She was about to share her image when his lithe back twisted to reveal the changing landscape.

The large gates of Thornbridge Manor loomed less than a few paces ahead of Sera. She quickly spun towards the path she just followed wondering how she got back home. Her wistful mood darkened with the memory of why she came out on this wretched road.

Frantically, Sera searched the inner pocket of her brother's cloak. Relieved, she felt the full moneypurse within. The thieves didn't get it in all the madness. If they had, well she didn't even want to think about that possibility.

Sera covertly looked at her timepiece while trailing a few paces behind her escort. Five of twelve. She still had time. She'd have to hurry, but if she took the shortcut through the woods, she could be in the cemetery before the church bells chimed. Sera wanted to be early to this clandestine meeting and get her bearings, but things just weren't working out like planned.

Perhaps she should have just taken the shortcut in the first place and avoided the main road altogether. Then those bandits wouldn't have waylaid her. Or forced her to encounter the indomitable presence of Gabriel Blackstone. Sera frowned at her last thought.

Casually, the earl turned his mount to face her at the gates of her home. "Have you never left England then, Lady Sera?" His question was phrased with mild interest, but his eyes studied her intently.

"I visited the Continent last year," she admitted, stealing another glance at her timepiece. "It was only a brief visit when the War ended. My brother was injured, and I insisted in seeing him safely home."

"I trust your brother is well now?" the earl asked as if he had all the time in the world.

"Yes, Adrian hardly notices the pain in his shoulder these days," she replied in rushed tones. "He's far too busy working on his books and doting on his bride."

"Thornbridge has a bride?"

"Um, no, Adrian is the youngest of my brothers," Sera explained after a poignant pause. In her mind, the time was ticking and here she was chatting away with this infuriating man. Actually, any other time, she would be delighted to talk to the earl. He was an easy man to talk to. He didn't interrupt her or make her think she was babbling on, even when she knew she was.

"How many brothers do you have, Lady Sera?"

"Three," she replied quickly. Three minutes to twelve. Sera made little effort to disguise her attempt to check the time. Her heart began to pound a little faster. She was going to be late, but she didn't want to leave either. Something about the earl was too intriguing for her to turn away. He was like an adventurous novel that promised new excitement and unexpected thrills with the turn of every page. She reveled in the sight of him. "My brother—"

Sera halted abruptly when she glimpsed Blackstone stroking his stallion's neck. Black leather gloves fit snugly over his powerful hands. Delicately, masterfully, his fingers caressed the sleek animal. The image intrigued and beguiled Sera though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

"My brother Cassius is the second oldest," she continued in a faded voice. "He was in the War, too, but left the Continent much sooner."

A curious weakness filled Sera. She forced herself to remove her gaze from Lord Blackstone's skillful hand. She was having too many fanciful thoughts about where she'd like to see those fingers stroke.

Her traitorous eyes lingered over his sculptured leg as it rested in the saddle. His britches were much too snug, uncomfortably so, she thought. Why they showed every contour of his thigh muscles more accurately than the Ancient Greek statues she'd seen in the British Museum.

"Was Thornbridge in the War as well?" Blackstone prodded through her distraction.

Sera thought she shook her head. "My brother Magnus inherited the title when our parents died in a carriage accident. He's a widower now, but he has a son. My nephew Julias wants to be a soldier like my brothers, but our uncle says he'll grow up just as bullheaded as his father. Montgomeries are either soldiers, adventurers or stubborn politicians."

"Your family sounds like quite a brood," Blackstone muttered in a mildly reproachful tone. With the ease of a playful cat, he carefully flicked a speck of nonexistent dirt off his thigh precisely where his audience was watching.

Sera ripped her gaze away with a blush and forced herself to keep her eyes on her own lap.

"A loving brood, for the most part," she countered in a rush. "But they can be a handful at times. My mother always used to say there's a special place in hell for brothers. She meant it in the most loving way," Sera added when she thought he might have misunderstood. "Mama had several brothers of her own and was a bit of an authority on the matter. She told me when brothers are young, they think of sisters as brats. But when we mature, we become a mixture of hellion and angel."

Blackstone murmured teasingly. "And what are you, Lady Sera? Hellion or angel?"

"Neither, I fear," she confessed to her trembling hands. The subtle seductive rumble in his chest made her thoughts clutter. Her pulse quickened in awareness. Warmth and darkness slowly crept over her. "I'm far too headstrong to be an angel, or so I'm told, but I have too many principles to be a true hellion."

"A headstrong angel? Certainly a sight to behold."

She felt his whisper echo off her cheek. Sera looked up in surprise. Somehow, Blackstone had quietly maneuvered his mount directly beside her. He was close enough for her to see the glittering darkness of his moonlit eyes. They were a misty emerald color, green and gray swirling together like a morning fog bathing a fresh green meadow.

"Your eyes are even greener than your father's," Sera blurted.

"My father?" the earl repeated in dangerously soft tones. Sera's mare snorted and backed away from him. Blackstone quickly grasped Persephone's reins in silent unrepentant command. Intent shadows swirled ominously in his eyes. "I confess, I'm surprised that you knew him, Lady Sera."

Sera swallowed nervously. In the back of her mind, she heard bells ringing, but she was too entranced to figure out where she'd heard the familiar tones before. Blackstone's presence dominated and intrigued her.

"My father was an extremely private man who led an equally reticent life," he disclosed in dark speculation. "Virtually, no one got in to see him before his death. I presume you bewitched him to become one of your friends as well?"

Sera thought she sensed sarcasm in the earl's question, but couldn't fathom why. He was leaning closer to her, towering above her with an imperious glare that made her wonder exactly what he intended.

Cold wind ruffled Blackstone's cloak and bathed her in a dangerously seductive heat. She realized she was gripping air where Persephone's reins should be. Only Blackstone's gaze as he stared at her in the moonlight seemed to matter. That and the curious noise she kept hearing chime in the distance.

"I barely knew your father," she admitted. "I only met him the day before he died. If I'd known that the illness would have taken him so soon, I would have come to visit him much sooner. He will be sadly missed. He was a most noble and considerate man."

"Yes, he was," Blackstone intoned mournfully. "Some might say too noble for the angels in this life." His eyes danced with grim shadows. A hint of regret and recrimination edged the misty glare. For a moment, Sera thought she sensed condemnation in his penetrating stare.

A cool night wind whipped a lock of hair across her face. Blackstone gently stroked the errant strands behind her ear. His hand lingered a moment against her cheek. Long, warm fingers caressed her. The feel of smooth dark leather brushing her bare skin enthralled Sera. Unexpected warmth sprang to life within her belly.

"It must have been difficult for you," she gasped struggling to keep her thoughts. In the back of her mind, she knew she was forgetting something important. It kept ringing through her mind at an even, musical pace. "Losing your father when you'd been away for so long. Many people lost the ones they loved in the War."

"Yes, they did," the earl agreed grimly. Cunning shadows flickered in his eyes. "And many people betrayed the ones that they loved. War brings out the worst in even an angel. But peace brings retribution."

Unconsciously, Sera bit her lower lip. With the skill of a manipulative seducer, Blackstone soothed the bruised flesh with the soft tip of his thumb. The touch sent shivers of unaccustomed desire through Sera. She innocently gave herself to the caress uncaring of its unwarranted familiarity. The warmth inside her coiled hungrily.

"Gabriel?" Sera asked in a dreamy voice that forgot all sense of propriety and how one addresses a total stranger. At that moment, she was overwhelmed with the sensation that he was not an unknown person to her at all. Gabriel Blackstone was incredibly real and so intimately close to her he could no doubt see into her soul. She could feel his warm breath on her face, the soft touch of his fingers on her lips as she lifted her gaze and indulged in the beckoning shadows of his eyes. She had a sudden overwhelming desire. She wanted to drown in his misty green embrace. "Do you hear bells?"

Emerald shadows glittered in silent triumph. Enchantment enticed and beguiled Sera like a doe fascinated with her hunter. Dark motives swirled beneath the earl's mask of gentle desire. Something that could have been warning reflected within the shadows of his eyes. Cunningly, Blackstone pulled her closer.

His mouth hovered just a scant inch above hers when he finally answered. "Church bells, love," he rumbled as he lowered his mouth to hers. "I believe it is midnight."

Cold realization flooded Sera's mind in a cacophony of alarm.

"Midnight?" She jerked away from the earl before his lips could touch hers. In the process, she accidentally kicked his stallion and upset her own mare. Persephone skittered away causing the disgruntled earl to momentarily lose his balance. With defiant grace, Blackstone narrowly righted his angry steed.

Ignorant of her companion's struggle, Sera's mind whirled in panic. The fading sound of midnight church bells tolled the terrible fact. She was not only late, she may have missed her meeting altogether.

It was a travesty. She doubted her contact would give her another chance to ransom back her honor. This mission was so important and she couldn't fail no matter how charming it was to talk to the Earl of Blackstone.

Sera faked a loud yawn as she inched her horse toward the gates of her brother's estate. "Forgive me, my lord. It's late and I really should be in bed. Perhaps we may finish this conversation later?"

"Before we part Lady Sera, may I offer a bit of friendly advice?"

The gentle command in his voice halted Sera at the gates of her home. Blackstone quickly shortened the distance between them. He studied her in charged silence, then casually warned, "Beware where you wander on the road at this hour. There's no telling whom you may meet. Friend or foe, in the shadows, both look the same."

With that gentle pronouncement, the enigmatic earl reached for her hand and gently kissed the back. His rigid lips felt unexpectedly soft and provocatively warm. Desire teased Sera in acute awareness of his gentleman's kiss. She never wanted it to end. As if to deny her whim, he tickled her palm in lingering retreat.

Blackstone gleamed with subtle promise. "I look forward to our next meeting, Lady Sera." With a polite nod, he nudged his mount in retreat.

For a moment Sera couldn't move or breathe, nor do anything beyond stare after the man who had been her guardian angel when she thought she had none. He charmed her, beguiled her, and entranced her with the most curious sensations she ever felt in a man's presence. Shadows cloaked him in a mystery she desperately wanted to unravel.

Church bells tolled a defiantly beckoning truth. There was only one mystery she could solve at a time. One compelling drama she had yet to arrange in this midnight escapade for her dearest friend. Sera checked her timepiece then anxiously spied the woodland path beside her home.

She hesitated briefly, her beguiled gaze drawn down the lane to where she felt something even more important was silently slipping away. With awe and a wealth of curious longing, Sera watched the Blackguard of Blackstone disappear into another moonlit fog as mystifyingly as he came.

Chapter Two

CLOAKED IN darkness, Gabriel Blackstone paused a discreet distance down the lane from Thornbridge Manor. Church bells slowly chimed into silence as he kept his unwitting prey in sight.

They called him a notorious rogue.

It was a reputation he earned with distinction. And cunning. In Gabriel's work, the airs of a gentleman were clever disguises for those who wished to be suspected of patriotism and honor. A bastard rake, who had forsaken family, country and some said even God, was never accused of such noble aspirations.

Indeed, only a fool would trust such a person with his life, let alone his secrets. The Blackguard of Blackstone's crimes were almost as innumerable as they were atrocious. Even the criminal class, who'd just as soon kill their own mothers, feared him. It was humorous to see a bloodthirsty pirate cower in fear when the Blackguard appeared. Almost as entertaining as the flighty chits of the ton who swooned at the mention of his name.

War was an ugly thing. It made good men villains and bad men heroes. It brought out their savagery and dishonor. It made women the pawns of seduction and conquest. And it gave life to the vermin of humanity who thrived on the spoils of war.

It was that vermin the Blackguard of Blackstone was sent to ferret out. His motivation was beyond question, beyond greed, beyond patriotism, but rather rested in the compelling arms of just revenge. His vigilante vow was not against a rebellious government but in opposition to an even greater legacy of ambition and cruelty.

Good people died for the sake of the traitorous Triad Society's lust for power and wealth. Members of the secret order carried the twisted greed in their blood. And every tainted droplet had the power to corrupt the holiest of men.

Gabriel's father first discovered the secret society's existence. Julius Blackstone worked on the problem for years. Nearly two long decades of careful searching and meticulous analysis finally provided the answer to their undoing. The Scrolls of the Triad, rumored to contain the names of founding members, was here in England. Lost and smuggled away from the dangers of the Continent, it waited to be found and passed to the appropriate authorities in the War Department.

More traitors would be found, and with them would come the vengeance sought by the men who had been brutally betrayed. Betrayed by the Triad and their deadly minions.

The Angel d'Mort was out there. The Angel of Death lurked in the shadows as most assassins did, but this one had a particularly elusive and lethal modus operandi. Despite clinging to life in an agonizing torment of death, his victims were never able to accuse their killer. The insidious poisons, skillfully administered by the Angel's little hands, were highly effective.

So effective, careful men like Gabriel's father became renowned for a peculiar scrutiny over diet. Perhaps to the point of needless paranoia, but that made it even more extraordinary that Lord Julius had fallen so easily to the unnatural sickness that quickly snuffed out his life. In the end, Gabriel was convinced that his father knew exactly how he had been betrayed.

His father was a shrewd man, but he also had a weakness that every clever foe exploits. A weakness that Gabriel demanded himself to ignore at the cost of his own soul. Julius Blackstone was susceptible to the charms of an angel. An angel christened with an apt name.

Born of angels, the highest of the heavenly creatures, Seraphina was a name more than suited to the dangerously disarming girl who brazenly abandoned the safety of her brother's home to go riding in the moonlight. Her bumbling innocence, the wry shyness and the singular independence she commanded made Lady Sera an easy pawn to seduce. With the proper encouragement, Gabriel didn't doubt she could be taught to betray as well.

Certainly, this was what his father learned in those torturous hours before the crippling pain strangled the breath from him. There could be no other explanation for the words he hastily scrawled within his last mournful missive to his son.

Watch out for Lady Sera Montgomerie. She holds the key.

Gabriel spent hours trying to decipher the snippet of clues his father managed to convey before his death. He wanted to cross the Atlantic on foot for the honor of avenging his last living relative's murder. The pirates of the South Americas had other inclinations at the behest of the Triad and Gabriel's fondest foe. He had been forced to miss his father's funeral, but he did not waste time preparing for the final hunt.

Necessity and law demanded that he resign from his notorious life. The Blackguard of Blackstone was now the Right Honorable Earl of Blackstone, a titled gentleman of the ton with rights and responsibilities to his wards. Yet, Gabriel wasn't prepared to think of the inevitable duties that went along with his title. Maybe once he found the Scrolls of the Triad and personally dealt the Angel a dose of his own medicine, then Gabriel could turn his attention to the aspirations of normal life.

For now, he was content to exist in the shadows. Curiosity and cynicism were his guides leading him to the lonely road of East Chatham, and to an encounter with the Angel's little angel.

Finding Lady Sera sneaking off in disguise, albeit a charmingly ridiculous one, was an intriguing development. He thought he had played the situation quite well. A polite gentleman who obligingly comes to a lady's rescue without asking for anymore than her name and the honor of seeing her home. She appeared unskilled for a traitor's pawn.

Warily, he realized all that bumbling naiveté could be an even more dangerous deception. He had used the sensual lore when he sensed she was susceptible to such charms. Gabriel was, by all accounts, a master of seduction. After all, he had been taught by the most ruthlessly experienced courtesan in Europe.

Yet, for a moment there, as he gently stroked Lady Sera's cherub face, he actually felt himself slipping in favor of losing himself in her innocent gaze. The idea that he wanted to kiss her more than she wanted him was an unsettling notion. Obviously, there was a more pressing reason that caused her to turn away at the last moment. Something that kept them both out on the road at midnight.

Dispelling his rambling reverie, Gabriel gripped the reins of his black stallion. Within the embrace of a willow tree, animal and rider remained shrouded in convenient shadows. Through the drifting fog, Gabriel's hawk-like eyes closely observed every movement Lady Sera made.

She sat atop her gray mare between the gates of her brother's home. Confusion and fancy filled her countenance as she studied the lane. A faint touch of wariness edged her mask of determination. She checked her timepiece, then looked longingly up at Thornbridge Manor and bit her lip. With a resigned sigh, she nudged her mount forward.

Gabriel smiled wryly. "Lady Sera is more restless than she claims," he murmured conspiratorially to his Arabian stallion. Crucible snorted softly in reply as his master nudged him to follow at a discreet distance.

Once she was beyond the gates of her home, Lady Sera wasted little time picking up her pace and direction. She surprised him when she expertly guided her mare into the overgrown woodland path running parallel to the main road. The woods were a dark and foreboding place at night, but the lady seemed an expert at traversing the winding path of obstacles.

Gabriel thought she might be headed for a lover's tryst in the old Roman Ruins near his father's estate. Eagerly, he anticipated whom he might chance to discover her with. Defying his cynical reason, she came to a halt outside the old cemetery of the village church.

Covertly, he steered his mount to the shadows of a tall oak tree. Gabriel watched her dismount and pace the small cemetery. She scanned the area and her timepiece as if she were awaiting someone. He waited too, flexing his hand on the hilt of his sword and hoping he would not be disappointed.

Then her gaze settled on a sculpted angel gravestone. Almost reverently, she reached into the urn at the base of the statue. Gabriel noted her disgruntled mumble as she retrieved and read what appeared to be a missive. Obviously, she hadn't been expecting a note but a person.

Gabriel assumed her contact had become suspicious and directed her to meet him elsewhere. He shrewdly readied his stallion to follow her, but then she did something unexpected.

She removed a small pouch from her cloak and dropped it in the urn where she'd found the note. Biting her lip, she stood there a moment as if debating some issue. Almost defeated, she shrugged and walked back to her mare.

Gabriel urged Crucible deeper into the shadows of the tree. A soft breeze kicked up as the lady hurriedly rode her mare past him on the woodland path.

He briefly debated following her, but his instinct told him she was racing home. He assumed Lady Sera had enough excitement for the night and perhaps had done her job.

With the stealth of a panther, Gabriel dismounted and cautiously moved through the shadows of the cemetery. The object Sera placed in the statue was burning at his curiosity.

He froze in mid-step when movement registered in the corner of his eye. A small, gray shape crawled furtively along the back of the church. The figure of a man with a slightly hunched back, small beady eyes and a long pointed nose emerged from the darkness. Dressed in a groom's worn out clothes, he scurried toward the urn like a hungry rat.

With a long, bony hand the rat reached out for the silk purse cradled beside the gravestone. The little man's eyes lit up with horror when he found his wrist engulfed in the vice-grip of a leather-gloved monster.

"Bloody 'ell!" the man snarled at Gabriel. "The damn chit's only supposed to send one messenger not two. She won't be getting 'er treasure back if anything's 'appen to me."

Treasure? Gabriel eyed the servant suspiciously, sensing from experience that the man was not quite as rough as he seemed. His instincts warned that even a rat could be disguised in sheep's clothing. His words were curious yet meaningless to Gabriel.

"I believe you have something of interest to me," the earl cooed. Painfully, Gabriel twisted the man's wrist until he howled in agony and dropped the silk purse. Blackstone caught it deftly in one hand while he continued to hold his captive's wrist in the other. The sound of coins jingled amidst the bag's silk lining.

"Give it to me!" snapped the little rat man. "It belongs to me. I earned it!" When he grabbed for the moneypouch, Gabriel wrenched the thief's wrist twisting him onto his knees.

Ignore his captive's protests, Gabriel's analytical mind quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together. The money, the treasure, a midnight rendezvous in a barren cemetery. "I must have been gone from England longer than I thought," he drawled while lazily jingling the coins between his fingers. "I had no idea theft had become an honorable profession. I believed it still a crime as well as its bastard brother, blackmail." Gabriel's words were lethally soft as he pinned the little man with an unyielding look. "Both crimes carry a stiff punishment I'm told."

"I won't be punished!" hissed the thief in daring reply. "Unless the lady is willing to risk her own hide in the process. When her guardian finds out her bauble is missing, he'll be bloomin' furious!"

Gabriel eyed the little man carefully. He noticed the sudden drop of an unmannered accent, yet sensed he was not dealing with a cunning gentleman in disguise. No, his prey seemed more like an upstart servant turned out of a semi-respectable home. Undoubtedly, he found blackmail a more suitable living than seeking a new position.

It also occurred to Gabriel like the highwaymen that night, this thief might be simply another interesting coincidence in Lady Sera's supposedly unremarkable life. The Angel's little angel seemed to have a penchant for attracting trouble.

"What treasure have you procured that would cause the lady and her guardian so much displeasure to lose?" Gabriel's casual tone belied the intensity of his piercing gaze. Nonchalantly, he let go of the little man's wrist and leaned against the gravestone.

The former captive caressed the bruised skin of his forearm and eyed his situation warily. Still humbled on his knees, he longingly searched the nearby darkness of the church. Gabriel loomed over him with predatory eyes. The thief paused as if debating whether he should answer the question or flee for his life. Obviously, he aptly guessed his chances of survival were better in answering.

"No great treat," the little man replied. "Just a little lover's trinket the chit foolishly took out of safe keeping to moon over. Hence I was able to appropriate it."

"She's prepared to pay a lot to retrieve a mere trinket," Gabriel countered bouncing the heavy silk purse in his hand. Amidst the jingling coins, he felt a wad of paper notes. He estimated there were at least a few hundred pounds within Lady Sera's ransom bag. "What is this treasure's true worth, I wonder?"

"Nothing," the blackmailer grumbled. "It ain't worth a thing. At least to the world beyond the chit and her lover."

"Sounds intriguing," Gabriel muttered thoughtfully. So, Lady Sera was being blackmailed because she allowed one of her lover's treasures to slip through her fingers? A treasure supposedly meaningless but in fact valuable enough to cause her guardian to be enraged and his little angel to brave highwaymen and spies at midnight in its recovery. "And precisely where is this lover's trinket, my little man?"

"In a safe place," the thief insisted warily. "It'll be returned after I get my money."

Gabriel had been glancing at the smudge of dirt on his Hessians when the little man spoke, but he caught the telling movement of his hand over his breast pocket when he mentioned a safe place. The thief's unconscious mind was ensuring that the precious package was still secure in its hiding place.

"I think it would be quite safe with me," Gabriel remarked in a soft yet demanding tone. The thief hugged his coat but was caught unprepared. With the grace of a cat, Gabriel sprung forward and ripped his captive's coat free. In the brief struggle, a package wrapped in dirty linens fell into the earl's grasp.

The wrapping was as big as a bird's nest, but the treasure within the discarded garments was no bigger than an egg. In fact, it was an egg, about the size one would find in a robin's nest. Unlike its natural cousins, however, this oval was of a skillful man's making. Gabriel lifted the trinket to the moonlight where brilliant rubies mingled with the reflections of sapphires, emeralds and diamonds.

There was something ominously intriguing about the supposedly worthless trinket. Not the fact that the stones were entirely genuine and therefore priceless. The workmanship was exquisite, but Gabriel's frown centered only on the intricate design scrolled between the mounted jewels.

Casually, he flipped the egg upside down to its wide base. His steeled eyes concealed the shocking recognition he felt when light glinted against the mark engraved on the bottom. A triple-crossed dagger with a sterling serpent rose wrapped around its hilt. The sign of the Triad.

"It's a pretty little bauble," Gabriel commented dryly.

"Give it back!" the blackmailer snarled as he grabbed for the egg.

Defying the greedy man's reach, Gabriel closed his fist tightly around it. "Now why would I do that?" he mocked. "I might want a lover's trinket for myself. Such a pretty little gift for one's mistress, don't you think?"

"But I haven't gotten paid!" cried the little man in frustration. Hungrily, he eyed the jingling moneypurse. Gabriel gripped the silk firmly in his defiant grasp. The blackmailer's expression turned to frustration then anger. Obviously, he was speculating he would come out of this night's work without so much as a penny.

"Fear not my good man," Gabriel assured as he loosened his grip on the moneybag. "I know how valuable your services are and how troubling it is not to be rewarded accordingly. Now that you have settled my curiosity, I would not dream of interfering in your transaction."

"And the lady's trinket?" The thief glared up at Gabriel.

"You can rest assured I will return it to its rightful owner." Nonchalantly, the earl tossed the silk purse on the ground. A few coins spilled out carelessly. With disgusting avarice, the thief eagerly gathered the black money. Before he could scurry off into the darkness with his bounty, Gabriel drew the wary man's attention.

"A word to the wise," he echoed lethally. "I believe you will find your particular line of work more satisfying, if not healthier, in another shire. Perhaps out of this country entirely. Blackmailers, I would imagine, are not welcome here."

"Then ye best be looking after yourself," countered the thief with an accusing stare. His hateful eyes conveyed the silent wish that his disrupter met with a nasty end himself on the hangman's rope.

Gabriel smiled mirthlessly. "Your concern touches me, but I believe I am quite capable of doing exactly that. Just as capable as I am of doing what's necessary to ensure my confidences are kept. Those that betray me do not live long to boast of the tale," he added in chilling tones. "Do we understand each other?"

"Your a cold-hearted bastard, ain't ye?" accused the jilted thief. "Whatever the lady did to deserve you, may God have mercy on her poor soul!"

With a muttered oath and shrug of defeated agreement, the rat-faced robber disappeared behind the church shadows whence he slithered out.

Cautiously, Gabriel surveyed the cemetery grounds for other signs of human life. Only the chill night wind whipped about the hard stones in savage testament to Nature's wrath. Like a midnight warrior, Gabriel stood amidst the field of the dead. Their haunting cries of regrets and reminders sobered his cunning thoughts.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. It was the satisfied grin of a spy in triumph. Not just any spy, but the one sent on the War Department's most pressing mission. As he'd done in so many distant ports, the Guardian shrewdly examined the appropriated treasure in his hand.

It was an interesting development, he thought. Following Lady Sera tonight had certainly proved profitable to his search. Eagerly, he studied the familiar trinket.

In the pale moonlight, etched markings embedded in the curved design of the egg denoted an ancient script. A simile of Egyptian hieroglyphics, yet Gabriel's father had determined it was a more recently developed code. He would have to check his father's notes for an exact translation, but he had a clue of the general meaning.

It was a key code to the Triad Scrolls. Each marking denoted the importance of a missing piece of the deadly treasure. There were three components, three keys smuggled and lost amidst the last fires of war.

With this unexpected find, Gabriel had only two keys left to recover. His instincts told him he was close. The smuggled treasure found its way to England as far as his superiors could determine. Gabriel believed them discreetly concealed in the most unassuming places. Exactly where a spy wouldn't think to look.

It was stupid of the Angel to trust an important treasure to a bumbling innocent. Or maybe it was incredibly clever as a means of wooing her into committing betrayal.

Gabriel remembered the blackmailer's words. The egg was considered a lover's trinket, a token of the affection a reckless young woman believed she felt for her lover. What safer and more unassuming place could there be for such a valuable prize, but in the foolishly loyal embrace of a woman's heart?

It was probably given to her with whispered promises of a future. She'd be draped in gems like the egg treasure she held as a keepsake. And for that promise of love, she would easily do whatever small favor her paramour asked. Perhaps she didn't even know the consequences of her actions.

Another thought rumbled through Gabriel's mind.

I won't be punished... Not unless the lady wants to risk her own hide in the process.

With concern, Gabriel recalled the blackmailer's words. Lady Sera's lover would be furious with her if he knew she lost the trinket. Despite his words, Gabriel had absolutely no intention of given back the egg.

But if his treasure isn't returned, what would the Angel do to his careless little angel? The thought of Sera being in danger filled Gabriel with unexpected anger. He assumed the thought bothered him because he still had valuable uses for Sera while she held the key to the Angel's identity. Yet, he knew that wasn't the true reason.

It was a wildly dangerous impulse, certainly unprofessional given his line of work. Experienced blackguards didn't allow themselves to care for anyone, especially a scandalous chit who allowed herself to be seduced by a cold-blooded killer.

Yet, Gabriel kept seeing images of Sera in his mind. Huddled on the road, disheveled and rubbing her leg like a wounded animal, she seemed acutely vulnerable. It was almost as if she were looking to him to become her guardian angel. To protect her and guide her through the perils of this dangerous game she foolishly blundered into.

Gabriel's memory flashed on the moment when she stubbornly refused assistance to stand by herself in the lane. Her practiced expression never wavered, but her soft doe-brown eyes reflected the hidden pain in her leg. She wanted no help and that fact oddly pleased him.

It was a strange dichotomy and yet one that bespoke proud courage and romantic weakness. She wanted a guardian and yet she wanted her independence. Perhaps to pick and choose those she called friends for herself, he cynically considered.

The Angel's little angel had headstrong, foolish tendencies that could play easily into Gabriel's expert hands. If she wanted a guardian angel who patiently stood by her side, offering protection when her reckless schemes went awry, then that was a role he could assume without difficulty. He'd already finagled her friendship tonight, as well as her interest.

All he had to do was to watch over her and wait for the next opportunity to come to her rescue. He would play her like the masterful seducer he was rumored. And when he finally seduced her affections, he would demand her trust and loyalty. With the stolen treasure of her heart, the rumored Blackguard of Blackstone and his shadowy Guardian self would have the ultimate key to betraying his father's enemies.

Satisfied with his plan, Gabriel whistled softly into the night. Crucible came to his master with the same quiet stealth as his rider mounted the stallion. Both dark creatures rode silently down the footpath toward the old Roman Ruins.

A few minutes later in the misty clearing, the mogul domes of Mirabella loomed across the Medway River on its own little islet. Gabriel turned his mount toward the little road that went across the land bridge to Blackstone Isle. Moonlight guided him down a winding path of willow trees to his fanciful home. On any other night, the beauty of the hidden estate would impress Gabriel, but tonight his mind was absorbed in cunning strategy.

He decided to direct his trusted secretary to make inquiries of the more talkative villagers. He wanted to know every person Lady Sera counted among her menagerie of friends.

Something had to be done about the egg. Perhaps a rouse to explain its absence. It would be preferable if the treasure was never believed lost.

Mulling an idea that last thought gave him, Gabriel entered Mirabella's front gates. Night clouds rolled by illuminating the sparkling gold-tipped dome over the center halls. The sparkling brandy color reminded him of Lady Sera.

Golden-brown tresses had tumbled wildly around her cherub face. She had a doe's long, silky eyelashes and entrancing eyes to match. The memory of her was an unexpected lure to Gabriel, and a dangerous one as well.

He forced a barrier of cold defiance across his wandering thoughts. Cynically, he told himself her naïveté was just a clever deception and the truth lay in her brash recklessness. He must never forget the hand she had in the Angel's machinations to destroy his father.

Yet beneath the icy resolve, anticipation mingled with the shadows plaguing Gabriel's rigid soul. His notorious angel may have a few dented wings, but he looked forward to their next carefully executed chance encounter.

Chapter Three

"AND THERE it was, thank goodness!" Cleo Athelstan exclaimed in relief. "Chilton never even noticed it was missing."

Sera listened to her best friend's curious tale as the pair walked down the lane between their brothers' country estates. There was an unexpectedly warm March sun shining. The country road in daylight seemed a much brighter and less intimidating sight than it appeared two nights past.

Ruefully, Sera remembered worrying herself all the way home from the cemetery. The item she went to ransom was not there as promised. Obviously, the blackmailer found her tardiness sufficient cause to alter his routine. Sera had been determined to hunt down the blackmailer herself. The miracle reappearance stopped her two days later.

Just that very morning, Cleo's brutish brother, Viscount Chilton, returned from Town. Despite her brother's usual vile temperament, Sera's friend braved his wrath to explain the theft. But when Cleo happened to look into his curio cabinet, the stolen egg was sitting inside exactly as her brother left it.

"I was so shocked and pleased, I broke out laughing!" Cleo bubbled with uncharacteristic joy. Typically, she dreaded her brother's return, but she was all smiles today. "Sera, I don't know how I can ever thank you. I was so worried when I found that horrid note. He asked for so much money. I promise I will pay you back every penny."

"Don't worry about it," Sera insisted. "I'd only spend it on some frippery for my menagerie anyway. It's more important that you have your treasure back."

The politeness of Sera's refusal was more practical than feigned. She knew Chilton had Cleo on such tight purse strings her friend would never be able to repay the debt in full.

Legally, Cleo was a wealthy woman, but her greedy brother, upon having himself made the executor of her trust, kept his sister a financial prisoner. When Cleo turned five and twenty or married, her funds would be out of his control. Until then she was trapped in the small village of East Chatham with a limited collection of familiars.

"I don't know what I'd ever do without you, Sera," Cleo choked. Her blue eyes misted when she stopped to give her friend an impromptu hug. "I'm sorry I had to trouble you with my problems."

Sera pensively studied Cleo. She noted faint shadows lining her otherwise perfect eyes. Concern filled Sera. "It was no trouble, honestly. I wish you hadn't worried yourself over this for so long before you told me. All's well now," she encouraged. Cleo's gaze remained downcast. "You didn't forget to tell me something, did you Cleo? Chilton didn't notice the trinket was moved?"

"No!" Cleo shook with familiar panic. "He was too obsessed in his own losses to notice me. I left before he started with the port." She warily threaded her fingers. "Can we talk about something else?"

Sera grumbled silently over the request. As close as the friends were, there were still subjects they refused to discuss. Barely eleven at the time, they made the silent pact of tolerance when some things were still too hard to comprehend. For Cleo, it was her abusive half-brother that inspired her waking nightmares. Sera didn't understand Chilton's power over his sister, but she knew more than money kept Cleo under his thumb and in the limited world of East Chatham.

"What do you think about planting daisies with your tulips this year?" Sera dutifully changed topic. "Same deal as always. You help me with my garden and I help with yours."

"Of course." Cleo brightened. Her bright yellow hair tumbled out of the confines of a green straw bonnet. The ribbon strings flew freely in the wind. A soft breeze swept the skirts of her green muslin walking dress into a fanciful display of color. It reminded Sera of a child overwhelmed by a lush spring garden. Sera caught the ribbon strings and dutifully retied her friend's bonnet.

"I'm equally blessed with a good friend," Sera confided. "Among everything else, you have so much more dress sense than me. Look at us. Here you stand looking like a perfect lady on a sunny afternoon while I'm already looking like a little brown country mouse."

Pointedly, Sera lifted her hem to show the dirt stains she collected earlier. Her pale blue gown was a simple muslin print made by the village modiste. The cut and style was perfect for a lady of strictly country pursuits. Pursuits like scrounging around in the freshly unfrozen ground to find the first buds of spring for her collection.

"Tis the truth, I don't know what I'll do to keep myself looking presentable at social occasions when you get yourself married off."

Sera regretted her ill-chosen words the moment her friend's bright smile faded into a tragic frown of mourning. "Cleo, I meant in time, when you've sorted everything out and are ready to marry."

"No, I won't ever marry," she cried. "I'm doomed to be a spinster."

"You're much to pretty to be left on the shelf," Sera argued. "You can't be so final. Don't give up on love."

"Love betrayed me!" Cleo shrieked amidst free-flowing tears. "My heart is broken. Don't you understand? I gave it to my dear Percy and fate took him away from me. I just can't give it to another."

"Cleo, be reasonable," Sera chided. "Percy wouldn't want you to live your life in mourning. He wanted you to be happy."

"I can't be," she cried louder. "Not now. Not ever." She turned away from Sera's view. "Not since the horrible war took my only true love away. You just don't understand, Sera." Cleo's voice filled with a distant passion. "Maybe someday when you fall in love, then you'll know. You'd do anything, anything, for the man you love. And without him, you just feel so lost and alone."

Beneath the hysterical tears, Sera registered the unsaid meaning of her distraught friend's words. That summer when Percy Dunne came to East Chatham with Lord Chillingworth's brigade, he became Cleo's protector. He championed her on the dance floor wooing her out of her shyness. He courted her like an honorable gentleman. And he'd even offered her marriage to escape from her brother's unwelcome home.

At one time, Cleo believed Percy would save her from her miserable life. He was her guardian angel. But Sera knew rescuers could not always be relied upon to extract one from disastrous circumstances. Sometimes fate made you suffer alone and the only way you could survive was to rely upon yourself.

Biting back her own waking nightmares, Sera wiped away her friend's tears. "Mama said you're never alone as long as you have yourself, Cleo. You just need more practice being your own guardian angel and not relying on other people to live your life. Percy wanted that for you."

"It's easy for you to say, but I'm just not like that." Tears softened to a calmer sorrowful sniffle of regret. "I tried to tell Percy, but he wouldn't listen. I don't have nerve like you, Sera. I just wasn't strong enough to face Chilton's wrath when Percy asked me to elope with him. I wish I did, honestly I do. At least I'd be his widow now," she sobbed. "Dear sweet Percy, he should have courted you instead. You're so much more daring and independent than me, Sera."

She laughed. "Impetuous and headstrong, is what my brothers call it. At least that's when I'm caught doing something only mildly annoying. They save words like hellion and vixen for my more daring exploits. With all my completely unfavorable feminine traits, no doubt my brothers think it'll be a bona fide miracle if they can get me married off to some unsuspecting groom."

"Sera, your brothers chide you because they worry about you."

"Hmmm, one does begin to wonder since none of them seem to care about the deafness I will undoubtedly suffer from their constant screaming in my ear. Did I ever tell you there's a special place in hell for brothers?"

"Yes, innumerable times, I believe." Cleo smiled.

The old bantering among the Montgomerie siblings was well known in East Chatham. Each claimed the others were absolutely unbearable to live with, but in truth, they were closer than any family in the village. The lot of them were just as fiercely overprotective and independent as each other which caused great rows of debate. Especially when their baby sister was the one showing the independent streak.

"Sometimes I don't think my brothers even understand me, Cleo," Sera confessed. "Adrian and Cassius were gone so long in the War, they tend to think of me as the brat I was when they left. And Magnus just likes to dictate and command me about since Mama and Papa died. Do you know he once stormed into my bedchamber and ordered me to go to the kitchens to get his morning tea so I'd learn to be a more dutiful sister? The staff were appalled by Thornbridge's request."

Fondly, Sera smiled over the memory. It was only a few months after her parent's accident and she was barely out of her sickbed. She struggled her way down the stairs careful to not trip as she fetched the heavy pot. When she brought it to her brother's Study, she promptly spilled it all over his desk. The awkward stumbling was only a slight deception, but immensely satisfying in the resulting look on her brother's face. She'd brought him a fresh pot of tea everyday for a month just to see him warily scramble his treasured papers out of harm's way before she had another accidental near-miss. "Thornbridge is quite impossible at times."

"He dotes on you, Sera," Cleo corrected. "Just as all your brothers do. You're very fortunate to have them."

"Sometimes I think they wish fortune would take me off their hands. Like perhaps if a pirate came and carried me away."

"It probably would have to be a mean and determined pirate who would steal your heart." Cleo shared her friend's playful grin. "I doubt, those brothers of yours would be too willing to part with their precious little sister just yet."

At her friend's innocent words, Sera was drawn back to the previous night when the lane was dark and frightening. The haunted path through the woods lay just on the horizon from where she stood. It was on that hill she first saw the dark and dangerous knight who emerged from fog as easily as his pirate grandfather must have emerged from the sea.

Sera hadn't told anyone about the chance encounter with Gabriel Blackstone or even the fact that she went herself to pay the ransom. She hadn't seen him in the days since, which made it rather curious that she thought of him every night. Usually, when she laid in bed watching the moonlight mist drift past her bedchamber window.

He was an enchanting figure. Tall, dark and wildly handsome in a dangerously mysterious way. Yet, he made her feel comfortable and protected.

In the morning light, it all seemed unreal to her. Which is why she found it so hard to believe the thief made good his promise.

"Cleo, are you absolutely certain the egg was where Chilton left it in the cabinet?" Sera sharply inquired.

Cleo strolled down the lane in a renewed pace. "Yes, of course," she insisted. "Thank goodness."

"And it was locked?" Sera wondered. "The cabinet, I mean."

"It's always locked. Why?"

Sera chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. The logical mind her father had fine-tuned in her kept saying something wasn't right. "Don't you think it a bit odd that the thief waited until you removed the egg to steal it? I mean, if he could get into a locked cabinet, he could easily have stolen it sooner."

"Probably the horrid man knew Chilton would be too furious to pay ransom. So he waited until I was vulnerable."

"Then presumably he was familiar with not only Chilton, but your household."

"Don't frighten me anymore, Sera." Cleo shuddered. "My brother's turned away enough servants to enlist an army of rogues coming after us. I hate to think one of them may actually have been able to get inside without notice."

"I think we should talk to your housekeeper, Mrs. Honeycut," Sera advised. "We wouldn't want to have a repeat of this incident. And if the curio cabinet is a vulnerable hiding place for the egg, then it should be moved to a safer place."

Before Cleo could think to question her friend's odd remark, the angry growl of a four-legged monster ripped through the air. In reply came a loud feline shriek.

Sera noticed a blur of white barreling towards her from the direction of Chilton Manor. "Miss Cleopatra?" She quirked in wonder as the animal frantically scampered up a nearby tree.

"Oh dear!" Cleo pointed down the lane. "Minotaur's loose again!"

The angry beast in question, about the size and demeanor of a rabid wolf, charged toward his prey at full speed. His jaws snapped viciously in expectation and his eyes burned with fury.

"Your brother has a most bizarre taste in hunting dogs," Sera remarked in a light voice. Silently, she wanted to run, but refused to give in to her fear. She reminded herself that Chilton's dog was not a wild wolf but an ill-trained brute with a temper like his master.

Cleo cowered behind her friend to avoid being Minotaur's capture. As if he had another meal in mind, the beast barreled passed the ladies on the way to the oak tree.

Reeling on his hind legs, Minotaur clawed and growled up the trunk in frustration. Sera's clever, yet frightened cat, hissed back from her perch in the branches above.

"What are you doing?" Cleo gritted when Sera pulled away from her. "He won't listen to you."

"Miss Cleopatra's kittens will be upset if your brother's beast manages to eat their mama this time." Resolutely, Sera stepped forward and shouted at Minotaur to heel. She tried to effect a deep commanding tone, but the animal merely turned on her and growled.

Instinctually, Sera took a step backwards. The dog's growl became deeper and more intimidating. Briefly, Sera flashed back to a terrifying moment from her childhood. Hungry wolves viciously snarled at her with demonic red eyes. She struggled to bite back the terror and helplessness the vision provoked and reminded herself of its bitter lesson instead. Bullies sense fear.

Summoning all her courage, Sera stepped forward again. Minotaur continued to growl, but he backed up a step. When he glared at her, she defiantly glared back.

"Sera, don't challenge him," Cleo warned. "He'll bite you."

"He'll only bite if he's threatened. Minotaur knows I won't hurt him. He just keeps forgetting that I won't be intimidated by him either."

Sera could hear her friend's incredulous gasp behind her. Everyone was afraid of Chilton's favorite dog. Even the gamekeeper hired to feed the animal did so only at arm's length. Only a crazy fool would dare deny him his hunting game.

The silent war of glares lasted only a minute, though it seemed like an eternity. Sera was careful not to show fear or anger, knowing both would be signs of provocation. Her determination finally proved too much for Minotaur's confused mind to contradict. Instinctually, he silenced his growls and looked submissively at Sera's feet.

"Now what?" Cleo asked. Sensing the thread of unease in the whispered question, Minotaur quickly shot to his feet and growled at his master's sister.

"Stop that!" Sera roared in a tone that intimidated even the trees. Both, Cleo and Minotaur paused with a frightened squeal.

"Minotaur, you will never go to heaven if you keep running about like an angry ugly brute bullying anyone weaker than yourself."

The dog's eyes filled with unaccustomed apology and sadness as if Sera's prediction mattered to his canine soul.

"I don't doubt that God has a special place in hell for obnoxious bullies," she continued. "The trees are probably so tall, you can't even see where the poor little kitty you chased is hiding."

Minotaur cried over the possibility. When his puppy dog eyes filled with repenting sorrow, Sera boldly stepped forward to console him.

"It's never too late to redeem a lost soul," she cooed, rubbing his ears. The dog leaned into the caress. A moment later, Sera retreated a cautious step. She knew Chilton's dog had a soft streak in him, but he was far too unaccustomed to tenderness to stand it long. His owner obviously thought humanity was wasted on lesser creatures.

"You know Miss Cleopatra's not coming down until you leave, so the chase is over," she pronounced in a tone that wouldn't be questioned. "I advise you to go home, before your master finds you missing again and starts growling at you."

Hesitantly, the dog looked toward home and then at Sera. "Go on," she urged. "Behave yourself and I'll bring you a treat next time I come visit."

Resuming his intimidating stature, presumably to impress the gamekeeper who was calling out for him, Minotaur charged towards his home.

"A treat?" Cleo was appalled. "Sera, you can't mean to indulge that beast."

"Why not?"

"Because he'd probably bite your hand off just for spite."

"Minotaur may look and act like his namesake, but that's only because he was never indulged," Sera mumbled as she glimpsed another dog scampering down the lane. She frowned when she recognized the pronounced limp in his foreleg.

"Minotaur isn't like your other pets, Sera. He doesn't like being indulged. Chilton chose him because he's got a meanness in his blood."

"Nonsense, his brother is very sweet," Sera retorted. Indignantly, she turned a critical eye on the canine limping to a halt before her. "Even if he is foolishly stubborn. Ulysses, what are you doing out of the garden?" she asked in exasperation. "Chasing after Miss Cleopatra, too? You know, you're not supposed to run on your bad paw."

Despite her dismissive words, Sera smiled fondly at her pet. The runt of the litter, Minotaur's brother had been born with a deformed front paw. He'd never make a good hunting dog, but Sera was outraged when she learned Chilton ordered him destroyed.

Like all the members of her menagerie of human and other creatures, Sera took in the pup when he was abandoned. She gave him a heroic name to inspire him. He repaid her by becoming a loyal protector to her reckless brood of four-legged creatures. Like their mistress, Sera's menagerie was forever getting into trouble. Ulysses was always charging after the brood and guiding them home.

A faint feline cry from above caught Sera's attention. "You can come down now, Miss Cleopatra," she called without looking up. "The big bad wolf went home."

The cat mewled softly in reply, but did not move from her precarious perch.

"Oh dear, I think she's stuck," Cleo concluded. "She did climb extremely high this time. I think Minotaur's getting taller."

Sera glanced upwards, shielding her eyes from the sun. Green cat eyes stared down with a mixture of wariness and chagrin. She seemed poised to jump, but hesitated to move.

"I didn't think cats were afraid of heights," Cleo commented.

"She's not." Sera resolutely stripped off her bonnet and gloves. "She's afraid of the scolding she knows she's going to get when she comes down."

"Oh my word, Sera, what are you doing?" Her friend clamored when she shoved her things into Cleo's hand and headed for the tree.

"If she won't come to me, then I'll have to go to her."

"Sera, come down from there this instant!" Cleo ordered when Sera pulled herself up the trunk. "You'll get your dress all dirty."

Sera ignored the protest preferring to concentrate on her mission. The climb was awkward given her attire and the cramp forming in her weak leg, but she refused to give up until she reached the highest branch. Cautiously, she crawled out over the fat part of the limb.

When she looked down, Sera realized she was high enough to see all the way back to her brother's home. The world below looked small and distant. It was as beautiful and peaceful as the day she'd climbed the tree with her brother Cassius. The danger of her precarious position didn't register then as it didn't now.

"Sera, do be careful! You could break your neck."

She smiled down at her worried friend. "You're beginning to sound like Thornbridge. I've climbed a tree before, Cleo."

"I begin to see why your brother is hoarse from chiding you," Cleo grumbled. "What if you fall?"

"Then you'll have to catch me," Sera mused as she inched further out onto the limb toward her cat. Stubbornly, Miss Cleopatra backed away from her hand pulling her further away from the trunk.

"Be serious, Sera," Cleo flustered.

"Oh well, then I guess I'll have to trust my guardian angel to catch me." Gently, Sera coaxed Miss Cleopatra to her hand.

A faint pounding of hooves sounded in the distance and made the tree leaves tremble.

"Oh no, someone's coming!" Cleo hissed. "You have to come down, now Sera."

"Just a minute," she gritted impatiently. Managing to coerce her stubborn cat to her lap, Sera edged toward the trunk. Her skirts impeded her catching on the uneven bark.

The wood beneath Sera splintered ominously. She felt the branch begin to give way just as the sound of galloping thunder grew louder. Miss Cleopatra jumped out of her arms with a frightened wail. Sera tried to scramble after her cat to the safety of the trunk. Her skirt hooked on the branch. The fabric ripped just as a deafening crack shattered the frail limb beneath her.

Sera felt herself falling, knew by instinct that she was in trouble. Like a cat, she twisted and reached for something, anything to hold on to. Cleo's terrified cry of alarm resounded dimly as Sera closed her eyes against impact.

She landed in the arms of an angel. Or at least that's what if felt like when Sera felt herself snatched out of midair and gently cradled in a warm bed of heaven. A little wary that Cleo's prediction of breaking her neck had come true, Sera cautiously opened her eyes.

Emerald shadows gleamed at her disarmingly.

"Another misadventure, my lady?" Gabriel crooned. Deftly, he guided his stallion to a halt just beyond the path of falling branches.

"Lord Blackstone." Sera smiled in relief. The surprise at finding herself rescued competed with another unexpected pleasure. She hadn't realized until that moment, staring into his misty green eyes, how much she had been wishing she would chance to meet him again on the lane.

He was even more handsome in the daylight. Dressed in mostly black, with a starched white cravat, he wore the same sleek leather gloves as the night they met. His eyes sparkled as he looked at her.

Sera bristled under the attention. "It seems I must thank you again. You have an uncanny knack for coming to my rescue."

"As you have a knack for inspiring my curiosity," Gabriel countered. "Surely you're old enough to have abandoned tree climbing. Such activities are generally left for children in the schoolroom, not young ladies."

"My cat climbed up and was too afraid to climb down," Sera explained. She didn't like the faint tone of censure in his voice, but realized she had other more troubling concerns. She was finding the feel of Blackstone's lap most uncomfortably pleasing. He seemed warm and his arms didn't seem to be in any hurry to let her go. One of his large hands rested in the middle of her back and the other under her knees.

Gabriel casually held her, pondering Sera's bemused behavior. Pleasant surprise filled her voice despite her blush. She squirmed in his lap, but only managed to pull herself closer to him. If his senses weren't so easily aroused, he would be pleased by the indication.

She wanted to see him. He could see the desire in her doe-brown eyes. He should be planning how to exploit it, but all he could seem to think about was how soft and warm she felt in his arms. Like an angel.

Gabriel frowned in concentration. Wherever these errant thoughts came from, they must not interfere with his mission.

Sera wondered at Gabriel's sudden frown and copied it. She watched the amused sparkle in his eyes fade to an almost dangerous shadow. She was about to ask him why he was troubled when the flustered sounds behind her caught her attention.

"Good heavens! Sera, are you all right? You could have broken your neck, you silly fool! Thank heavens you were here, sir. My friend can be most impetuous at times. Sera, do come down from there so I know you're all right," Cleo rambled in a flurry of green muslin and fallen leaves. In her arms, she held Miss Cleopatra. Beside her, Ulysses softly growled at Gabriel.

Embarrassed by the idea that she was being watched, in broad daylight, in his arms, Sera slipped out of Gabriel's embrace. He followed her to the ground, gracefully standing back to take in the scene.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Lady Sera was practically assaulted by her menagerie. Her friend hugged her, frantically chiding her for her daredevil nature. When she saw the rip in her dress, Sera's friend wept loudly. Meanwhile, her mischievous cat crawled into Sera's arms and received a combination of scolding and petting. What he presumed was her lame dog glared and growled at Gabriel like a sentry. When his mistress drew his attention with a pat on the head, the animal curled up beside her whimpering for her affection. To her credit, Lady Sera simultaneously tended all three members of her menagerie.

After several moments of the comical disarray, Gabriel wryly wondered if the brood had forgotten his presence in the lane. He decided to remind them.

"I trust that both of you ladies are unharmed?"

The earl's interrupted question quickly cut through the combination of weeping, whimpering and meowing. For a moment, all of Sera's menagerie turned and stared at Gabriel. He smiled politely as he gently stroked his black stallion.

"Yes, my lord, again I must thank you," Sera awkwardly replied. She was biting her lip again mysteriously.

"Oh yes, my lord, my friend and I were most fortunate that you happened to be riding this way," Cleo glowed. "It really was a most skillful rescue. You quite snatched Sera away from certain doom. I told her it was dangerous, but she never listens."

"Cleo, don't exaggerate." Sera's irritated tone was born of her embarrassment. Her friend was making her sound like a reckless hellion in front of Lord Blackstone. Of course, what else must he think of her? The last time he saw her on this road, it was midnight and she was in britches.

"I am more than happy to be of service." His eyes gleamed over her. "But perhaps the next time Lady Sera's cat needs rescuing, she could find a safer means of doing so. Guardian angels don't grow on trees."

Sera suddenly realized where that amused sparkle in his eyes came from. He found her humorous and that annoyed her immensely. "Thank you for your opinion, my lord, but I think I can look after myself," she tartly retorted.

"You will forgive me if I question that notion," Gabriel challenged. "I wonder what your brothers would think of your endeavors on this particular country road?"

"Are you a friend of Thornbridge, my lord?" Cleo interrupted with a silent question in her eyes for Sera. She wondered why her friend was baiting such a devilishly charming man who had just come to her rescue. More importantly, she noticed the two seemed to know each other somewhat well, yet Sera had never mentioned him. "Sera, you didn't tell me your brother had any guests visiting."

The moment of challenge was there in her audience's eyes. Sera noticed Cleo's eager stare as well as Gabriel's testing gaze. Briefly, she wondered how she would explain their extraordinary meeting and realized she couldn't mention it at all. She worried if she acknowledged him publicly would he mention it. Remembering he had promised her the discretion of a gentleman, she decided to take a chance.

"Lord Blackstone is our neighbor, Cleo," Sera explained. "My Lord Gabriel Blackstone, this is my friend Miss Cleo Athelstan."

The blond-haired friend of Sera's was in mid-curtsy when she caught his full name, Gabriel noticed. The smile of an eager young lady impressed by titles faded instantly to a look of stunned horror. He could almost read the whispered thoughts in her mind and wondered if she would swoon from the shock. It wasn't every day a young lady of quality met a man of his sordid reputation.

"Cleo, what's wrong?" Sera whispered when her friend gripped her hand painfully.

"Good Lord, do you have any idea who he is?" she hissed. "Why on Earth did you introduce me to him?"

"Because you asked me to."

"He's the Blackguard of Blackstone, Sera. How did you meet him? You're brothers would never introduce you to him."

"Lord Blackstone is our neighbor. East Chatham is small. Everyone is bound to meet eventually." Sera hoped the faint excuse would settle that awkward question. She really didn't want to lie to her best friend, but Cleo's reaction to the earl was most worrisome. It was almost as if he had the plague because of the exaggerated rumors about him in Town. "You're being rude, Cleo."

"You didn't answer my question, Sera."

"Is something amiss?" Gabriel interrupted. Blatantly, he acknowledged he'd been casually listening to the whispered argument between Sera and her friend. The girls blushed amidst their furor.

"No, no, my lord," Sera flustered. "You must forgive my friend's awkwardness. We had not expected to meet anyone today. The lane is usually empty this time of day."

As if to deny the validity of her words, a sprightly black walnut gingham ferrying two equally fashionable ladies rumbled down the lane. Inwardly, Sera groaned when she recognized the social matrons of East Chatham. She almost died wondering if anything else could happen to make this situation that much more embarrassing.

Lady Georgiana Athelridge, with raven hair, haughty nose and tall imposing stature, was undeniably the most commanding of the two. Being a countess gave her the edge over her cousin and best friend. Lady Eugenia Sutton, they said was a beautiful fair-haired belle of the ton in her youth when she snagged the viscount in her first season. There was talk that she regretted marrying before her cousin and thereby missing out on the chance to be a countess instead.

Despite their internal rivalries, or perhaps because of them, Lady Athelridge and Lady Sutton commanded the society of East Chatham. Their socials dictated the country season and both vied for the best guests. None of the young marriageable ladies bound to the country had any chance without the approval of the social matrons. And none of the gentleman had any hope of living a peaceful life from gossip if they dared offend the prudish pair.

It was a monopoly of power that Sera had grown to hate. She, at least, had the freedom to go to London and exist in a much larger social world. But friends like Cleo were forced to cower to the will of the ladies. Even now, Sera felt her friend stiffen beside her in horror. Images of Sera dangling from the tree probably tormented Cleo.

If Thornbridge had been inclined for that sort of thing, Sera wished she could hold her own social season for the outcasts of East Chatham. Her secret fantasy was to have snooty Lady Athelridge and her cousin worry about being accepted for a change.

"Dear me, Eugenia, what do we have here?" Lady Athelridge remarked loud enough for everyone to hear. "Out for another of your infamous strolls, Lady Sera?"

The comment was accompanied by a mocking stare toward Sera's attire. She had to admit she was a sight. Her dress was smudged with dirt in several places; there was an embarrassing rip around the hem; and her hair unbound wildly. The disarray was enough to ruin a less fortunate young woman, but Sera knew she was not in danger. No matter how unkempt she may look, she was still a wealthy earl's daughter. She didn't care what others thought anyway. The only opinion that matters is one's own, her Papa always said.

"It was such a lovely day, my friend and I decided to go for a walk, Lady Athelridge," Sera answered with her chin held high. "We had a little mishap, but Lord Blackstone was kind enough to assist."

Prompted by Sera's words, both ladies turned to look down at Gabriel. Sera was pleased and impressed when the mocking pleasure in her tormentors' eyes seemed to vanish.

"Greetings my lord, we had heard that you were seen in the village lately," Lady Sutton spoke in chillingly formal tones. "Will your plans be calling for you to stay long in East Chatham?"

"Perhaps," Blackstone replied. "My plans are still undetermined."

"I would have thought you would prefer the city this time of year," Lady Athelridge suggested. "Or so my husband tells me."

"Town has its amenities, but I do have other things to tend to here."

Sera sensed censure in the small exchange and wondered at it. It wasn't that the snobbish matrons disapproved of Gabriel, it was that he disapproved of them. Perhaps he was disturbed because gossipmongers often discussed him in derogatory terms. Sera recalled the things his father told her the day she visited. Lord Julius worried his son would never return home to brave the gossip, among other things. She didn't know the full story, but apparently, Gabriel's mother had suffered a similar fate. It was before Sera was born, and even Gabriel himself, but the former Lady Marianna Blackstone had been ruined by unfounded gossip. To the point that her husband and son became reclusive outcasts.

The whim to end the family's social isolation suddenly compelled Sera. For his father, she intended to force their neighbors to cease ostracizing the notorious Blackstones.

"I'm glad you're staying in the village a while, my lord," Sera cheerfully commandeered the conversation. "You will be attending Lady Athelridge's social next week, I presume? Absolutely everyone in East Chatham attends. Lady Athelridge is a wonderful hostess."

The look of frost from the ladies in the gingham could have frozen Sera solid. Inviting a gentleman of such questionable standing to a premier event, especially one not hosted by oneself, was strictly forbidden. Sera ignored the glares allowing one more mark of impulsive originality to be tallied against her.

"Of course, you must do my husband and I the honor of coming, Lord Blackstone," Lady Athelridge extended a gracious yet forced smile. "It should be an excellent gathering, this year. Viscount Chillingworth and his dazzling wife will be attending," she added in triumph.

"Have you had occasion to meet our neighbor, Lord Chillingworth, my lord?" Lady Sutton asked a bit too politely. "He has been quite popular since returning from the Continent last year. They say he's been to dinner at Lord Wellington's a dozen times already. War heroes are dashing guests, are they not?"

Sera noticed the veiled insult directed at Gabriel. Lady Sutton couldn't help but point out that while Lord Chillingworth and his soldiers were bravely fighting the War for England, he was off on questionable voyages. The implication that the earl was a smuggler or a pirate like his grandfather irritated and appalled Sera. Why, he had told her himself that he was overseeing his father's shipping contracts abroad. Seeing to one's legal business affairs was not piracy, but then no one else seemed to acknowledge that.

"I regret I have not had the opportunity to meet the viscount yet, as my father's business overseas kept me from returning to the country until only recently," Gabriel replied politely.

"I know how pressing such important matters must be," Sera offered emphasizing every word. "Managing a shipping empire cannot be easy. Still, I do hope your business won't keep you from attending next week, my lord?"

He paused a moment to stare at Sera. The intense gaze of shadowy green promise and secret scrutiny made her tingle inside for some peculiar reason. A moment later, he smoothly answered without ever letting her out of his gaze. "With such illustrious company as I'm told will attend, I must certainly make it a point to present myself." He smiled. Then with a polite bow, he bid, "Good day, ladies."

Gracefully, Gabriel remounted his black stallion and disappeared down the lane.

All four ladies watched him leave, a mixture of awe, apprehension and appraisal on their faces. Lady Sutton was the first to speak.

"What an intriguing man," she said with a faint note of disapproval. "Seems positively foreboding."

"I think he takes after that flamboyant grandfather of his," Lady Athelridge added. "He has the same wild and unfashionably long hair. Quite like what you'd expect from a pirate. I wonder if he has the same tendencies."

"The Blackguard of Blackstone is said to have even more notorious deeds to his name, Georgiana dear," replied Lady Sutton.

"I am quite sure that it isn't appropriate to gossip about Lord Blackstone behind his back," Sera clipped in chilling tones. "He is, after all, an earl and a gentleman! As well as our neighbor, ladies. It's atrocious to whisper about him like a couple of chattering schoolgirls."

"Sera!" Cleo hissed in repressive horror.

Oh Lord, now she'd really done it. One simply does not correct the matrons of local Society. Especially not in favor of a near total stranger with a scandalous reputation.

"Of course," Lady Athelridge rigidly acquiesced. There was a touch of condescending amusement in her frosty blue eyes when she spoke. "Eugenia dearest, it seems our little Lady Sera has found someone new to champion for her menagerie, don't you think?"

"I wonder what Thornbridge thinks of your latest addition, Sera dear?" Lady Sutton sneered.

"You'll have to ask my brother when he returns from London," Sera answered stiffly. The notion of explaining Gabriel to her brothers was too much to handle. Maybe she shouldn't have introduced him to Cleo, but what other choice did she have?

Gathering her mischievous pets in her arms, Sera straightened her back to the social matrons. "If you will excuse us ladies, Cleo and I have had enough sun for the day and I find it's getting quite chilly again. Good day."

Sera walked away trying not to burn up in flames from the penetrating glares of her critical audience. Dutifully, Cleo followed beside her. Sera said nothing and her friend respected her mood. She had behaved atrociously foolish. Sera knew what the gossip would be when it hit the village. By Sunday at church, everyone would be looking to her as the new champion of the Blackguard of Blackstone.

Sera believed somewhere beneath his notorious reputation, Gabriel Blackstone was a gentleman in disguise. Perhaps he had forgotten his nobility in his wild traveling days. She knew from her brothers that young men were not always wise in life.

But he was older now, more mature and with a title and estate. His responsibilities would settle him down and perhaps she could help him recover the reputation Society was so quick to destroy.

He was her guardian angel twice on this road and asked for nothing in return. Maybe she could return his favor in kind. In local society, she could become his guardian angel.

As she approached the gates to her home, Sera smiled with her last thought. Her task was simple.

She would redeem him.

Chapter Four

SHE WILL condemn me.

Restless thoughts assailed Gabriel as he glared through the window of his Study. Fading afternoon sunlight made his family estate eye pleasing, but Mirabella's detailed Greco-Roman villa failed to impress him. Gabriel's mood was as black as his attire.

Because she is irritatingly sweet.

He returned from his daily ride more than an hour ago, yet his impatience was only growing. He reminded himself he was not his father. He learned long ago not to be taken in by a vulnerable pretty face. Therefore, his reaction to Sera Montgomerie was extremely disturbing.

She has eyes the color of warm brandy.

And the power to drug him as well, he thought ruefully. For days, he discreetly trailed her, quietly observing her activities. She met no one, except her nervous friend Miss Athelstan, made no more midnight outings and generally behaved like an innocent country miss.

But he knew she was up to something. She had to be, given the fact she failed to recover the Angel's trinket. He expected Lady Sera to at least be a little wary of her lover's reaction to her negligence in letting such an important Triad treasure disappear.

Instead, he found her chasing angry dogs and falling out of trees like a hoydenish little chit. Her innocence was gratingly appealing.

When he caught her in his arms, she felt so soft and welcoming. The desire to kiss her fairly overwhelmed him. It was ridiculous and most troubling.

Her smile could easily make him forget his own mind. At all costs, he had to avoid that fate. The fate of his father's. He would not be charmed by the Angel's little angel no matter how beautiful he found her.

On his dark thought, the door cracked open without so much as a knock. Gabriel shot an irritated glance at his secretary. As usual, Robert Dunstan dressed as a humble servant and sauntered into the room as if he owned the place.

"You barked?" he teased.

"You're late," Gabriel gritted.

"I'm also hungry," Dunstan retorted without a touch of humility. "I see Mrs. O'Reilly's been mothering you again," he remarked over the tray of cold food abandoned on his employer's desk. His twinkling gaze dimmed. "If you don't start eating regular meals Gabriel your housekeeper will start thinking you're as obsessive as your father."

"I'm not the reckless boy my housekeeper remembers nor am I inclined to follow my father's footsteps."

"Ah, so you just miss old Scully's ship fare?"

Gabriel scowled at the taunt. Ten years of sea travel gave his secretary the irritating habit of nagging him like a friend. Like all the staff, the Guardian handpicked Dunstan for his loyalty, discretion and intelligence. Gabriel only wished his father hadn't inspired so much personal devotion from his outcast staff. Reformed pirates, rogues and ruined servant girls made appallingly adamant caretakers when they feared losing their last employer to his work.

"I didn't send for you to discuss my eating habits. Your report," Gabriel demanded. "What did you find out about our prey?"

The joviality in Dunstan's expression darkened. He curled his lips as if to argue with some offense, then uttered a resigned sigh. With excruciating care, Dunstan poured himself a cup of coffee and sprawled out along the settee.

"Lady Sera Montgomerie, by all accounts, is like most young country ladies," he rattled off in a businesslike tone. "She was nine when her parents died. Her younger brothers, Adrian and Cassius, racked up medals in the War while her eldest brother took over her guardianship. Thornbridge splits his time between his charges and his position in the Exchequer."

"Hmmm," Gabriel mumbled on a thought. Sera easily slipped away for a midnight rendezvous. "Bachelors don't make attentive keepers."

"Sir Adrian married last year," Dunstan retorted. "He and his wife are back and forth with the rest of the family including an uncle and Thornbridge's son. Lady Sera goes to Town with them for the Season a few weeks. Her brothers prefer she stays in East Chatham since her parents' deaths."

"Why?"

"Protectiveness," Dunstan guessed. "The carriage accident was harrowing, I'm told."

Gabriel furrowed his brows in confusion. "Her parents' accident?"

Dunstan nodded as his eyes lingered over his coffee. "Lady Sera's parents doted on her, being the youngest and only daughter. They took her practically everywhere with them."

Dunstan frowned and set down his drink. "The old earl took a trip up North to check out his mining investment. They'd done it dozens of times, but this time a bad storm caught them. The carriage slipped off the side of the road. Driver broke his neck and Lady Sera's parents drowned in the river." He added sadly, "She was the only survivor."

"I see," Gabriel murmured noncommittally. It took all his strength to subdue the empathy the revelation inspired. He reminded himself tragic pasts often inspired headstrong misses to seek dangerous liaisons. "She was fortunate."

Dunstan scowled, but his tone remained amenable. "Sir Weatherby agrees with you. Your father recruited him as the village's physician just before the accident, coincidentally," he explained.

Dunstan shot a long, assessing glare at Gabriel as if baiting him to flinch. "Weatherby said if Lady Sera hadn't been beside the window when the carriage tumbled down the ravine, she would have died with her parents." His voice arched with false casualness. "It's a pity the carriage rolled over her when she fell out. Some thought she'd be an invalid all her life. Turned a few heads the Sunday she forced herself to walk to Church, but she's done it nearly every Sunday since. The locals take it as a sign of her courage, but they don't dare say anything. Montgomerie pride is as strong in the brothers as in the sister."

Gabriel remained outwardly impassive, but his thoughts returned to the image of Sera huddled on the lane before him. She favored her injured leg but refused to acknowledge it was more than a nuisance. Some lingered over such a condition to garner sympathy, but she wanted none of that. The realization dangerously impressed him.

Gabriel grumbled to himself and paced toward his desk. Dunstan continued in glowing terms, "Lady Sera has a unique reputation about these parts. She's a free thinker and an Original despite the conservative ways of her brothers. According to the vicar's wife, Mrs. Atwater, Lady Sera is forever stirring up controversy among the local gentry."

"Indeed." Gabriel leaned against his desk. "What did you learn about her menagerie of friends? Any member of interest?"

"Mostly spinsters and outcasts. Lady Sera isn't known to turn anyone away." Dunstan smiled. "She'd be worthy of a Blackstone."

"I highly doubt that," Gabriel countered with icy formality.

His expression souring, Dunstan studied his friend for a long moment. "So you're determined to find the lady guilty? What if you're wrong, Blackstone?"

"I'm not wrong. Are you forgetting her presence here the day my father took ill?" He voice rang with bitter sarcasm. "The local gentry never come to the Sultan's Palace, but she just happened along during a snowstorm? Especially that day?" Just when his father was on the verge of decoding the first key to the Triad scrolls, he thought. "My father was too much of a gentleman to turn away a lady in distress, even if she was his enemy's pawn."

"You don't know that," Dunstan argued. "There was never any actual proof the poison was in his tea. You're basing your judgment on coincidence and conjecture."

"I'm basing it on experience," Gabriel corrected with authority. "The fact that she had the egg proves her connection to the Angel."

"As his lover?" Dunstan balked. "I met Lady Sera the other day in the village. Struck me as an innocent little chit barely out of the schoolroom."

"Headstrong maidens, no matter how innocent they appear, are just a seduction away from being any man's mistress."

"That's a cynical attitude to take, Blackstone."

"I'm a cynical man," Gabriel shot back. "Now about her contacts, did you discover anything significant?"

Dunstan flashed a hesitant look. "I told you she likes to champion the outcasts of local society," he qualified. "Hugh Gilchrist was among that list. Before his family's scandal," he added.

Gabriel perked with keen interest. The scandal in question had to do with more than embarrassing an earl's family. Treason utterly destroyed name, title and fortune for everyone unlucky enough to be related to the traitor. "Lady Sera befriended Blade's heir?"

"His second cousin," Dunstan confirmed. "Gilchrist was in University when he and Lady Sera became friends. Purportedly, he was as stunned as everyone else when the scandal hit. And no one could ever prove he had knowledge of his cousin's activities."

"You forget his family's connection to the Triad," Gabriel argued. The Blade family was just one more example of the tainted blood of the ruthless society. This branch had claws in the halls of Parliament. "Recruits are often young, foolish men in University. Where is Gilchrist now?"

"He was forced to leave the country to seek fortune and respectability elsewhere. Rumored to be in the spice trade, but no one's seen him since last year. However, I did hear he corresponds with Lady Sera."

Gabriel considered that piece of information. If Gilchrist was engaged in the spice trade, then he would've been in the wrong hemisphere to do the Angel's work. Yet, one friend of the Triad was sufficient to corrupt ten more. If Gilchrist continued to correspond with Lady Sera, he could also continue to give her orders.

Gabriel's mind sharpened with possibilities. "What of Lady Sera's romantic entanglements?"

Dunstan shrugged. "Not much to tell. Other than her friendship with Gilchrist, her name hasn't been attached to any marriageable gentleman. Lady Sera is regarded as having a passionate nature, but not a passionate history."

"The lady's been discreet," Gabriel cynically assumed.

Dunstan gave his friend a puzzled and disgruntled look. "There was one halfhearted courtship about two years ago," he admitted. "It still causes a bit of confusion among the locals because Lady Sera openly mourned for him after the War."

"For whom?"

"Someone we both know." Dunstan darkly pronounced, "Lt. Percival Dunne."

Gabriel leaned forward in surprise. The soldier was among many who met a grim fate in Waterloo, but this one had failed in his final mission for the Crown. "How did Lady Sera know my father's courier?"

"They met at a local soiree two years ago when Percy was in Chillingworth's horseguards. Folks thought Lady Sera quite brazen for introducing herself and her friend Miss Athelstan to him."

"Betrayal is a brazen act," Gabriel murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just another interesting coincidence. The same seemingly innocent young lady befriended not only a traitor's cousin but the last two men known to have Triad keys. Now both are dead and the keys are missing. The Angel must be proud of his prodigy."

"Dammit Blackstone, you're wrong!" Dunstan raged. "Lady Sera is an angel according to the folks I've talked to. Her antics may be beyond the pale by the standards of those same blue-haired bluenoses who snubbed your family, but her heart's in the right place."

"You forget the people we're dealing with, my friend," Gabriel argued. "No one is safe from their influence, especially not a headstrong young girl with more passion than sense!"

Rage boiled within Gabriel. Vengeance warred with the remnants of youth Sera inspired. It had been a lifetime since Gabriel abandoned his reckless innocence for the cold realities of life. Cynically, he knew softness only inspired stupidity and cost lives.

Bitterness hung on his lips as he proclaimed, "I grant you she may be unaware of the consequences of her actions, but she is not innocent!"

Dunstan bristled. "So what do you intend to do to her?"

Gabriel crossed his arms and curled his lips in a smug smile. "For the moment, I am content to let Lady Sera make the moves. She has seen fit to befriend a notorious rogue. In time, she will tell me what I want to know," he added in a hard almost cunningly cruel voice.

"Be careful Blackstone," Dunstan warned, "You're beginning to sound like your enemies. Didn't the Frenchman teach you the errors of a cold seduction?"

Gabriel ignored the taunt. Unlike his rival, he knew how to tame a wild creature with a gentle hand so that in the end she came willingly to him and entrusted all her secrets. "My early education at such things was adequate, but I've learned many more lessons."

"Perhaps you learned too many." Dunstan scowled. "You sound obsessed with this mission."

Gabriel clenched his hand in an unyielding fist in silent devotion to his pledge. There were crimes to solve and betrayals to avenge. He could give his father nothing else. "I will have justice."

"At what cost?" Dunstan challenged. "Look at you. You look like a caged panther. Ever since you got word of your father's death, you've been glaring and growling at everyone. Now you're talking about seducing a lady who just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time?" he balked. "You're beginning to truly live up to that black reputation of yours, Blackstone." Dunstan sneered. "You're not a roaming blackguard anymore. You have an earldom to run, Gabriel."

"I don't need to be reminded of my responsibilities, Mr. Dunstan," he growled.

Gabriel straightened away from the desk and turned his full glare on his friend. "And as for Lady Sera, she may be beautiful and sweet, but so were the sirens before they lured hapless sailors to their deaths. I suppose I lived as a pirate for too long to be so susceptible." He curled his lips in cynical defiance. "I assure you I know the difference between an innocent lady and a deadly siren."

Chapter Five

SUNLIGHT ILLUMINATED Sera's bedchamber but not her mood. Dutifully, she scribbled her thoughts and worries into her private journal in hopes of making sense of her predicament. Ulysses tended his lame paw beside her as Miss Cleopatra mewled over her kittens nearby. Sera's menagerie survived the tree-climbing incident unscathed, it seemed. She only wished things had gone as smoothly for her.

As she expected, Cleo hounded her until she finally gave in to a little white lie about how she met Lord Blackstone. Sera said they bumped into each other while she was riding. She hoped there was enough truth in the story to keep her from going to hell. Her mother always said there was a special place in hell for liars.

Ruefully, Sera remembered the other kind of hell snooty Lady Athelridge and her cousin were probably plotting. The local gossipmongers undoubtedly gleamed with the possibility of the local Original's upcoming scandalous meeting with the Blackguard of Blackstone. Yet, the prospect of social ruin at the Athelridge soiree was the least of her concerns now.

Instead, what she found in Chilton's curio cabinet had her full attention. The ransomed egg had been returned to its exact place on the middle shelf, just as Cleo said. The confirmation relieved Sera yesterday, but this morning the notion twisted her nerves in knots.

If only the blackmailer had done as he said in the first note. If only he left the egg for her to find in the cemetery then this whole terrible mistake could be corrected. Cleo and her brother never should've found the egg in the first place.

It was all her fault. If she'd done as she was told, the treasure Cleo held so dear would've never been unearthed.

She frowned in memory. The days following Waterloo were filled with confusion and misery. When Sera learned her brother Adrian had been wounded, she demanded she go with Thornbridge to rescue him or say good-bye. It wasn't until she saw the first fields of wounded that she felt the pressing weight of familiar grief and fear.

Fortunately, they found her brother alive and well under a French doctor's care outside Quatra Bras. This time, Sera had thought, her family had escaped fate, together. Then the doctor's wife asked her if she knew the soldier who died in the same cottage a week before.

Sera was too stunned to do more than nod when she'd heard Percy Dunne's name. Madame Dupris said he'd been incoherent until death, but he left a package of things to take home. There was a tulip plant, missives, and a map book with Sera's name on it.

With a cautious look toward her bedchamber door to determine no one was about, Sera put down her pen and retrieved a small book hidden within her bookshelf.

The volume contained maps and beautiful sketches of medieval France. The book was one of many Percy acquired for his dear friend who dreamt of travel. The note pinned to the inside flap was addressed to Sera.

With repressed guilt, she unfolded the scrap of paper.

My dear Sera,

I have asked so much of you, but I fear I must ask one more favor. Keep safe the tulip plant I have sent my dearest Cleo. Clever girl that you are, I fear you will discover the treasure I have hidden within my gift to my future bride. I know I can trust you to keep my confidence. Tell no one what you find or where it came, but see it is buried in Cleo's special garden before the next rainfall. You hold the key, Sera.

Your loving friend,

Percy

She had failed him miserably. The one true friend to ever understand and trust her and she let him down. In the rush to take Adrian home and console Cleo for Percy's death, Sera didn't open the missive until it was too late. The tulip was safely planted, but the hidden treasure was on display in Chilton's selfish grasp. It was enough to infuriate her.

That is, if she hadn't been terrified out of her mind by the other hidden items she found in the binding of the map book.

Again with a wary look toward her bedchamber door, Sera peeled back the stitched linen lining of the cover and retrieved a curious medallion on a blood red satin ribbon.

It was a pretty thing all done in sparkling silver and etched with a haunted design. A triple-crossed sword with a serpent rose wrapped around the hilt blazed the smooth face. On the back was inscribed a number of tiny pictures reminiscent of what young children might draw.

Sera knew the medallion hadn't originally been intended as a bookmark on its satin ribbon. It looked as if it might belong to something else, but she couldn't fathom what that could possibly be.

Then she had remembered clearing off the mud on Percy's egg. Emblazoned on the bottom was the exact same sword design. Obviously, both items belonged together, but one was meant to be hidden in Cleo's garden and the other hidden from Sera herself.

Sera reasoned either the gifts were meant to be hidden because they were keys to stolen treasure, which would make Percy no better than a common thief. Or they were somehow connected to his other nefarious deeds.

There were those, like Chilton, who would be quick to condemn Percy a wretched looter during the fires of war. Yet, Sera knew him better than that. Or at least thought she did.

In her heart, Sera knew Percy was no common villain. She believed he was involved with a much deadlier crime in war. She only hoped she knew which side.

Her mind ran wild with suspicions and nasty conclusions. In truth, she tried to leave it alone. Months went by and the egg remained safely ensconced in Chilton's cabinet. Percy didn't want her meddlesome curiosity getting in the way of his secrets, but this time she felt responsible.

She had studied the missive, the egg and the medallion trying to piece together what it meant. Then she heard the reclusive Earl of Blackstone was a talented man at solving similar puzzles.

No one visited the Blackstone estate, but Sera presumed it was by mutual choice. She'd used a shoddy excuse to gain entry to his home, but he welcomed her as a storm raged outside. She consumed a half dozen cups of tea, but she just couldn't reconcile her unease. Then she noticed the portrait of Lord Julius's son.

The image of Gabriel on canvas captivated her, though admittedly not as much as the moment she saw him in the flesh on the dark country road. His father seemed impressed by her schoolgirl fascination and the conversation rapidly turned to a proud father extolling the virtues of his son. Lord Julius made his notorious son seem like a dashing hero or an adventurous pirate like Gabriel's grandfather. Yet, there was a peculiar sadness in the old earl's green-gray eyes that bespoke a longing for his only child.

Sera was so moved, she almost confessed the truth of her visit. But before she could utter a word beyond mention of her trip to the Continent to retrieve Adrian from that nice French family, a presumptuous messenger from the docks interrupted them.

A package had just arrived from one of Lord Julius' ships and he seemed eager to open it. Sera promised to call again the next day and silently vowed she would explain her situation then.

God saved her the terrible disgrace.

Before she'd even managed to get as far as the village church the next day, the vicar's wife told her the old earl had suddenly taken ill and died just before dawn.

Sera was mortified, knowing she almost burdened the sick man with her measly problems. She was certain such a thing would rate highly on God's list of sins for her and prayed for Lord Julius's soul straight through Christmastide.

Since then, she just couldn't stop thinking about Percy and Lord Julius. The two people she thought she might be able to trust with her secret discoveries were gone. Her brothers, as protective as they were, just couldn't handle this kind of dangerous secret.

The egg's theft and reappearance only made the danger more acute. More than ever Sera wanted, needed a confidante to share her concerns. It was a wish she'd had ever since that cold autumn day when the wolves first introduced her to isolation and terror.

Suppressing the nightmares of the past, her hand fell to the familiar ache in her knee. The pain could be eased with willowbark, but the scars were never really forgotten. She hid them from the world as deftly as she hid Percy's secrets. No one seemed to sense the desires and fears she buried within.

As if in protest, Sera's mind drifted to her mysterious midnight rescuer. Gabriel Blackstone confused her and beguiled her. She found herself noticing the most peculiar and undoubtedly inappropriate things about him. She'd never known anyone like him. He was a walking piece of sculpture with all the grace, beauty and control of Michaelangelo's Adonis. As Cleo jokingly said earlier, he was indeed a reckless pirate who had captivated her fancy before she even knew what he was about.

The thought terrified her.

Her thoughts, her worries, everything just slipped away when she looked into his misty emerald eyes. If there was one thing she learned, it was that she must never loose control of her thoughts and confidences. At least, not to someone who cannot or will not keep them safe.

Sera recalled the day she visited Gabriel's father. Lord Julius was convinced of his son's good nature, despite his notorious blackguard reputation. Yet, even he admitted that his prodigal son had not been home for over ten years. A lot could happen. A man could turn from a gentle caring boy into a cold and bitter man.

Instinctually, Sera wanted to trust Gabriel. She wanted to believe he was ready to come home and abandon his notorious lifestyle. She wanted to believe that the stories about him were exaggerations. Underneath it all, the Blackguard of Blackstone was a gentleman. Perhaps if she confided her secret worries about Percy he could help her determine what to do next. Perhaps the noble quest would be enough to rouse his father's noble spirit in him for good.

The thought filled her with renewed hope. The answer to her predicament seemed clear. Then she remembered Gabriel's words as he left her at the gates of Thornbridge Manor.

Friend or foe, in the shadows, both look the same.

Her desire to confide warred with the shadows that seemed to swirl about him. Shadows that made Gabriel hauntingly mysterious and downright dangerous.

Dipping her quill in ink, Sera posted a prophetic question to the end of her journal entry.

Is Gabriel Blackstone my friend or is he my enemy?

Before Sera could even blot the ink on her journal entry, Ulysses poked his head up and raised his ears in expectation. The frantic thumping of a dog tail on Sera's foot caught her notice just as the sound of the front door opening resounded through the manor. Ulysses eagerly raced to the closed bedchamber door and whimpered in frustration.

"Just a minute boy," Sera chided as she scrambled to pack away Percy's map book. Impatiently, Ulysses barked.

"I know, I know," Sera retorted, straightening herself and going to the door. "But you need not maul Magnus every time he comes home. You know how Thornbridge hates exuberance." Seeing the quirking canine brow, Sera assumed her pet disagreed with her assessment. "Alright, but if you don't behave yourself, he's going to make me put you outside in the garden."

Sera assumed Ulysses didn't care about that possibility for when she opened her bedchamber door, the dog sprinted his way, limp and all, down the long hallway to the great staircase.

Shaking her head, she followed at a more sedate pace counting as she went. She figured she'd get to at least ten before....

"Sera!" boomed the commanding voice of her brother. "Come and put this slobbering dog of yours outside before I ban him from the house forever!"

When she crossed the corner into the staircase hall, Sera couldn't help but grin at the scene below. Her brother Magnus stood just inside the foyer as Chalmers attempted to take his cloak for him. Ulysses jumped up on Thornbridge trying to lick his face and batting the cloak away until it was effectively tangled around the three of them. Both men shouted their displeasure while Ulysses happily chimed in with a loud bark of his own.

"Blossom's brute is just happy to see you, Thornbridge," loudly chided her brother Cassius as he sauntered through the front door with his usual dilletante grace.

"I wish he were a little less happy and more obedient," gritted Thornbridge as he twisted his face away from the dog's licks.

"Get down from his lordship, Ulysses!" chided Chalmers with a short temper that belied his perfected snobbish tone. In response to the hard command, Ulysses's jumped down from Thornbridge in favor of jumping on the white-haired butler.

"Sera, would you please quit laughing and come down here to command your pet before he mauls my butler! I have things to discuss with Chalmers," Thornbridge ordered in exasperation as he struggled with his satchel of papers.

The louder Ulysses barked and Chalmers complained the more dour Magnus's frown became. He had endured many of Sera's reckless disturbances since fate made him her guardian, but she figured he'd quickly run out of patience. Especially if Cassius kept snickering and baiting him for losing control of his household like he was.

Stifling her laughter, Sera dutifully came down the stairs and called Ulysses to her side. With one soft request for his attention, the dog quickly abandoned his human wall and joined her at the bottom of the steps. She scratched his ears in appreciation and he leaned against her.

"That never ceases to amaze me, Blossom," Cassius admitted as he joined her side and patted Ulysses's head in greeting. "How the deuce do you get him so easily wrapped around your finger? One whispered word and he comes straight to you, while it takes the rest of us ten bellows. Assuming our Roman hero here is in the mood to obey."

"It's not terribly difficult, Cass." Sera smiled and kissed her brother's cheek in greeting. "You demand, I ask. Ulysses just likes to have a choice."

"Sounds to me that dogs are just like women," Cassius quipped. "Give them too many choices and they'll have you running in circles and bellowing like a sea captain."

A deep resonating voice taunted from the front door.

"I think that Lady Victoria you're courting would say the same thing about you, lad."

"I'm not courting her anymore, Uncle Silas," Cassius grumbled in irritation.

Sera raised her eyebrows at the familiar teasing. Then she took in the tall, portly man in the doorway. Excited, she raced toward him to give him a hug and a kiss.

"If you get any prettier Blossom, you'll make the Prince Regent and Beau Brummell jealous." Beneath a thick mass of wavy white hair and bushy sideburns, he winked at her.

"What are you doing here, Uncle?" Sera inquired. "I thought you were spending Easter with your horseguard friends in Scotland."

"Too blasted cold this time of year," he grumbled good-naturedly. "How those Scotsman can stand such frigid temperatures in their dresses is beyond me."

"Kilts, Uncle Silas." Another voice corrected from the doorway, "They are called kilts."

Sera's gaze drifted to the youngest of her brothers lounging in the doorway. As usual, he carried a stack of his books under his uninjured arm. "Adrian, you're here too?"

"Just in time I see," he answered with a nod to the chaos filling the foyer. "What have you done to encourage your menagerie's rambunctiousness this time?"

Sera frowned when she noticed Miss Cleopatra and her kittens scampering underfoot her brothers and uncle. The littlest, Calliope, screeched when Cassius mistakenly stepped on her tail. In answer, Ulysses barked and jumped on her fair-haired brother's shoulders.

Sera ignored his bellow to greet Adrian. "I thought you had some history lectures planned at the Royal Society this week? Where's Beryl?"

"My wife's outside with Julias. He wanted to show her those French tulips he planted with your help last Fall. You better not let Thornbridge catch you turning our nephew into an amateur botanist. He has his heart set on his son turning out as stable and boring as he is."

"So you've all returned?" Sera asked with a bit too much awe. It seemed the only time all her family got together was at Christmastide lately.

"Don't look so disappointed, Blossom," Cassius teased as he discarded his cloak and gloves. "You'll make Thornbridge think you were up to something while we were away."

"Of course not," Sera shot back a bit too quickly. Visions of her midnight rendezvous with blackmailers and highwaymen flooded her mind. "How was your trip? Would anyone like something to drink? Tea?" she flustered hoping to change the subject.

"I could use a brandy," rumbled Uncle Silas. "Do you still keep it in your Study, Thornbridge?"

Without bothering to wait for his nephew's reply the retired major sauntered into the Study and made himself comfortable. Sera assumed it was pointless to ask permission, even if her relatives believed in such a thing, for Thornbridge was engrossed in a whispered conversation with his butler about estate affairs.

Collecting her animal menagerie by her side, Sera followed her brothers into the Study and helped get them settled. A few minutes later, her relatives, save Thornbridge who was still too busy discussing his affairs, continued their rants about the trip as they sat around the hearth with drinks in hand.

"So why have you all come back?" Sera asked drawing everyone's attention.

"Athelridge's social, of course," Cassius announced as he stretched out his long lean legs on a patted footstool. "Word is it should be something special this year. Lady Athelridge managed to woo the fair Lady Chillingworth into bringing her popular husband."

"I'll wager she's been gloating about that for weeks," Adrian replied with a devilish grin. "Lady Sutton must be having the vapors."

"You're not all planning on attending, are you?" Sera asked with a strain of worry in her voice. Lord Blackstone would be there at her insistence as well as the local gossipmongers awaiting a juicy tale about the evening's events. She expected Thornbridge to attend, but all her relatives was an entirely different and unfriendly prospect.

"You look like the thought appalls you, Blossom," noticed Uncle Silas.

"No, no," Sera flustered. "It's just that you usually say Lady Athelridge's balls are boring and tedious. Far too simple and countrified compared to the Town balls you're used to." Seeing that her excuse was merely raising a question in her inquisitive brothers' eyes, she quickly changed the topic. "Speaking of Town, how are things? Come across anymore exciting rumors, Cass?"

"He's taking a break from it all," Adrian answered for his brother with a noticeable glint in his eye. "Or rather he's taking a break from a rather frustrating raven-haired heiress."

"Oh?" Sera caught the subtle amusement in her brother's voice. "Problems with your Lady Victoria, Cassius?"

"She isn't mine and there is no problem of significance," he curtly replied.

"No. Lady Victoria is in fine fettle," Adrian teased. "She just seems to think our brother's usual charm lacks conviction. So she's ever-so-politely taken up frowning on his attentions in favor of a less feckless suitor."

"Lord Dunningshire is her father's friend not her suitor," Cassius retorted. "He's had four wives and sixteen children, what could he possibly want with another wife?"

"Lady Victoria is a beautiful young lady," joined in Uncle Silas. "A man of advanced years does like to look on a pretty face now and again."

"Don't forget the pair of them share a fond interest in their mechanical toys. Lady Victoria was speechless the other day when Dunningshire suggested a horseless carriage powered by machine works and steam," Adrian taunted with a conspiratorial wink towards his little sister. "I daresay if Dunningshire does offer for her, you'll have missed your chance to be rescued from bachelorhood, brother."

"Shame on you Adrian," Sera chided behind a concealed smile. "You know you shouldn't tease your brother that way. Why, the mere mention of marriage makes him develop a rash."

"It does not!" Cassius grumbled.

Sera continued her baiting protest with a sly smile. "He's much too carefree and restless to chain himself to a wife, no matter how charming and utterly devoted a beautiful heiress is to him. Cassius is much too happy playing the dashing rogue and seducing all those French generals' mistresses."

"Sera, you're not even supposed to know about that!" Cassius growled over her giggle.

"I see your point, Blossom," Adrian replied just as cheerily as her. "Then Lady Victoria has obviously come to her senses at last about our brother's potential as a husband."

"The fairer sex is generally more practical and sensible about such things," Uncle Silas offered. "Probably why none of them seemed inclined to marry me."

"Uncle, how could anyone marry you when you were never stationed in any place long enough to establish a connection, let alone a courtship?" Sera accused goodnaturedly. "Still, about Cassius's problem, the War is over so presumably there may be hope for him after all. At least, that's what I assume Lady Victoria thought when he started courting her. Perhaps if you restate your intentions, the lady may forgive your eccentric sensibilities and give you another chance, Cass."

Cassius swallowed his brandy whole. The strain of romantic warfare showed on his uncustomarily tired eyes and crinkled brow. Even his glittering blond hair seemed somewhat tainted, from hours of hair pulling Sera assumed.

"I did not come home to talk about the Marquess of Evershire's daughter," Cassius dismissed in a curt tone. "Lady Victoria Huntford is a grown woman entitled to her fancies whatever they may be. Speaking of which," he quickly changed the topic, "add any new members to that menagerie of human and animal friends of yours, Blossom?"

"My menagerie?" Sera repeated numbly. Briefly, she debated telling her brothers about befriending Gabriel Blackstone. They were bound to find out eventually, but she guessed from Lady Athelridge's taunt the other day her family wouldn't be pleased. Not to mention that she'd have to lie to them about exactly how she met the earl. Then she knew they'd all be furious and worried. She hoped to avoid both as long as possible. "No, -"

"She did what?!"

Before Sera could execute a little white lie about having an uneventful last few weeks in the country, her brother Thornbridge's outraged bellow caught everyone's attention. All eyes turned to his end of the Study.

Thornbridge glared at his butler in shocked umbrage. Chalmers nodded and turned a half-sympathetic, half-condescending look on Sera.

"What's amiss, Thornbridge?" asked Uncle Silas.

Magnus answered with a narrow stare at Sera. "Chalmers says you fell out of a tree."

Sera groaned inwardly when she heard the horrified gasps of her family. Suddenly, she was surrounded by five pairs of heated glares all demanding answers to the same questions. She knew the reaction well. It was a mixture of fury over her hellionish tendencies and worry that she'd done herself harm in the process.

"Chalmers, I told you it wasn't significant enough to bother my brother," Sera retorted petulantly.

"Your dress was torn, milady," the butler offered as an excuse. "And his lordship wanted to know why you needed to purchase another."

"Never mind grilling Chalmers," Thornbridge interrupted with a repressive look. "What in God's name were you doing climbing a tree, Seraphina?"

Sera bit her lower lip. Her brother had used her full Christian name reserved only for his truly angry moods. To mollify him, she kept her voice as nonchalant and calm as possible. "Minotaur got loose and chased Miss Cleopatra up a tree again. She was too frightened to come down so I climbed up to get her."

"By yourself?" Adrian sounded appalled.

"Are you mad, child?" Uncle Silas asked at the same time. "You could've broken your neck!"

"Honestly, it's nothing to concern yourselves over. I wasn't hurt, except for maybe my pride and a few stitches of muslin. It's not like I've never climbed a tree before."

"Don't bring up that foolish incident, Blossom," Cassius warned. "You'll only get them started on me again for letting you fall and break your arm."

"It wasn't foolish, Cass. It was glorious and beautiful so high above the lane. I felt like a bird until I slipped."

"You were eleven then, not a grown lady like today," Thornbridge corrected sharply. "You are much too old to be climbing trees and chasing after those mischievous pets of yours, Sera! I'm beginning to think I should've taken Lady Athelridge's advice and hired you a lady's companion to keep your eccentric tendencies in line."

"I don't need a governess, Magnus!" Sera retorted with a bellow of her own.

"What she needs is a husband," Uncle Silas interrupted with a resolute nod. "Our little Sera's been meandering about this manor for too long. It's about time she settled down in one of her own."

"I don't think it at all necessary," Sera quickly denied.

"There is nothing quite as effective as a husband and children to manage a woman's affairs," Adrian favored the notion.

"Assuming a suitable prospect could be found for our, Blossom," Cassius qualified with a pointed look at his titled brother. "Thornbridge can be a difficult judge of character. He's frightened half our sister's suitors away just by glaring."

"Cassius, don't exaggerate," Sera chided.

"I rather like young Lord Lacey, the Viscount's son," Adrian suggested, warming to the topic. "He's well-educated in the Classics and most attentive for a man of only five and twenty."

Thornbridge immediately shook his head. "I don't like the way he ties his cravat."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Adrian shot back.

"Too much like that feckless Byron. Both are artistic and unpredictable. Possibly when Lacey matures a few years he'll turn out as stable and dependable as his father."

"You mean he'll be as boring and stuffy as you, Thornbridge," Cassius teased. "We don't want to bore her to death on her honeymoon trip."

"Nor do we want to inspire her to commit anymore reckless stunts like you and your friends are privy to," Thornbridge shot back testily. "But I suppose there are a few candidates I can consider for Sera this season."

"Do you mind not talking about me as if I'm not in the room!" Sera fairly shouted to get her family's attention. "This is my marriage you are discussing, don't you think I should have something to say about it?"

"Who's getting married?" chimed a sweet feminine voice from the doorway. Adrian's wife, Lady Beryl beamed a curious and pleasant smile on her in-laws. Beneath a mound of radiant blond curls, her green eyes sparkled with repressed amusement and her slightly rounded stomach trembled with laughter.

The boy grasping her arm gleamed. "Aunty Sera!" he called. "Are you getting married?"

"No, Julias," Sera resolutely announced loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I'm in no position to marry. And I'm quite too comfortable with my situation as it is to change anything."

"Nonsense," Beryl chided. "You belong in your own home Sera, not your brother's. Some place where your husband can look after you and keep you occupied away from your reckless habits."

"We were just discussing that possibility, sweet," Adrian smiled as he took over the task of escorting his wife. "Do you have any other ideas for possible suitors besides Lacey? Thornbridge is being persnickety about the man's dressing habits," Adrian added the playful comment as he helped settle his wife on the settee.

"Well, there is Eppingham," Beryl suggested. "You know him Thornbridge. He works with my father in the Chancellery."

"He's not titled," the earl curtly pointed out.

"No, he's a second son, but he did earn a knighthood during the War. He's a talented barrister and is expected to go far. He has quite a sensible mind for dealing with the more troubling aspects of the trade laws. My father tells me he's being groomed for the Cabinet under Lord Russell's party." Turning to Sera, Beryl added pointedly, "He's a congenial man for his maturity. Dutiful and serious, he'd make a fine husband and provider for one's children. And he's a botany enthusiast as well. Grows hybrid roses on his Dorset estate."

"He's a possibility then," Thornbridge concluded thoughtfully. "I doubt Sera can get into much trouble in Dorset."

"Will you stop it?" Sera shrieked at the end of her tether. "I will not be married off out of hand, no matter how disturbing my reckless exploits are to my family."

"Of course not," agreed Adrian and Beryl.

"Calm down, Blossom," chided Cassius.

"What is she yelling about?" retorted Uncle Silas. "We're only concerned about her best interests, not selling her off to the highest bidder like a mare at Taterstalls."

"Aunty Sera shouldn't have to marry if she doesn't want to Father," Julias bravely defended. Sera knew his words came more from his own desire not to loose her to a far away county than to some unimpressive husband.

Sera smiled at her nephew willing herself to calm down. How they ever ended up on this discussion she didn't know. Usually, her brothers considered her the nuisance little girl they were left to fend for after their parents' early deaths. She was a brat and a hellion fit to rusticate in the country, tend her garden menagerie and occasionally visit Town for a few of the less adventurous socials of family friends. But now her brothers seemed all too willing to palm her off on some unknown, distant groom without so much as a bye or leave from her. It was extremely irritating and perhaps expected given her reckless nature.

The realization that they acted that way because they wanted to protect her eased the tension in her nerves. That is until her brother's next words brought it all back with a rage.

"Your Great Uncle Silas is right, son," Thornbridge declared. "Sera needs to settle down. It's just getting too damned difficult to protect her from all the fortune hunting blackguards about Society. Every time I go away, I have nightmares about who your aunt recklessly meets."

It must have been the word blackguard that set her off, Sera thought as she opened her mouth to offer a stunning rebuke. Visions of a dark and mysterious Lord Blackstone kissing her hand good-bye and disappearing into the shadows of a country road at midnight danced before her eyes.

"You're being silly and insulting, Magnus," she scoffed. "I assure you I am more than capable of taking care of myself in whatever situation. And I'm just as shrewd as you when it comes to judging character. Blackguard or gentleman, no matter the circumstances of the meeting, I am wily enough to tell the difference."

Before her family could begin to question what inspired the vehemence in her words, Sera offered a hasty excuse of seeing to her pets and left for the garden. Behind her, she heard them eagerly resume their new favorite topic and stoutly ignored the suggestions of suitors offered. In her heart, Sera knew her family meant well, but she couldn't escape the feeling that she was about to give them the shock of their lives.

A faint smile crossed her lips when she realized the ominous fact. One more day and she would see the Blackguard of Blackstone again. One more day and she would know him to be her friend, or her enemy.

Chapter Six

THE WORLD was abuzz.

Hundreds of candles in golden chandeliers lit up Lady Athelridge's ballroom. Candlelight flickered as a cool night breeze wafted through the open terrace doors. Despite an evening chill, the room was ablaze in activity. At the center of it all, Sera and her family tended court around the honored guests of the night.

Viscount Chillingworth was a large, white-haired man who earned his honor in the horseguards before inheriting his brother's title and capturing the notice of Society. As during the War, men who wished to glory in the triumphs of victory gathered around him to hang on every word of his war stories.

To her chagrin, Sera noticed her brothers were no exception. Jockeying their way closer to the legendary viscount's side, Adrian and Cassius added their own colorful details to the final days of Old Boney's bold yet foolhardy second campaign. Ruefully, Sera wondered if Napoleon's ears were burning from all the tales being told at his expense.

At the viscount's side, to the delight of the hapless wives and sisters disowned by their male escorts, the dazzling Lady Delia Chillingworth expertly held court of her own. A raven-haired beauty with rich peacock eyes, she exemplified all the female graces of style, wit and grace.

"Oh my yes, Paris is quite lovely this time of year." Lady Chillingworth beamed a brilliant smile on her audience. "Even more so now that the Bourbons have been restored to their rightful place and that dreadful little warmonger is in exile. Bonaparte had a devastating effect on the pastoral beauty of Europe."

"Thank goodness men like your husband had the fortitude and cunning to catch Napoleon before he did anymore damage," Lady Athelridge complimented. "I understand from my husband that His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, insisted on personally honoring your husband with a banquet for his brave maneuvers at Waterloo."

"Yes, His Grace was most kind. Though I confess it was a bit overwhelming." Lady Chillingworth blushed as she quickly unfurled her fan. The paper spokes demurely covered all but her glittering dark eyes. "Chillingworth is a proud man, but my husband also considers himself a patriot above all else. His efforts in the War were for his country and not simply to acquire medals."

"No, of course not," agreed another admirer. "Patriotism and the bravery it inspires are reward enough to a noble man. That's why many flocked to be under your husband's command, I imagine. Lord Chillingworth inspires the best in men."

"That's a wise observation, Lady Sutton." Lady Chillingworth smiled. She beamed a look of uninhibited awe and admiration at her husband amidst his throng of admirers. "I'm most fortunate to have married such an inspiring man."

Off to the side in a pale blue gown, Sera rolled her eyes at the ladies' conversation. It was apparent and somewhat sickening the way Lady Athelridge and her cousin fawned all over their notable guests. Then, Sera realized, at least the gossipmongers were too distracted to notice her odd behavior.

She couldn't keep her eyes off the entrance. Guests ceased arriving an hour ago, but Sera refused to give up hoping. And worrying. Beneath a serene expression, tension riddled her nerves. She wondered if anyone else in the ballroom noticed the singular absence at the affair.

The lively strains of a quadrille ended, briefly drawing Sera's attention to her friend on the dance floor. Cleo curtsied to her partner, the vicar's son. Sera smiled, pleased to see her friend enjoying herself.

When she returned to her side, Sera encouraged, "You should dance more often Cleo. You look so pretty when you do. You're light on your feet, like an angel."

"I only wish I could say the same for young Mr. Atwater," Cleo grumbled as she wiggled her toes beneath her dress. "He'll cripple me with his exuberant two left feet. Now I know why you insisted I take your place in that set."

Sera giggled over the admission. "You're a good sport about it. Reginald is a little out of practice having spent more time studying his theology books than the social graces, but he'll learn. And if I weren't such a klutz on the dance floor myself, I'd teach him."

"Klutz?" Cleo challenged. "Sera, sometimes I think you just use that excuse to get me out of my sulks. Seems to me you said the same thing the first time you got me to dance with Percy."

"Think of it as friendly encouragement then," Sera admitted. Unconsciously, her gaze drifted from the new dancers gathering on the dance floor to the entrance beyond.

"He's late."

Sera unfurled her fan and pretended she didn't hear her friend's pronouncement. But everywhere she turned to look Cleo's shrewd gaze followed her.

Feigning ignorance, Sera finally asked, "Who's late?"

"Lord Blackstone." Cleo barely mouthed the words not daring to be overheard speaking the blasphemous name. "Perhaps he has the good graces not to come after all."

Appalled by her friend's taunt, Sera reminded, "He is a neighbor."

"With a sordid reputation. I doubt the earl would be welcome in this ballroom."

"No more unwelcome then your odious brother," Sera shot back. "Where is Chilton anyway? For all his earlier insistence that he come with you tonight, he's behaving as a poor escort."

"Thank goodness!" Cleo exclaimed. "The notion of Chilton being my shadow is enough to give me the vapors. I think he was more interested in the prospect of whist with Sir Armitage in the card room. My brother usually hates these country affairs."

Before Sera could think to reply to that comment, a surge of whispers began like the winds before a summer storm. Excitement and anticipation transformed the crowded ballroom in an instant making every head, whether whirling about on the dance floor or engaged in conversation, turn towards the entrance.

Dutifully, Athelridge's butler called out the late arrival's name and title, but there was no need to announce the tall, dark stranger who lounged in the doorway like a pirate prince. His nickname, uttered like a whispered oath, echoed off the chandeliers in a mixture of awe and apprehension.

The dreaded Blackguard of Blackstone had arrived.

Lord Blackstone surveyed his audience with an expression of practiced indifference. Dressed in elegant black, his clothes were cut in a European style that accentuated the power of his physique. Fancifully, Sera was reminded of the tamed black beast she had seen him expertly ride. There was icy control in his stance, yet she sensed within the facade lay the heart of a raging warrior.

Calmly, methodically, Blackstone scanned the crowded ballroom. Sera watched him, transfixed by the sparkling emerald of his shadowy eyes. Beside her, she heard the faint mumbles of her family and Cleo. Even Lady Athelridge and her cousin had paused in their fawning to stare at the late arrival. Then Sera felt their heated gazes upon her.

This was the moment the gossipmongers had been awaiting. The moment when Sera would embarrass herself in front of her opinionated neighbors and overprotective brothers. The tiny part of her that still cared about public opinion advised she turn away before she attracted the earl's notice. Before she dared him to acknowledge her.

Sera couldn't take her eyes off him. She was behaving recklessly, but there was something too compelling about Lord Blackstone. Something that inspired whispers and stares out of even the old and hard of hearing. Then his unyielding gaze met hers and she realized why they said young ladies swooned when he entered a ballroom.

Her breath caught, probably somewhere within the lump forming in her throat. A knot twisted in Sera's stomach making the pain in her chest unbearable. She thought she was on the brink of a strange illness. Her mind whirled with worry and anticipation.

He was incredibly handsome. Too handsome, she thought. Like a mythical hero, he belonged in a much finer place than a quaint country ballroom. He belonged in the wild and adventurous world of the sea wooing beautiful princesses and mystical sirens. Yet, his gaze lingered on her, for the briefest of moments. It was long enough for Sera to realize she was in danger of making a scandalous example of her reckless tendencies.

She didn't care. She wanted him to come to her. She wanted him to know that she had been awaiting this moment for days. Despite the awkwardness of a public meeting; despite what the gossipmongers would say; despite what her family would say. All Sera wanted was to be near Gabriel and feel the heat of his gaze upon her.

"Sera, what are you doing?" hissed Cleo as she grasped her arm. "Stop gawking before someone thinks you're about to swoon."

"I am not gawking," Sera protested. Before she could think of a reasonable excuse for her obvious stare, she'd broken it. The strains of another quadrille commenced and the room seemed to slip back into its regular whirl of gossip and flirtation.

After a bit of prodding, Cleo consented to a set on the dance floor with another neighbor's son. Sera was left alone with her thoughts as the ballroom buzzed around her.

She heard words like blackguard and notorious mixed with innuendoes of a scandalous life at sea. The topic of such hushed comments was disturbingly easy to discern. The whispers always accompanied a discreet nod or brazen stare at Lord Blackstone.

He absorbed himself in conversation with their host. Whatever notice he had paid her was gone in a heartbeat. She would've been glad for it if she didn't feel snubbed. She took one angry step towards him before she caught herself. The room seemed to be getting smaller with discreet gazes turned her way.

All Sera seemed to notice was the way the chandelier candles cast ever more intriguing shadows across Gabriel Blackstone's impassive countenance.

Telling herself it was merely the crowd, Sera sought the garden terrace in a flurry of blue satin. The need to feel fresh air on her face overwhelmed her discretion.

Sera leaned against a tall pillar and closed her eyes to drink in the rejuvenating scent of early spring. Sounds of music and chatter drifted aimlessly through the ballroom doors, but she felt blissfully alone and removed from the affair. The whispered comments about Gabriel irritated her just as the gossip about her friend Hugh had, but Sera had more troubling reasons to seek the garden's embrace.

Her reaction to the earl was completely out of the realm of her experience. Never had Sera been so missish as to gawk or swoon when a gentleman entered a ballroom. Or runaway when he failed to acknowledge her.

Sera put aside her concerns deciding she must be coming down with some illness. Why she never felt this dizzy when Hugh entered a room and he was as close to a first love as she ever had. But then Hugh had been little more than a boy while Gabriel was very much a man.

A man of mystery and inspiring intrigue. A man she considered a friend and a neighbor, as well as a gentleman.

When Sera realized how foolish her behavior must have seemed, she frowned. She was acting like the same brainless ninnies who reportedly passed out at the mere mention of Blackstone's name.

"I'm not a green girl just out of the schoolroom," Sera whispered to herself. "I should stop acting like one."

With a deep calming breath, Sera emboldened herself to rejoin the ballroom. A hand shot out of the darkness snaking around her wrist and halting her in mid-step.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" snarled Viscount Chilton.

Sera curled her nose to avoid the familiar smell of port that lingered around Cleo's brother. His sudden appearance and angry tone perked her curiosity. She assumed he had mistaken her for his sister in the darkness.

"I needed some fresh air," Sera answered reasonably. "Why aren't you inside looking after your sister, Lord Chilton? You did insist on being her escort tonight."

"My sister can look after herself, assuming you stop trying to play matchmaker for her, Lady Sera," the viscount shot back no less inclined to release his tight grip. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I let her marry."

"You're a heartless man, Chilton," Sera defied his temper. "A loving brother would want to see his sister happily settled, but all you want is what you can steal at the expense of Cleo."

"I'm not as stupidly indulgent of her whims as your brothers are of yours," he sneered down a crooked nose. Bloodshot eyes glared cruelly in the dim light. "And you never answered my question. What are you doing out here?"

"I told you I came for some air. Lord Chilton please let go of my hand. It's getting numb."

"You came out here alone, without an escort?" he persisted, painfully twisting her wrist. "The only reason a lady leaves a ballroom for the garden alone is because she's up to something, or meeting a secret lover. Is that it, Lady Sera? Are you such a brazen little chit as to flaunt a tryst with your brothers just a lover's cry away?"

"Lord Chilton, if you don't let go of my hand, I may break your nose." Sera's voice reeked of icy disdain, masking the rampant fear surging within her. She had seen Cleo's brother in many moods while he was sotted, but never quite like tonight. He was more than crude and obnoxious. He seemed almost desperate and entirely dangerous. The sooner she got away from him, the better. "I suggest you go home and sober up before you do something regrettable," Sera instructed. "My brothers and I will see Cleo home safely."

Chilton's nostrils flared. "Spare me your haughtiness, Lady Sera," he snapped. "I'm not impressed. Except enough to know that you are a troublesome little baggage that needs to be taught a lesson in the humility of women."

Chilton squeezed the tiny bones in Sera's wrist until she felt as if they'd crack. He growled, "The next time you find yourself worrying about the safety of my household with my housekeeper, take my advice and mind your own damn business!"

The look in Chilton's eyes terrified Sera. She realized why the unpredictable man intimidated Cleo. Sera opened her mouth to utter an outraged rebuke, but let her natural wariness guide her actions.

She dug her fingernails into his hand and wrenched herself free. Chilton spewed a litany of threats as he reached for her, but Sera bolted for the garden doors.

She tripped just as she crossed the threshold. Spiraling forward, she knocked a golden candelabra on the nearby table. Sera's frightened yelp died in her throat as a gentle hand steadied her shoulder. Familiar masculine fingers carefully righted the lit candles before flames ignited the draperies.

"You must be more careful, Lady Sera," Gabriel softly chided. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

The earl's shadowed emerald eyes defied the casualness of his tone and left her transfixed in the present. She felt the heat of his touch on the curve of her open sleeve.

"My lord?" Sera echoed in confusion. She struggled to control her perceptions. "Forgive me. I didn't see you there."

"Obviously," he intoned sardonically. "Were you just talking to someone on the terrace?"

Sera turned to look behind her. She expected to see Chilton hovering in the doorway or on the terrace, but he was gone. His behavior astounded her. So much so, she was tempted to believe it was all a waking nightmare. The pain in her wrist denoted the grim and perplexing reality.

"Are you all right, Lady Sera?"

Gabriel's murmur attracted Sera's attention. Just for a moment, like the night he had saved her from highwaymen, his deep masculine voice reassured her. Curiosity filled his eyes when he looked beyond her towards the terrace, but there was also a touch of something darker and more mysterious in his gaze. Something almost as dangerous as she'd seen in Chilton's eyes a moment ago.

"The shadows frightened me," Sera blurted out her lie without really knowing why she gave it. An overwhelming dread insisted that the last thing she wanted was to tell her guardian angel about Chilton's ungentlemanly assault. "I went outside to get some air, but it's darker than I expected. I fear I acted foolish. Forgive me for concerning you, my lord."

Hesitating briefly, Gabriel retreated a polite step and beamed his usual laconic smile. "Then perhaps next time, Lady Sera, it would be wise of you not to enter the terrace without your escort. Shadows can be intimidating at times."

Sera blushed slightly over the fact that he so easily accepted her fib. "I'm pleased your business did not prevent you from attending tonight, my lord," she admitted. "I hope you've found Lady Athelridge's ball a worthwhile and entertaining experience."

"It gets more promising every minute," Gabriel smoothly replied, his eyes pointedly focused on Sera. "Though I have yet to attempt any dancing tonight. Perhaps you'll be so kind as to grace me with a spot on your card."

Before Sera could reply, she felt more than heard her brothers approach. Their overprotective behavior was ridiculous and infuriatingly predictable. Adrian and Cassius quickly took up sentry by her sides while Thornbridge faced the enemy head on. Sera's eldest brother looked ready to fight the devil, she thought.

Gabriel politely nodded to Sera's brothers. A look of bored amusement decorated his otherwise emotionless face. "Good evening, Thornbridge. I see you and your brothers have roused yourselves from your club to attend this affair."

"We always attend, Blackstone," Thornbridge scoffed. "Unlike some, we take our neighborly responsibilities seriously."

"That's to be commended I'm sure."

"We're surprised to see you here." Adrian flashed a condescending glare. "From popular accounts, one expected you to be more inclined towards the fancier crushes in Town."

"Popular accounts can often be deceiving," Gabriel drawled. "As I now have the responsibilities of my father's estates, it was pointed out to me that tonight would mark a good opportunity to reestablish my family's connections with our esteemed neighbors."

"Connections?" Thornbridge balked.

"Give it up, Blackstone," condemned Cassius. "No matter how much charm you bestow on the vicar's wife or money you throw about, it will never change your family's pirate past or your own blackguard reputation!"

"Cassius, stop being an overbearing prig!" Sera demanded in a sharp reproachful cry that brought the confrontation to a surprising and controversial halt. The whispers going around about Gabriel were one thing, but to suffer her brothers saying such hurtful and opinionated things was too much.

Her brothers' stunned, openmouthed expressions were more than enough reward for her most unladylike interruption. Since she had their attention, she decided to remind her pompous brothers of their manners. "Papa said you should never judge a man by his reputation alone. You wouldn't like it if someone bandied about your ill-chosen exploits in your misspent youth, would you?"

"Sera, what are you doing?" Adrian hissed beside her.

"Be quiet, Sera!" commanded Thornbridge. "This is none of your concern."

"I won't be quiet Magnus," she defied. "You are all being atrocious to the earl. I remind you Lord Blackstone is a neighbor and Lady Athelridge's guest. You have no right to make him feel unwelcome."

Sera bestowed a gracious smile on Gabriel. "You must forgive my brothers, my lord. It's been so long since our parents were with us that my brothers sometimes forget the lessons in hospitality and tolerance they were taught."

"How fortunate they have you to remind them, Lady Sera," Gabriel smiled with a twinkle of amusement.

"Lady Sera? Who gave him permission him to call you by that name, Sera?" Adrian sounded appalled.

"I did," she answered in a bright tone. "Lord Blackstone is my friend."

"Your what?!" Thornbridge looked ready to kill her. "Who dared to introduce you without my permission?"

"Where'd you arrange it, Blackstone?" Cassius snarled.

Gabriel glared back impassively.

Sera noticed the ballroom had taken on a strained tension again. Whispers accompanied by intrusive stares began, all focused on her and the scene that was unfolding.

Her brothers dominated Sera's concerns. Adrian maintained a possessive grip on Sera's arm. Cassius looked ready to issue Gabriel a challenge. And Thornbridge glared at her, silently demanding the details of her scandalous meeting with the notorious rogue of the ton.

The soft strains of the orchestra's new song inspired Sera's bold answer. "We bumped into each other while I was riding," she blurted as she shrugged out of Adrian's hold and reached for Gabriel. "If you'll excuse us, I promised this dance to his lordship."

Ignoring the gasps of silent outrage and curious stares, Sera latched onto Gabriel's arm and guided him to the dance floor without so much as a glance behind her.

All eyes were on the scandalous pair, the notorious rogue and East Chatham's most outspoken Original, as the first chorus of a waltz began. Sera's bravado faltered as soon as she recognized the melody.

"My lord," she squeaked when he took her hands in his, "perhaps we best not."

"Lost your nerve already," Gabriel teased with a pointed nod to their attentive audience.

"No, tis not that," Sera flustered. "I had not realized this dance was a waltz. I'm not very good at such things. I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

"As I said before, I am not so easily embarrassed, Lady Sera," he crooned.

Before she could protest again, Gabriel swung her into the first steps of the waltz. As she feared, her weak leg faltered on the first turn, but only she and Gabriel noticed. He quickly steadied her, exchanged a brief gaze of recognition and pulled her closer until she leaned against him.

He was incredibly gentle and supportive, yet for all his care he was anything but restrained or careful. Sera hardly felt her toes touch the ground with each dizzying turn. Candle flames blurred with the pale blues and greens of ball gowns all spinning in a kaleidoscope of color and sound. If she hadn't been holding onto Gabriel's firm shoulder, or felt the calming grasp of his hand in hers, she'd surely have fallen off the face of the Earth.

She felt wild and free and wanted to laugh with glee at the notion that he was teaching her to fly. It occurred to her that this must be why the waltz was deemed a risqué dance. Anything that inspired young ladies to loose their bored composure in favor of enjoying the simple yet powerful pleasure of a man's embrace was enough to keep guardians awake for weeks. Yet, Sera supposed she didn't care for she couldn't suppress the eager smile that rose to her lips and spread to her feet.

After a few turns, Gabriel slowed the pace of the dance enough to allow his partner to catch her breath.

"My lord, you are a wonderful dancer," Sera beamed with appreciation.

"The skill comes in handy upon occasion."

"An enjoyable skill as well. I regret I'm not as practiced as you. In truth, I always considered myself a bit of a klutz cursed with slow feet."

"Nonsense, Lady Sera. You dance like an angel." Gabriel nodded toward her brothers and their fellow admirers. "I daresay the pair of us have attracted quite a crowd of spectators. Are you in the habit of stirring up such controversy with your bold invitations?"

Being in Gabriel's arms felt so enticing, Sera ignored the inquisitive faces around her. "I fear, like yourself, I'm cursed with a certain amount of notoriety, at least in East Chatham. Those in small villages tend to live off the affairs of others. The slightest transgression of independence, especially in young ladies, is enough to entertain the gossipmongers for weeks. I am accounted an Original by some, because I generally tend to ignore the idle chatter my actions sometimes cause."

"That is an unusual and headstrong position to take," Gabriel observed. "Most young ladies would endeavor to avoid such talk if only to spare their family the embarrassment."

"My father taught my brothers and I, the only opinions we had to worry about was God Almighty's and our own. There is no embarrassment in acting according to one's principles, my lord, despite how unpopular they may seem."

"Then I must applaud the principle which inspired you to rescue me from your brothers' glares. I find yours far more enchanting and intriguing."

Gabriel's voice was barely audible compared to the roar of music from the orchestra, but Sera heard every word as if it echoed in the recesses of her own mind.

He continued on a sultry murmur, "The candlelight brings out the golden sparkle of your eyes in the way moonlight exposes the mystery and life on the crest of the deepest sea."

The toe of Sera's slipper caught on his boot, but Gabriel never faltered as he turned her about again on the dance floor. Secure in his embrace, Sera edged her hand around his shoulder until the ends of his pirate ponytail tickled her fingers.

The look in his eyes fascinated her. Shadows and green moonlight glittered with curiosity and amusement. Yet, she sensed there was an even deeper quality lurking just beneath the surface. An intensity that belied the whimsy and casualness of his voice.

"You inspire a mystery of your own, my lord," Sera countered with a soft whisper. "One that makes one think of a daring pirate sailing into port to seduce a naive lady and steal her away to a life of dangerous adventure on the high seas."

"If that were true, then I would be a gentleman pirate like my grandfather. In which case, East Chatham's young ladies need have no fear." He advised, "Gentleman pirates only steal what is offered."

Sera blushed. "Yes, of course. I didn't mean to suggest you were anything but a gentleman, my lord."

"You seem to be the only one who holds such a high opinion of my character, Lady Sera. I wonder why."

"I suppose that I see what others don't," she suggested. "Perhaps it's the influence of your father's words about you the day I met him. He was proud of you despite the nasty rumors of your exploits."

"I fear your neighbors are not quite so forgiving of my notorious reputation."

The sudden tightness in Gabriel's words drew Sera's attention immediately. She met his gaze a long moment and registered the fierce emotion lurking beneath the surface. It made her think of a wild animal lashing out in hidden pain and sorrow.

"They barely know you, my lord. Beyond rumor, that is," Sera offered in a soothing tone. "You were gone a long time, so you must trust me as your friend in this. Attending tonight was an important step in disbanding the old gossip and making a fresh start for yourself in local Society. Your father would be pleased you've returned to face the gossipmonger's wrath head on. It concerned him you might stay away in favor of following his and your mother's example."

"I assure you, I am in no danger of repeating my father's mistakes," Gabriel warned.

With practiced grace, he whirled her around the dance floor in a slightly reckless turn. Sera tripped in the exuberance, but he caught her without ever letting his practiced smile or her falter. Their audience, no doubt, would believe the pair idly discussing the weather, but Sera sensed a deeper topic burning Gabriel's lips.

"You have a most inquisitive look on your face, Lady Sera," he pointed out smoothly. "What thoughts lurk beneath those sparkling eyes of yours, praytell?"

"I was just wondering that about you, my lord," Sera challenged. "You seem a bit perplexed, if you don't mind my observing."

"Perplexed?" Gabriel repeated as if the word a silly description for his particular mood. The biting edge left his voice, but the rigid control continued to grip his muscles. "I confess I was wondering why you never answered me a few minutes ago before your brothers unfortunately interrupted us."

"I didn't?" Vaguely, she remembered running into him from the terrace and exchanging a few brief words. The exact nature of those words was lost in the mystery of his penetrating gaze. Sera fancifully wondered if she stared into the emerald orbs deep enough could she see inside Gabriel's soul and know the reason for his bizarre effect on her senses.

"I asked why you were on the terrace when your family was inside," he reminded. "Were you talking to someone?"

Reminders of the terrace brought only unease to her cluttered mind. A mind that preferred intoxicating oblivion in Gabriel's arms. "I needed some fresh air," she finally explained.

"Most young ladies wouldn't dream of leaving a crowded ballroom unescorted," he noted. "Unless of course, they intended to meet a paramour."

"Then I suppose that must be considered another black mark on my headstrong reputation," Sera mused. "I rarely have the patience to wait for an escort to ferry me about when I'm more than capable of doing for myself."

"Such as taking a midnight ride in britches? I wonder what other notorious activities your restlessness inspires you to do."

The cynical edge to his voice riled Sera with warning. "What are you implying, sir?"

"No more than I myself am guilty of," he drawled. "I sense you and I share the same independent and sometimes reckless natures. Tis no doubt why we both found ourselves on the road at the same hour. It was a fortunate encounter, don't you think?"

Sera hesitated answering. A measure of unease slowly trickled up her spine. "I should thank you for being discreet about the details of our initial meeting. I doubt my brothers would understand the reason for my journey that night, let alone appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it. I could hardly betray a friend's confidence." Gabriel lulled her with the calculated seriousness of his words. "I hope that in time you would consider me one of your most trusted friends."

Sera caught his peculiar pronunciation of the word friends, but couldn't begin to fathom what hidden meaning he had in mind. She focused instead on the word trusted and was reminded of the struggle she chronicled in her journal the day before.

The secret suspicions and worry about Percy and his egg hovered just beneath her thoughts. The unbearable weight of guilt and fear never left her heart, but for a few brief moments she saw beyond their heavy burden. Whenever she was near Gabriel, staring into his strong unyielding gaze, she felt as if he could take that cross from her. The dark shadows flaring in his misty green eyes instantly gave her pause.

"Trust must be earned, Lord Blackstone," she warned. "And even then it can be easily betrayed by one who hides dark motives beneath a mask of sincerity."

"What an intriguing thing to say," he drawled.

"I find when I'm with you I am inspired to think many intriguing thoughts, my lord," she admitted. "Mystery seems to cloak you like the shadows of night. One moment I find myself imagining you're a heroic knight-errant come to my rescue and the next an avenging warrior waiting to launch a blind attack on my senses."

"I could say there is a similar mystique surrounding you as well, Lady Sera," he accused on a seductive murmur. "Something that draws you to the road at midnight, or into the darkness of a garden terrace. Your eyes appear a simple brown, yet I find myself looking forward to unraveling the riddle hidden beneath the brandy sparkles of your gaze."

His words captivated Sera. It occurred to her he was suggesting a mystery different than the one she was burdened with. The notion inspired wariness and excitement in her.

"What exactly do you intend, my lord?"

He seemed to consider his answer a long poignant moment. In the distance, the music reached an ending crescendo. Gabriel's arms encircled her with tenderness and restraint. He seemed equally capable of safely delivering her to heaven or banishing her to hell. When he finally spoke, his words sounded as if he'd do both.

"My intentions may seem mysterious," he advised, "but the sincerity inspiring them is no more a mask than your own true motives, Lady Sera."

Before she could begin to contemplate the meaning of Gabriel's words, Sera felt the ominous cloud of her brothers descend upon them. She almost chided them for interrupting the dance before she realized the music had stopped leaving her and Gabriel standing alone on the edge of the dance floor.

"That's enough, Blackstone," Thornbridge gritted, yanking his sister away from her dance partner. "Sera, stop gawking at him. You're making a spectacle of yourself."

Sera frowned, but Gabriel smiled.

With the grace of a pirate prince, he kissed her hand. "I hope you will grace me with another dance, Lady Sera. Perhaps next time we may dispense with the mystery."

After the provocative comment, he sauntered away as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

The orchestra began to play the opening strains of another quadrille as a new crowd of dancers assembled on the dance floor. Sera was prodded and pestered back to the safety of a crowded alcove far from the whirling activity. For the rest of the night, her brothers took turns standing sentry by her side while Cleo and the widow Mrs. Bunpenny distracted Sera with conversation. There was no need for their overprotective behavior though as the notorious Lord Blackstone made no more attempts to seek out her company for the rest of the night.

The whispers, however, began just as easily as the pointed stares. The room seemed to know. The Blackguard of Blackstone had his eyes set on East Chatham's most reckless Original.

Chapter Seven

A FORTNIGHT later, Gabriel had spent yet another tedious day immersed in East Chatham social life. Since Sera's brush with a dubious night shadow on Atheridge's terrace, Gabriel had little success acquiring more than a dance from the lady. He assumed her lover had been outside, possibly threatening her to do his bidding.

Gabriel eagerly awaited her move at deception. The moment didn't come until just a few minutes before he slipped into his neighbor's darkened gallery.

He melded into the shadows as the door scuffed open behind him. Smiling smugly, Gabriel watched Lady Sera stumble into the room apparently heedless of the crowd awaiting her outside.

She tripped over a Louis XIV footstool and stifled an oath as she steadied herself on her bad knee. In the faint moonlight drifting through the half-closed drapes, she squinted in an attempt to find her way. Then delight illuminated her expression when she spotted the tall Chinese puzzle box in a corner. With an audible sigh of relief, she ran her slender fingers along the smooth lacquer finish.

Gabriel wondered what she found so fascinating about the cabinet as she struggled to open it. He almost stepped forward to question her clumsy attempt at breaking and entering when footsteps sounded in the hallway just outside the gallery.

Sera shot a glance at the door. By her horrified expression, Gabriel assumed she was unprepared for the intrusion. In the distance resounded the sotted footfalls of Sir Binky Armitage.

Lord Kennelworth's rakehell brother had apparently decided to check on his prized addition to the gallery, Gabriel assumed.

Like a thief caught red-handed, Sera shrunk from the Chinese cabinet. She searched the darkness, wildly looking for an escape as the doorknob turned.

The cabinet's owner lumbered inside the dark room. Moonlight bathed Sera threatening to expose her just as soon as Binky's eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Gabriel expected her to move. Instead, she froze like a frightened doe and waited for the lecherous gamer to catch her pilfering his things. As Binky navigated the room toward Sera, instinct compelled Gabriel to action.

With the silencing command of his hand over her mouth, he pulled Sera soundlessly into the shadows of the drapes. His firm embrace told her to be still. She struggled briefly, then acquiesced when her gaze fell on Binky entering the moonlight around the cabinet. Gabriel felt her tremble. He guessed she'd just realized how easily she must have been observed by him. But instead of fear or distance from having been spied upon, Gabriel was surprised to feel Sera lean into his embrace. As if she was showing gratitude that he'd saved her from discovery.

Gabriel lowered his hand from her mouth and encircled Sera's waist instead. He pulled her closer until her skirts were in the shadows. It was a sweet torment to remain frozen in the darkness. The top of her head nestled into the crook of his neck, his arm settled just under her breasts, her bottom pressed firmly against his groin.

Sera's breath quickened in pace with his own. She felt so warm and supple to his touch. He wanted to let his hand slip from her arm and caress the tender breast that strained beneath the edge of her bodice. To feel the heat that burned in her chest. The heartbeat that pounded beneath his touch.

Summoning all his strength, Gabriel denied his rioting impulses. His iron stance personified the ruthless determination of his will. Ruthlessly he ignored the ease with which Sera succumbed to his embrace and concentrated on the threat lurking in the nearby moonlight.

Apparently oblivious to the watchers in the drapes, Binky opened his puzzle box and retrieved a pouch of coins. Presumably for another of his high stakes card games, Gabriel thought.

Then Armitage closed the lacquer door and paused to listen to the shadows. Gabriel gently squeezed Sera's middle willing her the strength to hold her breath. A moment later, their intruder turned and left the darkened gallery.

Alone again, the pair seemed to stand together in the darkness for hours. In truth, only a moment passed before Gabriel let Sera go. He gave her a gentle push to force a respectable distance between them.

They faced each other in silence. Sera was bathed in enchanting moonlight. Gabriel cloaked himself in brooding shadows. Their unabashed stares of curiosity and wonder would have shamed the angels, but neither seemed inclined to break the sensual tension. It was the inexperienced angel that gave in first.

"What are you doing here, my lord?" Sera gasped. Surprise and something that could have been awe riddled her voice. "That is, I didn't expect to find you hanging about a darkened gallery when the guests are elsewhere."

"I was just thinking the same about you, Lady Sera," he drawled. "I suppose your restless streak could not abide another moment of cousin Anabella's aria. Or did you have a more structured goal in mind to your wanderings?"

Sera's eyes darted uncomfortably. "I was looking for the watercloset."

"I see." Gabriel's hard voice echoed his doubt. "And did you think Sir Armitage's puzzle box was the watercloset?"

"No, of course not," Sera flustered over the ridiculous assumption. Anxiously, she bit her lower lip and searched the room as if seeking escape or another suitable excuse.

"I'm certain Sir Armitage would find your interest in his pride and joy most intriguing," Gabriel taunted in a smooth voice. "If you hurry, I believe you could catch him and ask for another private tour of his collection."

"Stop teasing me, my lord," Sera demanded. "You know very well that I don't want Binky Armitage to know I am here."

"Which only leaves me to wonder why you have abandoned the security of your brother's escort to explore such a forbidden place. I confess that question has captured my curiosity."

Sera pursed her lips with a brooding stare at Gabriel. "You are a very maddening man, Lord Blackstone," she confessed. "Talking with you reminds me of a game my cat, Miss Cleopatra, plays with wary field mice that wander into our garden. Your demeanor bespeaks boredom, but your eyes watch for me to make the slightest miscalculation before you pounce."

"I assure you I am anything but bored when I look upon you," Gabriel's voice rumbled deep in his throat. "On the contrary, I believe myself to be just as entranced in your unexpected tendencies as your cat must be in the mouse who fidgets about your garden. One never quite knows what you have in mind of doing next."

"And I suppose you won't rest until you find out?"

"That would be a sound supposition."

Sera let out a long resigned sigh. "I'm looking for a thief."

"You expect to find this thief hiding in Armitage's puzzle box?"

"No." Sera qualified, "I was more interested in finding the item which he stole."

"I see," Gabriel mumbled noncommittally. Covertly, studying her amber gaze, he saw only puzzling sincerity. "What makes you think Armitage is a thief?"

"He isn't. Well, not strictly speaking assuming my theory's correct. I won't know of course until I open the cabinet and find some evidence first."

"What theory?"

Sera's eyes glittered with hesitation. "It's complicated to explain, my lord, and confidential. Suffice it to say I'm acting on good faith, on behalf of a friend. I beg you not to divulge my presence in this gallery, as you haven't divulged the details of our first meeting. I wish I could explain more, but honor demands my discretion."

"You are a most fascinating young woman, Lady Sera." Gabriel's mind spun with an attempt to process this unexpected revelation. She was on a mystery mission that Sera seemed suspiciously too willing to discuss with him. "You intrigue me and discourage me in the same breath."

"I could say the same of you, Lord Blackstone. One might question your presence in this gallery tonight. Are you by chance following me?"

Pausing to match her shrewd glare, Gabriel considered the possibility of a cunning trap laid by an equally cunning foe. One that relied on innocence and honesty to undo her enemies. With a carefree smile, he decided to play her game.

"Guilty," Gabriel confessed without embarrassment. "I confess your sudden flight from the musicale intrigued me. One might have thought you were running off to meet your secret lover."

Sera blushed with embarrassment or suspicion. "Really, my lord. I am hardly suspected of such adventurous things."

Gabriel eyed her measuring the truthfulness of her words. "No, headstrong angels rarely are."

Sera blinked at the curious twinge of sarcasm in Gabriel's voice. His eyes clouded with the familiar haunting shadows. In a nervous gesture, she looked away as she twisted the strings of her reticule.

"Please don't let me keep you from your search," he beckoned politely. "I take it the item which you seek is of some importance to warrant this dangerous excursion. I do hope it hasn't been disposed of already for some more ready currency."

"On no, the thief doesn't take items of great monetary value," Sera blurted. "That is, this isn't an ordinary sort of theft." With a resigned sigh, Sera gave up trying to explain.

"The item you seek has enough worth to warrant your request of a gallery tour this evening, I imagine. Somehow I just can't imagine you enjoy Armitage's Oriental travels or opinion of the decadence of the local culture. Though he was kind enough to show you his amazing puzzle box." He waved his hand to the box. "Please go on and open it."

She hesitated. "Yes, well it seemed different earlier. I thought I'd watched him closely but..." Sera tried one more time to coax the hidden spring to open for her. Yet again, the box taunted her with immovable silence.

"Then you must allow me," Gabriel offered in a smooth tone. With gentle ease, he found the hidden latch in the door's side. "I've a knack for solving puzzles." The door clicked open in his hands.

Moonlight bathed the interior of Armitage's cabinet exposing an odd collection of items. China figurines and clay pipes in the Oriental motif littered the confines of an overcrowded shelf. Sera scrutinized each row unaware she was being studied just as shrewdly by Gabriel. Neither gave a hint of reaction or their inner thoughts until Sera dared to open the silver box at the bottom of the cabinet.

A thousand gems gleamed in the starlight showing the peculiar oval treasure encased in the silk lining of the box. Reverently, Sera grasped the familiar jeweled egg.

"It can't be," she whispered. Frantically, curiously, Sera turned the egg between her fingertips like an owner trying to identify a long lost possession.

Hiding his own surprise beneath a mask of indifference, Gabriel snatched the trinket from Sera's hands and held it up to the light. The familiar Triad hieroglyphics gleamed within the misshapen inlay of glass and brass. Gabriel relaxed when he noticed the telltale signs of a cheap imitation. Then he playfully twisted the bauble between his fingers. "Is this what you were looking for? It's a pretty little thing for cut glass, but hardly worth stealing, I imagine."

"Cut glass?" Sera sounded shocked. "Are you certain?"

She snatched the egg from his hands to study it herself. Gabriel watched her blatantly peek at the treasure's bottom.

Sera shook her head. "No, it's not real." She spoke soft enough to imply the comment was meant for her ears alone.

"Did you think it was?" Gabriel inquired lazily. "I admit it could be considered a somewhat convincing copy of a more valuable gem, but if the stones were genuine I doubt you'd find it languishing in Armitage's puzzle box."

"A convincing copy?" Sera repeated as if she found the notion fascinating. Her doe-brown eyes clouded with concern and realization. "I wonder... But if... Oh dear!" she rambled in a procession of possibility, doubt and alarm.

"Is something amiss, Lady Sera?" Gabriel feigned ignorance. Shrewdly, he catalogued her emotions wondering what plot she was planning. "Surely you should be satisfied to have your friend's stolen trinket back or are you concerned what Sir Armitage's response will be when he's accused of being a thief?"

"No, my lord," Sera flustered. "You don't understand. This isn't what I was looking for, but it is of importance to a friend of mine. It was stolen a while ago, but then things were righted. Or so I thought. Oh dear, I know I'm not making much sense. I fear it's all terribly complicated."

"Perhaps you should begin at the beginning, then."

Gabriel watched her during the long audible pause following his offer. Nervously, Sera bit her lip and stared at her hands as if weighing some deep matter.

"You seem distressed, Lady Sera," he pointed out. "As your friend, I can't let you suffer alone. If you'd only confide in me your worries, I'd be honored to come to your assistance. Consider me your knight-errant. Request something of me and I will help."

The look she gave him sent alarms through him. Her doe-brown eyes beamed wide and wanting. The emotions lurking beneath compelled him with their vulnerability and distanced him with their dangerous intensity.

"I've wanted to come to you, my lord," Sera confessed. "In truth, I've only thought of you when it comes to such matters, but things are not as simple as to merely warrant my whim. I can only say that it is a matter of honor, a promise I made to a dear friend and therefore am not able to confide of my own initiative."

"What dear friend?" Gabriel demanded with more intensity than he intended. Quelling the raging desires of his soul, he softened his tone. "If the matter concerns him, then surely you can go to him for assistance."

"No, I fear it's not possible," Sera fretted. Her wary eyes clouded in a myriad of misery and speculation. Then the cloud dispersed with an abrupt shake of her head. "I don't see how I have any choice," she thought aloud. "My lord, you said you were good with puzzles, are you by chance good with locks as well?"

"Locks?" Gabriel asked wondering what plot his opponent had authored.

"Picking them I mean," Sera qualified. "I can't see as how there is really any other way and I really must know the truth."

"What are you planning?"

"Burglary," she baldly admitted. "Well, in a manner of speaking, but I don't mean for profit. You see, there is something I simply must get a closer look at but it would be better if my interest isn't noted by certain parties." Her expression paled in a mixture of secrecy and cunning. "I'm not proposing a criminal act. The item was entrusted to my keeping so I should have every right to examine it more closely." She blushed. "Still, the task I ask of you does require some discretion. I would understand completely if you wished not to be involved."

Stopping her ramblings, Gabriel grasped her delicate chin. "Let me see if I understand this. You require my assistance burglarizing something in your care, entrusted to you by a friend who is unavailable at the moment. The matter is of enough importance for you to stray from your family and risk capture as a common burglar, or a woman plotting an indiscreet liaison."

At his tone of subtle condescension, Sera paused. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and humiliation. Gabriel wondered if she'd just realized how scandalous her present position would seem if her brother stumbled upon her here. With him, gazing into Gabriel's eyes with a sparkling intensity of brandy fire that belied the innocence of her soft doe-brown eyes.

Almost as an afterthought, Gabriel realized he was still grasping Sera's chin. Gently, he allowed his fingers to caress the curve of her jaw. His thumb hovered on the edge of her full lower lip. As if willing his touch, Sera licked the rosy flesh a hair's breadth from his fingertips. Moisture glistened off her lips as they beckoned softly in the moonlight.

Gabriel wondered what thoughts crossed her mind as she stared at his rigid mouth.

"I realize this all must seem most untoward of me, my lord." Sera's voice held a peculiar husky and shallow quality. "I wouldn't ask your assistance if it weren't gravely important. In truth, I haven't thought of anyone else I might confide in or even if I should confide at all." Sera frowned and bit her lip in frustration. "I wish I could explain, but I'm bound by my promise. If my friend was here then I could ask him for his council."

Smug victory glimmered through Gabriel. He wondered if the Angel's little angel would deliver herself into the hands of her lover's enemy. "But as your friend is not available, you wish to enlist my confidence?"

"You do have the most amazing ability to appear when I need you most of late, my lord," Sera ventured in a hopeful voice as if convincing herself of the validity behind her reasoning. "And according to your reputation, well not that I mean it in an insulting manner, but you are a man accounted capable of handling yourself in certain precarious if not nefarious situations. Of course, I would understand completely if you wished not to be involved now that you've settled home."

Gabriel pressed his finger to her lips. Her skin felt soft and warm. He had to force himself to concentrate on the question in her eyes instead of stroking the pulsing flesh beneath his fingertips. "I could hardly reject you in your time of need, Lady Sera. If for no other reason than it wouldn't be neighborly of me. But as your proposition implies a certain danger and discretion, perhaps we should make a bargain."

"A bargain, my lord?" Sera's voice quivered with his touch. "You want payment for your assistance?"

"Not of the kind that jingles one's pockets," he drawled. "I offer you my skill and confidence in exchange for a promise from you."

Sera's eyes sparkled with wonder and hesitation. "What do you want of me?"

Slowly, intentionally, Gabriel trailed the pad of his thumb along the swell of her full lower lip. His fingers gently stroked her chin, coaxing her ever closer to his gaze in the moonlight.

He answered her after an eternity of silent consideration. Surprising himself, Gabriel's voice reflected the same wonder he spotted in her eyes. "The answer to my question," he whispered close enough to bathe her tender lips in the teasing warmth of his breath.

"What question?" Sera whispered in a voice rich with unspoken thoughts and desires. She strained her neck to look into Gabriel's eyes, but he seemed to tower above her. They had drifted so close together that her dress covered the edge of his polished boots. A peculiar wave of heated promise teased the air about them as it did every time they ventured out on the dance floor.

Yet this time there was no audience to keep watch on the scene and ensure the strict rules of propriety were enforced. Gabriel found it difficult to maintain his rigid stance when he sensed his prey was eagerly awaiting him to take her into his arms.

"I confess you inspire many questions in me, Sera," he murmured in a deep almost reverent voice. "Appropriate or not, they trouble me just as easily as they beguile me. Perhaps I should have you answer them one at a time so I'm not in jeopardy of missing any of the answers."

"Do you think that wise, my lord?" she challenged. "Ladies are taught some questions are best left unanswered. I mean, some secrets are meant to be confided in only those a lady trusts most. I wouldn't want to break such a rule improperly."

"Then I must endeavor to win your trust," Gabriel whispered against her lips. He could feel her quick breath, knew the expectation in her lips as he coaxed her mouth closer to his. He decided to kiss her, stilled himself for the gentle assault on her control to finally entice the willing response from his enemy's reckless little angel. He crooned, "I ask only what you would give your dear friend if he was here to assist you."

Sera backed away from his touch, her cheeks flushed in scarlet embarrassment. "Of course, my lord," she said in a tone of self-recrimination. "I wouldn't want to give you cause to question our association with improper demands."

Her words seemed to hold a faint note of disappointment. Briefly, Gabriel wondered if she truly misunderstood his suggestion or expertly defied his clever attempt of seduction. In the next heartbeat, suspicion faded with the assumption that the notion of sharing an intimacy with anyone other than her Angel lover alarmed her. Obviously, Sera was new to the corruption of the assassin's world. The realization pleased Gabriel as much for the promise of how easy it would be to outmaneuver her as the possibility that not all of her beguiling innocence was tainted yet. Perhaps she could be redeemed under his attentive care.

Disturbed by the traitorous meanderings of his thoughts, Gabriel tried to push them aside. Sera's rushed ramblings succeeded where he failed.

"You are an intelligent man and of course you would have questions as to what I ask. I assure you it's nothing illegal, well not strictly speaking," she qualified in a murmur. With a hesitant look to the door, she whispered, "I don't have much time to explain before my brother Adrian comes looking for me tonight." Sera scowled at the notion. "My brothers have taken up the irritating habit of minding me rather zealously of late. They're still a little piqued about Lady Athelridge's. They're returning to London in a few days. Then I believe I can make the arrangements for what I propose." Her eyelashes fluttered with her request, "Assuming you would be most gracious to assist me."

"Pray get to the point, Lady Sera, before I die of curiosity or your brother's angry glare when he discovers the two of us conspiring in the shadows." Gabriel barely masked the frustration seething inside him. It vastly annoyed and captivated him whenever Sera hovered on the edge of his embrace and then retreated before he could indulge himself in what she offered. Even now, as she babbled before him, he saw the direction of her gaze settling on his hungry mouth. She feigned an ignorant innocence but he read the unwritten desire in her sparkling brandy eyes. He knew she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted her, yet she kept her distance. Like the cat that teases the wary little mouse and is teased in return. Gabriel frowned in concentration determined that he would not be the one to pounce first.

"Would you be available to meet me two nights from now? Around midnight?" she proposed. "I promise I'll explain more then, when we have more time."

"I think I could arrange my schedule thus," he drawled. "Precisely where did you have in mind for this midnight rendezvous?"

"Are you familiar with Chilton Manor, my lord? It borders my brother's estate separated only by the main country lane and a small stream from the woods. There's a small footpath behind the church in the woods. The path on the right would take you to Chilton Manor out of earshot of the kennels."

Gabriel nodded as if noting the directions. He wondered how often Sera used such secret paths or the details of how she inquired her expertise at arranging midnight jaunts in the woods. Then another intriguing question came to mind. "You intend to burglarize the viscount's manor?"

"No, my lord, I'll be in the Study," Sera corrected. "Or I should be, hopefully. My friend Miss Athelstan is an early sleeper and with luck won't notice my absence for an hour or so. That should give us plenty of time to carry out my search while her brother's away."

"You will be spending the night with your friend?" Gabriel tried to make sense of her confusing explanation. He noticed the unsheltered curiosity in his voice and quickly worked to cover it with a note of bored disdain. "Chilton is a bachelor, is he not? I'm surprised your attentive brothers would allow you to spend a night in a bachelor's house when your own is so close by."

"It's not customary as Cleo's brother cannot abide guests, but he usually spends a lot of time abroad. He almost never returns early. Of course, if he did that could pose a bit of a problem. Chilton's temperament is...unpredictable. One wouldn't want to be caught lingering amidst his prized possessions alone."

"But you won't be alone, Lady Sera," Gabriel vowed softly. "If you are determined to draft me as your knight-errant, then you must rely on me to protect you from the random difficulties of our secret mission."

His words were treated with a slow, bright smile that seemed to reach all the way into Sera's soul. Brandy sparkles of admiration and naive joy replaced the wary shadows that haunted her dark eyes moments before. She looked on him the way a child gazes at a mythical hero. "I know I can rely on you, Gabriel. In truth, I've thought nothing else since the moment I rounded the bend and found you charging out of the shadows to rescue me from those highwaymen. I know it's fanciful of me, but you seem suited to the role of being my guardian angel."

Gabriel caught himself in mid-smile not knowing exactly why he found Sera's words so appealing, or troubling. His cynicism applauded his efforts to slip beneath her wariness. He sensed her weakness, used her desire for a timely rescuer and knight-in-shining-armor. He should be pleased she had convinced herself his intentions were purely honorable and not the least bit suspicious. But something about the veracity in her adoring doe-brown eyes seemed hauntingly reminiscent of the unwary fawn that blindly entrusts its safety to the hunter only to be betrayed in turn.

Something that could be mistaken for guilt tugged at the corners of Gabriel's mouth. His rigid expression was saved the mar of a frown only by the ruthless reminder of his intention in starting this game of seduction.

"Angel is not a description that suits me well," Gabriel qualified. "But I daresay the heavenly creatures are frequently mistaking you for one of their own."

Sera laughed. "I highly doubt that, my lord." Then her eyes clouded with humble sincerity. "Oh my intentions are good—"

"But the flesh is weak by comparison?" Gabriel smoothly finished. "Headstrong angels are far more appealing if you ask me. Their dented halos bespeak a passion for life that is intriguing and comforting to us mortal creatures. One doesn't need to worry about one's imperfections in their company."

"I can't imagine fear of imperfections high on your list of concerns." She observed with a blanket stare of admiration. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to list your imperfections."

"I fear your neighbors would not agree with you."

A haughty defiance entered Sera's tone. "I make it a rule to ignore gossip, my lord."

"That explains why you've taken it upon yourself to befriend me, I gather." Expertly concealing the shrewdness in his thoughts, Gabriel watched every subtle reaction to his careful challenge. A challenge to her sweet facade, this charming recruitment of a knight-errant for a mysterious midnight robbery. The cynical part of him waited for her pretense to slip and reveal the true reason she was pursuing him just as avidly as he was pursuing her.

"I value your friendship highly, my lord," Sera explained with a wide-eyed gaze.

The darkness made her eyes seem huge and enchanting. It was a sight of mythic beauty, an amber gaze that blazed with a passion he had only dreamed about. For a moment, Gabriel was struck speechless as something surged to life deep inside the coldness of his soul. When he spoke again, his voice seemed devoid of all the biting suspicion plaguing his heart.

"Indeed, as do I. I hope we may become even closer friends, Lady Sera."

A timeless moment of poignant silence passed between them. She stared at him as if considering the obscured meaning of his words. He stared back beneath an unyielding gaze that belied the casualness of his demeanor. Each was trapped in the possibility and passion of their heated gazes.

Her gaze directed at the rigid line of his mouth, Sera bit her lower lip.

Without thinking, Gabriel caressed the bruise away with the pad of his thumb. His last coherent thought was that he had found something silkier than angel's wings. He leaned closer to taste the sweetness she offered.

Distant applause filtered down the hall outside the gallery. Sera twisted away seconds before Gabriel's lips touched hers.

"Cousin Arabella's aria is over!" she gasped, her eyes lit with guilty alarm. "Adrian will have a fit if he finds out I'm not upstairs. I'm sorry, my lord, I have to go."

She picked up her skirts and whirled about to leave. Gabriel caught her before she stumbled over the same Louis the XIV footstool she found earlier in the darkness.

Gabriel suppressed a relieved smile. He was not alone in his clouded senses. "Don't be in such a hurry, Lady Sera," he chided against her ear. "One would think you were in a panic to quit my company."

"Never that, my lord, though I do wonder the wisdom of my desires whenever you use that tone with me," she shrewdly countered. Distant applause turned to the familiar sound of voices and footsteps. Sera bristled as she backed away toward the door. "Please forgive me, Lord Blackstone, but I think I hear people moving and I know my brother will come looking for me. If he finds us together—"

"No need to elaborate, Lady Sera," Gabriel interrupted. "I have no intention of betraying your adventurous activities to your conservative brothers. But I do believe you will find a staircase leading upstairs through the side door behind us."

"Oh, how observant of you, my lord." Sera praised as he led her through the darkness.

Pausing briefly on the threshold of the door, she bestowed an impulsive kiss on Gabriel's hard cheek. The unexpected touch electrified Gabriel into momentary paralysis. "Thank you Gabriel. I knew you were meant to be my guardian angel."

Quelling a surge of guilt and desire, he frowned over Sera's angelic smile. Then with a slightly more impatient tug then he intended, he pulled his supposed foe toward the steps to her escape.

Chapter Eight

EVERYTHING WAS wrong.

Panic gripped Sera as she paced the length of her bedchamber. Underfoot, Miss Cleopatra's kittens tussled in their game of cat-n-mouse. But for Sera the game of predator and prey seemed distinctly unsettling.

She had set out to find a thief, and a blackmailer, instead she had discovered something far more sinister. There were two of Percy's eggs. One in Chilton's curio cabinet and the other in Binky Armitage's puzzle box. Examining the egg in her hands, Sera knew the second was a copy as Lord Blackstone had said. The glass was dull and unfaceted, the engravings misshapen though relatively identical. But it had been convincing enough to fool her initially. And that was the most troubling mystery of all. If there was one copy, who was to say there couldn't be two?

But why?

The question tormented Sera as much as Gabriel's lingering touch the previous night in Lord Kennelworth's gallery. The fact that he had admittedly followed her was enough to alarm any self-respecting young lady. Instead, it left Sera hoping, wishing that he had set out to secretly court her as rumored. Her brothers would be appalled at her private desire, but whenever she was with Gabriel Blackstone she felt the most amazing sensations. A feeling of destiny and danger always overwhelmed her, just as a shield of maddening confusion intentionally kept his true thoughts and intentions from her. Recklessly, she wondered if there would be a way past the shadows with just one tender indulgence akin to Miss Cleopatra's caress of her wandering kitten. Perhaps one kiss would tell Sera if Gabriel was to be a friend like her loyal Percy or something entirely different.

The loud knock at her bedchamber door startled Sera out of her whimsical thoughts. "What is it?" she called out stifling the twinge of pain in her knee when she twisted toward the door.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Chalmers's voice quirked in return. "Should I bring a pot of willowbark tea for you?"

Sera grumbled to herself. It seemed everyone had noticed the strain her newfound love of the waltz had put on her weak knee.

Swinging open the door, she smiled sweetly at the butler. "I'm fine, but since you're offering, I think Miss Cleopatra and her kittens would like a bowl of cream."

"Then they can beg Mrs. Trotter for it in the kitchen," he challenged evenly. "I serve people not pets."

"Then why do I keep finding little bowls of cream smuggled into Miss Cleopatra's bedding in my closet?"

"Obviously the maids have taken up your scandalous example of indulging those creatures," the butler defied with an aloof glare. "If it distresses you, I shall put a stop to it at once."

"And have the entire feline brood glaring at me? No thank you." Sera smiled knowing full well despite his protests, her formal butler was already the self-appointed caretaker of her menagerie. As soon as she turned her back, he would be sneaking in more treats. "What did you want, Chalmers?"

"Your brother wishes to speak with you."

"Which one?"

"Lord Thornbridge is waiting in the Study."

"Did he say what it was about?" Sera hesitated asking.

"The earl didn't discuss the details with me, but he didn't look pleased. I believe he wanted to see you post haste, my lady."

Ruefully processing that bit of information, Sera made her way downstairs to her brother's Study. She paused outside the door to gather her thoughts. Then with a brave sigh, she straightened her shoulders and sauntered in.

"You wanted to see me Magnus?" Sera cheerfully beamed as she casually retrieved an apple from a waiting sideboard. The sound of her audible chomp on the sweet fruit echoed throughout the room. With a pained expression, Thornbridge looked up from his stack of ledgers and daily post.

"Sit down, Seraphina."

"What have I done this time, Magnus?" She mocked his dour mood with a morbid expression. When her attempt at irony only made his frown deepen, Sera dramatically collapsed into the seat before his desk. "Honestly, Magnus, you look as if I'm Pandora out to wreak havoc on the world. Just because I climb a few trees now and then. It's not so terrible."

With a pregnant pause, Thornbridge leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. He surveyed his sister with a long considering look. "It saddens me that you don't care for your own dignity, Sera," he pronounced prudishly.

"You're being melodramatic again, Magnus," Sera argued. "Despite what you may want to believe, I am not such a reckless hoyden. I just don't get wrapped up in the opinions of others."

"You are a member of this family, Sera. And whether you like it or not your actions directly reflect our family's honor," Thornbridge countered. "The more questionable those actions become, the weaker it makes this family and me appear in the eyes of our peers."

Sera rolled her eyes heavenward. "Please Thornbridge, you're beginning to sound as pretentious as those government friends of yours. If being independent makes a family seem weak, then those making such judgments show their own weakness of ineptitude. Strong families breed strong sons and daughters. Even Mrs. Wollenstonecraft says that in her book."

At the banned author's name, the earl bounded from his seat to glare at his sister. "Damnation Sera, you just can't run off like you did last night! You can't let your curiosity take you wherever you want!"

So that was it, Sera silently acknowledged. Her escorts must have confessed their suspicions of Sera's mysteriously long absence from the Kennelworth music room. Sera feigned a lighthearted dismissive tone. "I told Adrian and Beryl that I simply took a wrong turn on my way to freshen up. Kennelworth Hall is a big place especially in the dark."

The earl continued to glare suspiciously at his sister.

"All right, I confess Magnus," Sera conceded. "I wasn't exactly in a hurry to return. You know how hard Lady Kennelworth's cousin is on the ears. No matter where one goes, the sound follows you like a howling wind."

Looking down his stern nose, Thornbridge let out a laboring sigh as he leaned on the edge of his desk. Towering above his little sister like a mournful bird of prey, he frowned. "I've done the best I could being brother, father and mother to you, Sera. I realize it must have been difficult for you to grow up amidst all males with only female servants to guide you, but I have always tried to see you received the best education possible for a young lady of your standing, haven't I?"

Unaccustomed to the forthright display of emotion from her imperious brother, Sera stared at him in mild shock. She had not seen him spare any emotion except anger or irritation in years. He was always the leader, the commander of a burgeoning reckless brood of Montgomeries. Some believed he had nothing but steel in his heart, but Sera more than most knew the depth of his loyalty and love to his family. "You've done a fine job, Magnus. Mama and Papa would be proud of you. You made me independent and strong."

His expression resolute, Thornbridge glared. "I'm beginning to think I may have spoiled you too much, Seraphina. I left you alone here in the country too often, let you get into mischief and believe you have more control than you do. Perhaps Uncle Silas is right and you should be settled down with a husband and children to look after instead of kittens."

The business tone in her brother's voice sent waves of alarm through Sera. She had to bite her tongue in a bid for calm. "Magnus, with all due respect to your worry, I am simply not ready to marry."

"Why not?" he countered. "You are twenty-one years old now. That's more than old enough to wed."

"You're forgetting a little matter of a groom, for one thing," she snapped testily. "It's customary to have one in mind before one considers marriage."

"Now that I've reconsidered, I think Lord Lacey may be appropriate," Thornbridge extolled pretentiously. "Despite his choice in fashion, Adrian is right about him having a good mindset. I think he has a promising future in the Exchequer."

"He's boring," Sera retorted.

"He would make a stable husband for you."

"I don't want stable, Magnus!" Sera insisted in a burst of anger. "I want to find a husband who keeps me guessing as much as he makes me feel loved and wanted."

"Where did you get those fanciful ideas?" the earl growled like a beleaguered lion. "Marriage is a noble institution of families and estates, Sera, not a romantic poem."

"Mama and Papa loved each other to the end," Sera baldly countered. "They died in each other's arms because neither could abandon the other in the river. And you won't remarry because you can't bear to have another wife besides Julia."

"I have no need to remarry," her brother grumbled uncomfortably. "Julias is my heir."

"You still love her," Sera challenged. "That's why her portrait hangs in your bedchamber and this Study. Adrian loves Beryl that way, too. Remember how he kept calling for her when he was sick in Quatre Bras? They're inseparable now. That's the kind of marriage I want, Magnus. Not one of contracts and dowries but of love and eternal passion."

The earl stared at his sister as if she had just been revealed to him. Hope and longing haunted her big brown eyes pleading for understanding and patience. Resolutely, Thornbridge closed his fist. "You make too much of loyalty and mutual admiration, Sera. I had not realized these romantic tendencies of yours were becoming so dangerous for you. Clearly it has corrupted your thinking."

The businesslike manner of her brother's voice sent shockwaves of unease through Sera. "I mean it Magnus, I will only marry for love. Not because my brothers find it convenient to marry me off so they don't have to worry about the disgrace my exploits might cause."

"Your brothers have no intention of just palming you off, Sera," Thornbridge commanded. "You can be assured that I will find you a respectable husband. Someone reliable and attentive."

"It's my place to choose who I marry, Magnus!" she challenged.

"As your legal guardian, I insist that you rely on my guidance in this matter." In a military stride, the earl returned to his seat behind the desk. "I have been remiss in my duties, but that is a situation I intend to rectify. When you come to Town for the Season this year, I will introduce you to some appropriate candidates as Uncle Silas suggested. You may choose from among them."

"Don't trust me to find my own potential husband?" Sera mocked.

"Quite frankly, your judgment has been impaired lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sera balked before she thought better of it. From the clenching of her brother's fist, she had a nasty suspicion where this conversation was headed. To a topic she'd been hoping to avoid and obviously her guardian had been silently fuming over for weeks. Ever since he returned home to find she had made the acquaintance of East Chatham's most notorious resident.

"Do you have any notion of the position you put me in, Sera?" the earl quietly raged. "You are the daughter of an Earl of Thornbridge. That gives you an enviable position in Society. There are dandies who would fall at your feet to have your family's connections. Or worse, with your reckless independence, there are bounders who wish only to play with your affections for the honor of disgracing this family."

"I'm not some green girl fresh out of the schoolroom, Magnus," Sera chided. "I can tell the difference between honorable gentleman and ne'er-do-wells. I can handle both."

"You do not handle anything by baiting me in public with Blackstone!" Thornbridge shouted angrily.

"I didn't bait you," Sera protested. "It was just a simple dance at Lady Athelridge's. I didn't even know it was to be a waltz."

"Dances," her brother corrected. His jaw was so tight, she could see the tiny muscles twitch all the way up to his ears. Sera half expected steam to emerge from her brother's head. "You have danced with Blackstone at every social in the past three weeks," he seethed.

"What does that signify?" Sera retorted. "Neighbors generally dance at social gatherings. It means nothing."

"You don't comprehend the difficult position you have placed me, do you?" the earl accused. "Everyone knows I and your brothers object, but you insist on brazenly flaunting your preference for Blackstone. East Chatham believes he's courting you and they're waiting for me, as your guardian, to put an end to it by any means necessary."

Bothered by the any means necessary comment, Sera nervously bit her lower lip. "Magnus, be reasonable about this. A few dances do not make a courtship, especially when one's family and neighbors are constantly watching. Lord Blackstone is a friend to me, yes, but he's also a respectable neighbor. And beyond unsubstantiated rumor, why would you have any cause to object, if courtship was the intention? Lord Blackstone is an earl with a respectable fortune and estate of his own."

"Gabriel Blackstone is a dangerous man, Sera!" her brother hissed. "He's not as charming as he seems. Like his family, he's devious and cunning and—"

"Don't you dare call Blackstone a bloody pirate, Magnus," Sera raged. "You're being as close-minded and judgmental as that owl-faced Lady Athelridge."

"There are things you don't know about the man, Sera. He has a dangerous reputation in Town."

"I don't listen to rumor and neither should you, Magnus." Sera crossed her arms and beamed a dismissive look at her brother. "Mama and Papa taught us better."

"Don't take that tone with me, little sister," Thornbridge sternly warned. "Our parents' deaths left me responsible for you and that means sometimes I must make judgments in your best interests. Harsh as they may be, let me make myself perfectly clear. There is to be no courtship with Blackstone, implied or formal. You are to avoid him, except in certain social occasions when the damnable man turns up. And most importantly, you are not to favor him with a dance or go off on anymore explorations alone."

Sera stared impassively at her brother. He glared back demanding through sheer will for her acknowledgment and obedience to his edict. Her brother's unyielding stance sent chills through Sera's spine. Just as the thought of banning Gabriel Blackstone from her life filled her with an opposing icy resolve.

"I mean it, Sera," Thornbridge demanded. "I will not leave for London until I know that you understand my decision on this matter."

"You're going to London?"

"I have some business in Town to tend to next week," the earl explained. "I will leave tomorrow and return in a week. I expect you to behave while I'm gone, Sera."

"Whatever you say, Magnus." Sera beamed a relieved smile and quickly jumped up to give her brother an impulsive hug. "I promise to stay out of any trees. Miss Cleopatra can just jump down like she did the last time."

Sharing his sister's infectious joy, Thornbridge smiled at her. "In a month, the Season will start up in Town. Beryl can help you select a new wardrobe and we'll open the townhouse for the family." Then with a wistful sigh, he added, "If all goes well, this could be your last Season with your overbearing brothers fighting to be your escort, Sera."

"What a thought," Sera affected a humorously mocking tone. "I hope it's a long Season then, because I wouldn't want to give that up so easily. It's about the only time each of you actually wants to be with me rather than your business, battles and affairs." With a teasing grin and jaunty step, Sera quickly made for the door. She had almost successfully escaped her brother's inquisition, when his words stilled her hand on the doorknob.

"Sera, don't forget your promise to me," Thornbridge commanded sharply. "You are to stay away from Blackstone."

Her mind whirled a moment of cunning confusion. Knowing she couldn't agree, especially given her plans for the next evening in Chilton's Study, but also knowing God hated liars. Tentatively, Sera replied. "As you wish, Magnus. I promise I won't share anymore dances with Lord Blackstone."

Chapter Nine

LEAVES DANCED restlessly on the wind the following night. Chilton Manor loomed across the meadow bordering East Chatham's haunted woods. The beginnings of a spring storm swept through the carefully groomed gardens and beckoned against the glass doors guarding the viscount's abandoned Study. The bewitching hour tolled on the distant church bells serenading all gentle folk in sleep. The manor was cloaked in darkness, but then a tiny glimmer of candle flame overwhelmed the forbidden domain of the master's Study.

Illuminated by the flickering amber fire, Sera slipped quickly and carefully through the room on a path to the French doors. She bit her lower lip when she noticed the approaching storm. With a worried frown, Sera gently pushed open the garden doors.

Candlelight sputtered wildly in a gust of cold rainy wind. Sera's demure wrapper and nightgown whipped around her legs in an enticing display of innocence and recklessness. Urgently, she whispered into the night. "My lord?" Her gaze searched the darkness clinging to an opposing wall of creeping vine. "Lord Blackstone?"

In reply, the vines trembled with a stormy breeze. Then the shadows began to congeal into a single approaching giant. His misty green eyes studied his prey with a mesmerizing glare. Gabriel stopped just a foot from the open doors. "I'm here as you requested, my lady."

Silent fascination dumbfounded Sera. The awkward smile creeping across her youthful face followed a moment later. "Of course you would come. I was afraid the storm might frighten you away. I wish I could have arranged for this mission another night, but Chilton will return from his races tomorrow and—"

"The storm has yet to begin," Gabriel interrupted. "Regardless, I would not let anything distract me from your intriguing request for assistance. Are you alone?"

"What?" Sera quirked in surprise at the subtle suspicion edging his question. Then she realized she was still guarding the door and keeping both of them exiled to the rain. "Yes, I hope so. My friend, Cleo, drifted off an hour ago, but I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep before I could venture down here. The house seems quiet. Please, come in."

Sera stepped aside and watched as the rustling breeze escorted her dark guest inside. Sealing out the restless winds, Gabriel closed the French doors behind him.

Silence echoed ominously across the dark room. The smell of fresh spring rain cloaked Gabriel with the same intensity his charm masked his intentions. Shrewdly, he observed Sera. Her informal attire in the presence of a gentleman would shame most country innocents, but she seemed oddly comfortable facing Gabriel. Her fawn-colored eyes implored and cherished him.

"You're staring again," he pointed out in a low voice.

"Oh, sorry." Sera blushed, turning her stare on the candle in her hand. "I never used to do that, but you have an unusual affect on me, my lord." The blurted confession sent flames of embarrassment through Sera. As if scalded, she turned her back and retreated farther into the room. Stopping at the Chilton's desk, Sera distractedly laid down the candle. "I do hope you didn't have any trouble finding your way through the woods," she whispered.

"No," Gabriel replied. "Your directions were most clear."

"Did the kennels give you any problems? Minotaur usually causes a big stir whenever he hears noises in the night. His bark tends to rile all the dogs into a frenzy."

"I know how to move with stealth, Lady Sera," Gabriel whispered in her ear.

Startled, she turned around to find him towering above her. "So I see," Sera gasped. "I never knew you were in Lord Kennelworth's gallery before you reached for me. It's unusual that you move so gracefully for such a large man."

"No more unusual than a lady who wishes to burglarize her friend's house," he observed with a wry tone. "Exactly what is it you intend to steal?"

"Steal?" Sera echoed in surprise. "No, you misunderstand. I don't want to steal anything," she flustered. "Just get a better look."

"At what?" he wondered.

Without a word, Sera edged around Gabriel and beckoned him to a tall, glass curio cabinet beside the desk. Lowering the candle flame to the middle shelf, she allowed the amber light to illuminate the interior.

"At that," Sera pointed. Amidst a dozen tiny treasures sat a familiar jeweled egg perched atop a velvet box.

Recognition and surprise filled Gabriel's otherwise impassive expression.

"You see the similarity to the egg in Sir Armitage's cabinet," Sera observed with a shrewd grin. "Now you know how I felt. From here they look identical, but I was led to believe it was a one of a kind. Do you think you can open the cabinet? Chilton keeps the key on him most of the time now and I'm terrible with locks, as you saw from the other night with the puzzle box."

"Why does Chilton have the key?" Confusion echoed in Gabriel's voice.

"It's a long story," Sera dismissed. "He was supposed to keep things safe, but I fear there has been trouble afoot. Cleo's brother is too rude to let me examine the egg more closely. I hope you know a means of springing a lock without the key."

Measuring her pleading expression a lingering moment, Gabriel's confusion warred with curiosity. Her words were a mystery, but the replica Triad egg beckoned ominously from its unexpected nest. With a resolved shrug, Gabriel shed his cloak on a nearby chair and retrieved a piece of thin wire from his pocket. A few seconds of careful labor over the delicate lock and the cabinet door swung easily open.

"That's very clever, my lord," Sera praised. "I knew you could open the cabinet for me. You don't know how many times I wished I could have done the same. Before all this mess started."

Ignoring her rambling chatter, Gabriel plucked the mysterious egg from its velvet throne. Turning it between his fingers, he examined the trinket in the light from Sera's candle. Amber flame caressed the surface in a kaleidoscope of multicolored glass. Where relief shone in his eyes, concern filled Sera's.

She ran a frantic eye over the unique hieroglyphic design. "It's not real, is it?"

"These gems are more finely cut then the facsimile in Armitage's keeping," Gabriel acknowledged.

"But both are glass and brass," Sera concluded in a near wail. "It's a fake. Oh dear, I was afraid of this. I knew it was too much to assume the thief would remain honorable after I was late. What am I going to do now? If Chilton finds out, poor Cleo will be devastated."

Questions intrigued Gabriel at Sera's flurry of words, but another mystery caught his eye in the random sputtering of candle flame. In the shadows gripping the middle shelf directly behind where the jeweled egg laid, another oval shape gleamed. Reaching in, Gabriel discovered an exact duplicate of the first egg. Curious, he examined further and found two more glass and brass copies. All had the same poorly engraved drawings of Triad symbols.

Sera stared at the collection filling Gabriel's hands. Her doe-brown eyes grew wide and wary. "They're all copies?" she murmured in alarm. "All hiding on the same shelf. But why?"

"If one had a valuable object," Gabriel thought aloud, "one might duplicate it so as to confuse a possible thief."

"Of course, that horrid man!" Sera raged.

"Who Sera?" Gabriel prodded. "Your friend?"

Compelled by her own raging thoughts, Sera abruptly shook her head. She paced before the cabinet in rigid, angry steps. "Chilton's to blame for this. That greedy, selfish—" She halted before speaking the blasphemous name on her lips. "No wonder he never noticed the original was missing. All this time he's been making copies of the egg for his own greedy uses. That would explain why Sir Armitage had it in his gaming cabinet. Chilton is a terrible gambler, but he's found creative ways of paying his debts. The scoundrel!" she cursed.

Gabriel replaced the duplicate eggs on the shelf and leaned against the desk. He watched her with hooded eyes measuring her words with his usual laconic stare. She spoke with intensity, but his cynical nature refused to confirm or deny the veracity of her explanation.

Sera's rage slowly turned to agitation. She carefully replaced the last egg to its velvet perch and closed the cabinet. Mumbling something about leaving Chilton's collection undisturbed, she cast a worried eye over the fake treasure. "But if all those are Chilton's copies, then where is the genuine egg?" she whispered to herself.

"Are you certain there ever was one?" Gabriel suggested. "The gems are convincing if you only see them through the glass in that cabinet."

"Yes, I'm positive." Sera nodded adamantly. "The one I held, the original, is made of real emeralds, rubies and sapphires. The engravings are much more detailed. I studied it for hours, my lord, before Chilton got his hands on it. I knew I never should have trusted him. And Cleo—"

"You trusted your friend with a priceless treasure?" Gabriel tried to understand.

"She didn't mean to lose it, just look at it for the night," Sera argued with herself. "I know it was foolish, but how was she to know the thief would be so bold as to invade her bedchamber. He should have returned it once the ransom was paid, like Mrs. Bunpenny's figurine. I knew I shouldn't have been late that night! It's my fault. What am I going to do now?"

Seizing the opportunity, Gabriel caught Sera's trembling hands in his. He felt the anxiety drain from her with each passing moment he gazed into her eyes. A gentle calm stretched between them, enticing and relaxing at the same time. "You can start by answering my questions," he pronounced.

The calculating tone of his voice gave Sera pause. Slowly, she nodded. "Of course, my lord. I know I am not making much sense, but there is a certain delicate nature to this matter."

"You can trust me, Sera," Gabriel encouraged.

She stared at him the way a deer studies an attacking lion. "I wouldn't want to involve you with my burdensome problems, my lord."

"Gabriel," he corrected. "We are friends, are we not?"

"Yes," Sera agreed tentatively. "But this is not something I have confided. Even to Cleo."

"Since that night on the lane, I have kept your confidence," Gabriel pressured softly. "Trust me now, Sera, and I will help you take that secret worry away."

She bit her lower lip. The enticing gesture sent ripples of nagging impulse through Gabriel. Cold determination to convert the Angel's little angel into his informant warred with a desire to soothe the worry out of her delicate features. Absentmindedly, Gabriel caressed her chin. Leather gloves stroked warm silken skin in a mutually distracting display of affection. Sera leaned into Gabriel's touch. Willed by the moment, he pulled her closer.

Keys jingled in the hallway. Approaching footsteps resounded outside the Study door.

"Mrs. Honeycut, the housekeeper," Sera shrieked. "I locked the door, but we mustn't be caught in here or else she'll tell Chilton."

The footsteps grew louder until finally stopping and shuffling just beyond the door. Then keys began to rattle in the lock. An audible click announced the impending invasion.

The sound of the knob turning motivated Gabriel into action. He swiftly blew out the candle on the desk, gathered his cloak in one hand and ushered Sera toward the French doors with the other. The pair slipped into the garden moments before the Study door opened behind them.

Seeking shelter amidst the shadowy vines, Gabriel and Sera watched uneasily as the newly vigilant housekeeper bolted the French doors. "She's locked us out," Sera fretted against Gabriel's shoulder.

"So it appears," he acknowledged as he wrapped his cloak tighter around them. The air was chilled, also alarmingly sweet to him. Rain droplets began to fall forcing Sera to cling to the warmth of her protector's chest.

"There's a trellis in the East Wing," she searched her mind for alternatives. "It's near Cleo's bedchamber terrace. If we could get there before the rain falls harder, I could climb it to get inside."

"While entertaining to observe, I doubt that will be necessary." Gabriel's voice echoed smoothly against Sera's delicate ear.

"Why not?" she asked, her breath noticeably skipping a beat. The warmth of Gabriel's breath upon her skin inflamed a thousand times more than the savage wind.

"A door lock is as easy to pick as a cabinet," he pronounced softly.

"Oh, yes," Sera caught herself gasping. "I was forgetting your unusual skill, my lord."

"You were going to call me by my given name, remember?" he chided. "You have no need to be afraid, Sera. When the housekeeper leaves, I'll see you safely inside. Unless what you fear is to be alone with me?"

"No, of course not," she protested against his chest. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then why are you clinging to me like a lost kitten?" Gabriel challenged.

"It's cold," she shivered after a moment's silence. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for a stormy night in the garden."

"I noticed," Gabriel bluntly remarked. The faint touch of unwanted discomfort in his voice caused Sera to look up into his eyes. The mist in his green orbs appeared to smolder in the most curious way.

"I think the storm is getting worse," she ventured when the rain droplets multiplied to a light shower. "Maybe we should try your skills on another door before we get drenched."

"And say good night prematurely?" he challenged with an enticing stare. "I'm not about to let you out of my sight yet, Sera. Not until you've answered my questions."

"My lord...I mean, Gabriel, perhaps there is a better time for this discussion."

"We have a bargain, have we not?" he countered. "I have assisted in settling your curiosity and now you must settle mine."

Remembering the deal they struck in Kennelworth's gallery, Sera slowly nodded. "I suppose I at least owe you an explanation of my clandestine searches."

"Among other things," Gabriel interjected. "In particular, I am curious about that egg."

"It's a long story," Sera hesitated.

"So you have said. I gather you believed a local thief to have stolen the object while it was in your friend's keeping, but you assumed it had been returned some time later?"

"Chilton wouldn't let me open the cabinet to see," Sera admitted. "He probably didn't want me to find out he was making all those forgeries, the wastrel!"

"If the original egg is made of real gemstones, as you said, why would you expect a thief to return it?"

"Because that's what this particular rogue does," Sera explained. "He steals small things, trinkets mostly, which are important only to the owners. He stole a wedding gift from one of the widows in the village earlier this week."

"Mrs. Bunpenny's figurine?" Gabriel remembered a snippet of her earlier words.

"Yes. It was just a small thing, something to remember her husband by. The thief generally preys on women because he knows only they'd be sentimental enough to ransom back meaningless trinkets."

"But the egg isn't meaningless, is it Sera?" Gabriel pinned her with an unyielding look. Fear trembled through her, robbing her voice and making her seek the comfort of Gabriel's warm embrace.

"I don't know exactly," she mumbled against his shirt in a small voice. The weight of the world seemed to burden her shoulders. Unconsciously, Gabriel pulled her closer and began to massage the tension from her.

"It's all a mess, now," she cried. "I tried my best to keep my promise, but then those odious thieves stopped me on the road. I knew I should have taken the woodland path instead. Then I would not have been late to the cemetery and would have gotten the egg back."

"That was why you were on the road the night we met?" Gabriel sharply accused. "To pay blackmail?"

Sera weakly nodded against him. "The note said to leave the money in the urn and it would be returned the next day, but it wasn't. I was so worried, but then when Chilton returned, it magically reappeared in the curio cabinet. He probably had so many duplicates, he just didn't notice it was gone. Thank goodness."

"Something confuses me, Sera. If that egg is of such great importance to you that you'd brave highwaymen at midnight, why is it in your neighbor's curio cabinet?"

Sera held her answer a hesitating moment. Leaning against Gabriel's chest, her voice shivered with mournful apology. "It's all my fault," she moaned. "If I hadn't been so afraid of what was in the notes, I would have read them sooner. Before we planted the tulip. Then the egg would still be hidden exactly as he wanted."

"Who wanted?" Gabriel prodded. "Who asked you to hide the egg, Sera?"

"A friend," she whimpered. "The dearest friend I ever had and I failed him!" Tears began to fall down Sera's cheeks. She sniffled against the warmth of Gabriel's cloak. Her sobs echoed of wretched longing, of the kind easily mistaken for a lover's cry. "Oh, if only Cleo and I hadn't found the egg in the soil, then Chilton wouldn't have gotten his grubby hands on it. I thought it was safe in the cabinet. Cleo's brother is usually so meticulous about his things. That's the only reason I didn't take it back, because I knew, or thought, he'd miss it right away. But now it could be anywhere! What am I going to do, Gabriel?"

Trying to make sense of her confusing wail, Gabriel tilted Sera's chin up. Her eyes gleamed with fresh tears, her voice edged with guilt and sorrow. Pointedly, he noticed the way she avoided naming her dearest friend. Cynicism told him despite the fragile sobs, the lady was wily and wary enough to guard her lover's identity.

"You're going to trust me," he declared. Gabriel held her gaze, willing her acceptance. "I won't let you face your friend's wrath alone."

His words confused her, but Sera was entranced by the gentle fire lurking in Gabriel's eyes. An ear-piercing crack of thunder lit up the night sky. Sera jumped as the rain began to pour around them. Deftly, Gabriel pulled her into the embrace of an alcove shielded from the driving rain. Squeezed nearly atop one another, the two huddled in the shadows.

A passionate moment enveloped them. Gabriel felt the heat of Sera's gaze upon him. She cherished him with her brandy orbs. The sweet fire sparkled like honey and warm spring sun. She smelled of wild flowers and all things refreshingly new. She seemed both untouched and forever longing a lover's caress.

Bearing his hand to the wind, Gabriel indulged himself in the touch of her cheek. The sensation enthralled him. "Softer than an angel's wings," he murmured. "Your name suits you. Seraphina, one born of angels with the power to beguile and inspire. Do you know the thoughts you inspire in me, love?"

Rubbing her chin against his hand, she seemed to purr like Miss Cleopatra's kittens. The gentle strength in Gabriel's touch weakened and exhilarated her in the same breath. "I must confess you inspire me to lose all my thoughts, save those of you, Gabriel. I know tis not proper, but I can't seem to stop wondering..."

"Wondering what, love?" Gabriel's eyes lingered over her lips.

"What it would be like to kiss you," she admitted. A nervous blush crept across her face. "Not that I, well I mean, I don't mean to embarrass or shock you."

"I told you I am not so easily embarrassed." Gabriel allowed his thumb to sketch the contour of Sera's velvet lips. "I share your curiosity, love. From the first moment I saw you huddled on the road before me, smiling your sweet angelic grin, I wondered if your lips would taste like the nectar of Earthen bees or the sweet ambrosia of the gods. That question has kept me occupied many nights."

"It has?" she questioned enthralled by his words as much as by his gentle ministrations.

"You doubt me?" Gabriel challenged. "You are a beautiful, enticing woman Sera. Any man would fight to posses you, even if for only one brief caress of your lips."

Sera swallowed nervously. Her mouth began to water and her breath quickened.

"I have ached for your caress, yet you continually tease and deny me," Gabriel continued.

"I do?" Sera stumbled over the revelation. It didn't seem real to her as she inhaled Gabriel's intoxicating scent of warm leather and wild spice. She automatically licked her lower lip and inadvertently touched his thumb. Salty and sweet, the taste shocked an intrigued her. With a gleam of childish pleasure, she repeated the accidental caress. "I don't mean to," she whispered against his fingers. "That is, I know I should object, but in truth I find it difficult to do all the things I should do as a proper lady. Especially when I'm with you, Gabriel."

Enticingly, she studied him through half-closed eyes. Gabriel saw the passion spring to life in her brandy gaze. She seduced him with her sweet words, uttered in the confession of a country innocent. Slowly, methodically, he had turned her thoughts from her betrayal of her mysterious dearest friend to the hidden desire she harbored for him. The calculating spy paused on the verge of triumph, knowing that she was ready to be molded to his cunning will. In the same moment, Gabriel's icy resolve was undone by the simple touch of an angel.

Unable to bear the silence or her curiosity any longer, Sera tentatively touched her lips to Gabriel's. A sweet embrace that began as innocently as the storm that surged around them. A tickle of moisture scented with ambrosia and a blush of spring.

They nibbled gingerly, tasting and teasing each other's lips. Gently, indulging themselves in the feel of supple silk against unyielding leather. Then thunder rumbled in the distance echoing the explosive surge of overwhelming need and desire that gripped Gabriel.

He took Sera into his arms, crushing her against him with an almost savage need. "Neither ambrosia nor honey," he cooed against her mouth.

"Gabriel?" she murmured in return. The feeling claiming Sera was indescribable. Intoxicating and terrifying, she felt her mind slipping beyond her control. Slipping into a void of sensation and desire only. Her only anchor was the gentle giant who beckoned softly against her lips.

"Your taste is unique, my sweet. Open your lips for me," he ordered.

Encouraged by the gentle command of his thumb tugging on her chin, Sera obeyed. With a masculine growl of satisfaction, Gabriel deepened the kiss. Sera was shocked and enticed as much by his taste of exotic brandy as by the unexpected caress of Gabriel's tongue against her own. Expertly, he baited and teased her methodically and unwittingly teaching her this new form of erotic dance.

A tingling sensation trickled down from Sera's lips, slowly filling her head with dizzying thoughts and her body with a curious heat. Instinctually, she wrapped her arms around Gabriel, clinging to him for both warmth and protection from this sensual storm.

Encircling her in his hands, Gabriel's wandering fingers slipped beneath the confines of Sera's thin wrapper. Only a soft muslin nightgown barred him from the feel of her skin, but he felt the heat begin to pulse in her blood. His hands caressed her, measuring and stroking all the unclaimed regions of her womanly form. The swell of a slender thigh, the tenderness of her back, the gentle curve of an eager breast. He teased the nipple to harden.

Sera fidgeted nervously against Gabriel's hands. Raw passion dictated her actions. She returned his kiss with as much intensity as the storm. They savored each other. Enticing, cherishing, seducing all thought or will other than the desire to caress and adore each other with their warmth and touch. When passion had obliterated coherent thought in her mind, Sera would have given anything to Gabriel.

Dimly, Gabriel realized the kiss had gone too far. He meant to confuse her, seduce her fear in favor of trusting him, but his own control was rapidly slipping away. With each scintillating whimper from the back of her throat, each angelic flutter of her kiss, each delicious tremble of her body against his hands, he was seduced himself.

With his last determined vestige of sanity, Gabriel forced himself to pull away. He intended to put a respectable distance between them, but his traitorous arms refused to let her go. With a touch of impatience, Gabriel growled affectionately against Sera's forehead. "If I'm not careful you will be the death of me."

Sera leaned against Gabriel's chest, clinging to him as she labored to catch her errant thoughts and breath. The sounds of his steady heartbeat comforted her. She nuzzled the warmth with a whimsical smile. "I might say the same thing of you, Gabriel. My brother says you are dangerous."

"Does he?"

"I must admit, I am inclined to agree." Sera nodded against him. Her voice echoed with teasing charm. "When you kiss me, I quite forget to breathe. It's odd that I should enjoy it."

Tilting her gaze toward him, Gabriel studied the lingering passion in her eyes. "I think you have a passion for many dangerous pursuits, my sweet. I envision enjoying sharing them with you."

Her eyes sparkled at the prospect. "My brother, Magnus, would say that is a reckless proposition."

"You trust me, don't you Sera?" Gabriel challenged softly.

She hesitated for only the briefest of moments. Then the most brilliant and inspiring smile he had ever seen claimed her angelic face. "Yes, Gabriel, yes. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone. You won't disappoint me, will you?"

"In what way?" Gabriel paused at the subtle change in Sera's voice. From naive and idealistic to shrewd and determined.

"You will help me in my dangerous quest?" she pressured. "To keep my friends promise. Please Gabriel, you're the only one I can turn to. The only one I can trust to help me find the thief who stole the egg."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed in recognition. His stance became rigid and cautious as thoughts whirred through his mind. "Sera, when was the last time you saw this friend of yours?"

"Last year," she replied beneath hooded eyes.

"Do you expect to see him any time soon?"

"No," Sera answered in a mist of confusion and some darker emotion. "But I have to find that egg before..."

"Before what?" He pressed when he saw the familiar worry and terror come to her innocent eyes.

"I can't explain." She glanced warily at the darkened manor. "Not now. Not here. I probably shouldn't even tell you."

Gently, he stroked her cheek. "You're not afraid to trust me, remember love?"

Sera hovered in his touch a cherishing moment. "No, I mean yes. It's just that he said I should never mention it. Especially here."

"Your dearest friend told you that?"

Sera nodded. "But there is a place if you could meet me again. At the old Roman Ruins across from your estate. I promise I'll explain as much as I can and we can plan a way of finding the thief."

Noticing the intent twinkle in Sera's eye, Gabriel reconciled himself to discretion. "If you wish, we will arrange another rendezvous. As you devised this one, I trust you don't mind if I tend the details of the next?"

"Of course," Sera blushed. "I was forgetting your position. I wouldn't want to keep you from more pressing estate matters. At your convenience we can meet. Hopefully, before my brother returns next week," she added.

"At the moment, you are my most pressing matter, Sera," Gabriel smiled warmly. He cast a frown over her achingly thin attire. "Speaking of which, I better get you inside before you catch your death of cold."

"You know sometimes you begin to sound like my overprotective family, Gabriel." Sera observed wryly as he hustled her to the nearest door.

Bending to his task of picking the library door, Gabriel stopped abruptly at her next words.

"Your father was right," Sera casually mentioned. "You were born to be a guardian, Gabriel."

Quirking a suspicious brow at the naively accurate description, he silently wondered what thoughts truly hid beneath her innocent charm. "Just as you were born to belong to the angels?"

The sharpness of his tone killed the mirth in hers. "Sometimes you say the most vexing things, Gabriel. I don't know whether you are complimenting or cursing me."

Flicking the door open, Gabriel wrapped a halting hand around Sera's wrist. "Mistake not this," he vowed with a determined stare, "be you angel or vixen, you will belong to me."

Quelling all chance of question, Gabriel sealed his promise with a kiss that threatened to leave both dazed and numb. Then just as quickly as it had begun, Gabriel tore himself from the indulgence. He gently pushed Sera across the threshold of the library door. Without a word, he turned and stalked off into the shadows of the night.

Chapter Ten

THE WIND howled against Mirabella as the night storm continued to rage across East Chatham. The hour was late, the house asleep save for its newest master who tirelessly slaved over his hidden work in the private gallery.

It was a pleasant room. A longtime favorite of his father's that entertained Gabriel as well. Grecian sculptures guarded the windows while paintings by the fine Antwerp artists graced the walls. His father's collection of porcelain angels crowded the mantelpiece. Upon his return, Gabriel added his own contribution to the eclectic Blackstone treasures.

Perched atop a slanted artist's table were drawings created over a lifetime of endless travel and torment. Scribbling had become Gabriel's respite. It gave him the time he needed to contemplate what he found impossible to understand.

When his enemies threatened to overwhelm him, the Guardian brooded over his fanciful drawings. When his thoughts were riled, working on the detailed musings soothed him. Hours of endless scratching on paper allowed him to let his mind wander until it focused. Then he would know exactly what to do to thwart his opponent. Or what clever tactic was required to achieve his mission.

But this opponent, this mission, was more complicated than the rest. Consequently, his current drawing was more elaborate than its older kin.

The image on paper dominated Gabriel's thoughts. A mythical creature wrapped in windswept robes of an angel, or a siren. Sera's cherub face gazed back at him with the whimsy and curiosity of his imaginings. Every day he worked on the drawing, he added a new quality, a new detail of her.

A piece of charcoal in his hand, Gabriel meticulously perfected the latest detail to capture his fancy. With the skill of an artist in love with his work, he drew the delicate curve of Sera's lips. Fondly, he remembered their sweet softness. Honey and silk with an intoxicating aura of brandy.

"Damn it to hell," Gabriel cursed himself for the obsession plaguing his senses.

Just thinking of Sera clouded his mind and body like a schoolboy encountering his first taste of amour. He was eager to be with her. He wanted to feel her slender body pressed against his. He thought one calculated kiss would remove this torment from him, but it only worsened.

She kissed him like an angel.

Tentative, delicate and with more raw passion that he ever credited in a living soul, Sera lost herself completely in their brief embrace. Her fiery response inspired his own temporary madness, or so he thought. For several alarming moments in Chilton's garden, Gabriel thought of nothing beyond bedding his country hoyden.

When he first decided to seduce her, it was a matter of stealth. Merely a tactical decision made in the game of spies and traitors. Something had happened to alter his rigid plan. Something that defied Gabriel from the moment he laid eyes on the reckless imp staring up at him from the lane.

He wanted Sera. He needed to possess her angelic softness from the inside out. These games of kiss and run were only making the desire grow to uncontrollable levels.

He told himself he had her exactly where he intended. She had given her trust. Yes, she continued to withhold the all-important name of her dearest friend, but he would seduce her lover's identity out of her. She was vulnerable to his touch and that would be her undoing.

Something nagged at Gabriel. A fact that he seemed resistant to accept. A flaw in his carefully constructed plan of seduction.

She kissed him like an angel. With all the gentle hesitation and sweet honesty of passion that almost made him forget she had been and probably still was the mistress of the man that murdered his father.

The gallery door unexpectedly creaked open. Gabriel glared at the intruder until recognition settled his battle wariness. "I didn't expect you back from London till tomorrow, Dunstan."

"Almost didn't make it in that storm." The secretary shrugged off his rain-soaked cloak. "The bridge over Weymouth creek is due for a reconstruction. One good storm and it'll be washed out."

"There was no need to return early," Gabriel chided as he returned to his drawing. "You could have saved yourself a brush with disaster and waited until the storm passes tomorrow."

"This news couldn't wait," Dunstan announced.

Noting the grimness in his friend's voice, Gabriel quickly glanced up from his work. "Is something amiss in Town?"

"A new arrival has made the docks at Gravesend. The Daemon Lupe."

Cold fire erupted in Gabriel's eyes, though his voice remained eerily calm. "So my friend has arrived. I wondered how long it would take Dumond to enter the scene. Did you see him?"

"Only by reports from Caesar," Dunstan admitted using the code name of their War Department superior. "So far the Frenchman has kept himself hidden in the darker entertainments of Town. There are rumors he is setting up his smuggling business with a particular item in mind."

"No doubt he hopes to reassemble the missing treasure before I do," Gabriel concluded. "There are many who would pay a high bounty to protect their names from its hidden scrolls."

"It's a good thing the key piece fell into our hands already," Dunstan observed.

"Yes," Gabriel murmured as he returned to his drawing of Sera. The innocence in her eyes bothered him. A curious tension gripped his fingers every time he tried to darken her soft eyes.

"You realize with Dumond's arrival, the Angel has probably returned as well," Dunstan prodded. "If he doesn't find the egg where he left it, there will be hell to pay."

"I'm prepared," Gabriel stiffly replied.

"If your enemies learn you are here reassembling the key, they will follow," Dunstan urged. "You know how indiscreet the Frenchman's methods of recovery are. His mere presence in Town is enough to unsettle many," Dunstan added with a cryptic undertone. One that indicated a deeper meaning.

Gabriel's head rose at the taunt. "Then I trust you relayed the appropriate warning to the correct people?" The earl shared a long look with his friend. Only men who had known him through his long twisted journeys would understand the secret concern and obligation that lurked within Gabriel's eyes. It was an obligation borne of rumor and death.

"The gentleman and his lady have retired to Bath for the Season," Dunstan assured. "But Caesar can keep Dumond in London only so long. And we are still missing two of the three keys. If the Frenchman comes here with the Angel, it will be chaos. It's better to take the fight to London where we have more resources."

"You are forgetting the fair Lady Sera, my friend." Gabriel reminded as he turned back to his drawing.

"What about her?" Dunstan nodded toward the drawing in his friend's care. "Other than that she has captured your fascination of late. You make her look like an angel."

"Or an angel's pawn," Gabriel countered. "If her lover is returning, assuming he hasn't already, then she must accept the consequences of her actions."

"Haven't you given up these suspicions yet?" Dunstan impatiently challenged. "It's been weeks and Lady Sera has done nothing to suggest she is anything but an innocent country miss. You have no proof that she knew what she was ransoming that night. Or that she has had anything to do with the Angel since. There could be any number of reasonable explanations for what the thief said. You're letting your desire for revenge cloud your thinking, Gabriel. If you persist, Caesar will begin to question your focus on this case."

Ignoring his secretary's heated rebuke, Gabriel cast a long chilling stare. "If the lady is a simple country innocent, then why has she enlisted a notorious blackguard in a nefarious search for her lover's missing treasure?"

"She wants you to help her find the egg?" Dunstan choked on the words.

Gabriel smiled in cold triumph at his friend's incredulous expression. With morbid delight, he detailed the recent clandestine adventures Sera boldly authored. Resigned cynicism colored Gabriel's reaction where denial and bewilderment ruled Dunstan.

"This doesn't make any sense, Gabriel," Dunstan reeled. "Chilton has been making copies of the egg to pay his gambling debts?" he mocked. "Why would he even have the treasure to copy? If Lady Sera was its keeper, I can't believe she'd entrust it to a rogue like Chilton."

"Apparently, she is as foolish in choosing her friends as she is reckless giving her trust," Gabriel alleged. "Or so she would have me believe."

"You don't accept her story?" Dunstan noticed.

The dark earl contemplated his drawing. "It's possible she's telling me the truth. Or a fragment thereof. The Angel is known for masking his vile intentions within a guise of innocence."

"But you think she made it all up?" Dunstan balked. "The blackmailer, the counterfeits, the rendezvous, for what purpose?"

"To make me question the veracity of my discoveries?" Gabriel suggested. "Sera has an amazing ability to unsettle and defy. She may be the most dangerous pawn my enemies have thrown at me."

"Or the most genuine innocent you've ever plotted to betray," Dunstan accused.

Gabriel bristled over the condescension in his friend's comment knowing a part of his conscience agreed. There was something so innocent and sweet about Sera. Something that made him want to protect her in spite of his vengeful suspicions. Brutally, he reminded himself innocence was an illusion of youth. Sera may have naively vowed her allegiance, but trust had only betrayed him in the past.

A storm of emotions consumed Gabriel. Rage and betrayal, hope and despair, desire and longing, all lurked beneath his usual facade of composure. Sera intrigued and beguiled him beyond reason. The contradiction of her naivitee and guilt captivated him like no other lure had. It coaxed him to his salvation as well as to his doom.

Laboring over the subtle lines of his paper nymph's compelling eyes, Gabriel imbued them with Sera's wide-eyed wonder. She had looked at him with the trusting gaze of an angel. An angel who was born to redeem, or to betray. An angel he was determined to possess no matter what the cost to his soul.

Beaming the callous grin of a rake, Gabriel pinned his friend with an icy glare. "Lady Sera seduces herself with her rebellious, idealistic tendencies. No doubt, that is the reason the Angel chose her. But her allegiance to her dear friend ends with me. She has sought my assistance and when I am ready she will give me what I desire most."

"Which is?" Dunstan prodded.

For a long, consuming moment, silence enveloped the earl. His gaze studied the enticing smile of his paper angel. He lovingly sketched the gentle swell of her lower lip. The same lip Sera consistently bit.

Quelling the desire to caress the bruise, Gabriel refused to believe he was obsessed. Yet, every moment he spent with Sera left him longing for more. Her nervous whisper, her trembling touch, the hesitant kisses she used to entice him. A clever ruse or an unexpected treasure, she was a mystery to him. A mystery he refused to let defeat him.

"The truth is what I desire, Dunstan," Gabriel lied. "One way or another, when next we meet, I will know all there is to know about Lady Seraphina Montgomerie and her secrets."

* * *

SUNLIGHT GLEAMED over the dew-glistened leaves of a rosebush in Thornbridge Manor's gardens. Two days worth of rain moistened the soilbed enough to make it a perfect day for planting.

Amidst a collection of tulips and daisy pots, Miss Cleopatra and her playful kittens gamboled about. Nearby, Ulysses tended his lame paw while watching his mistress toil over a yellow tulip plant.

Lady Sera barely suppressed the surge of worried reminder the familiar yellow tulip invoked. It was the same shape and color of that accursed gift she had prematurely buried in Chilton's garden almost a year ago. An act that had foolishly led her to expose Percy's secret treasure to Chilton's greedy intentions.

It was all a horrible mess and yet for the first time she felt hope. Hope in the form of an unlikely friend.

Gabriel Blackstone was cloaked in shadow and mystery. His reputation soiled him in many eyes but to Sera, he was as true as any knight-in-shining-armor. She bubbled at the memory of how he saved her from Binky Armitage. And the way he assisted her in Chilton's Study without ever asking for an explanation or questioning her motives. Gabriel wanted to be her friend, her trusted confidante, who would aide her in her search for Percy's egg. She never had someone completely willing to share her secret troubles. Nor had she ever encountered anyone as intriguing and captivating as Gabriel.

He was strong and graceful. His movements careful and gentle. His touch compelling and coaxing. His kiss... His kiss still lingered on her lips. Whenever she closed her eyes, she felt his touch, his tongue gently teasing her, filling her with desire and hunger. He smelled like woolen rain. He embraced her so completely she forgot to breathe. It was terrifying, exhilarating and mystifying. Sera never knew kissing a man would be like that. It made her weak. It made her strong. It filled her with curiosity. Curiosity to know even more about the sensual dances between men and women. Between Gabriel and herself.

"Sera, watch what you're doing," Cleo interrupted in an alarmed shrill. "Athena isn't a tulip."

Startled by her friend's warning, Sera caught herself dumping a spadeful of dirt on the kitten's head. Playfully, Athena attacked the tulip root unaware that she was about to be buried beside it. An irritated meow escaped her feline mouth when her mistress plucked her from the hole.

Gingerly, Sera cradled the miscreant and wiped the dirt off her furry face. "Athena, why must you crawl into everything? Leave the little ladybugs alone. There are plenty of other things to hunt in places a lot less dirty than my plants. Miss Cleopatra must be getting tired of having to clean you again and again. Now stay out of trouble."

With a gentle pat to the mischievous pet's backside, Sera dropped her beside her wrestling siblings. Little Remus and Romulus tumbled about attempting to bite each other's tails. Titan stood sentry as if waiting to judge the winner of the contest. Athena took one hesitating look toward her mother's beckoning cry, then dived into the fray between her brothers. By the time the rascals had finished, they tumbled their way into the daisy Cleo had just planted. Sera chuckled at the sight of four little kitten faces covered in dirt. Each one quirking their heads in naive curiosity at their mother's impatient cry.

"Oh no!" Cleo grumbled over the remains of her plant.

"It's all right," Sera assured with a cheery voice. "We have more daisies, Cleo."

A mournful nod of her head was the only reply Sera received from her best friend. Her face obscured by a wide-brimmed bonnet, Cleo dutifully returned to the silent task of planting another daisy. With each swing of her spade, she wreaked of tension.

Tentatively, Sera studied her friend. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, Cleo, or do you enjoy keeping me in suspense?" For a long moment, three spadefuls of dirt to be exact, Sera thought her question would go unanswered.

"I don't know what you mean," Cleo defied.

"Something is obviously bothering you. For the last few days, you have been out of sorts. Ever since Chilton left for his races."

Noticeably, Cleo shuddered. The spade slipped from her hands, yet she adamantly kept silent.

"What did he do this time?" Sera prodded. "That brother of yours is a no good bounder. If he's hurt you in any way Cleo..." Anger filled Sera. Anger and terror given the recent discoveries she had made with her clandestine search of Chilton's sainted curio cabinet. "Cleo it's long time I think you stayed with your Aunt Martha. Dorset isn't too far away. And you'd be well out of Chilton's reach."

"I am out of his reach now," Cleo managed beneath tightened lips. "My brother has been fully occupied with his races for the past week. I haven't even heard from him and most likely won't till hunting season."

"Oh, I see." Sera's anger fled under the flat denial. Studiously, she noticed the tight lines of her friend's expression. Every movement of Cleo's hands was measured and restrained. She was quietly seething over something. But if not Chilton, then what Sera wondered.

"You're not still upset about that comment Lady Athelridge made at church yesterday, are you?" Sera ventured. "Just because she thinks lavender is at the first stair of fashion doesn't mean you have to follow her lead. I happen to think you look much better in shades of green. It's me who looks like the hapless country mouse all the time. I'm as mischievous and reckless as Miss Cleopatra's kittens."

Cleo grimly shook her head at the comment. "It's not something to be proud of," she added a moment later.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Sera beamed eyes of confusion.

Again, silence greeted her.

Rigidly, Cleo buried the root of her daisy plant. Her back remained defiantly turned on her friend. "Sera, do you consider me your friend?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course, you're my friend. You're my best friend, Cleo. You keep me sane amidst my bullheaded brothers. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Best friends tell each other things. They confide in each other and keep each other's secrets. No matter how embarrassing they may be."

"That's what we do. You know I'd never betray you, Cleo. You can tell me anything and I'd keep your confidence."

"And you can tell me anything, too, Sera," Cleo countered over her shoulder. Her eyes mirrored the hidden intensity of her voice. "You don't have to keep secrets from me."

"Secrets?" Sera froze at the word. "Exactly what are you referring to?"

Impatiently scouring the garden for any eavesdroppers, Cleo frantically whispered. "You know exactly what I mean. The other night, when you stayed with me at the manor."

"What about it?" Sera casually returned to digging another hole for a tulip. The hairs on the back of her neck nervously stood up. She hadn't told anyone about her true reasons for suggesting the sleepover. Fortunately, no one had bothered to question her and necessitated a lie. She only hoped she wouldn't have to forge one now.

"Don't play dumb with me, Sera," her friend chided impatiently. "I woke up and you weren't where you were supposed to be."

So much for escaping a lie. Sera bit her lip and feigned a moment's confused memory. "Wasn't there a storm that night? A bad one with lots of thunder? You know how that frightens me."

"What does that have to do with you not being in your bed, Sera? In the middle of the night, no less?"

"Well, when I have trouble sleeping reading generally helps," she answered reasonably. "I believe I decided to pop down to the library and find a book to read. Chilton is remarkably well read for a scoundrel. You must have woken up while I was in the library. That explains why you were sleeping when I returned. Sorry if I frightened you, Cleo."

"You expect me to believe that?"

The tone of condescension gave Sera pause. She stared at her best friend in a moment of charged recognition. Cleo was daring her to lie boldly to her face. Sera hesitated a long moment before adopting a whimsical expression. "Honestly, Cleo, what evil things you must be thinking of me. I wasn't cavorting with the devil!"

"That remains to be seen," Cleo hissed.

"What has gotten into you?" Sera challenged. "You're beginning to sound like nosy Lady Athelridge constantly obsessed with my reckless behavior."

"Someone should be," Cleo chided. "Since you obviously aren't."

Sera pinned her friend with a inquiring look. Accusation hovered in the air. Stubbornly, Sera refused to acknowledge it. She wondered if Cleo really understood what had happened the fateful night she had spent at Chilton Manor. The night she had been obsessed with reliving in her memory ever since the Blackguard of Blackstone kissed her.

It was a memory she hoped to relive again soon. In an hour to be exact, if she followed the note he had sent along that morning. Foolscap rustled in the hidden folds of Sera's prim gown. It was a note she had read a hundred times over since Chalmers had delivered it to her that morning. A simple yet elegant scrawl requesting a rendezvous at the Ruins on the old Roman road. She had her excuse already prepared, but with Cleo's newfound suspicion, Sera secretly worried unexpected difficulties would keep her from making her appointment.

With a brave smile, Sera shrugged off her friend's accusing stare. "Cleo, I'm sorry if I've done something to offend you. I had no notion that my midnight wanderings the other night would upset you, but I assure you they are no more adventurous then my nephew's. I am a simple country mouse after all."

"Where are you going?" Cleo sharply interjected as Sera climbed to her feet.

"There is an errand I wanted to run today," she lied. "I ordered a book of maps for Julias. Mr. Dalton sent a note around this morning saying it finally arrived."

"Why doesn't Mr. Dalton just have it delivered?"

"Because it may not be the one I wanted. I need to see it before I purchase it and it's just as easy for me to go to him. Besides, it is a beautiful day for a ride."

"Then we can go together," Cleo interjected.

"No," Sera snapped. "I mean, it would take less time if I went alone and we really should get these plants in before the next storm comes. I think it may rain tonight."

"Then why don't you wait till tomorrow to get your nephew's atlas?"

Frustrated, Sera bit her lower lip. "Daisy plants!" she blurted a moment later. "We'll need more now that Athena and her brothers have trampled those. If I hurry, I can stop off at Mrs. Bunpenny's and see if she has anymore bulbs. Between your tulips and my wildflowers, we'll have the best looking gardens again this year, Cleo," Sera added with a cheery smile.

She headed for the manor and a hasty retreat. Her friend's barely uttered words stopped her cold.

"You're going to see him, aren't you Sera?"

One, two, three breaths, Sera measured the ominous weight of her friend's accusation. Nervously, she bit her lip. "Who in particular, Cleo?" she asked in an airy voice.

"Blackstone."

"If he has business there, I suppose I may pass him on the street," Sera answered mildly. "It is a small village. It's nothing of any import."

Cleo shot to her feet and confronted her best friend. "Don't play me for a fool, Sera! I saw you," she hissed. "I saw both of you, the other night in my brother's garden."

Sera felt herself pale. She forced herself to remain calm and in command. "You saw Lord Blackstone and I in your garden? Are you certain you didn't imagine it? The lightning made a lot of eerie shapes appear out of the shadows, I remember."

"I saw the two of you by the Library door and..." Cleo choked over her words. "He was kissing you."

Despite her feigned disinterest, crimson fire claimed Sera's cheeks. "Really Cleo, we shouldn't be discussing this now. It's nothing to get so concerned about in any case."

"It's everything to be concerned about!" Cleo challenged. "What in the name of heaven do you think you're doing, Sera? Have you misplaced your senses? Thornbridge would go mad if he knew about this. He hates the man."

"I'm well aware of my brother's prejudice," Sera retorted. "But you don't need to worry yourself over it. If I didn't tell you of my friendship with Gabriel it was only because I'm somewhat new to this sort of arrangement."

"Arrangement?" Cleo's eyes lit with feminine horror. "Sera what has that scoundrel talked you into?"

"Nothing and he isn't a scoundrel!" Sera snapped. "Honestly Cleo, why are you overreacting? It's not as if you never exchanged a stolen garden kiss with your Percy. And Chilton abhorred him."

Horror and disapproval colored Cleo's icy blue glare. "Percy vowed his undying love and desire to marry me before I ever let him kiss me! Has Blackstone done the same?"

The question burned a nagging sensation of doubt in the back of Sera's mind. Her silence was deafening. She tried to remind herself of Gabriel's gentleness. His promise to keep her confidence. His request for her trust. But there had been no vow between them. Not even a clear understanding. And then there were those dark shadows to consider. The danger and mystery that clung to him as solidly as his black leather gloves.

"If you ask me, Cleo, vows of love can be easily misused," Sera denied her dark observations without knowing why. "Friendship and loyalty are the cornerstones of a good match. The love can come later when two people know each other better."

"Is that what he told you?" Cleo prodded unkindly. "It sounds like something a rogue says before he seduces an innocent young lady and leaves her with nothing but scandal."

"For the last time," Sera blurted angrily, "Gabriel Blackstone is no rogue, pirate, blackguard or scoundrel! Those are the vicious tales of jealous gossipmongers. Gabriel is an honorable, heroic gentleman just like Percy was."

Tears blazed within Cleo's eyes. Her face contorted with silent rage. "There is absolutely no comparison! Percy died fighting in the War while Blackstone just gallivanted off around the world doing heaven knows what to entertain himself. You're a fool if you believe otherwise, Seraphina!"

Sera rocked on her feet as if she had been slapped. She burned with fury, evil words brimmed her lips. She had never experienced such outright venom from her best friend.

The two stared at each other a long painful moment. Initial anger turned to overwhelming hurt in Sera. Her neighbors, her family and now, she realized, even her closest friend stood ready to crucify her and Gabriel. She alone saw the goodness in him while the rest of the world wallowed in rumor and suspicion.

"I'm not such a fool as you apparently think Cleo. If you don't mind, I'm tired of discussing this matter with you and I do have errands to see to."

With a resolute stance, Sera turned her back on Cleo and stalked back to the manor. Her friend's whispered threat halted her progress mid-step.

"What if Thornbridge found out?" Cleo called out. "About your errands."

"Why would he?" Sera retorted nonchalantly. Pointedly she peeked over her shoulder to pin Cleo with a searing gaze. "Who would tell him? After all, best friends keep secrets, don't they?"

Cleo's expression crumbled with guilt, or rebellion. Tears flowed down her ashen cheeks as she cried hysterically into her dirt-streaked gloves.

In a matter of seconds, Sera's anger fled. With a resigned sigh, she took her friend into her arms.

"Cleo, stop crying now," Sera ordered. "You know I hate it when we fight like this."

"We never fight like this," Cleo cried into Sera's handkerchief. "You don't understand, Sera. You're too naive and trusting for your own good. You don't know what terrible things some people can do. I'm only concerned for you. Oh, if only Percy was here!"

Sera cradled her friend in her arms. It was a familiar mantra. Every ordinary concern of Cleo's turned into a desperate wail for her beloved Percy. A man Sera wondered if Cleo ever truly knew.

"You're worrying yourself for nothing," Sera insisted. "I'm not a young chit just out of the schoolroom. I can take care of myself. And I assure you I know exactly what I'm about, Cleo. You must trust me."

Through weepy eyes, Cleo stared in disbelief. Thoughts warred within the glassy surface of her blue orbs. Doubt, rebellion, concern and resignation. It was this last emotion that seemed to win the struggle. "I suppose no matter what I say you are determined to do as you please."

"Right now, I'm determined to go to the village and get that atlas for Julias," Sera alleged. "And then I'll stop off at Mrs. Bunpenny's and pick up some more daisies. I'll be back soon to help. I promise."

Before she encountered anymore arguments, Sera gave her friend a gentle squeeze and headed toward the manor. Sera hated lying to Cleo, but she convinced herself there was a nobler goal in mind. After all, while Cleo saw only a plot of illicit romance, Sera knew her meeting with Gabriel had a more practical matter in mind. The matter of tracking down the troublesome thief Bixby and reclaiming Percy's stolen egg. Only then could Sera finally fulfill the last bit of promise to her dear friend.

With Gabriel's help, Sera could finally have justice for Percy.

Chapter Eleven

AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT illuminated the isolated spot of East Chatham into a windswept lover's plain. Amidst the looming shadows and crumbling walls of the old Roman fortress, Gabriel watched and waited.

Behind him, Mirabella's golden spires glittered, but the Guardian kept his eyes tightly trained on the seldom-used road to the village.

A galloping horse echoed from the distance of the woods. Gabriel smiled as the gray speckled mare emerged into view. Dressed in sprightly green, its rider seemed oblivious to all but the splendor around her. Golden brown curls tumbled playfully under the rim of a jaunty straw bonnet.

Obscured by stone, Gabriel studied Sera intently. He came early to their meeting out of habit and cunning. He needed to ensure she came alone, to assure her lover hadn't turned her against him yet.

There was much to be learned from watching someone in unguarded moments. Sera's loud approach spoke of her naïveté, or perhaps her experience, in attending the forbidden place. The way she shivered in the wind suggested she was regretting not bringing her cloak on the otherwise temperate day. She rubbed her bad knee with an unsheltered indulgence as she gazed across the water toward his home.

She seemed like an innocent miss out for a pleasant afternoon ride. Not like a woman engaged to rendezvous with a mysterious gentleman. The portrayal was compelling and alarming. Gabriel suppressed an urge to believe the cherub face was looking at his home with true admiration and not some darker desire.

Echoing his mood, a large cloud drifted across the sun drowning the Ruins in muted shadows.

Sera shivered with the sudden chill. She searched the meadow around her and frowned. There was nothing to see except barren stone. She peeked at her pendant watch.

"Two o'clock exactly, Persephone," she noted. "We're not late this time. Where is Gabriel?"

A cool breeze rattled through Sera's thin riding outfit. She shuddered unaware that the shadows were moving behind her.

"You should have brought your cloak," chided a familiar masculine voice. "You didn't drop it in the lane behind you again, did you my lady?"

Sera spun toward the voice, smiling as soon as she laid eyes on her elusive friend. "Lord Blackstone, you startled me!" she chided half-heartedly.

"My apologies." Gabriel grinned as he strode toward her. "I have been told that I move with grace and silence."

"And stealth, my lord," Sera quipped. "That skill must come in handy, I assume, for you to have perfected it."

Gabriel curled his lip at the shrewd comment. The shadows in his eyes darkened with his tone. "One doesn't need to make a lot of noise to be heard. I trust you intend to stay a while?"

"My lord?" Sera questioned his expectant gaze.

"I will develop a crook in my neck straining to look up at you like this. And I daresay, your mare would prefer a rest. Would you like my assistance?" He extended a hand to her.

Belatedly, Sera realized she was still perched atop her horse. Embarrassment flooded her. "I forgot," she confessed. "The view captivated me."

At her words, Sera's gaze focused on the man boldly reaching for her. Dressed in his crisp black britches, long swirling cloak and starched white shirt, Gabriel seemed both elegant and dangerous. His possessive hands encircled her waist shaking her from her stupor. "That's all right, my lord," she insisted with a polite smile as she hastily struggled to dismount. "I can manage alo—Ow!"

The heel of her boot catching in the stirrup, a twinge of pain shot through Sera's sensitive leg. Persephone fidgeted beneath her. Before Sera could regain her balance, she was slipping and sliding perilously to the ground.

Her yelp died in the arms of her guardian angel.

"Your horse seems wary, Lady Sera," Gabriel teased in a sultry whisper that rumbled deep within his chest. "I hope you don't share her reticence in coming to me today."

"It's a bit chilly, and Persephone stiffens if she stays in one place too long. Please forgive my clumsiness."

"You're never clumsy, Sera. Reckless and exuberant perhaps, but never without a certain skillful charm."

Gabriel's eyes glittered like steel, yet Sera blushed at the seductive compliment.

"I think you best put me down now, my lord. I wouldn't want to tire your arms."

"Persephone's legs are no longer stiff?" Gabriel cryptically noted. "I wouldn't want her to trip on her boot heel in her haste to flee me again."

Recognition flashed between them. Sera wondered how long Gabriel had noticed the source of her forced clumsiness. Usually the lazy, twisted muscles were easy to hide. But days with a persistent damp chill made her as graceful as a lumbering elephant. It was an embarrassing fact, but one she was determined to ignore. "Persephone is very resilient, my lord," she assured.

"Like you, Sera," Gabriel complimented. He gently eased her to her feet, letting his hands linger around her waist a moment longer. "I'm pleased you were able to meet me. I gather you had no difficulties?"

"Such as?" Sera hesitated. Visions of her uncomfortable argument with Cleo assailed her mind. Tending her mare, Sera attempted to avoid the earl's intrusive gaze.

Gabriel noted her hesitation, wondering why Sera preferred to gnaw her lip rather than give him a straight answer. Suspicion edged his voice. "You found the way through the woodland path?"

"Yes, of course. I traveled it often enough."

"To here?" Gabriel prodded. "The Ruins aren't a place I expected you to frequent."

"Why not? It's a beautiful place," Sera insisted. "Cleo, Percy and I used to come here often for picnics."

"Percy Dunne, your friend's fiancee?" Gabriel asked conversationally.

"Yes, my lord."

"Gabriel, remember?" he prompted in a low sensual voice. "We are friends, Sera. There is no need for formality betwixt us."

"I remember," she whispered warmly. Licking her lips in subtle reminder, Sera recalled the sensual pact they made in Chilton's garden. A pact of trust and passion. A pact she had been obsessed with pursuing ever since she felt the heat of the blackguard's forbidden kiss.

"This is an unusual location for picnics," Gabriel commented briskly. If he noticed her distracted gaze, he failed to say. "I would assume the locals consider it forbidden territory being so close to the Sultan's Palace."

Sera wrinkled her nose at the condescending nickname. "Mirabella looks majestic from here." With a fanciful step, she led him to the low edge of a restraining wall overlooking the river. "See how the water reflects the turrets and domes? It always reminded me of a fairy tale castle but from a faraway land. As if Blackstone Isle was a world unto itself. Part of East Chatham yet forever separated by Neptune's pathway."

The blanket admiration in her voice inspired and irritated Gabriel. "My grandfather built it in memory of his sea travels, but many think my home is just an eyesore."

"That is probably fortunate," Sera quipped. "The uncultured prejudice keeps unwanted visitors from dropping by to admire the scenery."

"That's an intriguing point of view." Gabriel simmered over her words. "I had no idea you were admiring the scenery from here with your friends. What fanciful notions must have entertained you about my home?"

Something sinister flickered in Gabriel's eyes. Awkwardly, Sera bit her lip. "Cleo and I mostly listened to Percy when we were here. He would tell us about the Continent. And the War," she added.

"The lieutenant was a talkative soldier," Gabriel observed with a touch of disappointment.

"He said France was a fascinating place," Sera explained wondering why she felt the need to defend Percy's sociable trust in two country innocents. "Our brothers never let Cleo and I travel so we were naturally curious. Percy was just entertaining us mostly. He talked about Ireland a lot. He wanted to take Cleo there for their honeymoon trip. Before Waterloo, that is."

An overwhelming sadness crept into Sera's eyes. The weight of the world seemed upon her. The weight of a betrayal and a broken promise. As if bowing to the burden, she sat on the wall.

Her eyes downcast, her stance defeated, Gabriel found her reaction telling. It was the behavior of a grieving lover or a guilt-ridden friend. "Many young men died in the War, and many young women still mourn them," he commented dryly.

"Cleo vows to never marry, now that she's lost her Percy." Sera sighed over the confession.

"Miss Athelstan is young. She may change her mind."

"That's what I said, but you didn't know Percy. He is difficult to replace in one's mind." Sera erupted with bittersweet laughter. "I can still see his face the first day we met. I was fishing in the woods with Hugh when Percy nearly ran me down. He was stunned when he realized the impish boy he'd inadvertently charged was really a girl. He said he knew all along, but I know I fooled him!"

For about three seconds, Gabriel thought to himself. And that was being generous considering the ill-suited attire he first encountered Sera wearing. Dropping down beside her, something else in her story caught his inquisitive attention. "Hugh is a relative of yours?"

Sera shook her head. "Mr. Gilchrist is a neighbor, or rather his grandmother was. He would spend the summers here. We became friends during the War when my brothers were away."

"I see," Gabriel muttered noncommittally. "How old were you when you first met Gilchrist?"

"Fourteen," Sera breezed. Gabriel's interest in Hugh was puzzling, but she was grateful for the excuse to avoid speaking of Percy. At least for a few more minutes until she could get the troubling confession formulated in her mind.

"That's young to begin a courtship, isn't it?" Gabriel probed. "I'm surprised Thornbridge allowed your friendship. Or was it discreet like ours?"

Sera laughed. "Hugh never courted me." Wry amusement illuminated her whimsical eyes. "Oh, at first I admired him, mostly because he didn't shout at me like my brothers did. When Thornbridge was busy in Town, Hugh and I would go fishing or exploring. He fancied himself an explorer and was always reading books on foreign places. We'd make up tales about where we'd like to go if we ever left England." A troubled shadow drifted across her carefree smile. "Some of the local gossipmongers didn't approve of Hugh's family, especially after the scandal his cousin caused, but Hugh is a decent and honorable gentleman."

"And you remain his loyal friend," Gabriel conjectured. "Even though his family is disgraced in treason."

Again, the shadows in the earl's eyes loomed dark and dangerous. Sera swallowed hard. She massaged her knee in a nervous gesture. "Hugh barely knew his cousin, though Society made life difficult for him and his grandmother after Blade's death. When his grandmother died, Hugh went abroad. He's traveling in the Orient now, seeking his fortune and dreams. Sometimes I envy him," she confessed. "I wish I could get away from this tiny village. Hugh sends me letters now and then detailing his travels. He's done so much in the last year."

Purposefully yet instinctually, Gabriel claimed the task of massaging the aches out of Sera's knee. His touch was firm, demanding, yet gentle. His voice echoed the tension of his words. "Does Gilchrist send you things, Sera? Trinkets from his travels?"

The gentle ministrations of Gabriel's fingers beguiled Sera. Magically, the nagging pain in her twisted muscles ceased the moment Gabriel touched her. For some inexplicable reason, the air between them seemed thinner and warmer. Sera felt a surge of giddiness ripple through her when she stared at Gabriel's hand on her knee.

"He sent me a paper fan last month," she remembered in a dreamy voice. "On the front is painted a green dragon with eight hands holding a different colored poppy."

"Did Gilchrist send you anything else?" Gabriel prodded. He inched closer to Sera. So close she was nearly in his lap. A cold gust of wind blew an errant curl across her face. He brushed the silken strands aside allowing his fingers to linger. Sera's cheeks were flushed, not with chill. "Did he, Sera?"

"Did he what?" she struggled to focus on the conversation. Her senses were overwhelmed with awareness of him. His warm fingers flexed over her knee. Wool, leather and spice dominated the air she breathed. As hard as she tried, whenever she stared at his rigid lips all she could remember was how they felt against hers.

Gabriel lifted the corner of his mouth into a sly grin. He noted the familiar gaze in Sera's eyes. He masterfully inspired the dreamy, expectant look every time he touched her. From her stare, he assumed she dwelled more on the possibility of his kiss than divulging the secrets of her friendship with one of the Triad's dishonored kin.

"I was wondering if your friend, Hugh, sent you anything else with his letters. Like that egg, for instance," Gabriel encouraged. "The one in Chilton's Study you were so eager to find. It struck me as a trinket you might find in the Orient."

With the mention of the accursed treasure, the sensual spell engulfing Sera dispersed. Her eyes filled with regret and fear. She shrugged free of Gabriel's touch and gazed instead into the distant horizon.

"The egg came from France," she explained in a wooden voice.

"France?"

Sera nodded. Tears brimmed the corner of her eye. "It was part of a collection, I think."

"Your friend Gilchrist told you that?" Gabriel persisted determined to wiggle the true confession from his prey this time. "Or do you have other pieces of the collection, Sera?"

"Hugh has nothing to do with this!" Her annoyance seemed to drown in the next breath. Sera's doe-brown eyes lighted with haunted agony. "Oh, it's such a mess Gabriel! I wish I'd never found that horrible thing. If only I read the note in France, but things were in such disarray with my brother being wounded. And poor Percy..."

Sera's tears invoked a struggle within Gabriel. The desire to wrap his arms around her struck him suddenly. He forced himself to remain impassive like a coldhearted interrogator. His voice was calm and reasonable. "Help me understand your problem, Sera. Your friend gave you the egg when you went to France to reclaim your brother from Waterloo? You smuggled it to England in a tulip plant, I believe?"

"Smuggled?" Sera lifted her head at the suspicious connotation in Gabriel's question. "I suppose one could see it that way."

"It would be a clever way to transport stolen goods," Gabriel suggested smoothly. "Or secrets."

Sera lost herself in Gabriel's shrewd emerald gaze wondering what secrets waited there. Dangerous ones, she thought, in light of the shadows baiting her to confess her soul.

"I really shouldn't tell you." She twisted the folds of her gown as if her fingers could work out her hesitation and fear. "I have no right to trouble you with my concerns, but I dare not tell another living soul."

Gabriel grasped her trembling hands. "You can trust me, Sera. I do not wish to see you so unsettled."

His gentleness enticed Sera with memory. A spark of honest tenderness gleamed within the shadows of his emerald gaze.

"You remind me of your father, Gabriel," Sera noted in relief. "He said the same thing to me the day I got the courage to see him."

Fresh tears clouded Sera's view of Gabriel's taught expression. His grip tightened rigidly over her hands, but she ignored the subtle cue. "He didn't seem at all ill the entire time I was there," she confessed. "Through two pots of tea including one of my special blends. If I had known how quickly the sickness would overcome him, I never would have pestered him that day, Gabriel." Her eyes filled with remorse.

"Special blends?" Gabriel hung on the words as an executioner hangs on the axe.

"Well, Mrs. Bunpenny's actually. It's made of willowbark and is good for cold and damp days. Your father seemed fond of it, but it tasted a bit weak to me."

Tension paralyzed Gabriel. The breezy admission of how the Angel's little angel enticed his father to drink his own death floored him. She had appealed to his father's gentlemanly sensibilities. The sociable request of a vulnerable female seeking comfort from the savage weather.

"My father was too kind," Gabriel hissed. "What or who made you seek him out?"

Sera chewed her lower lip. The gentle protector she knew in Gabriel had changed again. His eyes glittered hard, his expression seemed fierce, and his grip as rigid as stone. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be going on about your father. I barely knew him."

Forcing himself to take a deep calming breath, Gabriel adopted a more relaxed tone. "You have the distinction of being one of the last people to spend time with him in this life. My curiosity about your encounter is only natural." He added pointedly, "Especially if the reason you sought him out was because of the troublesome trinket from your friend."

Sera seemed to shudder at the thought. "Gabriel, do you believe in curses?" she asked unexpectedly. "Curses that can cause unexplained illnesses and mysterious deaths?"

"Unexplainable things usually have a cause that is just undetected."

"I think your father believed in them," Sera declared. "He was fastidious about his collection of old maps. He said they were pirate treasure maps and each one had a curse against those who dare take what doesn't belong to them."

She paused in awkward silence. When next she spoke, her voice was a bare whisper. "What do you think would happen to someone who lost something that didn't belong to them?"

The vulnerability in Sera's eyes overwhelmed Gabriel. In an instant of eternity, he saw the fear and anguish she hid from the world. The price of a secret promise she never should have made. He wanted to reassure her. To vow that he would protect her from the consequences of her devil's bargain, but the words failed him.

Anger surged within him for the bastard assassin who could use and twist her naive lust for life and adventure. A warning echoed dimly in the back of his mind. He was losing his objectivity. But God help him, her sad deer eyes burned paths through his soul.

Ever so lovingly, he cradled her cheek. "Angel or siren, which are you Seraphina Montgomerie?"

The intensity in his emerald gaze entranced Sera. Gabriel's eyes glowed with simmering heat and curiosity. "You asked me that once before," she reminded. "Like I said in Kennelworth's gallery, I'm too imperfect to be an angel and too much a country mouse to be an enticing siren."

"Nay," Gabriel crooned. "You are both, a temptress and a redeemer who beguiles with the simplest smile. Are you aware the power your beauty wields, Sera? If you had a mind to, you could bring the hardest knight to crumble at your knees."

Sweet and earnest, the words made Sera blush. "Really my lord," she flustered, turning away from his touch. "There's no need to exagger—"

One moment she was there in his hands and the next she was slipping away. As if by providence, the rock wall beneath Sera crumbled. She fell to the sloping ground grasping wildly for anything to stop her plight.

Gabriel reacted instinctively. But when he reached for her, the wall crumbled beneath him as well. He enclosed his arms around her as they rolled down to the riverbank.

After a wild flurry of motion, the tumbling ceased with a sudden jarring thud. Gabriel's boot found purchase on a large willow tree trunk. The sunlight filtered through a mystical curtain of weeping branches. Only a few feet away, the soft sounds of river water lapped against the shore. Gabriel laid face down, still and comfortable atop a soft and warm body. A body that was still trembling in his hands.

He eased himself to the side. Concern filled his voice. "Sera, are you hurt?"

Golden brown curls tumbled freely around a tremulous gaze. The moment Sera met Gabriel's serious gaze she exploded with laughter.

"Once again you save me from the brink of disaster, my lord," she praised with a gentle stroke of his rigid frown. "Forgive me for worrying you. I'm being a terrible klutz today. I nearly planted my kitten, Athena, in the garden earlier."

"How careless of you." Gabriel quirked a brow over her sudden lighthearted mood. Pointedly, she made no attempt to escape his compromising embrace. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect she actually enjoyed barreling perilously down the hillside in his arms. Like a child obsessed with the simpler pleasures of life. Or a cunning siren seducing him with her sweet charm.

"Truth be told, I have been in this state for days now," Sera confessed, idly caressing her rescuer's tense shoulder. Her hand seemed small against the powerful sinew of muscle. The willow branches rustled with an invading gusty wind. Gabriel's cloak floated and settled like a blanket around them. The scent of wool and spice enveloped Sera. She felt warm and giddy. Lying in Gabriel's arms felt intimate and safe. Propriety demanded she break the sensual contact, but her body rebelled.

"And what has inspired your negligence?" His smile suggested the question was rhetorical. Gabriel noticed the amber fire begin to flare in Sera's eyes.

"You, I fear," she confessed. "I can't seem to forget."

"Forget what?" Gabriel coached in a deep, rumbling voice. A voice that trembled seductively over them both.

Sera stirred restlessly, trying to tear her gaze from his. Nervousness colored her cheeks. Her words were barely louder than the wind. "It's baffling to me. Every moment I'm with you is more spectacular and mysterious than the last. I never know what to expect and yet I find myself longing to be with you, Gabriel." Shyly, she smiled at him. "Like this, I mean."

"Tumbling down a hillside in danger of drowning?"

"Swept away in your arms," Sera blurted with a blush. "I really shouldn't be saying this. It's most improper but ever since the other night-"

"When we kissed in your neighbor's garden?" Gabriel added helpfully. His heated voice echoed the distraction whirling in his mind. His suspicion subsided with the memory of one unparalleled kiss.

The mention of kissing sent shivers through Sera. She curled closer to Gabriel's embrace, pretending to seek solace from the wind. Her actions were horrifyingly brazen, but her words stammered with inexperience. "I've never felt the way I do with you, Gabriel. In Cleo's garden, you made me feel alive and helpless. I could barely control my thoughts."

A problem Gabriel found he shared. Unease flattened his mouth when she began to chew her lower lip. Remembering how sweet it tasted, he longed to soothe the soft pink flesh. The shrewd operative in him demanded restraint, but Gabriel was unable to resist. He traced the corner of her lips with the pad of his thumb. Smooth leather rubbed against silken ruby skin.

"It is a dangerous affliction, to be caught so unaware in another's arms, is it not?" Gabriel asked of them both.

"That must be why this place is forbidden to the East Chatham ladies," Sera answered breathlessly. "One can get lost beneath a willow's embrace and never want to return."

"An interesting notion," Gabriel murmured. His eyes coveted her as his fingers cherished her sweet mouth.

Sera's lips tingled beneath Gabriel's gentle touch. She wondered if he'd kiss her and thought she'd perish if he didn't. "Gabriel, what are you thinking?"

He needed to remember his reason for coming to the Ruins. Sera was a tool of his rival. She had information he needed. A name, a face, someone to blame for his father's death. War, revenge, duty called to him, but Gabriel was oblivious to all but Sera's wanton gaze.

"I was wondering if you had ever been kissed beneath a willow tree?"

Sera blushed from head to toe. Her body rippled with anticipation. She looked around her. A sensual curtain of muted sunlight and weeping willow encased them in mystical isolation. Broad daylight only a few feet away, in Gabriel's arms she was safely ensconced in twilight. Sera's smile beckoned.

"There are many things I have never done," she confided. "You make me want to explore a world I never knew existed. Is it wrong for me to want you to kiss me again?"

The critical side of Gabriel's brain clicked a warning. His suspicions argued a lie, but Sera's eyes glowed with truth. She was either the most clever actress or truly believed herself naive of the ways of sensuality. Questions of her dear friend burned holes in the back of his mind, but he ignored them. Other stronger motivations were in charge of him now.

"Is that what you want, Sera?" Gabriel coaxed in a hoarse whisper. "To feel my lips on yours?"

The offer enticed her, seeming to rob her of all awareness beyond his heated breath. "Just once, maybe," she confessed and requested in the same nervous breath.

Gabriel hesitated briefly. Confusion or indecision danced ominously in the shadows of misty green. Then his eyes hardened with intention.

"One kiss," he acquiesced in a soft murmur. His mouth hovered just a hair's breadth from hers. "And then you'll answer all my questions."

"Questions?"

"Later," Gabriel dismissed. With lazy swiftness, he enticed her into the silence of a teasing kiss. His tongue traced every line of her silken lips exactly as his pen had done on his exquisite drawing of her. "You are a siren to me, sweet."

Sera meant to argue, but the moment she opened her mouth his skillful tongue offered a penetrating silence. Ripples of desire coursed through her. She wrapped her arms around Gabriel and gave herself to his embrace. Brandy and spice, honey and heat, she was dizzy from the erotic taste of their kiss. A low, rattling moan echoed from the back of her throat. A moan of pure feminine desire.

He meant it to be a brief kiss. One meant to subdue and distract her. One meant to free his thoughts from the raging desire that assailed him. The moment Sera sighed with pleasure into his mouth, cold calculating reason snapped within Gabriel. Obsession claimed him, driving him to deepen their illicit embrace.

Gabriel ripped off his gloves. His fingers indulged in her silken golden-brown locks. The strands embraced him with the eager passion of his wanton cherub. Gabriel wanted to drown himself in Sera's angelic softness. He explored her with his hungry lips and cherishing fingers. Tiny kisses blazed a trail over her freckled cheeks to the swell of a plump earlobe.

"Soft like angels' wings," Gabriel whispered in her ear. Playfully, he nibbled.

The delicious sensation sent shivers down Sera's neck. She struggled to control her thoughts. Her heart pounded perilously in her ears. Her breath seemed fleeting. She felt weak and dizzy, overwhelmed by the restless heat his kiss inspired. "Gabriel?" she gasped.

"Hmm?"

"Is it always like this?" she asked turning her gaze toward his caress. "When you kiss me, I forget to breathe. I fear I may expire."

Gabriel shrewdly noticed the sparkling fire burning to life in Sera's eyes. He curled his lip in masculine pride knowing that he had inspired the rush of passion in her. He tickled her nose with a kiss. "If you do expire, then I would only take you to heaven with me."

"Would you carry me there?" Sera prodded.

Gabriel's emerald eyes sparkled with intensity. Humorless, determined and seductive, his gaze had only one goal in mind. In answer to her naive smile, he kissed her with an overwhelming passion that offered little room for rejection.

Sera clung to Gabriel in empathetic desire. Her hands burrowed under his cloak. She needed to feel the heat of his skin, to know the power and mystery that haunted her dreams. His cravat defied her making her wish he had come to her as the reckless pirate she met on the road at midnight.

Sera's mewling groan enticed Gabriel as much as her ineffectual hesitation over the folds of silk around his neck. He was hungry for her touch. The tantalizing spattering of feminine fingers on his bare neck left him wanting, needing more.

Sera shared Gabriel's groan of frustration. It was odd that she had been shivering cold minutes before. Now she seemed to be afire. She fidgeted wanting to remove her spencer when Gabriel started to undo the buttons for her. A few moments later, the restrictive garment was being pulled off. She meant to voice her gratitude, but then his hand lingered over her tiny sleeve.

Her words died in the back of her throat.

The gentle probing of Gabriel's fingers fascinated her. One finger, then two slipped beneath the edge of muslin guarding her shoulder. The fabric slid away, replaced by the warmth of a coarse palm.

Gabriel caressed her lovingly, like a sculptor molding his clay. Sera stretched like a kitten eager for the attention. Color filled her cheeks as cool air brushed against her bare skin. He warmed her with his breath. His hands moved lower.

Sera's mouth went dry. She felt warm woolen skin brush against the softness of her breast. Gabriel swept a wide, lingering path over her. Measuring, exploring, teasing her. Fear and expectation coursed through her. She craved his touch, lifting herself to his hands. Embarrassment colored her cheeks at her own brazen behavior. And then she caught him staring at her. "Gabriel?" she creaked awkwardly.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, love?" His emerald eyes gleamed with reckless ardor. "Like the fair Calypso who lured men to their demise upon the rocks. Even the mighty Odysseus fell to her sweet siren's song."

"And when Odysseus won her heart, Calypso sang only for him," Sera remembered. She wondered where Gabriel had developed his obsession with sirens. She intended to ask, but he distracted her with a kiss, directly over her thumping heart on the swell of a tender breast.

"Will you sing for me, Sera?" Gabriel asked the trembling flesh. He bathed her with his warm enticing words. His heated whisper mingled with the light caress of his teasing fingers. A tiny rosebud nipple tickled his palm as if in search of a lover's caress.

"Sing?" Sera echoed.

The instant his lips enclosed her straining nipple, Sera's words died in her throat. She should've been shocked. Instead, she was riveted to the unseemly caress. His mouth feasted on her. Suckling her like a babe with an insatiable hunger. Waves of ice and fire enveloped her. They congealed and resonated deep within her belly. The sensations grew stronger, tickling a path through her restless limbs.

Aggressively, she reached for Gabriel. Wild and affectionate, she couldn't seem to pull him close enough. She arched against him in silent pleading surrender.

Gabriel's smug smile lingered over silken skin. She felt so good to him. She tasted of salt and honey. His gentle ministrations grew more demanding. Her eagerness inflamed him. He felt the nerves tremble within Sera. Followed them in a sweeping path of his hands. Down the length of her to the sultry curve of a thigh.

The feelings were coming to fast for Sera to identify. The pit of her stomach was rumbling with fire. She had never felt so ravenous before. Not for food but for something altogether different. It was an aching need that only her body seemed to understand. Exhilaration and awkwardness dominated her.

She twisted restlessly on the ground beneath Gabriel. She tried to turn on her side toward him, but her legs became hopelessly tangled in her skirts. Then they were being dragged free. Sera felt something brush the back of her lazy knee. Even through her stockings, she recognized the soothing warmth of Gabriel's fingers.

His hand moved upward over her knee. When his fingers toyed with the strings of her garter she thought he might untie it. But then his hand moved again following the contour of her inner thigh.

The touch nearly scalded him. Gabriel could sense the desire building within Sera even through the layers of ruffled pantalets. The paltry garment was a meager obstacle. An article of clothing usually coveted by the truly virtuous. He found the dainty ribbon closure simple to unravel. The muslin folds parted readily to his beckoning.

"What are you doing?" Sera blurted warily. She felt a masculine knee slide between hers. A sudden wave of vulnerability overwhelmed her.

"Kissing you," Gabriel crooned against her lips.

"I'm not certain this is the proper way to kiss," she protested amidst unease and confusion.

"There are many ways to kiss, my sweet," he rumbled affectionately. "You like being swept away in my arms, don't you?"

Gabriel's voice seduced away Sera's caution. "I shouldn't," she confessed.

"It's all right, love." Gabriel nuzzled her mouth. "Trust me. Let me give you what your body is crying for."

Tentatively then insatiably, Sera acquiesced to his kiss. Her eagerness was as alarming as his compounding need. The depth of desire inspired chaos within Gabriel. His thoughts were in turmoil. His senses filled with the exotic feel of a writhing siren in his arms. He wanted, needed to feel her softness engulf him. To stroke the moist fever within her.

Gabriel's hand cupped and lifted a tender thigh. His fingers boldly explored the open folds of Sera's pantalets. Dark brown curls nestled protectively between her legs. Blazing a path through glistening ringlets, he sought the most tender part of her.

"My lord!" Sera's voice crackled with scandal. She froze the instant she felt the wicked caress of his fingers against her. Instinctively, she tried to clamp her knees shut, but his leg proved an impenetrable sentry.

"Gently, love," Gabriel advised more to himself. "You are so taught, so anxious and trembling. Let me ease the fire within you. Let me see you swept away in my arms." He coaxed her with a leisurely kiss.

Sera's tension eased with the caress. Her own passion flared anew willing her to lose herself in his kiss. She returned the caress, blindly turning it into a demanding embrace of tongue and lips.

The siren would be the death of him. Gabriel struggled for composure. The liquid fire lapping at him through the nest of glistening curls captivated him. He needed to indulge himself in her heat. Sera whimpered with unexpected pleasure when his fingers found the sensitive nub guarding the entrance to her secret warmth. He teased her, stroked her, emboldened by each lusty cry she uttered.

"Yes, love," Gabriel encouraged hungrily. Raw masculine desire coursed through him. She felt heavenly to him. A trembling angel at the mercy of the pleasure only he could give her. Gabriel gritted his teeth the moment he dared to explore her feminine passage. She was so tight and narrow, the flesh rigidly obstructed him as if unaccustomed to the bold intrusion.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, but Gabriel ignored the realization. Deliberately, he massaged the sensitive nub until Sera's body trembled for surrender. Tentatively, he slid his finger inside her. Velvet walls closed around him. He swallowed hard with desire. She fit him as snugly as a comfortable pair of gloves. New gloves, he qualified as he struggled to stretch her with a second finger.

The warning dinged louder in Gabriel's head. Something wasn't right about this seduction. The Angel's little angel seemed so untried, so untested by a man's lustful touch. She clung to him as if a doe fleeing the hunter. For safety, for sanity during the sensual storm he was orchestrating within her.

Gabriel's fingers slid deeper. A strangled sound emerged from Sera's throat. A sound Gabriel echoed with sympathizing desire. The urge to bury himself within her overwhelmed him. His knee gently coaxing her legs apart, he struggled with the fastening of his riding breeches. He wanted to hear Sera's cry of uncontrollable satisfaction, but he needed to be inside her. His manhood pulsed with angry jealousy of his fingers.

Perspiration beaded Gabriel's brow. He condemned himself for his impatience. His fingers stretched her as much as he dared. She was moist, yet still so tight. He'd die if he hesitated sinking himself inside her one more minute.

She stopped him from removing his hand. Her grip fierce and instinctual on his wrist. Inadvertently or intentionally, he was drawn deeper within her. So deep that if he flexed his knuckles he could just discern the taught veil barring the ultimate invasion of her darkest depths.

It was a curious obstacle. Rigid yet thin, a tiny guardian standing sentry before any illicit intrusion. A frail guardian easily torn by a lover's ardent possession. Except that it wasn't torn.

The nagging sensation flooded his veins with icy realization. Gabriel froze in mid-kiss. His hands stilled over Sera's softness. A softness that, he realized with shocking clarity, was forbidden to him.

"Bloody hell!" he gritted. She was a virgin. The seductive little siren was as innocent as she seemed. The astounding revelation paralyzed Gabriel. He had been wrong in his assumption. Sera had never known the touch of a lover. She had never been tainted by the encroaching charms of a debaucher who left her wild and wanting for what he desired.

"Gabriel?" Sera pleaded in a strangled voice. Moments before he was driving her wild, but his abrupt stiffness confounded her. She was left dangling on a precipice between satisfaction and frustration. Her body stretched beneath him like a taught bow awaiting the arrow's caress.

Gabriel felt her desperation, knew with ashamed certainty he'd reduced her to a quivering siren. Bitterly, he pondered the truth. An assassin's tool or not, Sera's innocence was the most powerful weapon the Angel could use against him. To have her, he would become like the debaucher he most hated. Anxiously, he tried to end the lustful embrace.

Sera's knees closed around him the moment he tried to move. Gabriel was trapped in velvet hell. He groaned low in his throat.

"Sera, stop," he ordered when she moved against him instinctually.

"I'm sorry," she gasped in frantic confusion. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. Waves of condescension assailed her. "Gabriel, I can't..."

Sera couldn't believe what she was doing. She clung to him like a shameless vine, beckoning him to kiss her again, to touch her so scandalously. The feel of him against her, inside her, was unlike anything she had ever known. It was as if he was a part of her, caressing her soul. She couldn't bear to end it.

She unwittingly stumbled on a semblance of rhythm pushing him against her, inside her. Sensations sprang to life within Sera that were too intense, too pleasureful not to be sinful.

Sera's chortled cry entranced Gabriel. Her passion cut through the bitter realizations clouding his mind. Sera was caught between desire and shame. He had never seen a more beautiful creature burning in his arms. Burning for him. The urge to end her torment dominated him. He wanted to see her fall apart in his arms, to introduce her to the sensual storm she so naively craved.

Gabriel's tender kiss silenced her apologetic pleas. She relaxed with a contented groan. Experimentally, Gabriel withdrew and flexed his fingers.

New ripples of tension sparked within Sera. She stretched in Gabriel's arms like an indulged cat.

"That's it, my sweet," he encouraged. "Let yourself go. Sing for me, love. Trust me, Sera."

He made love to her with his hands and his mouth. Baiting, encouraging the flames of forbidden passion to engulf her. Sera struggled beneath him. Her hands clenched Gabriel's arms. She felt wondrously alive. His touch was like magic. She felt like she was flying, high into the grasp of heaven. Carried there by the graceful stroking of her guardian angel. In his arms, she discovered a sensation she had never known. Warm, tingling and overwhelmingly insistent, the knot of heat spread from his electrifying fingers.

Something rattled deep inside her: a crescendo of expectation, a wave of sensation that lapped against her on the edge of her awareness.

She heard Gabriel whispering sweet words in her ear. He made her feel safe and wanted. Why that mattered, she didn't know. Each encouraging word made her relax. Made the gnawing, building whirlpool of need grow larger.

Then with an unexpected rush, the wall of fire crumbled into a blinding flurry of fiery sensation.

Gabriel thought he'd drown in her fulfillment. Sera arched against him in sweet abandon. A soft cry of feminine pleasure escaped her lips. Protectively, he held her, cradling her until the sensual storm had passed.

Her cherub face trembled with pure joy and utter surprise. The beauty of it overwhelmed him, shamed him and enticed him. She was an angel.

An innocent angel swept away by his guilty intentions.

Chapter Twelve

WHILE SERA lounged in heaven, Gabriel lurked in hell.

Several minutes passed in intimate stalemate. Sera was long to return to reality, but Gabriel was not so fortunate. The aching unfulfilled need strained against his breeches. His breath labored, his mind whirled with long overdo comprehension.

Sera was not the Angel's little angel. She had never been seduced by the assassin's corrupting touch.

All the words that Gabriel cynically doubted rang true in his ears. Sera's dear friend had given her the egg. A friend that she mourned. A friend that wanted to conceal his gift in a neighbor's garden. A man who was in France the last days of the War, but never returned beyond a few misread notes. His lover's trinket was given not to Sera but to another young woman she counted among her dearest friends.

"The egg belongs to Cleo, doesn't it?"

Gabriel blurted his question in the most unexpected moment. Sera was just beginning to come to her senses and idly nibbling his neck. He had to push her aside and ask his question once more before she focused on him. Her eyes gleamed with confusion.

"What egg?" she mumbled amidst sensual cobwebs. Her eyes sparkled, her golden-brown tresses laid wildly askew, a crooked satisfied smile crowned her lips. Sera couldn't imagine what could be making Gabriel frown. She snuggled against him thinking she could spend the rest of the day lying beneath the willow tree in his arms.

"The egg in Chilton's Study?" Gabriel reminded harshly. "The one you wanted me to help you find."

Sera furrowed her brow in concentration. He wanted to bring her back to the dark realities when she wanted to linger in comfortable shadows. "Gabriel, do we have to talk about that now? I'd rather be kissing you." She tugged the dangling ends of his cravat. "Just once more?"

"No more, Sera. There is only so much enticing a gentleman can take."

Sere didn't understand the tension in Gabriel's voice. She tried to curl up next to him, but he kept inching himself further away. Then she happened to look down and see the curious bulge pressing against his tight-fitting breeches.

"Oh my goodness!" Sera hastily sat up. "Gabriel, are you hurt?"

He replied with a tortured groan. "I only have myself to blame," he condemned, rolling onto his back.

"It was the fall wasn't it? I'm such a dolt." Compelled by naive compassion, Sera reached down his body. "If nothing's broken, let me see if I can massage the pain away."

His hands closed around her wrist in a near painful grip. "I would prefer you didn't."

She frowned in disappointment. "But I can't just let you suffer, Gabriel. Not after you left me feeling so marvelous," Sera insisted with a blushing smile that enticed and shamed her unwitting seducer. "I never knew kissing could be like that."

"I know, love," Gabriel acknowledged wondering how he'd ever thought she knew otherwise. Even now, his innocent angel was more concerned with his sensual injury than the danger his kissing posed to her honor. Had she no comprehension of the power her sultry, half-closed eyes had over his weakening will? Groaning with resignation, Gabriel buried his traitorous desires beneath the guise of his shadowy self. "My discomfort will pass," he declared. "Tell me about the egg, Sera. How did you acquire it?"

She chewed her lower lip and watched Gabriel tensely curl on the ground. His eyes glittered with misty shadows, but they had grown dark and mysterious again. His hooded gaze said he was determined to get his way. It seemed inappropriate given his obvious dismay, but the intensity in his eyes beckoned the awful story from her.

"Cleo loves tulips," she began. "Especially the yellow ones from Northern France. She was supposed to plant this one on the edge of the garden. Near the path you followed when you came the other night to the Study."

Gabriel nodded encouragingly. "This tulip was the one that carried your jeweled egg?"

"Not mine," Sera corrected. "Not anyone's really. It was supposed to remain hidden in the soil when we planted it. Cleo was shaken the day I returned from Quatre Bras with my brother. Neither one of us had the heart to do anything but cry. I suggested we plant the tulip as a memorial. At first, I thought it was a huge rock in the pot, but then I saw a brilliant ruby. Cleo was hysterical when she saw all the gems. We thought it was worth a fortune, and what a sweet gift it was. Then Chilton happened in from his hunt and snatched the thing right out of our hands. He said he was going to have it appraised. The scoundrel."

"What about the notes?" Gabriel prodded.

Sera's eyes clouded over with guilt. Her hands clenched her discarded spencer in her lap. "I couldn't read mine at first, not in France where death was so fresh. When I returned, Cleo needed me." Sera sighed. "In truth, I was just so afraid... of what Percy said. It would be like he was right here with us telling his stories and laughing about Ireland. I knew the moment I read it what a fool I was. The one favor he asked me to do before his death, I mess up."

Gabriel's eyes were shrewd, his voice bitterly calm. "Percy Dunne asked you to bury the egg in Miss Athelstan's garden?"

Sera nodded sadly. She brushed a tiny tear from the corner of her eye. "He didn't say it outright, but I knew that's what he meant. He had Cleo keep a special garden on that outside corner. If I had read the note first, then I would have known not to investigate what kind of rock I found in the pot. I've thought about taking it back every day since, and would have if it weren't for greedy Chilton."

"Your neighbor confiscated the egg because he believed the stones were real?"

"They are real!" Sera protested. "Cleo thought the egg was a secret engagement gift from her Percy. It would've replaced the dowry that her wicked brother refuses to grant until he's gambled all her money away. Chilton took the treasure the moment he saw the gems and insisted she was far too forgetful to keep track of something so valuable." Sera added with a rueful frown, "In hindsight, I guess maybe he was right."

"You are referring to the night it was stolen by your mysterious blackmailer?" Gabriel guessed.

Sera let out a resigned sigh. "I can't fault Cleo. After Chilton's jeweler convinced her it was just cut glass, Cleo became attached to the thing. It was the last gift Percy gave her. Chilton insisted it be kept locked in the curio cabinet just out of her reach. For spite mainly," she added with disgust. "It was only a matter of time before Cleo figured a way to sneak it out for a while. She found a spare key in the bookcase while Chilton was off on a hunting trip. She said she slept with it beside her pillow, but the next morning it was gone. Cleo was terrified the thief managed to get into her bedchamber while she was sleeping. More alarming was the prospect of Chilton returning to find that she had gone into his private collection. She was desperate to get the egg back."

"That's when you decided to pay the ransom," Gabriel concluded.

"The blackmailer wanted two hundred pounds!" Sera balked. "That's my quarterly allowance, but Papa said one should always do what they can for a friend in need. And I thought maybe I could kill two birds with one stone that night."

"How?"

"I didn't know Chilton was making his cheap imitations," Sera began tentatively. "If I had, everything would've been much simpler. If only I wasn't late to the cemetery and chased away the blackmailer's normal routine." A blush came over Sera's frown when she recalled what had made her tardy that night. "Not that I regret our chance meeting, Gabriel. You were most helpful to me when those ruffians chased me."

He deftly ignored her distracting smile. "What did you have in mind doing if you had been able to recover the egg that night?"

"I would have laid a trap."

The blunt answer caught Gabriel off-guard. "A trap for whom?" He sat up to study her wily doe-brown eyes. "The blackmailer?"

"No." Sera bit her lower lip. Her eyes flickered with hesitation. "Percy never meant for Cleo or Chilton to have that egg. Its treasure belongs to someone else entirely."

Her hesitation intrigued Gabriel. The analytical part of his brain was fascinated. Sera's words were simple and direct, but her eyes suggested a much more complicated tale unfolding. Questions of exactly what his innocent angel knew about her traitorous treasure dominated his thoughts. "Who owns the egg?"

"I don't know," she admitted in frustration. "I'm not sure I want to know. Whoever made it must be wicked."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because as pretty as it is, the egg is dangerous," Sera pronounced with a shudder. "Everyone who has come in contact with it has only suffered pain, betrayal or worse. Like poor Percy."

"You think the egg cursed him?" Gabriel struggled to understand. "Lt. Dunne died in Waterloo."

"He was shot two days before the charge at Waterloo," Sera corrected. "In Quatre Bras. A day after Percy died there, the same French doctor's family took in my brother Adrian. Madame Dupris recognized my name on one of the letters in Percy's things. She told me he was mad with fever when they found him, but I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That Percy was murdered," she declared grimly.

"Many men were killed in war."

"Not like this!" Sera defied. "Percy was shot in the back. By one of his own."

"An Irishman?" Gabriel suggested.

Cautiously, Sera looked about her. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Her muttered words echoed like a curse. "A spy."

Gabriel sat there. His hands on his knees, his stance was straight and motionless. Only the tiny muscles of his jaw tightened at her shrewd assumption.

Gabriel stared at Sera with the gentle ease of a graceful liar. His tone echoed intentionally doubtful. "You believe a spy murdered Percy Dunne?"

Mutely, Sera nodded. "I'm not being fanciful, my lord. Believe me, I would much rather this be an exaggeration, but I fear it's far too awful. Percy was a good man. Honorable and clever, but he also had a dangerous adventurous streak in him. Cleo insisted we not pry, but I couldn't help but notice things."

"Such as?"

"When Percy first came to East Chatham in Lord Chillingworth's command, he made a point of meeting as many people as he could. People thought he was just being sociable, but I noticed how intently he watched everyone. Especially when they weren't looking."

"Attentive observers are not necessarily inclined toward spying," Gabriel countered.

"True," Sera agreed with a smile. "I imagine explorers are also apt to intensely study people. Like you do Gabriel."

His emerald eyes glittered repressively.

"That wasn't my only suspicion though," Sera continued. "Percy did a lot of traveling for a poor Irishman. He often talked about foreign lands like Portugal, Spain and Italy. Not to mention several trips to France. And he always seemed to come back here every couple months or so. To see Cleo, and his friend."

"What friend?" Gabriel pondered the word like an axe.

"I never met him," Sera hastily explained. A tinge of embarrassment flooded her cheeks. "I really shouldn't have been there at all, but Chilton is such a horrid man to anything weaker than himself. And the silverfox was just too beautiful to hunt. I snuck out the night before he and his friends were going to chase down that poor creature. I wanted to hide her until they got bored," she explained. "I found her in a foxhole all the way at the end of the woods. Just on the edge of that small field over there." She pointed toward the left of the Ruins. "I was coaxing her to my hand and had to get low to the ground. That's when I heard the voices."

"Voices in the meadow?"

Sera nodded. "It was too foggy to see more than shadows, but I recognized Percy's brogue. He was talking to his friend about a mission. It involved some sort of information secreted away in a treasure. I didn't understand much of what they said, but I think Percy was supposed to be looking for something. And they had some competition. Rival spies, I gather." She shuddered as the pair of names came to mind. "They said the Angel of Death and the Guardian would stop at nothing to find the secret treasure first."

Gabriel's mouth went dry. He ignored the mention of his codename to concentrate on a more troubling revelation. "Did Percy and his friend see you?"

"When I realized their meeting was private, I kept quiet and hid in the foxhole. I thought I'd be less of a disturbance if I just waited for them to leave. Unfortunately, the silverfox got anxious after Percy's friend left. In her haste to escape my grasp, she caused the tree to collapse a little. My dress got caught under a dead branch. I would have spent the whole night there if Percy hadn't tripped over me in his hurry to find out what the yelping was about." Sera smiled over the bittersweet moment. "He made me swear not to say anything about what I saw. I kept my word, too. I never told Magnus or Cleo or anyone about my suspicions of Percy."

"You've told me," Gabriel pointed out soberly.

Sera beamed a trusting smile at him. "Because I trust you. You're my dearest friend and guardian angel. I know you will keep Percy's confidences the same way you have kept mine."

Her fervent words, uttered with such honesty and innocence, floored him. Ruefully, Gabriel reminded himself she was merely giving him what he had coldly sought. Her undeniable trust. A trust that would inspire her to betray her secret contact. Not the Angel himself, but one of the Guardian's own operatives.

"You wanted to tell my father this," he concluded grimly.

Sera's smile trembled. Her eyes clouded with shame. "I was desperate at the time. Percy had been gone for over six months and Chilton made it impossible for me to get the egg back. Your housekeeper told me your father loved deciphering old treasure maps. She also said he had a lot of friends in London and was always willing to help someone in need. I thought he'd know whom I could talk to about the things Percy left. But I never got up the nerve to tell him. In hindsight, I'm glad I never did. He seemed so happy to talk about you and your travels. He was so proud of you, Gabriel. He made you seem like a mythical hero. I kept insisting that my meager trip to Quatre Bras was nothing compared to your tour of the world."

"My father asked you about your trip to France?" Gabriel pondered.

"He was studying an old treasure map of the place when I dropped in," Sera explained. "I believe it came with a recent shipment, because he was still in the process of unpacking the crates," she remembered. "We got to talking about the landscape and how the War killed all the tulips. Before I knew it, I was telling him about Adrian and the Dupris cottage. Even amidst war, there is kindness in unlikely places."

Gabriel's mind whirled. The shrewd conclusion came to him probably as quickly as it dawned on his father. Between Percy's death and the completion of his final mission, there was the chance encounter of an injured neighbor and his curious little sister. If the Angel had not smuggled Percy's hidden cargo out of the Continent, then maybe Sera knew who did. The frantic words of his father's death scrawl came to Gabriel's mind. Watch out for Lady Sera Montgomerie. She holds the key. It wasn't a warning of a traitor as he thought. It was a request to protect the reckless young lady who dared to befriend one of his father's men.

Sera echoed Gabriel's mournful expression. Her hands twisted anxiously over the wrinkles in her spencer. Tears flooded her eyes as she continued rambling about his father. "After he died, I couldn't forgive myself. I know it sounds fanciful, but it just seemed like the egg was cursed. I only contemplated mentioning it to your father and the next day, Mirabella was in mourning. I felt so sorry for him. And you, Gabriel. He was so looking forward to you coming home."

"I had been away a long time," Gabriel admitted somberly.

"My father used to love spending time with my brothers and I," Sera consoled. "But when they grew up, Magnus, Cassius and Adrian were anxious to be on their own. Papa said sons weren't like daughters. They're eager to seek their own way in life until fate eventually forces them to live their father's legacy. Magnus sounds a lot like Papa whenever he grumbles about how difficult it is to be the Earl of Thornbridge."

Gabriel noticed Sera kneading her bad knee. It was an unconscious habit she adopted when troubled. Or when she mentioned one of her parents. The sadness lurking in her eyes beckoned him.

Gabriel gently grasped the hand upon her knee. His mouth flattened with her instinctual shiver. A naive sensual urge that inspired his own rampant desire to touch her again. "It's time I took you home," he ordered.

Sera's sadness warred with curiosity. Gabriel's voice was strangely gruff and his demeanor different than usual. Like a mother hen, he insisted on helping her put on her spencer. His fingers carefully closed the buttons and ties he had undone. His touch was familiar yet uneasy.

Gabriel's frown intensified when his fingers turned to the task of taming her silken hair back into its ribbons. "What happened to your bonnet?" he grumbled.

"I think it came off when we fell from the wall," Sera answered. "Gabriel, are you certain we should leave just yet? I mean, are you over your injury? You sound as if it hurts to touch me."

Gabriel groaned over the possibility. Morbidly, he wondered if he'd die with the lust for silken fire consuming his thoughts. It took all his strength and determination to keep his body from taking Sera into his arms again. The way she looked at him with trusting doe-brown eyes, her soft kissable lips, the gentle shivers at his accidental touch, enticed him. "I'm concerned that you didn't bring your cloak," he lied. "You'll catch your death of cold out here."

"But I'm always warm in your arms," Sera confided. Encouragingly, she stroked his chest.

Her touch scalded him. Gabriel yanked himself away and hastily tied his cravat. His tone was brisk and dismissive. "The winds are kicking up and I don't fancy dallying here any longer."

Briskly, Gabriel gathered his cloak and rudely pulled Sera to her feet. He garnered little argument as he clamped a hand around hers and hustled her up the slope.

"What about what we came here to discuss?" Sera asked trying to catch her breath.

Gabriel almost told her he learned all he needed to know. He suppressed the urge at once. Admitting that he had behaved horribly was bad enough, but telling Sera that while she was seduced she was also carefully interrogated seemed atrocious.

At the stone wall, he hid his rigid expression in a gallant gesture. Sera's bonnet lay crumpled beneath the rubble. Gabriel tried to right the thing, smoothing out the dents but knowing it would never be the same pristine and untouched shape again. Then his eyes fell on its owner. "You should go home, Sera. The Ruins are too dangerous for you."

"Nothing is too dangerous for me when you're around, Gabriel." Her voice resonated with bright confidence. "With your help, anything is possible. God must have heard my prayers, because he sent me a noble and clever guardian angel to help me," she added with hidden purpose.

"Do what?" Gabriel's mouth turned down with a twinge of guilt. The misshapen bonnet refused to shed its marks of manhandling on the rocks. He tried to affix it to Sera's head, but one tussled rosebud tantalizingly drooped over the brim.

"To help me find Percy's egg," Sera reminded.

Gabriel's hands paused over the strings of her bonnet. The shadows in his eyes whirled in thought. A scant moment later, he returned to his task of twisting silk to his direction. "If your suspicions are true and it is of such importance to dangerous people, then wouldn't that be imprudent?" he drawled. "You should count yourself fortunate that the trinket was stolen. Now it's the thief's problem."

Sera's face fell in disappointment. "That sounds like something my brother would say."

"Perhaps your brother is wiser than I give him credit."

"Nonsense," Sera balked. "Magnus is in the habit of dismissing me because he thinks a lady can't have the same concerns as men. We're all idealistic fools in his opinion. Minds filled with fluff and fashion never a noble quest of honor."

"A quest of honor?"

Sera fisted her hands; her eyes glared at Gabriel under her bonnet like a tiny Napoleon Bonaparte. "I have to find that egg," she declared. "It's the only way I'll ever be able to flush him out."

"Who? The blackmailer?"

"The spies who killed Percy," Sera demanded. Conspiratorially, she leaned closer. Her voice resounded with enthusiastic determination. "I have a plan to catch them. Chilton kept Percy's gift concealed in that cabinet since the day it was found. Hardly anyone knew about it or where it came from. I'm certain that's why no one ever tried to claim it before the blackmailer. All we need to do is find the egg and then arrange to sell it to any willing collector. When the Guardian and his angel come after it, we'll be able to trap them."

Gabriel's blood ran cold. The thought of Sera naively conspiring to challenge the cutthroat assassin appalled him. "Why?" he creaked.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Because anyone willing to kill for the egg would also be willing to steal for it," she stated as if it were obvious.

"No, I mean why do you want to set a trap for spies?" Gabriel persisted.

"Because I promised Percy."

"You promised nothing," Gabriel growled. "He asked you to bury a tulip. Not to get involved. The rest was beyond your control."

Sera shook her head. "I should have read his note. Then Chilton never would have found the egg and it never would have been stolen. I failed him. I betrayed Percy's trust in me and I have to get it back."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gabriel challenged her soft wail.

"Percy asked me to keep the treasure secret. He trusted me with that duty on his deathbed," Sera explained. "A request from a dying man is a sacred promise. If you truly care, you'd do anything to see his final worries are at peace."

The weight of her words fell heavily upon Gabriel. He felt oddly close to Sera. Duty and honor burdened her dainty shoulders like they did his own. The thought disturbed him. "Your friend is gone, Sera," Gabriel declared gruffly. "If Lt. Dunne cared for you, then he'd be at peace to know you didn't break your neck the night you tried to ransom back his meddlesome gift. You should be thankful the anonymous blackmailer kept it."

"He isn't anonymous," Sera proclaimed. The subtle triumph springing to life in her eyes intrigued Gabriel.

"You know the thief's name?"

"Chilton fired a footman recently," she informed. "He was caught pilfering the liquor cabinet, according to the housekeeper. Cleo didn't know Ethan Bixby well, but I thought I recognized his description. Small, rat-like with straggly black hair. It wasn't until I made a few inquiries for Mrs. Bunpenny that I made the connection."

"What connection?"

"Last year the vicar's wife lost her prayer book," Sera explained. "It was a gift from Mrs. Atwater's father. The blackmail note said to leave the money in the poor box before Sunday services. When she did, her prayer book reappeared in the rectory. That day a group of men were hired to work on repairs for the church. I distinctly remember a feral little man getting the task of working on the poor box lock," Sera divulged. "Apparently, Mr. Bixby has been in the habit of working small jobs for the local gentry. He repaired a broken window for Mrs. Bunpenny a month ago. And he lived at Chilton Manor until recently so he knew the ins and outs of the place. I figure he waited for Chilton to leave preferring to prey on Cleo."

"What of your theory that one of your neighbors was blackmailing his own?" Gabriel reminded. "Have you dismissed that possibility?"

Sera pondered the question a long moment. "Ethan Bixby isn't accounted a brilliant thinker," she explained in a valiant attempt to be kind. "The sentimental nature of the items taken and other things made me think someone else was giving the orders. Someone with a skill for deception, planning and heartlessness. Perhaps when we find Mr. Bixby, he'll tell me if my instincts were correct."

"I take it Bixby isn't in East Chatham anymore?" Gabriel asked reminded of how he intimidated the rat-faced thief to take his business elsewhere.

Sera shook her head with frustration. "Beyond that situation with Mrs. Bunpenny's figurine, nobody's heard from him for at least a month. Amy, she's one of Lady Kennelworth's chambermaids, said he was visiting relatives in London. She fancies herself his sweetheart so he usually calls on her when he returns from one of his trips. He frequently visits London. It shouldn't be too hard to find him there and get him to return Percy's treasure."

"What makes you think he still has it?" Gabriel disputed. "Petty thieves usually sell expensive trinkets in Town. There are a dozen or more jewelers who would jump at the chance to reuse the gems in their wares."

"Chilton convinced everyone in his household that the stones were cut glass," Sera argued. "Ethan Bixby probably doesn't even know what it's worth. But one way or another he can tell us what happened to it."

"Assuming he could be found," Gabriel countered. "London is a large place."

Sera smiled confidently. As she spoke, she ticked off her points with her fingers. "Amy told me two helpful things. First, she believes Mr. Bixby's sister has a shop in Town. She mentioned it was near the Tower. Second, Ethan Bixby has an insatiable appetite for cards and ale. I figure we can search the taverns and gambling establishments near there. He's bound to show up sooner or later."

"We?" Gabriel repeated in shock.

Sera nodded eagerly. "My brother is taking me to Town for the Season when he returns. If you could tear yourself away from estate duties for a while, I'd most appreciate your escort, my lord. It would be our own clandestine adventure. I could pose as your servant or ward, in appropriate attire of course."

The image of Sera gallivanting about London's seedy gaming hells in her ill-fitting messenger disguise flooded Gabriel's mind. Wild golden-brown curls tucked about a cherub face, oversized britches barely concealing the feminine curves beneath, and naive doe-brown eyes observing the curiosity of crude, sotted and dangerous men. The thought enraged him.

"How did you get so reckless?" Gabriel growled.

The fury in his eyes alarmed Sera. She retreated a step until she realized what she was doing. She reminded herself she wasn't afraid of him, even when his eyes were hooded in dangerous shadows. But there were no shadows now. Just cold, clear masculine bullheadedness. It was a quality she saw often when her overprotective brothers were lecturing her.

"It's not reckless," Sera defended. "Not if you're with me. I know you wouldn't let anything happen to me, Gabriel."

Her response only made his reaction worse. The earl's eyes glittered with brewing fire, as if he were charged with a duty he neither wanted nor was capable of fulfilling.

"I have an earldom to run, Sera," Gabriel haughtily dismissed.

"Yes, of course you're very busy, my lord," she hastily agreed. "I promise it won't take too much of your precious time. Oh please, Gabriel, I must find Mr. Bixby so I can fulfill my promise to Percy. It's a matter of honor."

"Percy Dunne is dead, Sera!" Gabriel savagely roared. "The egg is gone and the only people interested in the damn thing are better off in hell. You should be more concerned with what balls you attend rather than searching the gaming hells of the London stews for the wretched thing."

"Does that mean you don't want to help me?" Sera asked in a small voice. Her eyes clouded with hurt at his selfish refusal.

"The last thing I want to do right now is hunt a cursed treasure with a foolish hellion who doesn't even have sense to bring her cloak on a cold and windy day," Gabriel hissed. "You should be at home with your family, not enticing the local blackguard with harebrained schemes of vengeance."

Irritated at his own foolishness for encouraging this conversation, Gabriel abruptly decided to end it. He reached for Sera before she realized what he was about. His hands closed around her waist with the intention of throwing her onto her horse.

She recoiled from him like an angry cat. Her amber eyes blazed with feminine fury and a subtle pain that stunned him.

"I am perfectly capable of doing for myself, my lord," Sera pronounced in clipped tones. Pointedly, she ripped off the bonnet he carefully tied and vaulted into the saddle. The gray mare pranced uneasily beneath her mistress's angst. "I'm sorry to have troubled you with my petty concerns, Lord Blackstone."

"I never said they were petty," Gabriel gritted. "Just not ones you should concern yourself over."

"That's for me to decide," Sera snapped. "Regardless, your opposition is noted. Don't worry, I won't bother you again. I've learned how to deal with worse situations on my own. Good day, sir."

With a curt tip of her head, Sera kicked her mount into a full gallop. In a blaze of feminine fury, she retreated in a whirlwind of dust.

"Damn," Gabriel muttered in her wake. He hadn't meant to rile her. Sera's abrupt change in temperament was as unexpected as his own. She just didn't realize the foolishness of her dangerous ideas. No wonder she brazenly set out on a country road to be chased down by highwaymen. And a cynical spy arrogantly determined to seduce her for his own selfish desires.

Disgust and recrimination riddled Gabriel. He behaved shamelessly. Luring an innocent young miss to the isolated Ruins only to seduce her beneath a willow tree. His crimes of assumption seemed capitol. Yet, the biggest violation was just coming into view.

As the dust settled on the old Roman road, a tiny straw bonnet lay crumpled on the ground.

Gabriel picked up Sera's hat. The silken ties dangled like tears around a torn rosebud on the crooked brim. The calculating spy in him advised he conceal the evidence. The secrets he desired were given and his mission for the day complete.

Something lingered inside him. It was the memory of hurt he saw flair in Sera's eyes. Hurt that he had inflicted in his angry tirade.

With a frustrated grumble, Gabriel stalked to his horse.

* * *

HE FOUND her in the woods just beyond her home.

Sera lingered by the edge of the stream. Her shoulders drooped in defeat. Her attention focused on the ground while her mare indulged in a drink. Inquisitively, Persephone sniffed the scent of a familiar black stallion. The gray mare nudged her mistress in warning.

Sera never once turned to face him. Gabriel watched her as he dismounted and quietly guided Crucible to the stream. His steps were cautious, his demeanor reticent as he cradled the remains of Sera's bonnet in his hands. When he idly joined her side, Gabriel heard the sound of pitiful sniffles.

"I hate it when you cry," he blurted awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Like a child, Sera rubbed her eyes with the back of her fingers. Gabriel grasped her hand and dried the tears. She turned to him with the most miserable expression he had ever seen. The sight humbled him.

"You trust me, don't you Sera?" he urged in a gentle voice.

She nodded somberly, but her eyes remained stubbornly downcast.

Tenderly stroking her chin, Gabriel nudged her to look at him. His emerald gaze glittered with determination and a shadow of desperation. "Then you must trust that I have your best interests at heart. As well as my own. I don't want to hurt you, love," he added in undisguised honesty.

"I don't like to be dismissed out of hand, my lord," Sera chided petulantly. "I am not foolish."

"You are naive, Sera," Gabriel corrected. "Dangerously so. Otherwise you would not have concocted that reckless and futile plan to track down a petty thief."

"I know it can work, Gabriel!"

"Do you have any idea how many gambling establishments there are in London? It could take weeks if not months to find this man."

"I have no other choice," Sera despaired. "I simply must recover Percy's treasure. You may think me foolhardy and reckless, but Percy trusted me. I'm honor-bound to avenge him. With or without your assistance."

Gabriel felt the anger building in his veins. He cursed himself for following her. Sera was heedless in her quest to do herself harm. Like the night he found her huddled on the road looking at him with the sweet eyes of a trusting doe. Eyes that trusted him to save her from a fate she brazenly dared alone.

Something surged within him: the old habits of a long career in the War. With fierce eyes, the Guardian looked at his fallen angel.

"You're not going into any gaming hells, understand Sera?"

"You can't give me orders, my lord," she defied briskly. "If you are my friend, you would help me."

"Very well."

The abrupt agreement stunned Sera. She stared into Gabriel's misty green eyes trying to decipher their curious dancing shadows.

Gabriel's voice was unyielding as his gaze. "I can see you will probably do something exceedingly foolish if I don't offer my assistance. But there are three conditions."

"Anything, my lord," Sera eagerly nodded.

"You are not to enter any gaming hells with or without me, is that understood?"

"But how will you recognize Mr. Bixby? Things would go much faster if I was there to point him out to you."

"You are not going about London in my company. Especially in that section of Town," Gabriel commanded. "If you so desire, I will make a few inquiries on my own and report back to you."

"Why can't I go with you Gabriel?" she wanted to know.

"If it hasn't escaped your attention, a lady of your standing is only courting trouble associating with a man of my notorious reputation."

"Nonsense, my lord," Sera scoffed. "You are a true and honorable gentleman. I count your friendship as the dearest I can have."

"Friendships such as ours are not credited so highly in London," Gabriel countered. "If we were seen together, we would most likely be obliged to marry."

"Oh," Sera said for lack of something better. From the way he frowned over the possibility she concluded he found the prospect of an abrupt marriage displeasing. Or perhaps it was just a marriage to her. "I would not want to be forced to marry out of hand," she concurred.

"Then you are satisfied to leave the inquiries to me?" Gabriel prompted.

"If you think it's best." Sera's half-hearted agreement invoked a victorious grin from Gabriel.

"You must also accept that if I do find Bixby, I may learn he has already disposed of the treasure," he suggested. "Or possibly one of the spies you suspect already has it. If so, then you must agree to drop the matter, Sera. I have no interest in seeing you caught up in a war against trained and brutal bastards like that. And I'm certain Lt. Dunne would not wish it either."

Thoughtfully, Sera gnawed her lower lip. She hesitated accepting the last condition. From her silence, Gabriel assumed she weighed her deathbed vow to Percy against her trust in him. Gabriel stood resolute, like a soldier allowing his eyes to compel the only answer his conscience could abide.

"If only those rogues hadn't stopped me on the road that night," Sera grumbled. Then a bright smiled crossed her lips. She beamed admiring eyes. Eyes that sparkled with playful amber fire. "But I am grateful they chased me to you, Gabriel. I knew then I could trust you. My guardian angel who shows me things I never dreamed existed."

Her eyes burned with gratitude and remembered passion. Sera eagerly wrapped her arms around Gabriel's neck. "Thank you," she whispered against his mouth.

Sera's feather kiss was meant to be a brief show of appreciation. The moment her silken lips brushed against his, all naive intentions fled. The stone spy crumbled in a groan of desire.

Gabriel pulled Sera closer, his lips teasing and tasting hers. She clung to him with the same eager abandon she showed beneath the willow tree. Never flinching, never mistrusting a single step in his erotic dance.

Gabriel told himself to let her go, before it was too late. He needed to remount his stallion and leave before Sera was drawn deeper into his web.

The sweet indulgence of her kiss was too enticing to resist. She was an angel, he admired silently. One that was destined to send him to hell.

Even as he condemned himself, Gabriel seduced Sera within his embrace. Shamelessly, he took command of her sweet offering to tease her lips into wanting him with the same ferocity he wanted her. With the gentle pressure of his thumb to her delicate chin, Sera opened her mouth to his searching kiss. Her small cry of pleasure echoed his own.

In moments, Gabriel was back to wanting her beyond all sense, beyond all propriety, beyond all awareness of the world around them. A world that suddenly darkened in a clatter of angry horses, and angrier men.

Chapter Thirteen

"GODDAMN YOU to hell, Blackstone!"

Belatedly, Gabriel heard the muttered curse and accompanying crunch of boots digging into the soil around him. Tearing himself from Sera's kiss, he instinctively pushed her aside and faced their attackers.

One look at the three angry riders made him realize the fight would prove unwinnable. With a sigh of resignation, Gabriel ruefully admitted he should have been expecting this.

"Thornbridge, Montgomerie," Gabriel greeted in practiced boredom.

Sera's brothers glared in silent outrage at the pair. His expression worthy of an angry god of war, the fair-haired dilettante was the first to explode.

"Take your hands off my sister," Cassius growled, "before I break your bloody neck, Blackstone!"

Dutifully, Gabriel attempted to remove Sera's hands from his shoulder. From the glittering bemusement in her eyes, he assumed she was still too dazed by their kiss to realize the magnitude of the scene that was unfolding around her. The more he pushed her aside, the more she clung to him. Valiantly, Gabriel distracted her brothers from noticing her distress. "I didn't expect to see you back from London so soon," he offered conversationally.

"Obviously," Thornbridge gritted. Sera's guardian alternately stared at his sister and the notorious earl. His shrewd eyes burned with accusation toward Gabriel. "You don't listen very well either, or else you wouldn't have been caught skulking about my property. Perhaps I should make myself clearer." Slamming his riding crop in his palm, he added in a threatening whisper, "At dawn."

With the words, Sera's cluttered senses cleared in a flash of alarm. Her demeanor instantly changed from beguiled doe to a fierce lioness protecting her mate. Halting Gabriel's reply, Sera stepped in front of him to offer her own surly retort. "Really Magnus, you have no cause to be so overbearing to Lord Blackstone."

Her brothers looked at her as if she was insane. Then each one glared at Gabriel as if to lay the blame of her sudden case of madness.

"Sera, stay out of this," Adrian warned. His gentle tone wavered with shock at his sister's naive words. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do too know," she protested. "These woods are not part of Thornbridge Manor. Lord Blackstone has every right to ride here. He is a gentleman after all, not a common criminal."

"You have no idea what kind of gentleman Blackstone truly is," Cassius hissed. "He's a notorious bounder and a rake of the first rank."

"He is not!" she virulently defended. Her fists tightened in frustration. "Your bias against the earl has got to stop. Papa taught us not to judge anyone based on unfounded gossip. And none of you have ever talked to Lord Blackstone long enough to know how kind he is. He was just returning my bonnet when you happened along to shout at the man. I daresay half of East Chatham can hear your blustering."

"I'm disappointed in you, Sera." Thornbridge censured with a harsh frown. "You gave me your word you would stay away from Blackstone, yet here I find you deliberately disobeying me."

"No, I didn't Magnus," Sera protested in a wounded voice. "I keep my promises, but when I went to the market today—"

"Don't try to deny it with some story about getting a book for my son, Seraphina!" Thornbridge snapped. "We know you deliberately set out to meet Blackstone. You lied to me, didn't you?"

Sera blushed uncomfortably. Her carefully contrived shoddy excuse was betrayed. Just by looking at her brothers' warring faces, she knew they had come prepared to find her with Gabriel. The thought brought unwelcome suspicion and anger. Belatedly, she realized someone must have told them her errand to the village was false. There was only one person who knew that, she grimly realized.

The look on Sera's face intrigued and worried Gabriel. It was as if she had been betrayed by her best friend. He almost wrapped a consoling arm around her before he realized he was hardly a paragon of virtue. As soon as the reckless innocent realized how unseemly their ill-conceived rendezvous had been, she would know how he betrayed her faith in him. Then he doubted she'd be defending him as a gentleman to her righteously outraged family.

A family Sera bravely challenged alone. "I did not lie, Magnus," she insisted. "I distinctly promised I wouldn't dance with the earl until you returned from London. And I haven't." Sera beamed entreating eyes at Gabriel. "Have I my lord?"

He considered the question a long moment. Silently, Gabriel wondered if their brief indulgence beneath the willow tree could be considered a sensual dance. The memory beguiled him the way no ordinary waltz could. There had always been an enticing seductive heat between them in East Chatham's ballrooms—an unexpected display that entertained the locals and fueled the gossip about them. Ruefully, Gabriel realized he would never be able to dance with Sera again without the desire to sweep her away in his arms.

Sera stared at Gabriel anxiously. Shadows danced precariously through his emerald gaze. A frown grimly graced his pursed lips. Lips that infuriatingly remained silent and unresponsive. If they were alone, she'd shout at him herself for not assisting her defense. Didn't he realize how dangerously foolish her brothers were becoming? she thought warily.

"Gabriel," Sera whispered loud enough for only his ears. "Tell my brothers we haven't danced."

"I meant for you to have no contact with the man and you well knew it, Seraphina!"

"How was I supposed to know what you meant?" she retorted. "You should be more clear when you're making unreasonable demands, Magnus."

"Don't play the fool, Sera," Cassius fired back for his fuming brother. "You know damn well what Thornbridge meant, but you're too willful for your own good. It's about time we thrashed some sense into you!"

Gabriel stepped forward effectively blocking Sera from her brothers. He glared ice at the loudest one. The action was deliberate and telling. The act of a guardian angel protecting his keep. Behind his back, Sera smiled.

Gabriel coolly warned, "If you want to thrash someone, Montgomerie, pick on an opponent your own size. I'd be more than happy to make it an interesting challenge for you."

"Don't lecture us on how to deal with Sera, Blackstone," the youngest brother defied. Adrian's reasonable gaze glittered with outrage. "She's our sister, not yours."

Poking her head over Gabriel's shoulder, Sera pleaded with her brothers in a calmer, apologetic voice. "Why are you all being so unreasonable about this? Lord Blackstone doesn't deserve this censure. He's our neighbor, not some street ruffian. He's always been a perfect gentlemen who hasn't done anything the least untoward."

"Gentleman aren't caught attempting to seduce unsuspecting innocent ladies in the woods outside their homes—in broad daylight no less!" Cassius snarled.

Sera blushed brightly. The realization of her brothers' untimely entrance crossed her mind. She hadn't seen them approach, or heard them until they started shouting in her ear. They weren't usually so quiet like Gabriel who constantly kept her unaware and off guard. But then she hadn't been concentrating on anything beyond kissing Gabriel.

Suppressing a surge of embarrassment, Sera decided to put a brave face on the awkward situation. "He wasn't trying to seduce me, Cassius."

"The hell he wasn't!" Her brother snorted in defiance. "The bastard had his hands all over you."

Sera blushed even more brightly. "But it wasn't his fault," she protested. "What I mean is, Blackstone didn't even want to come here, but I asked him to. There was something I needed to ask him and, and," she stumbled for an explanation. "And he wasn't trying to seduce me, because I was the one who kissed him. But I only meant it as a thank you and it wasn't at all what you think. Honestly, it was only a small kiss, but then his hands moved and—"

"Enough!" Thornbridge cut off Sera's incriminating excuse with a silent command of his hand. His face twisted with shock and outrage. Echoing the condemning glares of his brothers, the earl glowered at his opponent. "I blame you for this, Blackstone."

"I rather thought you would," Gabriel muttered beneath resolute misty green eyes. Eyes that reflected self-recrimination.

"Go home Seraphina," Thornbridge ordered, his voice eerily calm. "This matter no longer concerns you."

"What do you mean it doesn't concern me?" she protested. "It's me you're trying to boss around here."

Thornbridge pointed sharply towards the manor. "Go, now!" he growled. "I will deal with you later. For now I have a few words for Blackstone."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Sera hesitated under the intensity of her brother's anger. "You're getting all worked up over nothing. If I leave, you might do something rash and foolish."

"We're saving you from making a fool out of yourself, Sera," Adrian chided. "Open your eyes, sister. Blackstone isn't the gentleman you think he is."

"You wouldn't be the first country-bred innocent he's ruined for the pleasure of it," Cassius added savagely.

"What are you talking about?" Sera questioned.

"Marie Dumond."

The name tumbled out with the ominous grace of a skeleton. Inwardly, Gabriel groaned. Of course, the old rumors would have to follow him back to London.

"You do remember your mistress, Blackstone?" Cassius taunted. "Or is she just another forgotten victim of your villainy?"

"Mistress?" Sera echoed in a tiny voice. A surge of jealousy coursed through her. Confusion riddled her, mirrored by a litany of tortured questions. She turned to look at Gabriel searching his shadowy gaze. She wondered why he had never spoken of a paramour. Then, Sera realized, he barely shared details of his life while she had given him her darkest secrets.

The amber sparkles in Sera's eyes dimmed with curiosity and something Gabriel couldn't name. Ruefully, he suspected Sera finally accepted her image of him as a gallant knight might be tainted. The thought disturbed him. "Former mistress, Montgomerie," Gabriel corrected.

"Of course," Cassius scoffed, "I forgot your unique way of ending an affair d'cour."

"That's an old story." Gabriel's expression darkened. "I'm surprised you'd bore yourself with the details."

"On the contrary," Cassius retorted. "It's most illuminating to the kind of man you are. Shall you tell my sister all about the sordid deed or shall I?"

Sera mirrored confusion. "What sordid deed? What are you talking about?" Instinctively, she turned to Gabriel for answers. His expression was cold and unreadable as if he had retreated to some distant place inside himself.

Sera's brother smiled at the silent triumph. "Marie Claire Dumond was the ward of a Belgian count," Cassius pronounced with savage authority. His tale sounded oddly scripted. The endless repeating of a rumor that refused to die. "She could have had any respectable husband she wanted, but instead she had the misfortune to meet Blackstone. He seduced her right out of the schoolroom. She was sixteen when he stole her away from her family and installed her as his mistress on his ship. For three years, she serviced him while he made his living as a pirate and a smuggler. He never bothered to marry her and when he tired of her, he left her to die a whore," her brother cruelly informed. "He betrayed his mistress to the French to save his own bloody neck. That's the kind of gentleman Blackstone is!"

Sera heard her brother's scathing tale with eyes of doubt and dismay. Her brother's smug smile indicated he assumed she believed the atrocious rumor. Admittedly, it was colored more dramatically then the versions she had first heard, but Sera wasn't surprised people believed Gabriel a pirate. The thought of him living an adventurous life at sea, chasing cargo elusive in war, intrigued her the first time his father raved about him. From the viciousness of the tale, Sera assumed its author hated Gabriel. Surely, that is what made it so outlandish and atrocious. Without a doubt, Sera knew Gabriel would never betray a woman entrusted to him. His gentlemanly honor was too pronounced.

Yet with all her conclusions, Sera failed to dismiss the rumor aloud. An uneasy realization distracted her. Gabriel had had a mistress. Jealously, Sera wondered if he had also loved Marie. He must have cared something for her to keep her as his mistress for three long years. Three years together in the close quarters of a ship. It must have been a sophisticated relationship. One that made her own tentative kisses offered beneath the willow tree pale in comparison.

"Gabriel?" Sera searched his eyes for reassurance.

Stone was more responsive. Indecision silenced Gabriel. Sera's warlike brother was less so inclined.

"By God, you picked the wrong innocent to ruin this time Blackstone!" Cassius fumed. "It will be a cold day in hell before I ever let you get your lecherous claws into my sister!"

"My lord?" Again, she urged Gabriel to confide the secrets she could see buried within his shadowy gaze. His expression remained hard and unyielding.

Silently, Gabriel wondered if her naive trust in him was faltering so soon after she had pledged it. He should have been pleased. Her brothers would succeed in distancing Sera from the world of danger she was so avidly blundering into. A world he knew was no place for a cherub-faced innocent no matter how enticing she may be. Yet, the thought of her gazing at him with disgust instead of admiration gnawed at him for some inexplicable reason. He cared nothing if the world knew him to be a blackguard, but it irritated and disappointed him that Sera could believe that as well.

"There's a grain of truth at the heart of every rumor," Gabriel answered after a long pause. "The question is how small and twisted that truth becomes after subjected to the gossipmonger's tongue."

"Blackstone is a rogue and a debaucher, Sera." Cassius sneered.

"He'd happily make a ruined woman out of you if you let him!" Adrian warned.

Sera turned on her brothers. "No, I don't believe it!" Her protest was weakened by Gabriel's noncommittal confirmation. In her heart, she knew there was more to the tale. Perhaps this mistress was a lost love to Gabriel as Percy was to Cleo. War had a horrible effect on young lovers leaving them feeling alone and isolated. And unwilling to trust the people around them. Could that be why Gabriel seemed so cold and secretive to her at times?

"You won't have the opportunity to ruin this innocent or any other, Blackstone," Thornbridge threatened. "Adrian take Sera home. This is my duty to attend to."

Sera tensed at her guardian's changing mood. She had never heard him speak with such cold menace. He was used to being the commander in a time of peace, but now he seemed the commander of a firing squad. She sensed he intended violence. What frightened her was that Gabriel seemed positively bored by the prospect. And when he was bored, she instinctively knew, he was dangerous.

"Magnus, why don't you come with us?" Sera prodded. "It must be nearly dinner time and you know how piqued Chalmers gets when we're late. I'm certain this discussion can wait until tomorrow. Sleep gives one a clearer mind."

The look her brothers gave her chilled Sera. She replied with a coaxing smile. "I'm sorry if my friendship with Lord Blackstone troubles you, but he's done absolutely nothing to warrant your censure. Please be reasonable about this."

Ignorant of her plea, Adrian stubbornly collected the reins to Sera's mare. His hand was gentle and expectant as he reached for his sister. "Do as Thornbridge says, Sera. Your guardian will look after your best interests."

"You're all being extremely stupid!" she blurted in frustration. "I'll not leave you posturing at each other like this. Cassius wipe that scowl off your face. You're not Ares hunting one of Aphrodite's lovers."

"Dammit Sera, go home!"

"I am not leaving here unless Cassius comes with us, Magnus!" she declared. "He keeps spitting daggers of pure hatred and ignorance at everyone. In his state, he's prone to do something exceedingly. Mama and Papa would be extremely upset if their son turned into a brute."

The fury in her derided brother's eye brought a smug smile to Sera's lips. She knew he'd never kill her, but his desire to throttle her would keep him from trying the same on Gabriel. "Sera, if you don't stop insulting me, I'm going to drop you off that tree again."

"Take her home," Thornbridge ordered. "My words are for Blackstone."

The quietness of the declaration sent a chill down Sera's spine. Her guardian and Gabriel were locked in silent glares. Hazel gray hunted the misty green shadows in a deadly embrace. Tension filled the air between them leaving Sera feeling helpless to stop the brewing violence.

Grumbling over his brother's edict, Cassius mounted his steed. Imperiously, he glared at his sister when she hesitated to accept Adrian's assistance.

Sera chewed her lower lip, her eyes alternating between Thornbridge and Blackstone. It was clear from the tortured gaze that she was torn. Loyalty, compassion and trust weighed in the balance. Montgomerie pride warred with an innocent girl's forbidden trust in a blackguard.

The longer she hesitated, the angrier her brothers became. Cassius and Adrian condemned the rakehell who softened her heart. If they possessed the shrewd observation of a spy, the Montgomeries would have seen more than a lady's infatuation troubling her doe-brown gaze.

The instant Gabriel saw the streaks of fear, he registered the truth of that silent gaze. Sera was terrified she was about to lose someone she loved.

"Go, love," Gabriel encouraged. "It will be all right."

Reluctantly, Sera mounted her mare. She smiled at Gabriel while cradling the tussled bonnet in her hands. "Thank you for returning this to me, my lord. I'm sorry it's caused you so much trouble."

The irritated grumbles from her brothers denoted their displeasure at her continued friendliness. Defiantly, Sera ignored her brothers' frowns as they flanked her mare.

When Cassius spotted the crushed bonnet, he pointed out, "It's ruined."

Gabriel's mouth flattened at the comment. A surge of guilt consumed him. Guilt made more intense by Sera's naive reply.

"It is not! Lord Blackstone was most kind to return it to me. He could have discarded it, but he knew it was important to me. That was a very noble thing to do." Sera's voice became intentionally whimsical. "I only hope he doesn't begin to regret his kindness to me once Thornbridge is finished lecturing him over it."

"Sera, stop taunting Cass and get moving," Adrian warned.

Impatiently, Sera's brothers nudged her mare into motion. The somber procession moved slowly down the pathway to Thornbridge Manor. Her escorts stared coldly forward while Sera watched the trail behind. With a helpless expression, Sera left her guardian and her guardian angel in the shadows of the woods.

Blackstone and Thornbridge stared at each other in stony silence. Minutes passed without either flinching. Once they were completely alone, Gabriel was the first to crack.

His eyes calculating, he spoke casually, in the role of notorious blackguard he was expected to play. A fictitious man who cared for nothing beyond the simple dalliance of a stolen kiss in the woods. Gabriel clung to the role until his plotting mind could determine another way out of his current predicament.

"Well? What next?" Gabriel challenged carelessly. "Shall we part neighbors or enemies, Thornbridge? I don't have all day for you to decide."

"Don't be flippant man," Thornbridge chided. "Or does your life mean as little to you as your honor?"

Gabriel's expression hardened. "I assure you both have come in handy to me over the years," he soothed. Then the careless shadows glittered his eyes anew. "Nonetheless, we rakes and seducers get bored quite easily as your brother pointed out. And when we get bored," Gabriel warned, "we tend to become dangerously unpredictable."

"You're not the fool you would have the world believe."

"I was not aware the world believed such a thing," Gabriel coolly retorted. "But in my experience, one often judges others based on the characteristics of one's self."

"You won't succeed," Thornbridge vowed.

"At what?" Gabriel shot back. "Seducing your sister? I assure you, if that was my intention, the deed would have already been done."

At the declaration, a war of perception ensued. The earls glared at each other in silent question and recognition. Staunchly, Gabriel denied the memory of Sera's embrace from entering his mind. He may have seduced her into sharing her first taste of passion with him, but his gentlemanly instincts refused to allow her brother to suspect worse.

"Seduction is not what you're after," Thornbridge concluded a moment later. "One more paramour would merely add to your already blackened reputation."

"Surely an expected goal for an unscrupulous rake gathering feathers for his cap?" Gabriel taunted. Silently, he wondered where his opponent's line of reasoning was headed.

"But not one with a title and responsibilities," Thornbridge countered. "Now that your father's gone, you're the earl. The last of your line. Unless you find yourself a wife to give you an heir."

"I'm not a poor man, Thornbridge. I doubt finding a bride amongst the title-seeking ton would be difficult for me."

"You're a pariah for all your wealth," Thornbridge challenged. "No amount of money can cover for the lack of a man's honor. And you sir, are a known rake, smuggler and rumored killer. No respectable lady of any sense would have you."

"Unless I seduced her first?" Gabriel mocked. "It's an interesting theory, though I question your estimation of the morals of young ladies. In my experience, females are just as likely to have hazy definitions of their own honor as gentleman. Again I must say that I doubt finding a bride willing to fill my nursery in exchange for a countess' title would be difficult."

"Your family has always had eccentric tastes, Blackstone, but in three generations you have yet to acquire the one thing you desire most."

"And that is?" Gabriel prodded thinking of Sera. He wasn't certain why he thought of her that moment. It had been a long time since he allowed himself the luxury of inquiring about his personal needs and desires beyond those necessary to sustain his survival. Yet something about Sera made Gabriel hope or merely long to believe there was something beyond war. Something that had eluded his father and perhaps all his family.

Heedless of his opponent's rambling thoughts, Thornbridge delighted in expounded his theory of treachery. "Your grandfather was a pirate before he amassed a large enough fortune to buy himself a title. And your father built a lavish estate to entertain his rebellious friends. Neither of them could attain the respectability they envied in Society. As the remaining heir, that quest is now in your hands," Thornbridge argued. "Some chit off the street bearing your babes will never be able to grace your house with the respectability you yourself can never attain. You need to marry blue blood, a young lady of unquestionable means with an established family to ally yourself!"

The cocky nod of the earl let Gabriel know Thornbridge believed every word he spoke. Obviously, the man had pondered the question of Gabriel's interest for sometime. Perhaps it was naïveté or ignorance that kept Sera's brothers from thinking she would be pursued for her beauty alone.

"Just for the sake of argument, Thornbridge, if marriage is what I seek in regards to your sister, is that not a far nobler and more respectable goal than the seduction of which I am accused?"

"Make no mistake, Blackstone," Thornbridge proclaimed. His hazel gray eyes burned darkly. "No matter how many compromising situations you may arrange for my naive sister, I will never consent to a marriage!"

Gabriel frowned. "You would prefer your sister socially ruined rather than safely wed to me?"

"Marriage to a bastard like you would be anything but safe!" Thornbridge hissed. "I'll not condemn my sister to live in a debaucher's house. I will see her wed to some doddering old peer before I allow that."

"Such protective words, Thornbridge," Gabriel taunted. "Do you mean them or do you object to connecting my name to yours so much that you would blindly sacrifice your sister to save your precious honor?"

Thornbridge's face grew red; from fury or embarrassment Gabriel couldn't tell.

"Damn you Blackstone! You know full well Sera has been spoiled and doted upon by her brothers ever since our parents died. She was barely a little girl when she was left in the care of young bachelors. In our attempts to keep her happy we indulged her, mercilessly I fear, and allowed her to foster those independent romantic tendencies of hers. But despite her headstrong ways, Sera has grown up very naive and sheltered here in the country. She has no notion of the seedier ways of Town life or its citizens. She's a romantic, foolish young girl and I will not allow you to turn that idealism against her!"

Gabriel considered Thornbridge's fevered words. He wondered where that protectiveness had been a year ago when Sera was blindly being recruited as an unwitting accomplice to spies. Or when Sera foolishly set off at midnight to pay ransom and nearly got molested by highwaymen for her trouble.

"You seem to have been lax in your duty to your ward then, Thornbridge," Gabriel accused. "If I'm such a threat, then surely a wise guardian would've given me warning before I had weeks to forward my advances?"

"You bloody well knew I objected, but you ingratiated yourself to Sera before I had the chance to return from London and deal with the matter," Thornbridge raged. "Sera, in her tenderhearted way, refused to let anyone in East Chatham treat you as anything less than a welcomed neighbor. She's very convincing when she wants to be, though I think your acceptance here was due more to the controversy your presence arouses. The local gentry couldn't decide if you were a reformed rake or not and they entertained you in hopes of finding out."

"But as you think you've determined the true estate of my honor, or lack thereof, in retrospect have you not spent too much time in London?" Gabriel charged softly. "Perhaps Sera's independent and foolish nature is due to her brothers' neglectful assumption she was merely rusticating in the country."

"Montgomeries never neglect their responsibilities," Thornbridge countered. "But as for Sera, I see now that my indulgence of her eccentricities has led to a willful streak that can easily be manipulated by bastard's like you. I intend to take measures to correct that."

Recalling her brothers's angry threats to thrash Sera, Gabriel frowned. "I certainly hope you don't plan to take that frustration out on your sister. It does not take great strength or courage for a man to subdue a young woman by force, especially a naive and trusting lady."

"A Montgomerie would never raise a hand to a woman!" Thornbridge railed in true offense. "If you knew anything about honor you would know that a gentleman never betrays a lady's trust so." Suddenly, the earl's eyes turned murderous. "However, you are quite another matter. I would have absolutely no compunction about putting a bullet through your black heart to keep you away from my sister."

"That would of course, be your option." Gabriel shrugged noncommittally. "But would it be prudent to risk your neck in a duel? After all, according to my black reputation I have had a bit more experience with that sort of thing."

"Don't overestimate your skill, Blackstone," Thornbridge warned. "Each of Sera's brothers has had experience in the War you chose to ignore. You may be lucky and manage to strike down one of us, but the others will be ready to take up the task. Montgomerie loyalty is beyond question."

"I can see that," Gabriel replied realizing where Sera learned her tenacious dedication to her secret promises. He wondered if her brothers recognized how much she tried to emulate them. Growing up a young girl in a house of bachelors and soldiers, she adopted their stalwart codes of loyalty and independence. And added her own touch of feminine gentleness and insight.

Briefly, he flashed on the lingering look she gave him as her brothers escorted her away. She knew her brother would issue a challenge. That much was obvious from the tension, but Sera somehow sensed the truth about Gabriel.

According to rumor, he had been in three duels and never walked away with more than a scratch. His opponents declared he had ice in his veins because he never seemed overly concerned to face death. In truth, he faced it for so long he almost believed he was dead. Just an animated corpse dancing attendance to his masters in a world of betrayal and suspicion. It was a living hell with no light and no redemption save for the cherub face of a naive angel who trusted him to protect what she held dear. Including her domineering brother's honor and his life. The thought colored Gabriel's expression.

"Duels are tedious, Thornbridge," he commented in a cavalier tone. "One rises from bed early to make a point with a bullet when words at a more convenient time prove just as effective."

"Sometimes the added inconvenience can help clear up any future misunderstandings."

"I think we understand each other perfectly."

"You will forgive me if I assume from past misunderstandings that you are not precisely prone to accepting my advice on this matter," Thornbridge persisted. His nostrils flared again. "And as you have pointed out my neglect in tending to my sister's willful affairs, I think it only necessary that I deal with this matter far more directly. When the enemy is marching to your back door, only a fool discusses the matter politely in the Drawing Room!"

"The War is over Thornbridge. Haven't you had enough of senseless violence to last a lifetime?" Gabriel argued reasonably. Acutely, the spy sensed his inexperienced opponent's foolish protectiveness was getting the best of him. In a moment, the words would be issued and Gabriel's hands would be tied.

"In war, as in peace, we fight for what we value the most," Thornbridge countered. "I wonder Blackstone, if you had a romantic, impressionable sister like Seraphina and some reckless bounder came after her honor and her life, what would you do?"

The question caught Gabriel off-guard. He struggled for an answer. Some reasonable means to convince Thornbridge not to issue a challenge that would jeopardize his life, his honor and Sera's tender heart. All Gabriel could think of was Sera and the innocent trusting gaze she bestowed on him. Or the way she clung to him every time he held her in his arms.

She was so sweet, so beautiful, so naive and trusting. Sera belonged in a world of light whiling away her day at the latest social without a care beyond the new fashions. She belonged in a world of laughter, friendship and trust. Not in his world of deceit and treachery.

As far as Society knew, he was a notorious blackguard. Even if his reputation didn't accurately represent the reasons for his dastardly past, the nature of his life was revealed. Thornbridge believed he was a danger to Sera. Gabriel couldn't honestly disagree with that assessment. After all, he had already set out to defile her in revenge for a crime she never committed. A crime for which his enemies still awaited punishment.

The ngel of Death lurked somewhere in the shadows. Gabriel could feel the bastard's presence all around him. His cynicism tied Sera to the assassin's web. It was a foolish assumption. One borne of his own uncontrollable attraction to the doe-eyed innocent. An innocent, Gabriel realized ruefully, he was cursed with wanting to protect.

He decided to answer Thornbridge's question in a roundabout way. "If Sera belonged to me and she was threatened in anyway, I would do anything, including the most heinous act, to protect her."

For a moment, the two earls stared at each other in silent understanding. An emotion, perhaps respect with a touch of resentment, passed between them. Thornbridge defiantly ended the silence.

"Then we finally agree on something, Blackstone." With a quiet command, Sera's brother mounted his stallion. "You can expect to hear from my seconds."

Chapter Fourteen

"DAMN," GABRIEL muttered as he reached for a soothing glass of brandy.

The sun set over Mirabella casting a solemn glow across the Study. Seated at his father's large mahogany desk, Gabriel brooded over the urgent message in his hand. Sera's brother didn't waste time arranging to drive home his warning with a bullet. The dawn appointment was tentatively scheduled for two days hence in a discreet meadow near the Ruins. All that waited for the date with death was Gabriel's acceptance of the details.

He shook his head silently cursing the urge that drove him to the woods.

The door behind him scuffed open closed. Gabriel kept his eyes on the gruesome missive instead of acknowledging his familiar intruder.

"Trouble?" Dunstan prodded his secretary as he helped himself to a glass of brandy.

"That depends on your definition, I would imagine," Gabriel pronounced in his usual aloof demeanor.

"If it has anything to do with a chit by the name of Seraphina Montgomerie, I can imagine quite a lot of trouble."

"She's not a chit, Dunstan," Gabriel growled with a flash of protective irritation. "In this instance, she is not technically the one causing the disturbance. Her foolhardy brothers have that distinction," even without looking he could sense his friend's amused grin.

Dunstan grinned with amusement over his friend's automatic defense of the reckless lady. "Ah, the Montgomerie clan? Don't tell me they've finally noticed your connection to the little baggage...er lady and decided to call you out," he teased.

"At dawn the day after next." Gabriel indicated the open missive on the desk before him.

Dunstan nearly choked on his drink. "You're kidding." Soberly, he cast a negligent eye over the challenge and quirked a brow at his friend. "I'm surprised at you, Blackstone. You're usually adept with avoiding such complications."

"I wish I could say the same for Thornbridge." Gabriel frowned. "I did try to dissuade the man from issuing a challenge." But the earl was as stubborn and loyal as his hellion of a sister, Gabriel thought. Not that he could resent him for it. Loyalty, especially among family, was a rare commodity these days.

As irksome as it was, by issuing the challenge Thornbridge achieved a higher esteem in Gabriel's estimation. Rather than the neglectful, overbearing man of business abandoning his sister to her reckless adventures, the earl seemed a man burdened with a headstrong ward, determined and adept at eluding her brother's watchful eyes. Perhaps now the Montgomeries would wise up to Sera's reckless tendencies and keep her from blundering further into the dangerous world of the midnight rendezvous with rakehell or spy.

Echoing Gabriel's mournful musings, Dunstan heaved a heavy sigh over the written challenge. "Serious about it, isn't he?"

"Deadly serious," Gabriel proclaimed. "Thornbridge and his brothers fully intend to kill me to protect their sister from the Blackguard of Blackstone." When in truth it was Gabriel who needed protection from their angelic sister's charm. Bitterly, he remembered his foolhardy indulgence in the woods behind Thornbridge Manor. He'd been so lulled by Sera's unexpected kiss, he barely noticed their intruders until he was surrounded. Mistakes like that got men ambushed and killed. Or challenged to a duel they couldn't possibly win.

Gabriel could handle himself on the field of honor, but in a fight with such unfair opponents. Every one of the Montgomerie brothers would have the protection of their sister's love and her trust in him. Sera believed him a friend, a man of honor and compassion, as a man who could never harm someone she loved. And damn him, whenever he pictured her soft, pleading smile, Gabriel lost all will to prove her naive faith wrong.

Dunstan's sarcastic laugh drew him back from his thoughts.

"Good Lord Gabriel, do you realize your back home only a few weeks and already you got yourself into a duel with the neighbors?" Casually he plopped into a nearby chair and propped his feet on the desk. "You're taking this notorious reputation too much to heart."

"It pleases me to know you find the situation amusing." Gabriel's expression hardened with censure. As usual, his friend paid no respect to his dismissive mood.

"What happened to that silver tongue of yours? I thought you vowed never to get yourself in a duel over a woman again. Remember the mess you went through with the French general's mistress? And then there was the Prussian Countess in Versailles."

"My memory doesn't fail me as it does you, Dunstan. I seem to recall there were extraneous details instigating the dawn appointments in those incidents." Contrary to rumors of adulterous indiscretions, Gabriel's past duels had been less about a cuckolded man's pride and more about a traitor's lack of honor. On both occasions, he profited from the traitor's slips of the tongue and was obliged to protect his source of information. He used the gossip, which attributed his gallant acts to scandalous lover's quarrels, as a means of confusing his enemies. No man expected a notorious rakehell to care for anything beyond his own reckless pleasures.

"Are there similar extraneous circumstances this time as well?" Dunstan shrewdly inquired.

"Such as?"

"When you went off to meet the lady in question you were intent on getting some answers. Did you?"

Turning his back on his friend's perceptive gaze, Gabriel walked to the window. Memories of his stolen encounter with Sera at the Ruins flashed in Gabriel's mind. He meant to seduce the truth out of her, but found himself confronted with the shocking reality of her innocence and his own dangerous desire. In retrospect, he realized how easily he allowed his logic and clarity, his shrewd instincts, to be dulled by her appealing demeanor. If she had been the unvirtuous lover or worse, a calculating spy, his desire to bed her would have easily misled him. As it was, his lust for the angelic siren had misled him into committing an almost unthinkable act.

Gabriel allowed his brandy to soothe the ache of condescension within him. He had been wrong about her. Sera was not the calculating tool of his hated enemy. She was a willful and passionate innocent. Someone the Guardian protects, while all Gabriel could do was conspire to ruin her.

It was his desire that preoccupied much of his precious time in East Chatham and pit him against one of his most respectable neighbors. A forbidden, unsuspecting passion that drove him to seek out Thornbridge's sister on whatever terms he could deceive to have her.

He wanted to blame her. The reckless streak in her that forced her on the rode at midnight in britches. The fierce loyalty and determination that made her conceal Percy's secrets. The passionate honor that drove her to seek his assistance in her quest to avenge her friend's death. She enticed him in ways that eroded his isolated control and made him wish his life had not been colored by war and duty.

It was insane, but part of him wanted to be guilty as Thornbridge alleged. Yet, there was more to Sera than her blue blood that captivated Gabriel. She disarmed the danger and wildness out of men. Gabriel could understand how easily his father and Percy Dunne fell for her soft, doe-eyed gaze. Nonetheless, Sera had no notion of her power over men. She could have any she desired, but she wanted none.

Until him.

"Did Lady Sera confide in you as you expected?"

Dunstan's impatient question interrupted his thoughts. Gabriel lingered cautiously over his answer. "You mean in reference to our mysterious treasure?"

"And any possible contacts you believe she has," Dunstan prodded. "Did she tell you the name of the man who gave her that lover's trinket?"

Gabriel nodded. His voice flattened with regret and remorse.

"I was wrong, old friend." The words echoed ominously off the glass windows. "I have been chasing my own tail it seems."

"What are you saying? Who gave Lady Sera the egg?"

"Percy Dunne." Gabriel faced his friend's astonished stare. "Although I believe his intention was for the item to be delivered to my father."

"How?"

"Percy was in the habit of transporting gifts to his fiancée, Miss Athelstan," Gabriel explained. "Before he died in Dr. Dupris' cottage in Quatre Bras, he left a last gift for Sera's friend. It most likely would have ended up in the Angel's grasp if fate hadn't sent the injured Adrian Montgomerie to recover at the same cottage. Sera arrived with her brothers to take him home. Apparently, Madame Dupris recognized her name on one of the things Percy left."

"The doctor's wife had the package?" Dunstan's expression hardened. "She must not have known what it was or else the Frenchman would have followed to East Chatham sooner."

"Whatever Madame Dupris knew is destined to remain a mystery thanks to Dumond," Gabriel gritted. "In any case, it seems Sera volunteered to bring the possessions of her friend home to England with her brother. There was a tulip and a note instructing the plant be buried on the outside edge of Miss Athelstan's garden. The corner that borders the woods and is easily accessible for a little midnight treasure hunting."

"No one would ever think to look for a priceless gem encased in a mound of dirt," Dunstan beamed. "Your father was a clever forager."

"Unfortunately, there was a mix-up before he could retrieve the treasure and instructions were never carried out."

"So Lady Sera was a pawn, after all, but of the wrong spy?" Dunstan concluded. "Unless you believe Percy was the Angel."

Gabriel glared at the sarcastic question. Beneath the surface, he sensed the smug victory brooding in his friend. A victory that rudely reminded how utterly stubborn and mistaken he was about the assassin's East Chatham connections.

"Sera knew nothing of what her friend possessed," Gabriel assumed. "She was told to bury a tulip in a particular spot and leave it at that. Probably, Percy intended to transport the flower himself to England if he had not been discovered in France. Sera wouldn't have even known of the Triad egg if Miss Athelstan's brother hadn't claimed it for his own greedy purposes."

"Why did she go to the cemetery at midnight to ransom the egg back if she knew nothing about it?" Dunstan pondered. "I can't imagine any country miss risking her neck to reclaim her friend's trinket."

"Initially, she wanted to prevent Chilton from learning it had been stolen from his romantic sister's care."

"Why did she recruit you to help her find the genuine egg?" Dunstan inquired. "Was she acting out of concern for her friend then?"

Gabriel paused at the question. He crossed the room to the row of bookshelves embedded in the corner by the door. Twisting the hidden knob on a golden statue of an Egyptian cat, he retrieved the small bejeweled egg concealed within. He turned the object between his fingers.

"Sera acted out of honor," Gabriel declared. His mind recalled her fervent and tearful confession of how she had failed. "She believes this trinket to be cursed and seeks to avenge its victims. Primarily, her dear friend Percy."

"She actually believes there's a hex on the egg?"

"No, she believes he was murdered for it." Gabriel pointedly faced his friend. "Murdered by a rival spy."

Dunstan's mouth nearly hit the floor. Astounded and appalled, he asked, "Lady Sera knew that Percy was an operative?"

Gabriel's grim silence told the ominous truth.

"How?" his friend gasped. "I can't believe Dunne would be so indiscreet as to divulge that confidence in a young lady."

"Neither did he expect to be followed to a midnight rendezvous by the same curious young lady," Gabriel coolly retorted.

Dunstan's mouth fell through the floor. "She actually followed him?"

"To a meeting with my father, I gather." Ironically, the field Sera discovered was the same discreet meadow her brother had chosen for the duel. It was a convenient spot for many clandestine meetings including one spy getting orders from another. "Fortunately, she was far enough away that she only recognized Percy. When he discovered her watching him, he attempted to dissuade her suspicions. He swore her to secrecy instead. To her credit, she kept his confidences until today."

"And your father knew nothing of this? Perhaps you weren't the only one she confided in about the missing egg and other suspicious activities she was aware of in East Chatham."

"Sera did not betray my father either intentionally or inadvertently!" Gabriel proclaimed with honest resolution. "She was simply too frightened to confide this secret in anyone after Percy's death, including her own family. Regardless, Sera views her promise to Percy as a sacred one. A medieval quest of honor she trusts only to her knight-errant."

"A quest?"

"Her hunt for the real egg." Gabriel clarified holding up the trinket to accentuate his point. "She desires it back because she believes it is the key to Percy's justice. She hopes to lay a trap for the spy who killed him. A trap for one of two rival spies she expects to descend on East Chatham and claim the trinket."

"Two rival spies?"

"She knows them as the Angel and the Guardian."

Dunstan whistled in surprise. "You can't be serious! Does she know that you have the egg? She doesn't think you killed Percy, does she?"

"No," Gabriel pronounced with a heavy sigh. "Fortunately, she believes me to be her knight errant with a somewhat notorious past and misunderstood present. She probably hopes to reform me by recruiting my assistance in her honorable quest for justice."

"I told you Lady Sera was known for creating a stir with her original ideas," Dunstan boasted. "I'm surprised her brothers don't credit her reckless naïveté more."

"They do now," Gabriel admitted with a wry grin. "Her favoritism for the resident bounder has piqued their notice at last."

"Aha, so now we get to the point of that friendly missive," Dunstan murmured expectantly. "Exactly, what happened today Gabriel? How did you end up getting challenged by a blue-blooded politician?"

"It is of no consequence," Gabriel winced over the memory. "I made a mistake of judgment I do not intend to repeat." Casually, he returned the jeweled egg to its hiding place turning a cold shoulder on his friend's curiosity. His words tumbled out like anvils. "What's done is done."

"Then what are you going to do?" Dunstan persisted.

"About what?" Gabriel impassively strolled to his desk.

"The duel of course."

With excruciating care, Gabriel sat down and poured himself another brandy. He sipped it in silent thought. His eyes idly scanned an urgent missive from London. When he finally deigned to answer his companion's question, it was in a faint murmur over glass. "What I must."

"You know you could be bloody well be obliged to kill Thornbridge," Dunstan goaded.

"This is interesting." Gabriel indicated the missive in his hand. "A message from our superiors. It seems Dumond is getting restless. He's resorting to theft to restore his stock of smuggled goods. Perhaps we've let him stew in London long enough."

"At least he's not following us here, yet."

"Exactly. I don't think we can afford to let him," Gabriel concluded. "I think it's time we returned to Town where we can keep his interest."

"Return to London? Now?" Dunstan challenged. "What about the key stolen from your father's possessions the night of his funeral? You need the box before you can assemble the treasure. The Angel's smuggling contact could still be in East Chatham."

"The trail has run cold here," Gabriel disagreed. "Between you and I, we've interviewed anyone who had access to Blackstone Isle that day. The box is most likely immersed in the smuggling world."

"And the third key? The one no one can seem to find since Chameleon hid it in that Belgian church?"

"Obviously, that key is either well hidden or not here."

"Perhaps Lady Sera may know where it is," Dunstan suggested.

"No," Gabriel denied.

"She knew about the egg, why not the key, too?" Dunstan argued. "Percy could have entrusted her with that as well."

"In which case she would have told me today," Gabriel demanded. Brewing rage rumbled in him. "Sera only had the egg and she isn't even aware why it is important enough to kill for. I have the responsibility of protecting the accursed thing, now. Sera's involvement should be at an end." For her own good, Gabriel added silently.

The idea that the dangerous object could be in the care of a trusting innocent terrified him. It was sheer luck that the traitor who killed for the first key to the Triad didn't discover Sera protected the container itself. Otherwise, she might have ended up with the same fate as his father. Abandoned and betrayed by a neighbor.

Even now, just the mere contact she had to her dangerous knight-errant put Sera in jeopardy. If his enemies realized he had more than a passing interest in her, she could be used against him.

Gabriel's father insisted he watch out for Sera. It was not a warning but a request. A request to protect her from her own suspicions and reckless curiosity. It probably took his father only minutes to realize the frightened doe he sheltered in the storm was a fragile link connecting Percy to France and the treasure. If only he had been clearer in his last letter to his son. If only he had warned Gabriel of the seductive influence she had on a man's reasoning.

With aching clarity, he knew the longer he stayed in East Chatham the more corrupted he'd become by his desires.

"Give orders to the staff," Gabriel commanded. "We leave for London in the morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Dunstan questioned the gruff command.

"Yes." Gabriel mirthlessly returned his gaze to the mail. "We can keep an eye on Dumond in Town. With luck, the Season starting up will bring new life to the smuggling and information trade. We may be able to ascertain who the Frenchman's contact is and pick up the search from there."

"Aren't you forgetting your dawn appointment?"

"No, I am not." Gabriel dutifully scribbled a short missive. "You will convey my apologies to Lord Thornbridge before we leave. I trust that you can deliver this message discreetly?"

"You're just going to leave?" Dunstan protested. "Just like that."

"It is better to pick and choose one's fights," Gabriel declared slipping into his familiar cavalier tone. "In this instance, Thornbridge is perfectly within his rights to challenge me, but I find I can think of battles more important for me to win at the moment."

"What about your reputation? If you acquiesce to a neighbor, you'll be confirming your rumored reputation in Town. If you run from it, there will be no doubt that you are a bounder, or worse."

"I am not running from anything," Gabriel snapped. "As for my reputation, I stopped caring about that a long time ago. I come from a long line of buccaneers and pirates. What's one more?"

"Your family definitely has a skill for ignoring the gossip and misrepresentations surrounding it," Dunstan gritted.

"There is no dishonor in declining to put a bullet in one's neighbor. Besides, everyone will assume I got bored and sought fresher entertainment in Town. After all, there is little to interest the Blackguard of Blackstone in East Chatham for long."

Dunstan instantly arched his voiceat the declaration. "What about Lady Sera?"

Gabriel's smile faded to a brooding stare. Instinctively, he looked toward the window. The sun was turning crimson as it slipped below the horizon. In a few minutes, he'd have to light a candle to see his way to the gallery.

The drawing of his sea nymph would be waiting for him. Waiting for him to define the gentle line of her jaw, the swell of her breast and the lush curve of her thigh. She would dominate his thoughts again tonight. He would die wanting her. And that in itself was the danger.

Sera was a distraction to him. Her trust a burden. She may fancy him her knight-errant, but her innocent charm would easily dissuade him from his purpose. And endanger her in the process. It was fortunate that Thornbridge issued his challenge and forced the breaking point. Gabriel was given the perfect excuse to end his association with the inquisitive Lady Seraphina Montgomerie and set his sights on more appropriate game in Town.

Perhaps he'd take on a mistress to authenticate the rumors of his disinterest. He'd do whatever was necessary to protect Sera from his dark, untrusting world. She was best left to her whimsical menagerie of strays. No doubt, her brothers would make it a goal to have her wed this Season to some stable country lord before she got anymore willful and independent.

The thought of Sera giving herself to another, sharing that naive passion with any man but him, turned Gabriel's insides cold. Something about it didn't seem right or natural. She trusted him and only him. He could not betray that trust.

"I have all the information that I require from Lady Sera, including the egg," Gabriel declared. "She is free to go on with her life. I need nothing else from her."

Chapter Fifteen

HE JUST left her.

The troubled thought plagued Sera as she woodenly stood in a corner of Lady Sutton's garden. Mallets clicked against croquet balls in the meadow surrounding her. Bright sunlight adorned the ladies chattily huddled about the playing field. Each donned fancy floral gowns for the garden party. It was a time of excitement, on the eve of London's social season. In preparation, Sera's neighbors practiced etiquette over the endless and tedious gatherings of the local grand dames. For Sera, it was like being back on the mountain facing hungry wolves.

A fortnight had passed since Gabriel set off for Town. Sera hadn't heard a word from him since that awful day in the woods. Rumors claimed her knight-errant quit the village to avoid a duel with her brother.

Thornbridge had turned into a downright dictatorial bore right along with Cassius and Adrian. Each one was furious with her for a good week after the incident. She was lectured and yelled at so many times regarding the sins of naive willfulness, her ears still rang.

Her home became a veritable prison with her brothers taking turns at being her constant companion, or jailer. She wasn't even allowed to go beyond the garden wall until Gabriel settled in London several days. It was ridiculous and insulting. They didn't trust her judgment not to be duped by a disreputable rogue. Yet, the most infuriating thing was Gabriel.

He just left her without a word. Her brothers wouldn't have wanted her to communicate with him, but Sera knew Gabriel was clever enough to find a way. The more time passed without word, the more disturbed she became.

At first, she thought he was being discreet and waited for her brother's anger to cool. Now, she only hoped he remembered his promise to help her find Percy's egg. Every day it was in Bixby's possession, the further it got out of her reach. She'd never be able to fulfill her quest of honor if Gabriel abandoned her.

Sera longed to see him. To be with him and share even more secrets, like they did at the Ruins. Those moments beneath the willow's sacred embrace captivated Sera's dreams. Gabriel's scandalous touch, his sultry murmur of encouragement, his kisses enlivened her. She wanted to know more, everything he could teach her. But he had simply left.

Why did Gabriel elude her? Why did he always seem to be holding back when his gaze left her beguiled and exposed? Midnight shadows cloaked him as obscurely as his past, enticing and driving Sera away. Who was Marie Dumond to him? His mistress, his love, the woman who taught him not to trust?

The questions taunted Sera forcing a long, bitter sigh past her lips. Beside her, the croquet field bustled with expectation.

"It's your turn," Cleo repeated for the third time. Her misty blue eyes shared the muted colors of her gown.

"I know," Sera gritted. She hadn't intended for her voice to sound so irritated, but her best friend inspired little else in the past two weeks. Judging by her gentle shudder, Cleo was bothered by Sera's recent temper.

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

"For what?" Sera breezed indifferently as she lined up her next shot with the mallet.

"I didn't want to tell Thornbridge," Cleo insisted with a soft wail. "You were gone so long and I was worried when your brothers came home. They figured out something was wrong. They were already raging about the earl. I had to tell Thornbridge, Sera!" she pleaded. "For your own protection."

"For the record, I can see to my own protection," Sera retorted haughtily. "But as you brought the subject up, do you think we could just drop it? It's not worth all these histrionics. I'm quite over it."

Cleo hesitated. "Are you certain?"

Sera cracked her shot with finality. "Very certain. I've chalked this experience up to one of learning."

"You have?" Cleo brightened tentatively.

"Oh, yes," Sera crooned stepping aside for her friend to play. Mirth riddled her demeanor. "I've learned that the next time I wish to carry out a clandestine affair, I must remember to tell no one who may gossip. Except, perhaps, my lover."

Cleo's mallet sideswiped the ball sending it careening into a nearby tree. "Sera don't jest like that," she hissed. "Someone may hear you," she added indicating the crowd of talkative ladies around them.

"What difference does it make? No one seems to listen to whatever I say anyway."

"That's not true! Thornbridge was just being protective. You should be glad to have a brother who takes such interest in your affairs."

"As you're glad of Chilton's interference in your affairs?" Sera shot back.

"That's entirely different and you know it," Cleo chided. "My brother's concern for me only extends to the amount of money in my trust fund. It wouldn't concern him in the least if I was seduced and ruined by a notorious rake."

Stubbornly, Sera stomped down the urge to defend Gabriel one more time to her bigoted friend. Apparently, no one had any idea how foolish it made Sera feel when her situation was compared to that of a silly twit fooled by a sophisticated deceiver. "I told you I don't want to talk about it," she gritted.

"What don't you want to talk about, dear?" Mrs. Bunpenny interjected. Mallet in one hand and walking stick in the other, the old widow wandered into the private conversation. Her bright smile and concerned tone instantly softened Sera's temper.

"The horrible way I'm playing today," Sera lied easily. "I just can't seem to concentrate."

"That happens with age." The old woman chuckled warmly. Her white hair bobbed against her gray floral bodice making her seem ten years younger. "I imagine you young girls have other things on your mind," she added expectantly. "There will be plenty to keep you busy in Town for the Season."

"Just the usual balls and whatnot," Sera dismissed. "Matchmaking matrons and lords so eager to make a good impression they blindly step on your toes while you dance. All the while, you're required to keep a serene smile plastered across your face, of course." Sera donned an exaggerated grin as example. "Sometimes I get so bored, I want to step on my partner's toes just to see if he can keep his smile."

"Sera you say the most ridiculous things sometimes." Mrs. Bunpenny laughed. "East Chatham will be a much sadder place when we loose you to some handsome young suitor."

Before Sera could think of a surly retort regarding her brother's prejudiced regard of her suitors, the three darling Westmoreland sisters chatted their way across the croquet field. Dressed in bright floral gowns, Sera's gossiping peers resembled a pack of honeybees buzzing about a favored blossom.

"Lady Cavendish's socials are always better than Lady Pennington's," Ann quarreled with her younger sisters. "Isn't that right, Sera?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Ann," Eliza retorted, her auburn ringlets bouncing with her agitation. "Lady Pennington has that beautiful Elizabethan courtyard and she always has the most dashing, young soldiers. All the heroic figures in the ton."

"But Lady Cavendish has all the fair ones, including Lord Byron," Ann argued.

"Not this year she doesn't," Lucy, the youngest, added sadly. "Annabel has him now."

All three girls sighed in unison. The news that the infamous poet married the previous fall still moved them to sorrow.

"Annabel Millbank must be the luckiest woman in the world to capture Byron's heart," Lucy declared with awe.

"I wonder if she realizes how fortunate she is?" Ann added. "I heard from Cousin Charlotte that the marriage is not exactly to Annabel's liking. There are rumors of a separation."

"She must be a fool then," Eliza denounced. "With a husband like Lord Byron, what woman would not be happy?"

"Apparently, Annabel Millbank," Sera interjected dryly.

"I'd want to be married to Lord Byron," Lucy replied cheerfully. "He'd write me love poems every day."

"You don't even know the man Lucy," Sera protested. "How do you know what he'd do for you, let alone every day?"

"He's a poet," Lucy declared as if the definition itself was explanation enough. "Men with poet's hearts do romantic things like that for the women they love. Their souls are moved to express all the emotion and love inspired by their ladies. I wouldn't mind being married to a poet like Byron at all."

"Poets make poor husbands, Lucy," decreed the girl's domineering grandmother. With Lady Athelridge, Lady Ophelia Westmoreland invaded the group to bring a voice of matronly guidance. "It's best to put your interest in a man of more stable bearing. Someone less likely to lead an unsuspecting miss into scandal," she added pointedly.

The subtle hint of censure in Lady Westmoreland's voice irked Sera. It was a tone echoed by Lady Athelridge's intrusive glare. Annoyed beyond the breaking point by their busybody interest in her life, Sera couldn't resist challenging the comment. "But a stable man is boring, is he not Lady Westmoreland?"

"Nonsense," the gray-haired dowager scoffed. "A stable man is a good grounding for a lady of extremely wild tendencies. Someone stable like your brother Thornbridge, for instance."

"My brother is known to have his wild tendencies, too," Sera retorted lightly. "When he's not boring me with his lectures, that is."

"Speaking of Thornbridge," Lady Athelridge snidely interrupted. "How long does he intend to keep you imprisoned in the country? I do hope you won't miss the entire Season."

Sera fought the urge to strangle the woman. "I'm not imprisoned, Lady Athelridge," she corrected in feigned politeness. "My brother had some urgent business that delayed our trip to Town a few weeks. I expect to be going soon. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."

"Blackstone is there, isn't he?" Ann coyly asked.

Sera ignored the baiting comment. Mutely, she lined up her next shot with the croquet mallet. Even through the back of her bonnet, Sera could feel the ladies' eyes upon her. This was the true sport of garden parties. Finding the poor soul with an unpopular secret interest and tormenting her with polite gossip until she crumbled into tears or an angry outburst.

"He has a townhouse on Lighting Street, doesn't he?" Eliza asked, mischief in her voice. "I wonder what he's been up to since he's been in London the last couple weeks."

"Undoubtedly onto his next conquest," Lady Athelridge insinuated.

Sera raised her mallet to swing. She wondered if she could get away with accidentally breaking Lady Athelridge's toe.

"The man is a bounder!" Lady Westmoreland condemned. "Exactly what I want you girls to stay away from. Let's just thank goodness that he tired of East Chatham and moved onto Town. There are places there that suit a man like him much better."

Sera paused in mid-swing. She was having a difficult time keeping her eye focused on the ball. Until, she imagined it was painted with the faces of her tormentors. The social bees buzzed in her ear.

"Oh, but he was so entertaining," Lucy crooned.

"In a dangerous way," Lady Westmoreland hinted. "Just be grateful he didn't set his sights on you. There's nothing worse than to be made a fool by a notorious rake that uses a young lady's romantic sensibilities and trust. You don't want to be made the center of such gossip. Isn't that right, Lady Sera?"

A sharp crack of wood replied. On the veiled insult, Sera hit her ball clear onto the other side of the field.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Bunpenny gasped. "I think you've overshot your target, Sera."

By several feet intentionally, Sera thought with a smile. "If you'll excuse me, ladies."

Without looking back, she gratefully left the brood of censuring women for the isolation of the far field. She'd almost made it before the vultures abruptly halted Sera's flight.

"Playing rather zealously, my dear?" Lady Sutton looked down her nose at the croquet ball skittering across her path. Another foot to the left and it would have hit her toe.

Sera smiled politely though she wanted to groan. "My apologies, Lady Sutton, Lady Chillingworth."

Shedding her condescending glare, Lady Sutton turned to the dazzling viscountess. "Our dear Sera is known for her eccentric spiritedness. You must not mind her country ways."

"My mallet slipped," Sera protested. Irritation grated her nerves to be bandied about before East Chatham's paragon of feminine graces.

"You must be more careful dear," Lady Sutton advised in a false motherly tone. "Your eccentricities will lead you astray before Thornbridge safely sees you wed."

"I fear that's inevitable," Sera blurted. "As my brothers are positively bullheaded of late about my suitors and I am cursed to have an independent and romantic nature, it's no doubt that I will continue to be led astray. Whether I am safely wed to a stuffy old prude of a husband or chained to an equally overbearing prig of a brother."

Lady Sutton gasped in horror. Her glare seared Sera with comprehension. To suffer disrespectful talk in private was one thing, but in front of an honored guest like Lady Chillingworth was an entirely other matter. Visions of the war hero's wife spreading tales about her ill-mannered guests probably danced viciously before Lady Sutton's social climbing eyes.

"You flirt disastrously with danger, Lady Sera," she hissed. "If Thornbridge had any sense he'd marry you off to some gentleman buried deep within the country before you scandalized yourself and your family anymore than you already have."

Pushed beyond her ability to take any more lecturing for the day, Sera prepared another sassy retort. Abrupt laughter silenced her. Echoing Lady Sutton's surprise, Sera beamed a startled stare at the dazzling viscountess.

"And deprive Town of Lady Sera's uniqueness?" Lady Chillingworth mocked. "That would be a great tragedy. Albeit a bit naive, Society needs her refreshing honesty. If it weren't for the eccentricities of the young and romantic, of the kind that drove many to fight in our recent War, Society would be bored silly."

"Perhaps," Lady Sutton deferred in a softly defiant tone. "But a little prudence saves one from many social disasters."

"No doubt," Sera replied. "If you will excuse me, I believe I've lost interest in my game." Tipping her head to the hostess, Sera headed for the garden and a bit of privacy. She managed only two steps before Lady Chillingworth interrupted.

"I'm a bit tired as well," the dark beauty added with a flourish. "I understand the tigerlilies are in bloom. Would you like to accompany me to view them, Lady Sera?"

Before Sera could protest, the viscountess latched onto her arm and led her towards the garden. Only the glimpse of Lady Sutton's jealous expression lessened Sera's irritation. She wanted to be alone, but the viscountess was too busy chatting to get a word in edgewise. Reluctantly, Sera allowed herself to be led through the gates of the smaller garden.

Spring exploded in row after row of colorful buds. Sera's senses filled with the relaxing scent. With a distracted ear, she followed the viscountess' meandering trail down a winding path. A path that inadvertently led to the farthest corner of the garden well away from the throng of guests.

Lady Chillingworth stopped to view a bed of yellow flowers. "Impressive, aren't they? I'm wildly jealous, you know. I never seem able to make my lilies bloom quite so brilliantly as I see them here."

"It depends on what you put in the soil," Sera explained, feigning interest in the topic. "Lilies like a rich bed, Lady Chillingworth."

"I had not realized they were so discriminating," she cooed. Then her voice softened with subtle grace. "It would please me if you'd call me Delia. I have so few friends in East Chatham since I married my dear Edward."

Sera blinked in surprise at the familial request. "Lady Sutton and Lady Athelridge are tripping over themselves to entertain you."

"Between the two of us," the viscountess confided in a murmur. "I bore of the notoriety my husband engenders. Many clamor just to be in my company to illuminate their social standing. There is little truth in it. I much rather prefer your independent spirit."

"Independence is not a valued commodity in blue-blooded spinsters."

"Is that what you expect to be? A spinster? Surely it's not as bad as that."

"I rather think I'll be a ruined woman by the accounting of my neighbors," Sera added with a generic sweep of her hand toward the garden entrance and the croquet field beyond.

"Gossipmongers feed off the romanticism of the young," Lady Chillingworth advised in a gentle voice. "You must not mind them."

"Oh, I don't." Sera sighed as she slumped onto a nearby bench. "I've been talked about all my hellion life, or so it seems. My father said the only person's opinion that counts is your own. The rest is just hearsay."

"Sound advice." Lady Chillingworth crooned as she sat beside her, "Forgive me for noticing, but the past couple weeks you've seemed most unhappy. As if you were without a friend."

"Cleo Athelstan is my best friend," Sera protested weakly. "And I have my brothers and the rest of my family."

"But it's not the same is it?" Lady Chillingworth prodded.

Silence consumed Sera. She was aware of the expectant stare from the viscountess. Uncomfortably, Sera turned her gaze to her lap.

"Lord Blackstone is a captivating man, isn't he?" Lady Chillingworth asked in an airy tone. Sera instinctively tensed awaiting the censure to come. "He has a way of staying on one's thoughts."

"Does he? I hadn't noticed." Sera feigned aloofness. She hoped her new friend would get the hint she did not want to discuss the earl.

"He's a handsome man," Lady Chillingworth continued unabated. "Mind you, I've only met him briefly, but he reminds me of another gentleman I knew when I was about your age. He was an officer in Lord Nelson's navy. A handsome young man who some believed to be an accomplished seducer. My family was opposed to him, of course, since he lacked title and wealth. But that didn't stop me from giving my heart to him. Or from grieving for his loss when he was killed at Trafalgar."

Sera lifted her head at the bittersweet change in Lady Chillingworth's voice. She noticed small tears cloud the lady's dark eyes. Sympathy overwhelmed Sera. "I'm sorry," she offered with her handkerchief.

"Thank you, my dear." Lady Chillingworth wiped away her tears. "It was so long ago and yet the feelings in my heart make it seem like yesterday."

"Cleo's always saying things like that."

"Your friend?"

"Her fiancée died at Waterloo," Sera confided.

"How tragic. Was he a local boy?"

"No, he was from Ireland," Sera explained. "Percy served under your husband's command."

"Percy Dunne?" Lady Chillingworth echoed. "Oh my, I had not realized. My husband has spoken of the brave Lt. Dunne often. Edward was most distressed to lose him." The viscountess' peacock eyes glittered inquisitively. "Forgive me, but I had heard recently that Lt. Dunne was courting you two years ago."

Sera blushed. "It's a long story."

"I'd be interested in hearing it sometime." Lady Chillingworth smiled like a playful child sharing secrets. "If you wouldn't mind trusting me with the details. I promise I won't use them against you just for some interesting gossip. I hope that we could become good friends, Sera."

Sera intently studied the viscountess. She was kind, open-minded and supporting; yet, there was something almost too good to be true about her. Wrapped in elegant peach and ivory silk, Lady Chillingworth resembled a pretty bird. Beautiful, graceful, yet able to strike out if one's hand got too close to the gilded cage.

Lady Chillingworth leaned closer, bubbling with eager conspiracy. "Perhaps I could offer you a little act of friendship, Sera. I'm going to join my husband in Town shortly. Would it be wrong of me to offer to take a message to a certain lord, in the interest of young love?"

Suspicion and hope filled Sera. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I was young and romantic once," Lady Chillingworth cooed. "Because like you, I know there is more to Lord Blackstone than meets the eyes of that gossiping gaggle out there. And, because friends do each other favors. If I share your confidence today, then you may share mine tomorrow."

Sera considered the offer carefully. It could be exactly what she needed to make contact with Gabriel. She needed to know if he was keeping his promise to search for Bixby. At least, he would tell her why he hadn't bothered to contact her. Sera refused to believe the rumors that he simply bored of East Chatham, or her. At least, she hoped the rumors weren't true.

She was again reminded how little she knew of the man. She didn't even consider he might have had a mistress like Marie Dumond. Any man of his age who had traveled as much would have had a romantic past. The skilled way he kissed her, the sensual magic he showed her beneath the willow tree, all of it pointed to his past.

As what? A seducer, a tortured romantic, a man of mystery? What would a man of such bearing possibly want with a plain country mouse like her? The thought that he was just dallying with her as her brothers accused, that he could easily walk away while she spent night after night lying awake in her bed dreaming of his kiss tormented her.

And yet, she knew she couldn't dwell on that. Her main interest, her mission for the present was to recover Percy's egg and avenge her broken promise. To do that she needed to find Bixby. If Gabriel wasn't going to help her, then she needed to resume her own investigations utilizing whatever means offered.

"Thank you, Lady Chillingworth—I mean Delia," Sera accepted warmly. "I'd be very appreciative of your friendship."

"Excellent, my dear." The viscountess smiled in triumph. "Now about that note..."

Chapter Sixteen

HE COULDN'T forget her. The secret obsession consumed Gabriel more completely than the shadows that controlled his life.

In the wee hours of the morning, he battled his raging thoughts, briskly traversing the barren sidewalks of Lighting Street. Letting himself into his London townhouse, the oppressive darkness followed him. Gabriel reeked of ale and cheap perfume, the remnants of a nightly quest in the stews.

The notorious earl absorbed himself among the dregs of society, but Gabriel had found no pleasure in the parade of morally bankrupt gaming hells and brothels he was obliged to search. His attempts to ingratiate himself among the seedier element in London proved successful, as usual. Yet, Gabriel found himself easily thwarted in his hunt for the missing keys. His mind should have been focused on his mission, but all he could think of was Sera.

Negotiating his way through his darkened townhouse, Gabriel sought solace in the Study rather than his bedchamber. If the previous night's experience was any indication, he'd have more peace awake. Asleep his dreams gave life to the forbidden desire.

The memories beguiled him: Sera's trusting embrace beneath the willow tree, her angelic smile after he kissed her, and the bashful way she blushed when he whispered sultry words of encouragement in her ear. If he closed his eyes, he could see her standing within arms reach. He could smell her inviting scent. Hear her soft cries of feminine glee and sultry moans of satisfaction, and need.

With a muttered oath, Gabriel poured himself a brandy. The unhealthy habit of drinking provided him only a fleeting hope of dulling the unrequited masculine desire she inspired. The mere thought of Sera aroused him. Beyond all sanity, he wanted her as he wanted no other woman. It made him wary.

When he least expected it, when he should be concentrating on watching his back, he thought of her. Only brandy helped soothe his besieged sense of control.

Gabriel frowned at the drink in his hand. He couldn't permit himself too much of the curative lest his mind became completely useless to the mission at hand.

With forced singularity, he set down the brandy glass and turned to the correspondence Dunstan left on the desk. Among the usual was a discreet missive. The contents revealed a message from his superior. Caesar wanted a meeting to discuss his slow progress.

Gabriel furrowed his brow in shared frustration. Time was running out. The treasure eluded him in East Chatham; valuable time was lost on his accursed obsession with naive angels. Gabriel's employers demanded an end to this case before the cycle of revenge bloodied England's shores.

The War's end left only time to settle the Triad's many scores. Retired spies lived in fear of the Angel d'Mort's retribution. Yet, while he lurked in the shadows, Gabriel knew others waited to plunge the blade into the backs of their most hated enemies. Or despised old friends.

Dumond was here. Rumor placed him in the brothels of East Whitechapel, but Gabriel had yet to see the Frenchman's demented eyes.

At one time, he counted Rene Dumond his closest friend. They honed each other's skill at verbal and physical sparring. Their fellow classmates clamored to see the duo fence at St. Sebastian's in Brussels. Then Gabriel discovered the truth about his friend's lack of honor, and his sadistic pleasures.

It came down to a question of breeding, Gabriel supposed. Dumond's family claimed the more impressive pedigree, dating back to the days of Charlamaine. The Frenchman's airs were as sophisticated as a fine burgundy.

Beneath the polished surface lurked the inherited soul of a bloodthirsty monster. Generations of power and privilege corrupted him. Dumond inherited his family's greed and sinful lusts along with the estates and a perverted sense of loyalty.

Once, the pair had been like brothers; War made them enemies. Neither assumed a uniform, but their loyalties were cast in opposition. Gabriel's to his father and the English Crown; Dumond's to himself and the society of traitors and spies he profited from. At every turn in every mission, Gabriel knew the Frenchman was there, watching and waiting, just as Dumond knew the Guardian spied him. It was a game of cat and mouse, begun with a stolen toy.

Marie was little more than a plaything to her cousin. It still sickened Gabriel to remember the night she was sent to his bedchamber, the first and last time he visited his friend's country estate. Fear and shame corrupted her beauty. Barely sixteen, she trembled from years of Dumond's attentive tutoring. Tutoring in the useful household skills taught to orphans in exchange for food and shelter.

Gabriel's refusal to accept her debauched offer came as much from his own disgust in his friend's ideas of hospitality as from his true intent in visiting Mortrend Castle. It was his first mission for his father, the first time he encountered the Triad Society and its charter member. With Marie's help, Gabriel stole the first proof of their shady existence. In exchange, he took her with him, giving her escape from the lecherous wrath of her guardian.

In the eyes of Rene Dumond, it was the ultimate sin. Hiding behind his masked sense of honor, the Frenchman began the rumors of Gabriel's notorious seduction of an innocent. Challenges were issued, but Gabriel kept himself and Marie just out of reach.

If only he hadn't forgotten how well Dumond used pawns.

Swallowing a bitter sip of brandy, Gabriel quelled the memories of his past. They only proved a bitter reminder to him. Given the opportunity, Dumond would cut Gabriel down using any advantage. Friendship had turned to hatred and a lust for humiliation. It wasn't enough to kill the enemy. The Frenchman preferred to use pawns in a callous game of vengeance.

Perhaps that was why Gabriel had led a solitary life. Untrusting, distant and wary of those who grew too close to him, there was danger in being known to the notorious earl. Blackstones had a legacy of bringing only tragedy to the ones they vowed to protect.

That was more reason for Gabriel to deny the influence Sera had over him. He'd been careless to indulge himself in a moment of fantasy with her. Rogues and spies had no business entertaining thoughts of an angel when their enemies lived for revenge.

Yet, part of him rebelled. There was something about Sera that reminded him of a skill he'd long ago forgotten. She enticed him with her innocence of spirit, her unfailing faith in those around her, and in him. He tried to convince himself it was the anomaly of youth. In time, she would outgrow her childish tendencies and become as pretentious and snobbish as her neighbors.

Reaching into his desk drawer, Gabriel retrieved the fanciful drawing he made of his angelic nymph. It had taken him weeks of haunted scribbling to capture the natural beauty of her smile and the fine lines that defined her warm inviting gaze. Despite his skill, the drawing was a pale imitation. A one-dimensional picture that failed to capture her sweet voice, bold beliefs, or gentle touch.

Sera was a troublesome angel, a rebel in a world of privilege and assumption. She would make a loyal wife to the man fortunate enough to win her hand.

The memory of her awed gaze at Mirabella filled Gabriel's mind. No one in East Chatham would dare look upon his home with a faint hope of one day sleeping within its walls. Bitterly, Gabriel reminded himself her admiration had been before their last fateful encounter. Before he deceived her for the sake of his uncontrollable passions. Before her brothers proved he was a disreputable suitor.

She belonged with an honorable man, yet Gabriel could not abide the thought of Sera with another. Her tentative kisses were shared only with him. She burned in his hands, redeeming and condemning him with her first real taste of passion. Gabriel was humbled by the memory.

He was an experienced seducer, taught to be a careful, methodical lover. With Sera, he found himself as swept away by the moment as she. He hungered to show her more. He wanted to see her blush when she realized she had only her lover as a blanket. He wanted to feel her shudder with pleasure the first time she discovered the intimacy of having a man inside her.

He wanted what he couldn't have. What he shouldn't have.

The Season was beginning in full swing. Inevitably, Gabriel knew he would have to face Sera. There would be rumors of a failed courtship. It was up to him to feign indifference.

Strategy demanded he take a mistress and give further credence to the rumor of his restless interests. He should coldly stand by and watch as Sera was wooed by a blue blood her family favors. A husband she deserves.

With a determined sigh, Gabriel tucked the fanciful drawing inside his desk. It was better this way, he told himself. Sera, for all her charms, was a foolish distraction to him. He was a seasoned professional who had never allowed a personal desire to interfere with his mission. With the Angel and bastard Frenchman lurking, he could not allow anything to distract him.

If his body needed the attentions of a female, then it behooved Gabriel to engage the services of a proper paramour. One night's indulgence should be sufficient to end this longing for an innocent girl. And if he choose the establishment well, he might also be able to rouse his old friend.

Swallowing the last of his brandy, Gabriel cynically plotted his next move.

THE red Velvet Hell suited its name. Part gaming hell, part brothel, the establishment catered to the exotic tastes of its posh clientele. Far from the tame entertainment offered in similar places, gentlemen came to the Red Velvet as much for the notoriety as for the scandalous indulgences that could be had in the upstairs rooms. Play was always deep, causing more than a few fortunes to change hands in a night. Food and drink were the finest the smuggling world had to offer. And, the imported French courtesans were more skilled than a sultan's concubine. Only the most disreputable gentlemen frequented the Red Velvet.

Gabriel relaxed among the noisy denizens who overpopulated the extravagant first floor gaming room. With skilled indifference, he watched his sotted opponent study yet another hand of whist.

Sir Purdie Latham, like many aristocrats turned soldier, found retirement from the excitement of glorious war so boring he turned to a reckless nightlife of foolish indulgences. At the rate Latham drank and gambled, Gabriel estimated his marquess brother would cut him off the family purse strings in a month. That is assuming he hadn't already.

According to the intelligence Dunstan gathered, Gabriel knew Latham wasn't the least bit concerned about losing a steady allowance. He had already been obliged to indulge in other less legal sources of income. Perhaps if his gaming debts were inflated enough, Gabriel assumed he would be obliged to do so again.

"Blast!" Latham blurted in disgust as Gabriel laid down his cards. "I lost again."

"Luck just doesn't seem to be with you tonight." Gabriel casually tallied the score.

"What's the damage?" Latham slurred, gulping down a glass of port. Quickly, he poured himself another.

"That hand makes it an even two thousand."

"Pounds?!" Latham sputtered. "How the deuce did it get so high?"

Gabriel wiped up the port his opponent carelessly spilled over the cards. "Fortune smiles on us at different times."

"Fortune, eh?" Latham squinted through bloodshot eyes. "You wouldn't be cheating, would you Blackstone?"

Gabriel paused in mid-shuffle. Cold fire intentionally rumbled through his voice. "Is that an accusation?"

Tension rippled through the air. Gabriel ignored the patrons who stopped and stared. Since he came to Town and began frequenting the hells, he knew he'd become a source of controversy. London waited for the moment he was dared into his first scandalous duel. Beaming a menacing glare at his foolish challenger, Gabriel trusted the legend of the Blackguard of Blackstone was enough to make seasoned soldiers crawl back to the cradle.

"Course not," Latham flustered. He bowed his wary eyes to his drink. "It's just you have the devil's own luck tonight. You hardly seem interested in the game yet nothing you do keeps you from winning."

Gabriel casually shuffled the deck of cards. "Tonight must be my night, as last night was yours." With a dramatic pause, he set the deck down in the middle of the table. "Though I do grow tired of this game."

"You can't quit now," Latham protested. "Not until I get a chance to recoup my losses."

"I believe I've had enough for one night," Gabriel declared resolutely. "We can settle our debts on the morrow."

Purdie Latham turned an odd shade of purplish red. "I'd prefer settling this now over another hand."

"With your luck tonight," not to mention the bottles of port you consumed, Gabriel thought, "I don't doubt the damage would only get worse. Best quit while in reason."

"The thing is, Blackstone," Latham confided conspiratorially. "I don't have the blunt to settle the debt tomorrow. At least not handy. If you could give me, say a week or two?"

Gabriel smiled smugly. "Money is of little interest to me, Latham. I have plenty. However, there may be another way you may repay your debt of honor." He hesitated a moment for effect. "A favor?"

Latham's brows furrowed. "What kind of favor?"

"I understand your brother has a rather interesting collection of Egyptian tapestries," Gabriel explained. "Acquired by you, so I hear."

"That he does. He's an avid collector of antiquity. Always wants to traipse about in old ruins and bring bric-a-brac home. He has an exotic collection."

"Obtained via equally exotic means," Gabriel insinuated.

Latham's face turned red. He loosened his cravat. "What are you suggesting?"

"Only that some of the items which reside in your brother's gallery are not for sale on the open market. Yet, you seem adept at acquiring them. You have a talent, sir. A talent I seem to be in need of."

"I'm not a thief or a smuggler if that's what you're thinking," Latham defended. "But I do know certain helpful people."

"Of course," Gabriel appeased. "I was hoping you may be able to get your friends to help me locate a particular item I've had my eye on. It is both exotic and difficult to locate, but I believe it may be known to you."

Latham relaxed a bit. "What is it you're after? An Egyptian stone, a relic?"

"Medieval French, actually. A gold-lacquered box, about palm-sized with a slight indentation on the top. It's part of a set."

"Sounds common enough."

"It's quite unique, I assure you," Gabriel corrected. "It was a gift from King Charlamaine to his favorite paramour. Each piece is engraved with a singular mark. The engraving of a serpent and a silver rose wrapped around a three rung cross."

Latham choked on his port. In silent horror, he stared at Gabriel. The knight's eyes bespoke fear and lies. "There were many trinkets floating around during the War. That one may be difficult to find."

"I trust your contacts will be able to locate it," Gabriel encouraged icily. "I sense you are familiar with the item I seek?"

"Not firsthand, but enough to know..." Latham paused to gaze warily around the room. His voice lowered to a hush whisper. "Enough to know that particular collection is bloody dangerous, Blackstone."

"Is it?" Gabriel feigned ignorance. "All the more reason for it to be exotic, I suppose." Carefree confidence colored his demeanor. "Have no fear Latham, I have pursued many dangerous collections during the War. One must find exciting entertainment to occupy one's time."

"You don't strike me as man interested in baubles, medieval or otherwise. Perhaps your interest is a bit more dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Gabriel echoed. "I am merely an avid collector. Or rather, like you, I have a talent for collecting exotic items for others. Especially those whose favor would be of interest to me at a later time."

Latham smirked. "So that's it?" Smug comprehension illuminated his expression. "Just like a pirate...I wonder what favor you wish to court? Can't be financial as you seem to be richer than Croesus. So, what is it? A small token to encourage some respectable family to favor yours, perhaps with an obliging marriage?"

"That is my business, not yours," Gabriel dismissed. "If you can locate the particular item which I seek, be so kind as to send a note round to my townhouse. If not, then we can settle our debt in a week, if that is amenable to you."

Latham beamed troubled bloodshot eyes. Seizing the moment, Gabriel rose from the table. "A bit of advice, Latham. Pick another establishment to frequent. This one doesn't bode well for your finances it seems."

Bidding his companion an icy farewell, Gabriel disappeared into the crowd of the hell. True to its name, the Red Velvet had walls covered in the sultry fabric. Ale and smoke choked the gilded trim, making its crimson softness tarnish. Hell was a perfect description for the congested, heated den of inequity.

Casually, Gabriel navigated the cluster of gaming tables en route to the entrance. A large group of sotted soldiers stumbled inside. Gabriel narrowly avoided becoming an obstacle in their path to the tables. Taking advantage of the distraction, he stepped through the velvet drape beside the main entrance.

Red lace curtains and velveteen settees lined a dimly lit room. It was a parody of a French boudoir and English sitting room. The heady scent of inexpensive perfume and exotic brandy lingered in the air. Half-clad women lounged on velvet cushions, catering to the affections of the sotted gentlemen who paid for their companionship.

In the middle of the room, a raven-haired gypsy girl danced in silken veils to the groping glee of her male audience. One by one, she allowed them to pluck away the veils of her costume.

Gabriel cast a negligent eye over the bawdy display.

"Come to bid on 'er?" croaked a gritty masculine voice beside him. Gabriel turned to see a portly man lumber out of a darkened corner. Briefly, he noticed the hidden stairway beyond. Two large bodyguards crossed their arms and leered at the dancing girl.

"Marta the gypsy is quite popular," confided the gritty man. "She's known for 'er talents in performance, on and off the dance floor." He laughed lustily.

"Indeed." Gabriel remained indifferent.

"Leave him alone, Hank!" chided a pretty, redheaded woman as she sidled up to Gabriel. Luscious curls bobbed over a fine silk gown. The dress like the woman denoted the sophistication of a French lady, or a skilled courtesan. "Can't you see this is a gentleman. Gentlemen aren't interested in the country talents Marta has to offer. Their tastes are far more discriminating."

"But not too discriminating," Gabriel suggested as he purposefully let his gaze wander up and down the redhead's buxom body.

With a comely smile, the courtesan shooed the little man away and fluttered her eyes at Gabriel. "Perhaps I may be of service to you, milord? My name is Desiree."

"Then you must be good at fulfilling one's desires," Gabriel suggested.

"That depends on the desire." Desiree glowed. "What is it you wish?"

"My wishes like my desires are too numerous to count," he murmured. "For the moment, I find myself thirsty."

"Then can I offer you a drink? Port or brandy?"

"Burgundy. Perhaps you would oblige me by sharing a bottle? In private, of course."

"Of course," the redhead cooed. "Then you must tell me what other wants I can attend for you."

Her arm tightly wrapped around his, Gabriel allowed the courtesan to guide him toward the staircase. Just as they passed the guards, he leaned over to whisper in Desiree's ear. She giggled lustily as they climbed the stairs like any number of other couples that night in search of a few private moments to indulge their fantasies.

At the top of the stairs, Gabriel spied a long winding hallway with a gaudy French decor. Behind elegant doors, he heard a whip crack and the lustful moans of a man in apparent bliss.

Steadily, eagerly, Desiree guided him down the hall to a quieter bend. When they reached the room he requested, Gabriel paused.

"Come now, milord," the courtesan cooed. "Don't be shy. Desiree will see to all your desires."

"You already have," he answered coolly. His brazen gaze rested on the ornate door at the end of the hallway. Gabriel stalked toward it with a smug smile of satisfaction.

"No wait! You can't go in there!" Desiree shouted after him.

Gabriel flung open the door. A large, Neapolitan office loomed inside. Sitting behind a mahogany desk, an elegant dark-haired man shot a murderous glance at the intruders. When his eyes met Gabriel's, the look turned to mild annoyance.

Desiree flustered, "Forgive the intrusion, monsieur."

The man dismissed her with a cold flick of the wrist. She hastily shut the door behind her leaving the men to stare at each other in brooding silence. Hatred and familiarity enveloped them.

"Dumond," Gabriel murmured coldly.

"St. Clair," the Frenchman returned similarly. "Or is it Lord Blackstone now? Your fortunes have changed since last we met. The fates conspire to reform you from a pirate to a gentleman."

"I was always a gentleman." Gabriel sauntered into the room. "Nobility is a mark of character, not a birthright. But then, you always did confuse the two."

Dumond exuded menace. "No more than you, mon ami." Like a prowling animal, the Frenchman stalked around his desk. His wolverine gaze met Gabriel's. "Now perhaps you can settle my curiosity and divulge why you have intruded upon my privacy this evening. Or have you come to finally settle our debts?"

"Think of it as a social call," Gabriel announced. Casually, he took a seat before the desk. Though his rival effectively towered above him, Gabriel glared at Dumond with deceptive ease. "I would have announced my intentions sooner, but you have been unusually discreet since the Daemon Lupe's arrival in London. Have you been ill?"

"I am in perfect health, merci," Dumond's voice crackled like ice. "I tend to enjoy more intimate surroundings for my affairs these days. I understand your new status has not curbed your lust for the adventurous side of life. I trust that you have not suffered ill health from your nightly excursions of late." With a cruel twist of his mouth, he warned, "You really should be more careful, mon ami. All manner of accidents can occur in this disreputable section of Town."

"True," Gabriel agreed. "But I think I am quite prepared on that score. After all, a knife in my back would deprive you of the opportunity to plunge the blade into my heart."

"Then perhaps you'll grant me the duel I requested," Dumond taunted. "I am most anxious to see if you have forgotten the skills I taught you."

"I never forget," Gabriel gritted ominously. "Though I daresay I've learned many more of my own."

"Excellent." Dumond gleamed with feral bloodlust. "Then a duel between us would be an exhilarating competition."

"Inevitably," Gabriel murmured. "Alas, it can not be."

"Why, I wonder? Do you fear being outmatched?"

"On the contrary. Dueling is a gentleman's sport. One would be a fool to accept such a contest from a disreputable opponent."

"How ironic that the English see disrepute in the actions of others and not in themselves. I remind you, by all rights of honor, I am not only entitled but also bound to cross swords with you. In the name of justice, you should have fallen to my blade ten years ago."

"I suppose justice decided to spare my life then."

"Justice or cowardice," Dumond baited. "What a pity it didn't spare my Marie."

"Oh, but it did," Gabriel softly declared. "At least from your lecherous claws."

"I was her loving cousin and her guardian. I gave her everything until you stole her away."

"After you so obligingly gave her to me for the night," Gabriel reminded.

"After I took you into my uncle's home," Dumond shot back. He railed like an unjustly wronged man, but a twisted menace corrupted his authenticity. "You betrayed us, mon ami. If I had any idea what you were about that night, I would have protected my naive cousin. It is partially my fault she fell under your dangerous spell."

"And was freed from yours?" Gabriel challenged. "With or without me, Marie would have fled your attentive care."

"I wish that she had. Better that she ended up surviving in a place like this than aboard your pirate ship. Tell me, did you share her with your crew on long voyages or keep her to yourself?"

"I was never as callously generous as you," Gabriel hissed. "Nor was she."

"So that is why you left her for General d'Clerque in Marseilles? Tire of her coy stinginess and cast her off to the first rake that offered a high enough price? It must have been difficult for you to escape from your just punishment and leave Marie to hang for your crimes."

"As usual, I believe you have some of your facts misplaced," Gabriel rumbled in defiance. "She suffered as much for her family's crimes as mine." Forcing the bitter memories to subside, Gabriel softened his mood. "It was a most unfortunate incident."

"I know this much," Dumond raged. "If it had not been for you, Marie Dumond would still be under my care today."

"Then God must certainly have had mercy on her soul."

"Mon Dieu!" Dumond spit out. "God damn you, Blackstone! You are unrepentant, aren't you? An innocent girl is seduced and betrayed to the gallows, yet you have the gall to be proud of the fact. If you hadn't stolen her away from my family, she never would have fallen into our enemy's hands!"

"I wonder who your allies are then," Gabriel pondered. "I assumed everyone was an enemy to the Dumonds. Even those with the same tainted blood. Rather like a pack of rats that feed on each other when the mood strikes."

"Take care, mon ami," the Frenchman's voice seethed with menace. "Rats are known to strike without warning when sufficiently provoked."

"And cats are known to eat rats," Gabriel countered coldly.

"Touché," Dumond complimented. "I see you have not lost your skill with words. I trust you will stay in Town longer and not deny me the entertainment of your company?"

"I shall be in London until my business is concluded. Like you, I expect?" Gabriel accused. "No doubt we will run into each other often."

"Business?" Dumond echoed with a suspicious glint in his eye. "How boring. I would have thought you'd be stealing off to East Chatham for your entertainment."

A ripple of unease slithered through Gabriel. With practiced indifference, he smiled. "My father's estate is a respite for me, an invaluable source of information. But alas it does not hold what I need."

"Ah, but it does hold what you desire, does it not?" Dumond arched his eyebrow with the taunt. "Or should I say who you desire? You should be ashamed of yourself, mon ami. But then one ruined innocent is never enough for a rakehell, is it?"

Gabriel's smile turned grim. "I think you've consumed too much wine, Dumond. You're babbling nonsense."

"Apparently, it wasn't nonsense to her brothers," the Frenchman divulged happily. "They found the tale of what you did to my Marie most fascinating. I wonder what lies you told Lady Montgomerie about your sinful actions. Or was she too enthralled by your carefully-crafted facade of a gentleman to see the true bastard beneath?"

"Lady Montgomerie?" Gabriel asked as if he never heard the name.

"Seraphina Montgomerie, Thornbridge's hellion little sister," Dumond clarified. "A willful young girl of somewhat plain brown-haired beauty. Seems a bit of a country mouse to me, but I suppose with the right education she could provide unending hours of enjoyment. I imagine, with your lecherous history, you have already taken assessment of her naive skills as you did Marie's. Tell me," Dumond inquired in a lecherous tone. "Does she have the same potential?"

Gabriel had the sudden uncontrollable urge to break his old friend's slimy neck. He suppressed it with every ounce of restraint he had. The question was meant to bait him. His rival lived for any means to torment him. Any weakness could be used to unbalance Gabriel. The knowledge of what Dumond could do, especially to a trusting young woman, was as painfully clear as Gabriel's memories of Marie. The thought of Dumond looking upon Sera with the same lustful intentions outraged him.

Calmly, Gabriel met his rival's eyes. "As you have obviously watched my actions for some time, you know that I left East Chatham several weeks ago," he declared, his voice rigidly unconcerned. "I found the place, on the whole, restful but sadly lacking in the entertainment that captures my interest for long. The Montgomeries, like their neighbors, are a cold and prudish lot."

"Not according to local rumor," Dumond persisted. His wolf-like eyes hungered for the kill. "Some might say the Montgomerie chit was besotted with you. I daresay your skills of persuasion are at work again."

Gabriel adopted a callous tone. "Her infatuation, small though it was, served its purpose. I did, after all, find every social door once closed to my family opened to me. But one grows tired of an anxious pup trailing one around. I admit she seemed to have some potential, but upon further inspection I realized that she is too much of a child ruled by her brother's prudish ways."

"Perhaps she needs a better teacher," Dumond suggested wickedly. "You always did underestimate the appeal of children. Naive, malleable and trusting, with proper education, they can become the finest courtesans of the trade. Whether peasant or noble born." Imitating a predator cornering his prey, the Frenchman rumbled with aggressive intent. "If you truly aren't interested in the lady, then you wouldn't object if I made my own assessment of her skills?"

Gabriel locked gazes with his rival for a long tenuous moment. He wanted to kill the bastard. Only years of restraint kept Gabriel from making any outward sign of emotion. That was exactly what Dumond was looking for. Any sign that Sera meant something to him.

"By all means," Gabriel acquiesced. "Don't let me dissuade you. It would save me a good deal of trouble if you died of boredom in such a way."

The fires of doubt and suspicion burned in Dumond's eyes. Obviously irritated with his prey's response, he circled behind his desk. His voice was bitterly fierce. "On no, mon ami," he warned ominously. "My death will not come until I see you burn in hell."

"And I you, Dumond," Gabriel vowed with lethal grace.

A moment of understanding passed between the old rivals. A moment that promised violent revenge for crimes as old as the Guardian's shadows.

"I shall have to find a way of inducing you to accept my challenge, so we may settle our debts," Dumond challenged.

"You may try," Gabriel lightly dismissed. "I don't foresee anything that would oblige me to become a fool." He rose to his feet. "Now if you will excuse me, I find this conversation has lost its originality. I trust that our paths will cross again as long as our business continues in Town."

His movements cautious and swift, Gabriel made for the door. The desire to flee overwhelmed him. If he didn't leave soon, he'd be in serious danger of committing bloody murder. If for no other reason than to keep his lecherous rival from perceiving his true thoughts. Thoughts that wildly settled on a doe-eyed innocent who'd be eaten up by a bastard like Dumond.

Gabriel's hand reached for the doorknob when his rival spoke. "I look forward to our next encounter, mon ami," Dumond promised menacingly. "However, next time I think I should be the one to make an unexpected call on you."

Just for a moment, Gabriel's hand stilled on the doorknob. A chill crept up his spine. Curtly, he replied, "Thanks for the warning."

Chapter Seventeen

"MY DEAR Sir."

Gabriel read the familiar script a dozen times. It was a discreet missive, sent through East Chatham's daily post. Like the author, the handwriting had Sera's artistic and romantic flair. Her hand betrayed the emotion beneath the words. Every pause, every droplet of ink and small smudge detailed the attention and motivation she gave her every word.

It was an unexpected note. One delivered nearly three weeks after their last encounter. Her brothers were probably exceptionally proud of themselves, but Sera apparently still struggled to accept a failed courtship. Veiled frustration showed behind her usual cheerful regard.

"I hope you are comfortably settled in your London home," Sera's missive continued. "I know you must be detained with your business affairs, but I am anxious to hear from you, Gabriel...regarding the delicate matter we last discussed. If you have any news of our friend, please pass it along to me."

Reclining in his leather-bound wingback chair, Gabriel considered the missive carefully. Sera used the excuse of her insane search for the thief, Bixby, and her quest for the treasure Percy entrusted to her. Gabriel wondered if she truly believed that "delicate matter" to be the only reason for their continued friendship. Was she so naive as to assume a notorious blackguard would deign to be a lady's knight-errant for the sake of honor only? Or was she that desperate to renew their scandalous connection?

The pretense of her request was easy to deduce. She was fishing for a response, for her trusted friend to show some concern or interest in her affairs. Gabriel recalled her confidence at the Ruins. Her secrets bore heavily on her tender heart. He knew how destructive secrets could be, tormenting one's conscience, leaving one feeling alone and defensive. Only the vigilant, the strong and wary held their secrets for long. They paid an exacting price for the skill. Sera was too young and trusting to bear such weight alone. She wanted, needed a confidante even more than she needed a lover.

Gabriel hated misusing her gentle feelings. Ruefully, he realized his arrogant lust had cruelly given her false hope they could share some sort of noble bond. A bond of honor and trust he callously betrayed with his assumptions.

The whole world believed his interest borne of selfish desire, but not Sera. She should know, he demanded silently, given his reputation and the way he abandoned her to the country. Sera should be thanking her good graces that she'd gotten off lightly from her encounter with the Blackguard of Blackstone. Instead, she was shamefully pursuing him in the post practically begging him to finish the seduction from which her brothers narrowly saved her. Was Sera so headstrong and foolish to ignore reason? How could she entrust her most intimate secrets to him?

Gabriel suddenly had the urge to trounce her brothers. If Thornbridge had kept a closer eye on his sister, if he had taken just a little more notice in her affairs since their parents died, then she wouldn't be gallivanting off on dark country roads to be rescued by a notorious rogue of the ton. And she certainly wouldn't be begging the attention of a man who would only bring danger to her door.

The closing paragraph of Sera's missive gave him pause.

"I have ascertained that Wakerly's Shop on Pudding Lane may be a sound place to begin our search for Mr. B as it is owned by his sister and her husband. I shall be returning to Town in the next fortnight for Lady Pennington's ball. Perchance, we may speak privately on these matters then? Otherwise, I shall be forced to pursue my quest independently. In such event, I beg your forgiveness for my intrusion and ask that you please disregard my request.

Your friend, S"

Gabriel read the last paragraph several times. He knew the location of Wakerly's Shop well. It was on the border of a disreputable section of Town, no more than a few streets from the gaudy lights of the worst gambling hells and brothels in London. No respectable lady would be caught dead there. Yet, Gabriel sensed Sera wouldn't heed his warnings of reason. His mind raced with visions of Sera, in her messenger costume, hiring a hack to keep watch on the Wakerlys until their thief of a brother sauntered in. It was mad and reckless, not to mention dangerous, but any girl who'd slip out of her bed to pay blackmail at midnight was anything but sane and cautious.

What if Sera found her way to the stews, to where that bastard Dumond lurked?

The thought chilled Gabriel. Dumond's veiled threats taunted him. His archenemy had learned of Sera, undoubtedly from the rumors flitting about East Chatham. Obviously, the Frenchman had a contact there. If the challenge didn't unnerve Gabriel, he would've been glad for the news. It meant whoever betrayed his father was still close by.

Gabriel frowned. The danger to Sera was even stronger now. He didn't trust for one moment that Dumond actually believed his pretense of ignorance. Presumably, the Frenchman's spies kept tabs on Gabriel. He couldn't see Sera at any public place for it would be reported back to his foe. But if she came to London and pursued her quest for Percy's egg, she'd arouse Dumond's interest herself. Sera had no idea what her pledge to her dead friend meant. Or the danger she'd incur by having any connection to that accursed treasure.

Gabriel was trapped. He had to keep Sera from blundering into danger, but he couldn't be seen to contact her without putting her in jeopardy. There was only one solution. Risky, but he'd have to take the chance for Sera's sake, as well as his own. There was no conceivable way he could finish his mission if he allowed a country-bred innocent to foolishly interfere. An innocent who had no notion how easily she dominated his and his enemy's thoughts.

Gabriel dispatched a quick note. Sera had to be made to understand. He was the Blackguard of Blackstone. His world was cold, dark and ugly. It was no place for an angel. He had to keep her safe even if it meant destroying the tender affection she held for him.

The Study door squeaked open as Gabriel sealed his request.

"You look ready to conquer," Dunstan teased, sauntering in. "Who's the intended victim, I wonder?"

Gabriel glared impassively at his secretary.

Dunstan persisted. "Mrs. Jenkins wanted me to ask you if you're planning on dining in tonight? Your housekeeper thinks you can't be eating hearty at those places you frequent lately. She'd also like to marry you off. Nothing settles a bachelor's demeanor and disposition like a wife in his bed." He added with a knowing glint in his eye, "Or unsettles it however the case may be."

Gabriel ignored his friend's not-to-subtle jest. Ever since they'd been obliged to quit East Chatham, Dunstan had been obsessed with needling Gabriel. Obviously, the man had presumptuously come to his own conclusions regarding Sera's importance to his employer. Gabriel refused to confirm or deny his friend's suspicions. The infuriating thing was that Dunstan carried the look of someone who knows something, but delighted in making others figure it out for themselves.

"I will not be home tonight," Gabriel replied in his most authoritative tone. That arrogant look of superiority on his friend's face was beginning to annoy him. "While I'm detained, I have a mission for you. First see this gets delivered post haste."

Dunstan took the missive from his employer's hand. His brows arched in silent query when he glanced at the address. "Post haste? An urgent matter?"

"And a discreet one," Gabriel corrected in unyielding tones. "Now as to your mission. I want you to look for a man named Bixby."

"AND so of course Lady Caroline is spitting jealous daggers at poor Anne every social they both attend," Lady Delia Chillingworth declared conspiratorially. Dressed in an immaculate dress of pure white, the viscountess recounted her gossipy tale with pure feminine delight. In her arms, she casually stroked a long, white-haired cat with eyes as lazy and narrow as hers.

It was a warm sunny day made for ladies to relax in the gardens of East Chatham. While her hostess gossiped, Sera distractedly listened. Her attention focused more on the ailing tigerlilies she was tending in Chillingworth's garden. The buds looked as distressed as Sera. Her bright yellow dress smudged with dirt, her hands sheathed in equally dirty garden gloves, her golden-brown hair breaking free of its braid, Sera appeared as her usual impish self.

"Why would Lady Melbourne be jealous of Anne Millbank?" she asked, reaching for another lily to plant.

"Because Ann is now Lady Byron, of course," Lady Delia crooned. "Surely you know that Byron and Lady Caroline were romantically entangled for a time. Lady Caroline was, by her own account, moved to great passion by the poet."

"Passion?" Sera stumbled on the word.

The sight of the fragile flower cradled in her hands brought to mind Gabriel. When he followed her to the stream, he cradled her bonnet. A crushed rosebud nestled protectively in those graceful hands. Hands that touched her with tenderness and passion. With a shiver of memory, Sera nearly dropped the tigerlily.

Lady Delia beamed a shrewd smile. "Lady Caroline was so moved, that I hear, she once broke into Byron's rooms at Grosvenor." The viscountess's dark eyes gleamed. "She was disguised as a man. Britches and all. Can you imagine such a scandalous sight?"

Sera recalled her messenger costume with a blush. She happened to be in it the night she met Gabriel. Society, such as her hostess, frowned on the practice of wearing britches as wanton. But Gabriel had been very accepting of her excuse that she disguised herself for protection. Most likely, he saw it as practical and clever.

Sera frowned at the thoughts of Gabriel. Kneeling in the dirt, she kept her brooding expression hidden from her chatty hostess.

It had been a full month since she last saw her guardian angel. She wondered what he was doing in London all this time. He had a busy earldom to run, but he had to visit his estate soon. What had he learned of Ethan Bixby? Did he forget his promise to help her? Did he forget her?

There were so many troubling questions. Mostly, she felt alone and abandoned. He had made her feel safe, especially that last day at the Ruins.

She dreamt of the magic of the willow tree often. She had wanted to be swept away in his arms. Gabriel kissed her in ways that left her sated and hungry. It was scandalous, but every night she dreamt of their secret embrace she awoke panting for more.

And he had just left. Gabriel was gone and she was left to wonder after him. Sera heaved a bitter sigh and struggled to fill in the dirt around a tigerlily.

"My gardens are most appreciative of your tending, Sera, but I worry you must be getting bored in the country," Lady Delia suggested. "I do hope Thornbridge will be taking you to Town soon. The best socials are coming up."

"My brother says we are going next week for the Pennington Ball," Sera mentioned. "Assuming he doesn't change his mind again. Thornbridge has delayed our trip three times for business reasons. And he says women are fickle? Brothers are far more contrary than sisters in some things."

Lady Delia laughed. "Men are creatures unto themselves. Unpredictable and unreasonable at times and positively mundane and dictatorial at others. My Edward is always keeping me guessing, bless his dear heart," she confessed with a bemused grin. "Lady Pennington's balls are always the best," she raved. "It would be a crime if Thornbridge refused to take you. Have you ever been to one?"

"No, I haven't," Sera admitted hesitantly. At the mention of the social event of the season, unease coursed through Sera. Beryl talked of little else since the invitations came. Sera's sister-in-law single-handedly browbeat her brothers into lifting the imprisonment on their sister so she could attend. It would be a first for the reserved Montgomeries. "I understand it is usually a popular affair."

"A veritable crush," Lady Delia crooned. "Trotter's Court is an Elizabethan Manor in the heart of London. The late earl redid everything for his blushing bride. The ballroom itself is a huge sweeping hall big enough, some say, to fit the entire social world," she declared dramatically. "Usually one clamors for an invitation to Lady Pennington's salon and soirees."

"Not like one of Lady Athelridge's quaint gatherings?" Sera asked nervously.

The viscountess laughed. "My dear, Lady Athelridge couldn't hold a candle to Lady Pennington's entertainments. Why, I remember when once she held a masquerade, Hades himself descended upon the ballroom to claim the fair Persephone. The Earl of Shadowcrest and his wife are two of the most interesting members of the ton," she explained. "In fact, most of the people who attend are the most interesting. With the War's end, all the daring young soldiers are pounding the dance floor courting young ladies for their brides. I daresay, Thornbridge will be flooded with offers for your hand after you attend."

"I'm not certain I'd fit in all that well," Sera wavered. "I'm not suited to Town balls. I'm more of a country mouse. Cleo has the fair looks that are so popular."

"Your friend Miss Athelstan?" Lady Delia confirmed. "The two of you plan to attend?"

"Her aunt has convinced her to come to London for the Season this year." A fact that took a lot of urging from Sera. Cleo's aunt was a reclusive spinster content to live on her inheritance buried deeply in Dorset. Fortunately, she belonged to the same horticultural society as Sera that just happened to be holding several interesting lectures in Town this year. It was a flimsy excuse, but the only method Sera could see to get her friend out of her oppressive brother's grasp for at least a little while. There was only one problem. "I only hope Cleo decides to attend more than the spinster socials her aunt is accustomed to."

"The poor dear lost her mother when she was very young?" Lady Delia inquired. Her voice echoed with sympathy. "She's never had anyone to guide her, beside you of course."

Sera nodded grimly. "Her brother is...not the kindest of guardians. He keeps her on tight purse strings, which is all the more reason for her to avoid the more promising gatherings."

"Unless she has a friend," Lady Delia suggested shrewdly.

"Or so was the plan before my brothers decided to become my ardent keepers," Sera grumbled.

"Since your own situation is so precarious, would it please you if I took Miss Athelstan under my wing?"

Sera frowned at her hostess. An unexpected surge of guilt and unease rippled through her. "I couldn't really ask more of you, Lady Delia," she protested. "You've done so much all ready. With that other matter, I mean." Defeated sadness filled her

Lady Delia's eyes glittered with sympathy. "You've still had no reply, I take it?" she asked tentatively. "From Lord Blackstone?"

It had been days since Sera sent her secret missive via her helpful acquaintance. Gabriel must have read it by now. She suppressed a surge of fear at the thought he chose to ignore her request.

"He must be very busy," Sera told herself. "Earldoms are difficult for one to manage. I just wish he would contact me soon before the problem gets worse."

"What problem is that, dear?" Lady Delia eagerly inquired. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

Warning shivered through Sera. The question was unanswerable. She may have confided her secrets about Percy to Gabriel, but she was reticent to tell anyone else. Especially a gossipminded socialite like her hostess, no matter how genuine a friend she appeared. The tale of spies, murder and intrigue would end up fodder for the latest garden party, if she wasn't careful.

"Nothing of significance," Sera lied. "Just a little matter I was seeking Lord Blackstone's consultation regarding."

"Indeed?" Lady Delia's voice rose speculatively. "I imagine the earl is clever in matters of a clandestine nature. He strikes one as an expert in arranging a romantic rendezvous." Her peacock eyes blossomed with awareness. "You were well acquainted with the earl when he was in East Chatham, Sera. I do hope there is no cause for concern. Of the expanding kind?"

Sera blushed furiously from the implication. Of course, her neighbors thought her affections had been seduced by Gabriel, but to be suspected of carrying his bastard babe? She had enjoyed his kisses and that wonderful embrace beneath the willow. Still, Gabriel had been a perfect gentleman to her, despite what her whimsical dreams wished otherwise.

Busying her hands to the task, Sera planted another tigerlily. The spade thrust harder into the ground than she had intended. Softening her gesture, she quelled the mounting embarrassment inside her. Every moment of silence incriminated her as a wanton hoyden in her new friend's eyes.

"The matter involves a missing friend," Sera curtly replied. "Lord Blackstone was helping me locate him before he left the country."

"Oh, I see." The viscountess frowned in disappointment. Thoughtfully, she stroked her Persian cat. The feline purred loudly as it curled under its mistress' chin.

During the ensuing silence, Sera finished her task of planting. After a brief struggle with her bad knee, she stood to gaze at her work. Rows of brilliant yellow and orange flowers dotted the garden wall. "There, I think they will be much happier on this side of the garden," Sera pronounced, slipping her garden gloves into her apron pocket.

Lady Delia beamed with appreciation. "I must thank you, my dear. I didn't know my lilies were partial to sunlight. No wonder they languished hidden away in the shadows of the trellis."

"Beautiful flowers such as these are much better where one can enjoy them," Sera urged. "It makes a more inviting garden."

"Of course." Lady Delia admired, "You are very clever, my dear, and resourceful. My husband would let this garden waste away under his edicts. I'm forever in your debt for giving me the excuse to brighten it a little."

Sera fidgeted at the compliment. She felt odd receiving glowing praise from East Chatham's most notable resident. It was like a queen taking time to appreciate a scullery maid. Sera admitted, "It's the least I could do in payment for rescuing me from Lady Sutton. She and her opinionated friends have kept their opinions to themselves since you intervened. I don't know how to repay your kindness."

"Tusk, tusk, we are friends, my dear Sera," Lady Delia insisted. "Perhaps one day you may be able to return in kind. One never knows when one may become the target of the gossipmonger's tongue."

Sera hesitated at the comment. She couldn't imagine Lady Delia ever becoming fodder for ridicule and debate. Her beauty was too exotic. Her hair was unfashionably jet black, but her eyes sparkled with the dazzle of a peacock's tail. Even for a mature woman, she had a figure of health and beguiling attractiveness. Her manners were of the purest sophistication. She'd never stumble into disfavor or an awkward situation. She was simply too clever.

Compliment paused on Sera's lips. She glimpsed a sprightly young maid bobbing over with a full tray.

"Oh thank you, Mary," Lady Delia warmly cooed. "Just set the tea on the table there." After the maid left, she asked of Sera, "Would you mind holding Sheba while I pour?"

Dutifully, Sera reached for the pet. "Your cat is like you, Lady Delia. She's very beautiful and—ouch!"

Sheba bolted out of her new keeper's arm with unexpected speed. Suppressing a surge of pain, Sera rubbed the claw marks the animal dug into her skin.

"Oh my!" Lady Delia shrieked. "I'm so sorry, Sera. I should have warned you Sheba is particular about the way she's held. I do hope she didn't hurt you much." The viscountess turned a querulous eye on her cat. "Naughty kitty," she scolded.

Sera glimpsed the blur of white scamper across the garden and curl up beneath the statue of a gilded angel.

"It's just a small scratch," she dismissed. "My Miss Cleopatra does far worse whenever she finds herself caught in a tree. Don't let it upset you. I'll remember to be more careful next time."

"Cats are finicky, too," Lady Delia jested. "Like brothers and husbands." Daintily, the hostess turned to her tea. "Come sit down, dear. Tea will soothe your discomfort."

Sera dutifully sat at the garden table. A tray of gleaming silver and china crowned the center. "This is an interesting design," Sera remarked as she was handed a cup of tea. "I don't think I've ever seen dragons and angels together."

Lady Delia smiled with a hint of pleasant surprise. "It's my husband's combination. The original Chillingworth is said to have slayed a dragon. And Edward fancies angels. He has a large collection of figurines in our private gallery. He gathered them while he was abroad in the War. I must admit, his love for the heavenly creatures has drifted down to me. It's always good to have a guardian angel, don't you think?"

Sera paused, the teacup just on the edge of her lips. The mention of a guardian angel brought to mind Gabriel. Sadness and loneliness drifted over her. He had been gone so long without a single word. He had left her to wallow in East Chatham wondering and waiting for something to happen. Her promise to Percy went shamefully unfulfilled. The blackmailer Bixby was still heinously at large. And Sera was doomed to dream about Gabriel night after night hopelessly unaware if he even once thought about her.

With a mournful sigh, Sera put her drink down untouched. She feigned a bittersweet smile. "I think I should be getting home, Lady Delia. My brothers will probably be breaking down your door if I escape their prison for much longer." Sadly, Sera stood up and reached for her things. "I'm sorry, I can't stay longer. You have been most kind to me."

Lady Delia's expression darkened with sincere empathy. "Take heart, my dear. Your family's overprotectiveness will not last forever." Gently, she hugged Sera. She added with a confidential whisper, "I'm certain Lord Blackstone will write to you soon. He is most likely just being discreet in deference to your brothers."

Awkwardly, Sera removed herself from the viscountess' embrace. Embarrassment and wariness filled her. "Perhaps," she tentatively agreed. "I suppose either way our paths will cross in London."

Lady Delia's smile could have shamed the sun. "That's the spirit!" she encouraged. "Remember gallant William's words. 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' "

Sera chewed her lip over the Shakespearean quote. She wished her heart's desire could be granted as easily as it was for the lovers he wrote those lines about. But she was no Hermia and Gabriel was no Lysander. Lord Blackstone was her neighbor and her friend. He was also a man of mystery and shadows. A man she trusted to the dismay of her family, friends and neighbors. A man who refused to acknowledge she even existed since she gave him her secrets beneath the willow tree.

Sera bid her hostess an anxious good-bye and took her leave. Dark thoughts plagued her the whole way home. Every step along the familiar country road reminded Sera of Gabriel. Even the patch of dirt where he'd found her brother's cloak that first night brought a bittersweet smile to her face. She was almost certain she'd die of sadness if she wasn't confused about his abandonment.

Sera's mood darkened when her mare approached the gates to Thornbridge Manor. Its familiar Tudor walls held little warmth for her now. In her mind, it had become a prison. Not of fact, but of heart. The people inside, her loving overprotective family, just didn't understand her. They had no sympathy for her unpopular friendship to a blackguard. Nor did they have remorse for putting an end to it. As long as they refused to understand her feelings, Sera decided she would refuse to confide her thoughts.

Sera entered the front hall mindful of the voices echoing from the Study. Her family was gathered for another of their regular discussions. At one time, she would have been the first to join the fray, but this time she lingered just outside. Stubbornly, Sera absorbed herself in picking through the daily post for any messages. The conversation of her family and friends intrusively drifted toward her ears.

"It's not healthy for her," insisted the frail voice of Mrs. Bunpenny. "Sera shouldn't be allowed to sulk as long as she has. Sir Adrian, surely you can see the danger it poses to a young girl's constitution?"

"My sister isn't sulking," he grumbled. "She's brooding."

"What's the difference?" Beryl questioned her husband.

"Montgomeries don't sulk," he replied. "Sera doesn't feel sorry for herself. She gets mad that she doesn't get what she wants. And what she wants is a friendship with that bounder." Adrian's voice shook with uncharacteristic anger. Even the youngest, most amenable Montgomerie brother had picked up a fierce loathing for Sera's choice of familiars.

"Regardless, it still isn't healthy for her to be wallowing in East Chatham when the Season is starting up," persisted Mrs. Bunpenny. "Certainly you can impress upon Thornbridge to hurry up his travel plans to London."

"My brother is very busy," Adrian declared. "He is making time to take her next week for the Pennington Ball. That's soon enough."

"As long as his business doesn't oblige him to make it a short trip," the widow retorted. "Sera needs to enjoy a change of scenery. East Chatham can become very small and oppressive for idealistic young ladies. Isn't that right, Cleo dear?"

In the hall, Sera rolled her eyes. Even her best friend had taken up debating what her family should do with her. It was enough to make Sera scream, or runaway. She put down the missive from her brother's solicitor and continued sorting.

"What Sera needs," drifted through the voice of her sister-in-law. "Is a husband. It's about time Thornbridge saw to his duty and had your sister wed."

"He knows dear," answered Adrian. "You've been telling him that for weeks."

"None of this ever would have happened if he had listened to me," Beryl insisted haughtily. "Sera is far too impressionable and fanciful to be unattached."

"She's had three brothers and an uncle looking out for her," argued Adrian. "Blackstone is just a clever bastard who knew how to play her romantic sensibilities against her. We stopped him before he could do worse."

"Thank goodness," chimed Mrs. Bunpenny. "It would be a crime if that sweet child was ruined by a heartless man."

Shoving a missive into her pocket, Sera had the insatiable urge to kill her family. She wanted to charge into the Study and yell at them. Gabriel would never ruin her. He was a gentleman not a rogue or a pirate. Resisting the urge, she continued lazily looking through the mail.

"I think Lord Lacey would make Sera a fine husband," echoed Beryl's voice. "So does Thornbridge, I understand. The viscount's son is making quite a mark for himself in Parliament. A brilliant orator, Papa says. One day he may earn a position in the Cabinet, possibly as the Prime Minister himself. Sera couldn't ask for a better match."

"Lacey is grounded enough in his studies, I suppose," Adrian admitted grudgingly. "But I'm beginning to think my brother is right about the way he ties his cravat. It's probably those romantic Irish tendencies of his to blame. The last thing Sera needs is a feckless husband like Byron."

"Sera deserves a husband who will love and care for her," suggested the shy voice of Cleo. "Someone who would protect her, even from herself if need be."

"Well, of course that, too," Adrian grumbled. "But she needs someone stable who will keep in hand these outlandish notions of hers. I hate to admit it, but my sister has been spoiled far too long. She believes she can just follow whatever whim her heart has."

"Her heart is true," Cleo defended. "She deserves a husband who respects and values her love. Not just a cold-hearted keeper."

"That's true, my dear," agreed Mrs. Bunpenny. "Sera should go from a loving family to a loving home of her own."

In the hall, Sera balked at the sweeping sentimental statement she heard. Silently, she wondered if loving families generally made orphans of members when one cares for something unpopular. Or conspires to protect one from it by imprisoning them in the country. If so, then that was the last thing she wanted from a husband's loving home. Being treated like a simpleminded fool who was unable to know her own mind was too offensive to be considered happy.

With a frustrated sigh, Sera retrieved her remaining missives from the post. She was just tucking them into her pocket when a familiar patter of feet approached.

"Aunty Sera you're home!" Julias's voice rang out across the hall in boisterous volume. His young face beamed with simple pleasure.

Sera's mood softened at the sight of her nephew. Dressed in his country attire, his breeches were spattered with mud and grass. From the trace of daisy petals on his boots, she assumed he was tending his corner in the garden again. She smiled warmly at him. Then her eye caught the familiar object tucked under his arm.

"Julias, where did you get that?" Sera asked warily.

"From your room," he answered. Under his aunt's sudden frown, Julias's voice turned awkward. "It's the map book you said I could borrow." He added with a guilty frown, "You told me I could retrieve it from your bookshelf, remember? I just wanted to see the drawings of that French church with all the tulips. Did I do something wrong, Aunt Sera?"

"No," she replied in a forced tone. Sera paled staring at the incriminating volume in her innocent nephew's arms. Even now, she could see the corner of one of Percy's missives sticking out of the lining from the boy's handling. "I just forgot that I loaned it to you," she lied. "I'm sorry, Julias, my mind's been elsewhere lately. If you're done with it, I'll put it back. It really shouldn't be in the garden anyway. It's an old book."

The boy dutifully handed the book to his aunt. "I'm sorry, Aunty Sera," Julias apologized mournfully. "I was very careful with it. It's extremely interesting. Everything's in French. Where did you get it?"

"From one of my friends," she answered hesitantly. Protectively, Sera gathered the book close to her chest. The waves of panic ceased once she tucked the errant missives into their hiding place. The ruby silk bookmark dangled precariously down the spine.

"Sera, you're home at last!" chimed her sister-in-law from the Study door. "Did you enjoy your visit with the illustrious Lady Chillingworth?" Envy illuminated Beryl's green eyes.

"Did you stay out of trouble, Blossom?" Adrian interjected sardonically. "If you were gone much longer, I would have had to come after you." His voice rumbled with irritation.

Sera bit her tongue on a curt rebuke. She decided to ignore her brother and answer his wife instead. "Yes, I did enjoy my visit with Lady Delia. At least she doesn't lecture me to death on my romantic sensibilities."

Cleo edged forward out of the corner of the doorway. Her eyes sparkled with hurt and remorse. "Lady Delia?" she echoed questioning the familiarity. "You've been spending a lot of time with your new friend."

"She asked for my advice on her garden, Cleo," Sera coolly explained. A surge of guilt coursed through her. It wasn't fair, but a distance had grown between Sera and her best friend. A distance begun that day her brothers browbeat Cleo into betraying her. Sera found it hard to trust her friend again, but she didn't like abandoning her either. "You could have come too," she suggested. "Lady Delia is very interested in planting tulips. I told her you know far more about caring for them than I do. I'm sure she'd appreciate your help."

"Why don't you join us for tea, Sera?" Beryl prodded. "You can tell us all about your visit. I'm fascinated to hear what Chillingworth Hall looks like inside. Is it as grand as it appears?"

"It's just a hall," Sera dismissed. "Like most Georgian styles. I didn't notice more than the garden." Defiantly, she started for the steps. "I think I'd rather just change for dinner. From my brother's frown, I take it he's noticed the grass stains on my skirt. No doubt, I'll get another lecture on my reckless behavior, if I stay."

"This isn't a war, Blossom," Adrian called out as his sister climbed the stairs. "You can't ignore your family forever. We only have your best interests at heart!"

"Maybe it's my heart that should be your best interest," Sera grumbled as she reached the top landing.

"What did she say?" echoed the distressed voice of Mrs. Bunpenny below.

"She's just brooding," Adrian grumbled loudly.

"I told you it isn't good for her constitution," the widow advised. "Young girls shouldn't brood."

"Sera isn't brooding," Cleo protested.

"She needs a husband," Beryl insisted. "Julias, what have you done to yourself?"

"Aunty Sera is getting married?" rang the wary boy's voice. "Will she live near here?"

The squabbling voices of her family and friends followed Sera all the way down the hall. After a long twisting path, she finally found refuge within her bedchamber. Sera leaned against the door, Percy's map book clutched protectively against her chest. With a long painful sigh, she suppressed the urge to shout and cry.

It was really beginning to be too much. The whole world seemed against her. Her family, friends, neighbors, everyone viewed her affections for the notorious Earl of Blackstone as if she had allied herself with the devil. East Chatham always had singular opinions about her menagerie, but it had never been this bigoted. Even when Hugh's cousin died an acknowledged traitor, her brothers never questioned her continuing friendship. And Hugh Gilchrist was just as much a victim of rumor and innuendo as Gabriel.

Sera reminded herself people just didn't know him. Not the real him. Gabriel was a man accustomed to shadows. It took courage to live one's life on the strength of convictions alone. Only the noblest man could brave public censure and isolation to follow his own path in life. Be it reckless or just original, the rules were the same. Sera knew them as well as she knew herself.

She had learned long ago, that day she cowered on the mountainside with only herself for a rescuer. Facing the hungry wolves guarded only by her wit, she realized how important it was to be of your own mind.

Sera thought she knew Gabriel as well as she knew herself. She sensed a like-minded person in him. He was a lost soul who could share her confidences and return her friendship truly, nobly, passionately.

In desperation, she wondered for the hundredth time why he hadn't bothered to contact her. Surely, he knew how frustrated and hopeless she was becoming. Percy's honor still lay in the balance; the blackmailer was mysteriously quiet; and his petty thief Bixby lurked out there with the missing treasure. Gabriel was the only one she could turn to.

Sera belatedly noticed the map book cradled in her hands. Shock warred with fear when she saw the wretched thing in her nephew's arms. The book itself was harmless. It just seemed that anything Percy's secret missives touched became dangerous in her mind. Instinctively, she knew it wasn't something she wanted her curious nephew to find accidentally again.

Frantically, Sera scanned her bedchamber looking for an appropriate hiding place. Her eyes settled on a small jewelry box tucked away in a corner of her vanity. It was a pretty thing. Carved with intricate roses and thistles, a figure of a medieval knight blazed across the top. The design was reminiscent of the Scottish village that once hosted her parents' many travels. The box was the last gift she ever received from her father. A child's box to hold her dreams and memories of the past.

Moving aside her sentimental collection, Sera found room in the bottom. Percy's book lay concealed amidst a host of knickknacks she had acquired over the years. The lid closed snugly, but Sera frowned in thought. She didn't want one of the maids to stumble upon it, or a thief.

She smiled at the mahogany chest that was the twin of the smaller box. Her mother had given it to her as a place to put things for when she was married. Secreting the jewelry box away, Sera felt secure again. In some strange way, Percy's secrets seemed safe cradled in the gifts of her parents. If only they were alive to advise her what to do now.

Quelling the urge to feel sorry for herself, Sera dug out the missives in her pocket. Her garden gloves toppled onto the floor in the process. There were four notes in all: a short invitation from one of the ladies of the London Horticultural Society to a lecture on orchids; a letter from Sera's Blacksheep cousin who lived in the West Indies; another missive from Hugh which she read over and over. He was traveling again, this time to China. His talk of a city on water like Venice and a huge land wall brought smiles to her sad eyes. And then she noticed the last missive.

It was a curious thing. The handwriting was familiar and yet strangely obscured. Inquisitively, Sera opened the missive. The contents were brief, but sufficient to rouse a firestorm of emotion from her. There was only one person who could write her this note. The same person who sent a near identical one to her just four weeks ago. Sera avidly scanned the instructions.

My Dear Lady S,

Meet me at the Ruins. Midnight tonight. Tell no one so we may discuss important private matters.

Yours, G.B.

The ink had been smudged a bit, but Sera recognized Gabriel's handwriting at once. Joy flooded through her. A smile as bright as a rainbow sparkled across her cherub face. Her pleas had not been ignored. Lady Delia was right. Gabriel just needed a little time to contact her. There was no better place for them to meet than at the mystical Roman Ruins.

Memories of their last clandestine meeting flooded through Sera's mind. It was a beautiful spot. One that actually made her feel safe gazing across at his home. She imagined that just like when the original keep stood on Blackstone Isle, there were knights-in-shining-armor ready to burst upon the shore to dash away villains and other miscreants.

No one ever came to the Ruins except a few adventurous souls. And at midnight, East Chatham and her brothers would be fast asleep. She and Gabriel could spend all night sharing their secrets and talking about their search for Ethan Bixby and his stolen treasure.

Sera wondered if Gabriel found the little thief. Certainly, that was why he delayed in replying to her missive. Perhaps he had trouble locating the elusive blackmailer and only found him after she gave him the address of his sister's shop.

Why, Sera was certain that Gabriel had found the little rat-faced man and retrieved Percy's egg. Even now, he was probably coming home just to give it to her and put her mind at ease.

Gabriel was a kind and compassionate man. She shouldn't have been so abrupt with him in her missive. If he was a busy earl, who was she to interfere? But he had helped her anyway, despite all his protests. Gabriel had come to her aid as true as any guardian angel would.

And her brothers thought he was a heartless bounder? Sera scoffed at the notion. Though for some reason all their bigoted opinions and hateful accusations seemed trivial to her now. The world could believe whatever it wanted. The important thing to Sera was that she was going to see Gabriel again. Tonight.

Chapter Eighteen

WEAVING IN and out of the shadows, Sera and her mare meandered down the old Roman road. Moonlight mist bathed the ancient fortress in light and mystery. In the distance, Sera heard the gentle lapping of the Medway against the tree-lined shore. She glimpsed the familiar golden domes of Mirabella across the water.

Just like the last time she had come, Sera was entranced by the sight. A cool night breeze drifted through her invoking an involuntary shudder. Disguised in her messenger togs, she cursed herself for forgetting her cloak again.

A sensual smile blossomed Sera's countenance. She remembered how warm she felt the last time she came to the abandoned Ruins. Excitement filled her at the thought Gabriel would warm her again with his kisses.

Expectantly, Sera scanned the meadow for her trusted friend. The place seemed as barren as the last time she visited. A ghostly mist enshrouded the crumbling walls of an old guard tower.

Her eyes still glued to the sight, Sera spotted a shadow moving slightly in the wind. It was a tall, lithe shadow with the grace of a clinging vine. With the thought of vines, she remembered the night Gabriel had come to her in Chilton's garden. Then too he lingered in the shadows, watching and waiting for her to call him.

Sera hastily dismounted and ran forward. "Gabriel, there you are!" she called softly as she approached the cloaked shadow. "I hope you didn't wait long, my lord. I came as soon as I could."

The shadow elusively retreated into the confines of a stone alcove.

"Gabriel?" Sera squeaked in frustration. The fog drifted around her. "I can't see you."

Footsteps ominously resounded in her ear. Belatedly, Sera's senses clamored with warning. She twisted to face the intruder. In the process, her knee cramped painfully. Sera was falling, a shriek for help on her lips.

A large, oppressive hand clamped brutally against her mouth. She nearly smothered to death. Her senses flooded with a bitter, noxious odor. She tried not to breathe in the scent but the soft cloth covered most of her face.

In three hasty breaths, she felt the weakness take hold. There was a pounding in her ears, a loud incessant pounding of her heart. Slowly, it ticked a moment of time.

The world turned gray, then black, then nothing.

* * *

HER FIRST sensation of awareness came what could have been days later. She had no concept of time. At first, Sera could not even feel her limbs. When she did, she realized they were laying flat. She was on a bed, not her own she dimly realized. Tentatively, Sera opened her eyes.

The room was colored in red. Not a soft pinkish kind of red, but a bold and flamboyant color. Sera was immediately certain she had never been in that room before.

Lined with red velvet drapes and French mirrors, it was a pretty boudoir. Or it would have been if not for the strange things that hung on the walls. Sera wondered why anyone would want to make a lady's bedchamber look like a barn.

There were stirrups in a corner, riding crops and whips hanging on the walls. On the wall by the headboard two ropes dangled to the floor. Sera doubted they were bell pulls for the servants as she couldn't see where the ropes joined the ceiling. They seemed to be tied to the bed instead, whatever that could be used for.

Ruby candlelight glowed throughout the bedchamber. It had an intriguing scent. Sweet yet bitter and terribly oppressive. Sera wanted to get up and open a window. She saw one nearby, but her arms and legs refused to cooperate. Suddenly, the door to the hall softly swung open.

A tall red-haired woman entered carrying a tray. She smiled, but the gentle gesture sent shivers of fear through Sera.

The woman sauntered to her bedside. "Do not struggle, sweet," she cooed. "Desiree will take care of you."

With the care of a skilled nurse, Desiree poured a cup of water from the tray. She tipped the glass to Sera's lips. "Drink now, darling," she beckoned. "It will ease your discomfort."

Opening her mouth on a question, Sera inadvertently swallowed the fetid beverage. The bitter taste was unlike any she had ever sampled in local water. She sputtered as she shoved the glass away.

"I'm not thirsty," Sera insisted, struggling to sit up. Dressed in britches, she looked ridiculous sitting beside the beautiful redheaded woman. A beautiful woman dressed in the most indecently cut gown, she'd ever seen. Why the thing barely covered her nipples and the fabric was nearly transparent.

"Where am I?" Sera asked confused.

"Where you want to be," Desiree breezed. "With your lover."

"I don't have a lover."

"You will," the woman vowed. "He is most anxious to be with you."

Something cold slithered down Sera's spine. She tried to slide out of the bed, but Desiree blocked her path. The woman lazily poured another glass of water and she reached for Sera.

"Drink this now, darling." Desiree's grip stung as she held her captive's shoulders.

"That tastes odd," Sera protested, trying to wriggle away. Unaccustomed weakness flooded her body. A feeling of complacency and helplessness slowly overwhelmed her.

"This will take the sting out, sweet Sera," the redheaded woman coaxed as she forced the contents of the glass down her Sera's throat.

Sera sputtered after swallowing the mouthful of the vile liquid. She struggled to retain control of the conversation. Her thoughts were becoming muddled in her head. She felt tired and warm. And the bitterness in her mouth made her tongue feel like leather. "Take the sting out of what?" she slurred.

"The assessor, of course." Desiree chuckled seductively. "Rest now, sweet. He will be here soon."

Sera felt herself fall back upon the pillows. Her head felt heavy. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open. She just wanted to go to sleep.

A loud incessant voice deep inside kept her awake. She sensed she was in some kind of danger. If only she could remember what had happened. She was at the Ruins with Gabriel and then there was this man. Not just a man, but a familiar man with dark hair and beady eyes.

"You are very pretty," said the woman as she unraveled Sera's hair from its braids. Seductively, Desiree's fingers stroked through the long golden-brown locks. Sera felt her hair being spread around her head like a halo. "He will enjoy teaching you very much."

"Teaching me?" Sera struggled to focus. Smoke seemed to filter across her eyes. She opened them as wide as she could, but the candlelight blurred out of focus.

"He will teach you to ride, of course." Desiree laughed huskily. "You will like to ride Sera. Your eyes sparkle with passion." She stroked Sera's cheek. "Your skin is soft like silk. Yes, he will enjoy teaching you very much when he is done with his paramour."

The woman's touch filled Sera with revulsion. She wanted to flee, but the weakness invaded her mind and body. "Who? Where am I?"

"You are in hell," Desiree whispered enticingly. Slowly, she began to undo the buttons on Sera's waistcoat. "Like me, you are to become a fallen angel."

Sera's waistcoat slipped open. Her brother's old linen shirt seemed transparent under the stare of her mysterious nursemaid. Sera tried to close her arms tightly around herself, but the woman refused to let her. Slowly, possessively, Desiree's hand stroked the length of her. Sera quelled the urge to vomit.

"So beautiful," Desiree complimented. "He will spend all night teaching you."

"Who?" Sera groaned in loathing and frustration. Her body stiffened beneath her. She felt as rigid as a board. Prickly waves of unease and disgust picked through her everywhere Desiree touched. Sera thought if she could just move her left arm, she could pull herself out of the bed and away from Desiree's lecherous touch.

"Your lover will escort you through the hell you seek, sweet."

"Don't call me that!" Sera snapped in irritation. "I told you I don't have a lover. And I've no desire to go to hell."

"Yes, you do," Desiree chided as she began to work open the linen shirt. "You have been craving it for weeks. He knows."

The woman was mad. Sera could fathom no other excuse for this terrible nightmare. The room spun around her, glimmers of red and leather brown glittered through her cloudy vision. Her body was growing numb. She could barely feel the awful woman's hands on her collar now. She knew they were there by the pungent scent the redhead seemed to bathe in. Warning cried out through Sera's body.

She couldn't move, couldn't run. All she could do was lie there listening to this mad woman's ramblings.

Where was Gabriel?

The question popped into her mind as an afterthought. She had seen him lurking in the shadows of the Ruins. He was there, just out of her reach. Then he stepped away and that wretched man grabbed her.

The man was familiar, wasn't he? Sera knew she had remembered his face from somewhere. She knew it a moment ago. Her mind was cluttered. Thoughts stumbled over each other in discordant rhythm.

"He will teach you everything tonight," Desiree promised sensually. Her fingers deftly opened the buttons on Sera's restrictive shirt. "Then you will sing your secrets to the assessor."

"I don't want to sing," Sera protested. There was a pounding in her ears, a tiny incessant heartbeat. It raced faster and faster.

"That is why I am here, sweet," Desiree murmured. Lecherously, she stretched her fingers over the ties of Sera's britches. "To ready you for him. He wants you to be hot and ready for his sampling."

"Sampling?" Sera echoed dreamily. She knew she shouldn't be asking, but the pounding in her ears lulled her. Fear and complacency warred for control of her senses.

"He will taste of your sweetness," the redhead promised. "And if he likes, he will make you a fallen angel like me."

Indecently, the woman's hand swept down Sera's thigh. She touched her in a place that sent icy shivers through Sera.

"Leave me alone!" Sera demanded. She wanted to curl up in a ball. She wanted to kick the vile woman off her, but her traitorous limbs felt like stone and all she could do was think.

Sera's mind raced with lightning speed. The room was spinning faster now. She could just see the pitcher bowl teetering on the bedside table.

Where was Gabriel?

Again, the question popped into her mind unbidden. The answer was elusive. He was lingering in the shadows, just out of her reach. She tried to reach for him, but he was gone. And she was trapped here in this gaudy red room with an equally atrocious woman.

"So beautiful," the redhead cooed. She pried open Sera's britches. "He has craved you. Your innocence, your cherub looks, you remind him of her."

"Who?" Sera squeaked. With all her might, she tried to move her arm. Her fingers twitched under the strain.

"His mistress," Desiree explained. "He will teach you as he taught her. You will become his newest fallen angel. It is what you desire. You crave him and he knows, sweet Sera."

"You're mad," Sera gasped. "Leave me alone! Can't you see I don't feel well? I don't even know who you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," the redhead chided. "You have craved him for weeks and now he is giving you what you want. He's the master of all fallen angels and you are to become his prodigy."

Terror filled Sera. A silent shriek of horror burned her bitter lips. Her heart pounded in her ears. The room seemed dull and gray. Instinctively, she knew she had to get out of bed before the madwoman's master arrived.

Her body foolishly rebelled against her. Her fingers twitched randomly, so she thought. She kept trying to move her left arm, but all she felt were fistfuls of silken sheets.

If only she could reach the pitcher on the night table. If only Gabriel were here to help her. To save her before this awful woman did something to make her throw up.

Where is Gabriel?

The thought shrieked loudly through Sera's mind. Considering the redheaded woman's amused stare she thought she might have spoken it as well.

Desiree crooned, "He's coming, sweet." She seductively swept her hands over Sera. "Gabriel Blackstone will be here to teach you. Very soon."

Chapter Nineteen

SOMETHING WAS wrong.

The premonition plagued him all night. Gabriel just couldn't shake the feeling. His instincts nudged him through the shadows of Mayfair. His superior's townhouse was a short walk from his own. The stroll was generally uneventful, but tonight the shadows had eyes.

Or so it seemed.

Gabriel briskly continued down the sidewalk. The ominous feeling followed him. His hand rested readily on the dagger he kept concealed within his cloak. In case of footpads or other midnight miscreants, he was always prepared.

Something moved in a nearby alley. A small sound scampered in the darkness. Gabriel jerked his head toward it, the only signal that he was wary. An instant later, the wariness turned to relief and chagrin. A small hungry cat foraged for a scrap of food at Gabriel's boot. He kicked the morsel of bread toward the scavenger and continued on his way.

He was getting jumpy. That was a dangerous quality for a spy. Perhaps he had been out too many nights. He was too restless, too obsessed with a cherub-faced innocent. Ruthlessly, Gabriel quelled the errant thought. It was a futile gesture. Sera was always on his mind. Somewhere, lingering in the shadows where he was unable to touch her. Or hold her and hear her passionate song. Or her cry for him.

Something was definitely wrong. Gabriel could feel it, closing in around him. Darkness, oppression, fire. Something was burning him, something deep inside. He had the awful feeling that something was about to be taken from him.

Gabriel reached the door to his townhouse the same moment his secretary opened it.

"You're late," chided Dunstan.

Gabriel glared repressively as he walked past Dunstan into the hall. "Anything interesting to report?" he demanded as he threw off his cloak and blazed into the Study.

"I haven't found Bixby yet, if that's what you mean." Dunstan leaned against the Study door. "Why are you so jittery?"

Gabriel beamed eyes of doubt and defiance. "I'm on my guard. As you should be with the Frenchman about."

"Do you think he'll make good on his threats and come after you?" the secretary inquired somberly.

"I rather think he'll make me come to him," Gabriel pronounced as he poured himself a brandy. The liquor tasted curiously bitter. It burned a path down his throat. "His need for revenge is beyond a simple matter of murder. He wants me humiliated as well. I would settle just to see him dead."

"Bitter rivals to the end?" Dunstan chimed. "You are like the fox and the hawk. Each outmaneuvering the other in the deadliest treasure hunt of all. What's the next move?"

Tentatively, Gabriel settled himself at his desk. A missive lay open in his hands. It was a succinct message delivered to the kitchens hours before. "I have a meeting. It seems our enterprising knight is interested in a trade, of sorts."

"Latham?"

Gabriel nodded. "My interest in baubles has aroused the attention of a collector friend of his. Someone who was attached to Castlereigh's office in Vienna and acquired several unique items. One of which has been nearly stolen three times in the last six months."

"The last key," Dunstan concluded.

"Possibly," Gabriel qualified. "I am to meet him tonight after the Cavendish Ball. The address is in Knightsbridge so I take it Latham's brother has finally deigned to cut him off. The knight is without a friend."

A shrewd smile crossed Gabriel's lips. The smile of someone expert at becoming the closest confidante to the friendless and knowledgeable. The grin faded quickly under an imposing sensation of bitterness. He swallowed heavily trying to get the noxious taste out of his mouth.

"When do we leave?" Dunstan eagerly inquired.

Gabriel looked at his friend as if the question was preposterous. "I'm going alone," he pronounced. "You still have a thief to find."

"With Dumond lurking out there dying for a chance to cut you down?" Dunstan balked. "Latham is a dubious man. He could be used as the bait in a trap. You'll need someone to watch your back, Gabriel."

"I've been watching my own for years, thank you," he retorted tightly. "I want you to find Bixby." His voice raised with authority and slight desperation. "Tonight."

"What's the rush? His sister said she'd send word when he returned. And that husband of hers is anxious enough to get the money you promised. Like all rats, Ethan will turn up sooner or later."

"Something tells me to be wary of rats," Gabriel admitted. The prickly conversation he had with Dumond came to mind. It was a rivalry between rats and cats, one hunting the other in deadly concentration. "I prefer to know where the rodents are hiding."

"So you can protect them from unwary does?" Dunstan suggested meaningfully. "Like a certain innocent young lady due into Town soon?"

Gabriel glared at his friend repressively. He hadn't told him his exact intentions once he located the troublesome thief and blackmailer. Bixby had given up his stolen treasure weeks ago, but Sera didn't know that. There was really only one way to convince her otherwise. With the assistance of his unused copy, Gabriel would have to become a blackmailer.

It was a simple plan that would have worked perfectly if the rat-faced footman didn't cower in the streets of London so well. The only reassuring fact garnered from Dunstan's ardent searches was that Bixby would be elusive even for Sera to find. Assuming her overprotective brother Thornbridge failed to heed his warning.

The note betraying Sera's hunt for a blackmailer was the only means Gabriel could devise to keep her imprisonment in the country going. At least until he had found the wretched thief who called her to the cemetery at midnight. Undoubtedly, the betrayal had caused her great hurt, but she needed to believe him the selfish, notorious Blackguard of Blackstone who cared for nothing but his own comforts. For her own good.

Something about his traitorous note seemed exceptionally bitter to him tonight. It left a vile, noxious taste in his mouth. His tongue felt like leather.

Gabriel shook off his errant thoughts leaving his friend's question unanswered. The hall clock struck one o'clock. Time to leave for his meeting. "Just find Bixby and tell me what rat hole he is calling home these days," he ordered his friend. "You never know. You may just stumble upon an interesting connection." Downing his glass of brandy, Gabriel climbed to his feet swinging his cloak around him.

"Watch your back, Blackstone!" warned Dunstan at the front door. "Remember, the Angel would just as soon put a dagger in your back as your rival would in your heart."

Pausing on the front stoop, Gabriel turned a considering eye on his friend. The shadows clinging to him become careless and dangerous.

"In truth," he admitted. "I'd like to see them try. I bore of these cat and mouse games."

With a flash of graceful arrogance, Gabriel disappeared into the confines of a passing hackney. His face like his mood was shielded in the darkness of the cab. A mood that seemed to darken the longer the wheels rumbled against the uneven pavement. Making him feel oddly dizzy and nauseous. Making the bitterness in his throat seem stronger. With each passing house, each street filled with candlelight and merry laughter. Like a gentle cherub's laugh. Her sultry sigh. Her cry for him.

Gabriel's brows furrowed ominously. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

* * *

LATE NIGHT in the stews of London, streets filled with the drunken denizens of White Chapel. Hordes of unwashed and uneducated masses who'd just as soon cut each other's eyes out stumbled down the street together. The taverns were bursting with riff-raff offering all manner of seedy entertainments to its patrons, noble and peasant. The three popular pleasures were cards, whores and ale. If any were extended for free, the crowd eagerly assembled.

And assemble they did around a peculiar dark-haired man with beady eyes. A man who looked more like a rat than the servant professed. His tale was an unseemly one. Told amidst a round of ale he so graciously purchased for all his new friends in the Lazy Dog Tavern.

"Got me a right gentry cove to fill me pockets now," he slurred over a swallow of stale brew. "Must be rich as Croesus, 'e is."

"Tell us again, Bix," clamored the sailor to his left. "The cove 'ad ye bring 'er all the way to London?"

"Was buryin' 'erself in the country she was," Ethan Bixby nodded. "Prisoner of those damn blue-blood brothers of 'ers. Poor lass." His smile turned wry and wicked. "Wonder what the coves will think o' 'er after tonight? Probably wish they'd a taken a switch to her reckless 'ide."

"She came to 'im willingly?" asked another. "No ladylike 'esitation at all?"

"She's been itching for 'im for weeks," Bixby blurted as he refilled his cup. "Whole village knows it. And the cove, 'e's been playin' it real coy like. Keepin' 'is distance, making 'er simmer and seek 'im out. She's dying for 'im, poor wretch. Doesn't know what she's gettin' into. She'll be ruined after this, but the cove, 'e don't care."

"Done this before has he?" questioned the young man at the bar. His clothes were finer than the usual patrons. A sign that he was a nobleman's son slumming for the night.

Bixby smiled shrewdly as he gazed on the fancy-dressed lord. "Aye, the blackguard 'as a reputation for that sort 'o thing. Likes 'is wenches to be naive and willing. More challenge, I expect."

"Tell the guv where the tryst is to take place," urged the sailor at Bixby's elbow. "Where'd ye take the lass?"

The rat-faced thief grinned wickedly. His voice rose above the mutterings of the crowd as he answered. "The Red Velvet Hell."

The tavern silenced at the name. Smugly, Bixby lingered over his ale before continuing. "Told ye the cove's got a seedy quality 'bout 'im. Snatches the 'ellion right out from under her brothers' care. Then 'e arranges a rendezvous with the lady 'o quality in a brothel, no less."

"Any woman who would spend a night with her lover in a brothel is not a lady," pronounced the lord's companion at the bar. Peering through spectacles down his long pointy nose, the young man seemed more at home in a solicitor's office than a raucous tavern.

"Aye," Bixby agreed with a wry wink. "The cove will make a whore out of 'er. And she'll be beggin' 'im too all the way."

"Then may her soul be damned," cursed the righteous gent at the bar. "Any young lady who would bring that kind of ruin upon her family deserves to become the plaything of a rakehell."

"I suppose 'er brothers will be thinkin' that way real soon," admitted Bixby. "The chit's been causin' them nothin' but trouble with her menagerie of strays, an' all. She always did court trouble, so say her neighbors, from the time she befriended ol' Blade's 'eir."

"The traitor?" inquired the young lord. His brows arched in surprise.

"Aye," said Bixby. "She been carrying on 'er friendship with the young Gilchrist even after the scandal broke. I suppose it was no surprise she'd fancy the blackguard too."

"Maybe she ain't so virtuous as everyone thinks, after all?" piped in the sailor. "Wouldn't be the first time one of the Quality takes a liking to indulging in scandalous things between their thighs."

A raucous laugh echoed across the crowded tavern. Only the shadowy man concealed in the corner failed to join in the mirth. His mood seemed to darken with every gossipy word the rat-faced tavern benefactor slurred. Slurred in amazing tact and sobriety.

"Nah," chided Bixby. "Blacksto—" he stumbled over the name pointedly. "I mean, the blackguard likes 'is wenches untouched. Pure and innocent like. Till 'e gets 'old o' them for a little education in the sensual arts, if ye get me meanin' "

The crowd replied in hungry, lecherous groans of sultry humor. Rather like a pack of wolves licking their chops over a story of fresh meat and the love of the kill.

"Probably got 'is liking for virgins from that bastard grandfather of 'is," Bixby continued. "The cove comes from a long line of pirates and buccaneers. 'is 'ouse is a veritable Sultan's Palace in testimony to his ancestor's conquests. Slave trade mostly. They say the old cove bought 'is wife from a 'arem."

"Wonder if the blackguard intends to assemble 'is own 'arem 'ere?" added the sailor. "A 'arem of ruined blue-bloods."

Again, the tavern filled with unrepentant bawdy laughter. The Quality generally had a world of airs. They looked down their snobbish noses at the poor regular folks. The folks who knew survival was a matter of what you could beg, borrow or steal. Unlike their so-called betters, women of the stews were often willing to sell their favors or trade them for a night in a warm bed. And the men would maim and murder for a little currency to further the trade. It was honest and straightforward, not wrapped up in titles and manners like the pious gentry. The idea that one of the Quality could break all its rules and live like them sent ripples of envy through the crowd. Each one secretly wondered, if such an English harem existed, could they be lucky enough to get employment there. If for no other reason than to sample the wares while the master wasn't looking.

"I doubt he'd last long in England," commented the pious looking nobleman at the bar. "The Prince would be forced to confiscate his title to avoid the scandal. Assuming the wench's brothers don't shoot him first."

"You're assuming the cove he's talking about has a title," derided the young lord. "I'm beginning to doubt the tale I hear. What man could possibly want to risk his title and honor just for the indulgence of a wanton lady?"

" 'e's a bloomin' earl!" raged Bixby.

"Ah, I see," doubted the lord. "And what's his name?"

Bixby glared at the gentry leaning on the bar. His eyes gleamed with deception and cunning. His voice echoed unnecessarily loud as he answered. "I no' be tellin' " he defied halfheartedly. "The Blackguard of Blackstone keeps his own secrets."

A hush fell over the tavern. Surprise then acceptance filled the crowd. The eyes of the two noblemen widened in scandalous recognition. The meaning was clear. The notorious earl had earned another mark against him. Barely two months since he had returned to accept his father's title he was seducing another innocent.

Just like the innocent he shamefully seduced in France. The Dumond girl, schoolgirl turned whore and then corpse. Her name was known, but this latest conquest was still a mystery. A mystery destined to be pondered and discerned the rest of the night, from one gossiping tavern all the way to Mayfair. By morning, the Blackguard of Blackstone and his blue-blooded whore would be the talk of London.

Amidst a round of unhappy grumbles, Bixby took his leave from the Lazy Dog. A smug smile pursed his lips as he faked a stumble into the muddy streets. His course was steady, a preplanned journey through the round of seedy taverns and hells. And at each one, he stopped to buy a round of drinks for his attentive new friends. Eagerly, they listened to the seedy tale. And eagerly, they grumbled when he moved on to spread it to yet another section of the stews.

* * *

THE HACKNEY stopped on a lonely street in Knightsbridge. The nearby townhouse was small and dark. Of moderate means, Gabriel discerned as he alighted from the carriage. What one would expect from a knight restricted from utilizing his noble brother's finances.

His woolen cloak swirling about him, Gabriel ascended the steps to Latham's abode. His discreet knock at the door went unanswered. An ominous sign that the staff had been given the night off. Arrogantly, Gabriel persisted. To his surprise, the doorknob turned easily in his grasp. Apparently, Latham had chosen not to bar the door to his late night visitor.

Cautiously, Gabriel wandered into the darkened foyer. Only a few wall sconces burned a scattering path down the front hall. To either side, Gabriel passed empty rooms. The meager candlelight illuminated equally sparse furnishings. Again, he thought, what one would expect from a former soldier with limited finances.

The light at the end of the hallway beckoned Gabriel. As he approached the rear Study, he recognized the bright source as a roaring fire.

A tall wingback leather chair sat at an angle facing the hearth. Its occupant casually lounged in the seat. His legs sprawled upon a velveteen stool, his arms draped on the low chair arms. A brandy sifter, half-full, rested in Latham's hands as he stared into the fire. His appearance was that of a man entranced in thought or beguiled by his own sotted demons.

Hovering on the threshold, Gabriel affected a cavalier tone. "What, no greeting at the door, Latham?" The question echoed with irritated sarcasm. "Don't tell me you didn't learn some manners fighting in that glorious war of yours?"

The careless taunt went unanswered. Latham stared at the fire in brooding defiance. His eyes looked almost terrified, yet he showed no outward reaction to his intruder.

Cautiously, Gabriel entered. His stride was slightly reticent as he approached the frightened man. He stopped just a few feet from the knight's chair. It was enough for him to see the glassy tint to Latham's eyes. Ominously, Gabriel waved his hand before the cloudy orbs. No reaction. Not even a blink beneath his pale, lifeless skin.

"Damn," Gabriel hissed. He was too late. The poison had already claimed its unwary victim. Obviously, whatever information the ignoble knight had was deemed far too dangerous by the Angel. Again, the bastard assassin had foiled Gabriel's attempts to locate the Triad treasure.

There had been three murders since the Guardian had taken up the search in England. A sea captain, a shopkeeper of dubious goods and now the Marquess of Anchersley's entrepreneurial brother. Gabriel's analytical mind discerned he must be getting closer to finding the missing key. The Angel had not struck so close to Mayfair. Not since the wretched bastard dared to kill his father.

A cruel frown pursed Gabriel's lips. The rage and need for revenge soared deeply in his heart. There were so many crimes for which the Angel must pay. So many people, so much time stolen by the villain's cowardly poisons. Thoughts of the assassin always filled Gabriel with disgust, as much for his apparent love of murder as his cowardly methods. The Angel d'mort always remained unseen, protected from his victims' wrath and pain, protected by shadows and suspicion. One day, Gabriel vowed, he would unmask the vile traitor and watch him suffer over his own deadly concoctions.

Something distracted his vengeful thoughts. An unexpected item lay perched atop the mantelpiece. Upon close inspection, the discreetly placed missive awaited its intended reader. Emblazoned on the white linen paper in harsh lines was a simple, ominous name.

Blackstone.

Inquisitively, Gabriel opened the missive. The freshly cut paper rubbed against his protective leather gloves. Inside was a brief message, its contents darkly enticing.

The information you seek is in my hands. Come to the Red Velvet if you dare, mon ami.

So, Dumond and the Angel were working together again? Shrewdly, Gabriel realized only they could concoct such a deadly web of deceit and treachery. It seemed the pair were always in bed together on every nasty twist of this unending quest. And now they wanted Gabriel to deliver himself to their lair.

He wondered what treachery they were plotting this time. Dunstan's words came to his mind. Gabriel's instincts sensed a trap lurking in the shadows. It was madness to contemplate obeying the summons. Yet, that nagging burning sensation inside Gabriel kept urging him to go.

It was a curious feeling, bitterness and oppression. His limbs ached heavily and his tongue felt leaden. Gabriel's heart pounded with furious motivation. He felt the urge to flee. To fly out of the window. Madness, he thought. There was no danger. Not as long as he stayed away from the Frenchman's lair.

A sound echoed in a darkened corner. Gabriel recognized the scraping of a door. The villain rushed him from the side. Gabriel retrieved the dagger from his pocket and caught his attacker full force in the shoulder. The man's pistol clattered to the floor as it fired.

Gabriel's instinct cried with warning. Two more figures bounded out of the shadows. An angry determined voice shouted, "Get the blackguard!"

They swarmed him like a pack of hungry wolves. Gabriel plunged his blade into the first attacker's chest. Another tried to strangle him from behind, but he cruelly twisted the man's arm. A third charged him from the front knocking the dagger from his hand.

His attackers' determination grew with their number. An exponential number it seemed as they swarmed around him, each pounding and kicking him.

"Don't kill 'im!" barked the leader. "The Frenchman wants 'im alive."

It was a trap. It was all a trap, Gabriel ruefully thought. Pain splintered his head as the villain's cudgel drove home. He felt himself falling in excruciating slow motion. His vision burned with fire. A brilliant ruby fire that brought bitterness to his mouth.

Then the world turned gray, then black, then nothing.

Chapter Twenty

SHE DIDN'T mean to hit the woman that hard.

Vision clouded unnaturally, Sera's heart pounded as she gripped the water pitcher in her hand. Remorse filled her as she gazed over the unconscious redhead huddled on the floor. A large welt was forming on the woman's temple exactly where the heavy pitcher struck. No doubt, she would have a merciless headache when she awoke. If she awoke.

Sera dragged herself to a sitting position on the bed to survey the damage she had caused. Her limbs felt leaden and numb, but sheer determination forced the muscles to her bidding. Sera was always a survivor. Even when the wolves were swarming over her blood-soaked legs, she had the strength to defend herself. She could not let anyone maul her unchallenged.

But she hadn't meant to hit the woman that hard.

Horrified at her burst of sudden strength, Sera studied the redhead with morbid concern. The woman was lying face down, her arms splayed lifelessly about her gauzy red dress. She seemed in a deep sleep. Or, Sera feared, dead.

She really should go get some help for the mad woman. Sera's mind reeled with innocent compassion and fearful piousness. She was certain Papa said God did not approve of murder. Especially murder of a woman who was obviously insane. Why no sane person would ever claim the obvious falsehoods she did with such genuine authority.

Gabriel as a master of fallen angels? It was preposterous. She knew him as well as she knew herself. Gabriel was a kind and decent man. He was a gentleman not a seducer. And he certainly wouldn't have employed that rat-faced Bixby to help him kidnap her.

With aching clarity, Sera's muddled mind focused on the events at the Ruins earlier. Gabriel was there, waiting for her in the shadows. He must have seen the atrocious thief sneaking up behind her. That's why he disappeared into the shadows. He must have been preparing a surprise attack. But something happened. Something that delayed him from rescuing her.

Fear coursed through Sera. Fear not for herself but for her guardian angel. Had someone else been at the Ruins besides Bixby? Someone who waited to lay a trap for both Gabriel and herself? Someone who knew Bixby and their propensity to meet on the road at midnight?

Old suspicions came to Sera's mind. She thought Bixby not clever enough to enact his blackmail scheme alone. The notes were just too well-written for an ignorant servant. The handwriting was just a touch too sophisticated, almost like a nobleman's.

Conclusions jumped to her mind. She had never actually found the blackmailer in East Chatham. She assumed by connection that Ethan Bixby was the culprit and dismissed her ideas of a partner for want of evidence. But what if her discreet inquiries into Bixby's familiars inadvertently aroused the attention of his shadowy partner? What if, while she sent Gabriel on his search for the thief, the mastermind was conspiring to trap his curious opponents?

Terror filled Sera. One rat-faced thug could subdue her, but Gabriel was much stronger. Surely, the mastermind knew that and made appropriate arrangements. A whole pack of vicious brutes could have attacked Gabriel. Swarmed him and done God knows what to his gentle hide. And whatever they intended to do to her here, they would blame on him. Perhaps as the final act of a notorious earl with a blackguard reputation.

She raged. No matter what indecencies the rogues inflicted upon her, she would never ever believe Gabriel the culprit. She knew with an absolute certainty that he would never harm her, or any woman for that matter. He was too much of a gentleman, kind, considerate, noble and...

Where is Gabriel?

The question seemed more ominous the longer it went unanswered. Sera knew where she was, but his fate was still horribly uncertain in her mind.

Ominous sounds scuffled outside the bedchamber door. A woman's sultry giggle accompanied a man's slurred comment as their footsteps stumbled down the hallway.

Sera knew she had to get out of there. A brothel was no place for a lady, especially not this particular establishment. She had the distinct feeling this place really was a hell as the mad woman said. The worst kind of hell one could find one's self.

She waited until silence filled the hall then forced herself to stand. Her weak knee trembled beneath her, but she managed to hold her swaying balance.

Her hand paused on the doorknob. Another lecherous couple wandered down the hall. Sera's ears were assailed with a cacophony of frightening noises. Doors opening and closing. Muted cries of pain and pleasure. A whip cracked somewhere down the hall. She nearly jumped at the anguished scream of its victim.

Sera backed away from the door. The thought of stepping into the hall, even disguised as a man, terrified her. Instinctively, she knew only danger lurked for her beyond the gilded door. But inside there was still the unconscious mad woman.

Sera turned her gaze upon the redhead on the floor. She hadn't moved a finger since the pitcher cracked her head. Relief and remorse flooded Sera. She really didn't want to bear the sin of murder, but neither did she want that awful woman's hands touching her again. The thought made Sera's skin crawl and her stomach lurch.

She bit down the urge to vomit. She needed to think, a troubling possibility given her clouded mind. The awful bitterness still stung her mouth. Whatever was in the water here was suited to a place like hell.

A hell she needed to escape. Post haste. Sera scanned the room for possibilities. The hallway was out of the question. There were no connecting doors lining the walls, just the window by the bed.

Sera focused on the transparent glass. She didn't think, just ran to it as quickly as her leaden legs could carry her. She flung open the window and felt her stomach drop to the floor.

Her clouded eyes gazed down the unexpected height. Three stories at least, perhaps four. Only the hard paved alley awaited below.

The fear of falling overwhelmed Sera. She clung to the sash of the window. It was a long way down, she thought. One could break more than just an arm if one fell.

In a bid to steady her dizzying head, Sera studied the ledge beneath the window. It was a fairly large ledge. A couple feet wide, surely large enough for a person to stand. Perhaps even crawl just until they reached the chimney at the corner. Then perhaps if she were extremely careful, she could shimmy down the brick stack to the ground below. It would be like climbing down a tree. A large and dangerous tree.

The sound of heavy footsteps lumbering down the hallway motivated Sera. She knew with certainty she could not linger in the bawdy bedchamber a moment longer. Gabriel might need her help and she could do no good waiting to become the blackmailer's victim instead.

Quelling the fear mounting inside her, Sera climbed out upon the ledge. Crawling on her hands and knees, she made slow and steady progress. The ground seemed much more ominous from the open ledge. Her heart pounded just thinking of how painful it would be to slip. Sera forced herself to focus on her hands. Her fingers trembled unnaturally as she groped her way along weathered withering stone. Fleetingly, she wondered if stone was as prone to snapping as tree branches.

The chimney came into sight when Sera was beginning to question her senses. She could have sworn there was only one chimney on the corner, but now there seemed to be two. Sera blinked her eyes and the two became one.

She lowered her gaze to her hands. With every inch she crawled, weakness stole through her limbs. She fought it, but the feeling was getting stronger and stronger. Every time she lifted her head to see how far she had left to crawl, dizziness assailed her. Her stomach churned restlessly. Her heart pounded in her ears making her feel numb.

And free.

The contradicting thought hit her as soon as she started down the chimney. Giddiness rushed through her prodding her to forget her wariness. She felt the same the day she climbed the tree with her brother Cassius. She had felt so free, gazing down at the ground thinking how lovely it would be to gracefully land upon the lush green grass.

Opposing the rambling memory, dirty cobblestone gleamed hungrily up at Sera. She blinked away the confusion threatening to consume her. She had to keep her mind focused as well as her hands.

The stone seemed more old and weathered around the narrow chimney corner she traversed. Tiny particles of brick crumbled between her fingers as she clung to the ledge. Her booted toes dug into the cracks balancing her struggles. She only needed to reach the ledge above the alley door below. Then she could drop down the rest of the way unharmed. Two stories was the same height she climbed down out of her bedchamber window earlier. It would be simple.

When she looked down again, the ground seemed much closer than she feared. Dizziness filled her head, but the cobblestones weren't quite so vicious looking anymore. Instead of hard stone, they seemed more like a lumpy field.

Or a lumpy mattress.

Weakness surged through her again. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open long enough to focus on her hands. Her heartbeat seemed dulled in her ears. The bawdy sounds of laughter and lusty groans echoed distantly.

Sera swayed as she reached for the next handful of brick. She glanced over her shoulder as the sound of a carriage approached. There was a chorus of strange noises below, but she didn't care. She was just so sleepy.

Dreamily, Sera wondered if she just let go would she gracefully drift to the ground. The warm, lumpy cobblestones seemed ready to embrace her if she'd just let herself fall into a deep sleep.

On the thought, the brick ledge crumbled beneath her boot. Instinctively, Sera grabbed for a hand-hold on the crumbling chimney, a cry of alarm on her lips.

* * *

CARRIAGE WHEELS rumbled to a halt in the alley outside the Red Velvet. Gabriel laid on the floor of the hackney feigning sleep as his aching senses cleared and he planned his next move.

As soon as they arrived, he heard his lead attacker order the rest to wait outside on guard. The Frenchman was being called to inspect his latest captive.

Fortunately, his remaining abductors grew impatient in the wait.

"I'll catch me death out 'ere," complained the driver. "Let's git the bloke inside."

Gabriel listened as his careless guards alighted from the carriage. A hand grabbed his ankle in an attempt to yank him out of the conveyance. Gabriel swiftly kicked his guard in the jaw. The portly man was down and out before he ever realized what happened.

" 'e's awake!" cried another as he reached for his blade.

Gabriel twisted like a cat. Silently, gracefully, he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it. The bones snapped loudly as the weapon clattered to the ground. Before he could recover, Gabriel silenced the man's cry of pain with a swift left hook. The second attacker fell limply to the ground beside the first.

Gabriel spun around searching for more attackers. A voice roared ominously above him.

"Don't move, guvnor," ordered the driver from his seat.

Turning toward the man, Gabriel saw the murderous intention in his eyes. The man leveled a pistol directly at his heart.

"Now git inside afore I decide to use this on ye."

Gabriel turned toward the brothel. He obeyed long enough to hear the driver's footfalls behind him. Just a few more steps, he thought as he gripped the ends of his cloak like a shield, or a weapon.

On the third step, Gabriel swung around, the cloak twisting in his hands like a whip.

The woolen coil struck air as the pistol clattered to the ground under its own volition. Shock and pain riddling his ugly face, the driver crumpled to the pavement holding the back of his head.

Gabriel focused on his rescuer with recognition and chagrin.

"I told you to watch your back, Blackstone," scolded Dunstan. In his hand, the back of his pistol gleamed with the driver's crimson blood.

Gabriel glared repressively. "And I told you I didn't need your assistance. Why are you following me?"

"What, no thank you for saving your miserable neck?" Dunstan teased as he casually wiped clean his weapon.

"I had the situation under control," Gabriel grumbled. "And you never answered my question. I thought I gave you explicit orders tonight?"

Dunstan glared in defiance. "So you did and I followed them."

"Then what the deuce are you doing here?"

Dunstan's voice sounded exceptionally bitter. "Following a rat," he grumbled. "Where's Latham?"

"Dead," Gabriel replied. "You mean Bixby's here?"

"Inside," Dunstan gritted. "I just spent the last hour following him through the taverns."

"He's gambling?" Gabriel tried to put together the unexpected news. The last thing he expected was for the squirmy thief to be a regular of the Red Velvet. If that were true, he'd never have surrendered the precious egg to Gabriel, and survived.

As they stood in the alley, hard rain began to fall. Gabriel huddled under his cloak. Distractedly, he listened to his friend. His mind consumed with the knowledge that Dumond and his thugs were just yards away. He really needed to get himself and his secretary moving, but the news about Bixby was just too interesting, and troubling.

If Ethan Bixby was one of Dumond's lackeys and Sera heedlessly came to London to track him...? The thought sent ripples of terror through Gabriel. Terror and that nagging sensation of burning bitterness. The feeling haunted him. He was missing something. Something about Bixby?

"He's been spreading his money about everywhere," Dunstan informed. "But I think this is where he calls home. The bastard," the secretary spit out in disgust.

Belatedly, Gabriel noticed the anger gripping his friend. He wondered at it before another ominous conclusion came to mind. "Dumond's in there."

"That figures," Dunstan condemned.

Something tapped Gabriel on the shoulder—a shower of crumbling bricks. Instinctively, he looked up. His eyes fell on a tall looming chimney. The thing looked ready to collapse. Brick and stone gargoyles hung precariously two stories above the alley. A shadow clung to a gargoyle. A familiar shadow, Gabriel noticed curiously.

"It sounded like a tale your archrival would author," Dunstan continued.

"What tale?" Gabriel asked, distracted. His gaze focused on the obscure figure above. It didn't move as much as tremble. Like a leaf on the wind. Or a cherub hanging off a cloud. A sweet cherub with a siren's face and long golden-brown hair.

"The tale Bixby's been spreading all night long," Dunstan gritted in frustration. Irritation colored the secretary's voice as he noticed his friend's inattention. Pointedly, he clarified. "A tale about you and Lady—"

"Sera!" Gabriel exclaimed at the same moment. His eyes filled with shock and horror as he focused on the moving shadow clinging to the gargoyle. It was just a small slip, but enough for him to see the frightened expression on her delicate face.

"What?" Dunstan looked up in confusion. The figure of a small lad dangled precariously above him. "What's the bloke doing?"

"Bloody hell!" cursed Gabriel as he quickly shed his cloak. Without a word of explanation, he thrust the garment in his secretary's hands. Stunned, Dunstan watched his employer scale the crumbling chimney.

The stone was slippery and dangerously loose, but Gabriel climbed it with the grace of a panther. His anger was just as fierce when he finally reached the ledge below Sera's clenched feet.

"What the devil are you doing, you silly fool!" he hissed. "Climb down this instant, Sera!"

Her answer came in a frightened gasp of confusion. Sera trembled as she hugged the stone dragon. Her eyes focused on the treacherous ground below. "I'm stuck," she squeaked. "I changed my mind. I don't want to sleep."

"Sera, what are you talking about?" Gabriel reeled at her startled plea. His initial assumption for her presence here began to crumble like the ledge beneath them. He had thought she foolishly followed through on her threat to seek out Bixby. Her messenger disguise made the conclusion natural. But Sera's words seemed strange. She almost seemed to ignore his presence as she clung to a stone gargoyle and rambled about flying.

Wiggling his way up the ledge, Gabriel braced Sera in his arms. She turned to him, clinging to him like an anxious kitten. Her cheeks were flushed with fear, her clothes disheveled and her eyes...

Dear God, her eyes were worse than a hunted doe's. Dull, glazed, and filled with unnatural terror. "My God Sera," Gabriel gasped as he held her. "What has happened to you?"

Her voice came out slurred. "It's not like climbing a tree," she chattered nonsensically. "It's much harder than I thought. And it moves. Even trees don't move in the wind that much. Make it stop, please. It's making me dizzy. Oh Lord, I'm so tired."

Her muddled mutterings alarmed Gabriel more than her clinging weakness. She was talking like a mad woman. Gently, he shook her. "Sera," he ordered. "Look at me! Focus, please. It's Gabriel, remember?"

The command and concern in Gabriel's voice cut through the haze clouding Sera's mind. Relief washed through her. She smiled brightly and warmly. "Oh Gabriel, thank heaven you're all right," she gasped. "I was so worried they had done something terrible to you, too."

"Who, Sera?"

"Whoever found out about our meeting and played this horrible trick on us."

"What meeting?" Gabriel asked in confusion.

"At the Ruins," Sera explained as if it were obvious. "I came as you requested in your note, remember?"

Chills of rage and suspicion ran through Gabriel at the mention of a note. Dumond had left a note luring him to the brothel. And now he learned Sera was led into a trap as well?

"I saw you at the Ruins," Sera rambled, "but then that odious Mr. Bixby appeared."

"Are your certain?" Gabriel growled remembering Dunstan's report of Bixby spreading tales for Dumond.

"I recognized the man's beady dark eyes and straggly hair. But then my knee gave out and he grabbed me. I tried to call out to you, but he put his handkerchief over my mouth. It smelled so awful I couldn't breathe and I fainted. When I woke up I was in the room up there."

She paused to point to the open window towering above. "There was this awful mad woman there with red hair. Tell God I'm sorry," Sera pleaded softly. "I think I killed her, Gabriel, but I didn't know how else to stop her," she confessed on a whisper. "I kept telling her I didn't want to be a fallen angel, but she wouldn't listen."

Sera's confession sent shivers of rage through Gabriel. Her tale confused him, inspiring horrifying pictures in his mind. He wanted to shake more sense into her story so he could discern exactly who he had to kill. But Sera's face was so pale, her frail body trembled in his arms and her eyes glazed with a mixture of fear, confusion and drug-induced vulnerability.

"Blackstone!" Dunstan softly roared from below. "Hurry up and get down here before someone gets clever."

Heeding the warning, Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around Sera's waist. "Hold on to me, love."

"Will you take me home now, Gabriel?" she asked in a dreamy voice. "I'm so tired. Oh dear! She's alive."

Beckoned by the urgently added comment, Gabriel followed Sera's gaze. In the open window above, red velvet curtains billowed beside a familiar redheaded whore.

"Mon dieu!" Desiree shouted, spotting her escaping captive. "Stop!" she barked. "Stop them before she gets away!"

Motion whirled on the ground below. Gabriel's abductors rallied for another attack. Their shouts for assistance rang out just as Dunstan's able fist began to fire its aggressive left hook.

"Blackstone, get down here, now!" the secretary ordered as he flipped over an opponent. Two more swarmed around him. "I can't handle all the rats alone."

At the same moment, Sera pleaded in a faint whisper, "Gabriel, I don't feel so well." Clinging to his chest, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. In the span of a breath, dizziness turned to gray confusion, then to a terrifying weakness she was unable to resist.

"Bloody hell," Gabriel muttered as Sera slumped against him. He gathered her in his arms and quickly made the treacherous climb to the ground.

Concern warred with cunning as he braved his way through the fray of fighting fists. The urge to join his friend in pummeling a few of the brutes who dared to do the Frenchman's bidding paled beneath the desire to see Sera safely away from the wretched brothel.

Gabriel laid her on the cushions of the hackney. Irritation filled his voice as he surveyed the ongoing fights of his secretary. Dunstan had firmly downed one, but was still fending off the attacks of the driver and his rotund companion.

"Dunstan, leave them be!" Gabriel shouted in frustration. "Hurry up. The bastards drugged her," he gritted before ducking into the carriage.

The brothel back door swung open on Dunstan's angry retort. Fortunately, the first menacing face to emerge belonged to an ignominious rat-faced thief. With a smug grin, Dunstan slammed his fist squarely into Bixby's putrid face. Then with an arrogant flip of his wrist he took the reins of the carriage.

Carrying its bedraggled passengers, the hackney sped away into the rainy night.

Chapter Twenty-One

THIRTY MINUTES later, the appropriated hackney drew to a sudden halt. Gabriel flung open the carriage's hatch and was bombarded by a driving rain.

"Why have we stopped?" he barked. Warily, he scanned the horizon. They appeared to be at a barren crossroad.

"Relax, Blackstone, we've cleared the stews," Dunstan chided from the driver's seat. "How's the lass?"

"Sleeping," Gabriel growled. "As she should be doing in her own bed."

Silent rage boiled within Gabriel. The sight of Sera clinging to the brothel wall kept replaying in his mind.

Dumond almost had her. The idea outraged and horrified Gabriel. Even amidst the questions raised by her confusing explanation, he knew Sera's arrival in London was courtesy of his accursed rival.

She could have been killed. Or worse, Gabriel thought. He clenched his fist in longing. He wanted to storm into the Red Velvet and give Dumond the duel he desired. The urge to rip the bastard apart overwhelmed Gabriel. He forced himself to remain calm knowing he could do nothing. Not while Sera needed him.

"Rain's coming down in buckets," Dunstan understated. "The south roads out of Town are probably washed out by now or soon will be. These city rigs aren't built for hard travel to the country. Even if we got your travel coach out, I doubt we'd make it to East Chatham before dawn."

"I see," Gabriel replied tightly. His mind whirled with the ominous facts. Behind them waited the treacherous claws of Dumond's minions. In front, Nature conspired to keep Sera from her home and forced her into his keeping.

"Lady Sera's absence will be noticed by morning," Dunstan continued. "If you were seen returning her home, it would only give credence to the rumors planted tonight in the stews. Her reputation, and yours, would be questioned. Not to mention Dumond knows of her now. Your lady is marked, Blackstone."

"I'm aware of that," Gabriel gritted. "And she's not my lady."

"Neither is she the inconsequential nuisance you claimed," Dunstan challenged. "With the way you look at her, one could easily mistake your interest to be that of an enamored young pup."

"My interests are none of your concern, Mister Dunstan," Gabriel scoffed. "You would do better to concentrate on the road."

"Of course, milord," Dunstan echoed with mock formality. "Would your lordship mind telling me which road I should be concentrating on?"

"Just keep circling to the south."

"Till dawn?"

"Until I think of something," Gabriel growled in a surly voice.

"We can't just keep going around in circles. I'll catch my death of cold out here."

"Then bundle up and keep moving."

"Stop barking at me, Blackstone," Dunstan shot back. "I didn't create this situation and I'm just as angry as you are on the lady's behalf, but I believe at this moment I have a great deal more sense than you do. No doubt, it's the influence of all this sobering rain that put the problem into its proper perspective for me."

"And what great insight do your senses lead you to conclude?"

"The notorious Blackguard of Blackstone has a new mistress!" Dunstan proclaimed. "That will be the tale dominating every gossipmongers' tongue tomorrow. You can't stop it, but you can change it."

"And I suppose you won't rest until you tell me how."

"There is no dishonor or scandal in something condoned by the church."

Marriage?, Gabriel thought with horror. No, that was impossible. It was a fate worse than death; a fate Thornbridge detested even more than the idea of his sister compromised by a notorious rake. "A bit drastic, don't you think?"

"I'd say the fates are conspired in your favor for a change, my friend." Dunstan smiled knowingly. "If you'd only think about it."

"No!" Gabriel refused. "Marriage is out of the question. It would only cause more problems than it solves. And in my present position, I can't possibly—"

"Position?" Dunstan interrupted in a burst of impatient anger. "You're a bloody earl for God's sake, and a wealthy one at that. You're position demands that you take a wife for the sake of continuing your father's line, if nothing else."

"You're forgetting the reputation I have to uphold," Gabriel retorted coolly.

"So the Notorious Blackguard has an unusual method of procuring a bride. Some might even say she redeems you."

"And condemns herself in the process?" Gabriel countered. "No, I won't allow it. Thornbridge was right; she deserves better," he grumbled.

"Seems to me you and Lady Sera's arrogant brother are forgetting a rather important fact," Dunstan challenged. "Despite all the obstacles, you happen to have a beautiful young woman who looks on you the way a kitten looks on a bowl of cream. If you'd only admit it to yourself, you are just as eager to lick every droplet of that cream off her pretty little face." He savagely added, "Or are you going to let a few negligent blue blood's send her right into the middle of Dumond's lecherous traps again?"

Silent fury brimmed Gabriel's lips. A frightened whimper from the seat behind him drained the bluster from him. Without a word to Dunstan, Gabriel let the trap door shut and dropped back to the interior of the cab. Gently, he lifted Sera into his lap.

She cried out, wildly grasping his shoulders as if she were plummeting to the earth. Gabriel cradled her in his arms. "Quiet now, love," he hushed with a feather kiss to her forehead. "It's all right, Sera. You're safe, now."

Her eyes fluttered open with a start. She stared as if into the depths of a dream. Her pupils were unnaturally large in the darkness, but the doe-brown orbs appeared clearer than when she hung from the window ledge.

When she trembled, Gabriel gathered his cloak around her. He gently rocked her in his arms until she adjusted to the rolling darkness of the carriage. When Sera roused from her drugged slumber, she looked at him as if pleasantly surprised to find him there.

"Gabriel? Did you catch me again?" she sparkled with dreamy delight. "You're always catching me. Like that day Miss Cleopatra climbed the tree. One would think you had an affinity for it. Catching me, that is."

"I suppose," Gabriel answered noncommittally. "One could also suppose you had an affinity for climbing out on dangerous limbs and ledges."

"Curse my impetuous nature then. It's fortunate that you have a knack for being my guardian angel. Else I'd probably have a broken halo by now." Sera giggled and snuggled deeper within Gabriel's embrace. She wanted to bury herself in his warmth and chase away the chill night air. It was very late, she supposed. Way past her usual bed time. "Are you taking me home now?"

"The roads are washed out in the rain. I doubt we'll make it to your home before morning."

"Oh, that's all right. I can sleep here." She yawned against his chest. "I like it here. I don't dream of that awful place in your arms."

"The place you were escaping from this evening?"

Sera nodded vigorously against his shirt. "You should have seen that room, Gabriel. It was covered in red velvet and had this peculiar scent. It seemed like a fancy barn. There were whips and harnesses hanging from the walls. Very odd for a lady's bedchamber."

"Probably because it wasn't designed for a lady," Gabriel gritted. The fact that Sera had been in such a place even for a few minutes unnerved him. She was too innocent to be in a whore's hell.

"It was peculiar even for a gentleman's taste," she mumbled.

Gabriel had to agree with her there. But then Sera's naïveté precluded her from realizing men without such noble claims and some with them can have indecent tastes. Tastes that confused pleasure with pain and torture with seduction. The idea would probably shock Sera to her grave.

"I'm glad I didn't kill her," she blurted.

"Who?"

"That mad woman I hit with the pitcher. The one who was screaming at us before I fell asleep."

"You fainted Sera."

"Yes, I was so tired. Still, I'm glad I didn't murder her. I didn't intend to, but she was so mean for no reason. And I didn't even tell her how funny she smelled."

Gabriel remembered the gaudy redheaded prostitute shouting out the brothel window. Dumond's whore, Desiree, looked as if she shared her master's sadistic lusts. "Did she hurt you?"

"No, not really," Sera flustered. "She was mad. She kept saying things. Lies mostly."

"What lies?"

"She said that you sent me there. But you never would have let Bixby kidnap me from the Ruins."

"What else did she say?"

"That you were the master of fallen angels and were going to teach me to be like her. She made me drink some foul water, too. She said it was a curative to take the sting out of the assessor, whatever that is."

Rage consumed Gabriel. The assessor was what Dumond called his whip, a customary method for extracting information. Unfortunately, the bastard found the device held a certain sensuous appeal to his masochistic ways. By the time he had finished with Sera, she'd be more than a seduced woman: she'd either be mad or dead and believing Gabriel was her defiler. Or so was the intention of the laudanum and the whore's devious tale. "Goddamn him to hell!"

The vehement words cut through Sera's dreamy mood. From the tension in his arms as he held her, Sera realized Gabriel was bitterly angry. "Goddamn who?" she tentatively asked.

"Whoever sent you the note luring you to the Ruins tonight."

"But you sent it, didn't you?"

"I never left London, Sera. I haven't been in East Chatham in weeks."

"Oh," she gasped surprised. Disappointment and unease trickled through her. "Gabriel, if you weren't at the Ruins tonight, then how did you know where I was?"

"I didn't. I believed you were home in your bed where you belong. Like you, a note sent me to that particular establishment."

"I see." She frowned. "Then you didn't intend to send for me tonight?"

Sera shivered, waiting for Gabriel's reply. The cool night air and his poignant silence chilled her into awareness. Gabriel hadn't sent for her. He didn't arrange to meet her just as he didn't respond to her missive. The realization left her feeling wary and decidedly alone.

"Gabriel, will you take me home now?" she asked in a small voice.

"I'm afraid I can't, love," he murmured. Idly, he rubbed consoling circles against her back. "The roads aren't passable."

"But if I'm not in my bed tomorrow morning..." Sera paused with dawning horror. In a few hours, Chalmers would be knocking on her door. She had never stayed out an entire night. Her brothers would be appalled and furious. They'd never understand why she left.

"I know, love," Gabriel whispered against her temple as if he'd heard her thoughts. His voice rumbled with empathy and concern. Sera wondered if he truly understood the worry running rampant through her mind.

His tender hold seemed to answer her question. It was as if instinct drove him to shelter her from her troubles. Unease gave way to hope and her desire to trust her guardian angel's embrace.

"Gabriel?" Sera asked when she noticed his brooding glare. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm considering a solution to your current predicament."

"Is it such a dour predicament?"

"You do realize that you, as well as I, shall be the talk of the ton tomorrow?"

"We've been talked about before," she argued. "It hasn't alarmed me yet."

"I fail to see why you would smile over the possibility of being socially-ruined," he grumbled.

Sera noticed her smile with bemused surprise. Propriety demanded she be horrified, but she didn't care. Not for her reputation, nor for the opinions of her family. She was labeled a hellion and an Original. What difference did it make if she added Gabriel's mistress to her calling? Certainly, there was no more pleasant place for her than to be lost in his enchanting kiss.

Why didn't he kiss her already, she wondered? The maddening man just kept staring at her behind his usual brooding mask of serenity. It was almost as if he were playing statue and challenging her to make the first move.

"Perhaps I'm not afraid, because I know you will protect me," she added in a sultry whisper against his lips. Accidentally, then experimentally, Sera brushed her mouth against his.

Every muscle in his body tensed. "Gabriel?" Sera hesitated in frustration. She felt woefully ignorant of how she was expected to proceed. "Exactly, how does a ruined woman get her lover to kiss her?"

"You won't be ruined," he declared.

"I won't?" Confusion filled her. The burning intensity flaring in Gabriel's eyes mystified Sera. It was as if every part of him had rallied together in a unanimous decision.

"You've planned a solution to our problem?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't see any other way," he grumbled. Gabriel stroked the contour of her chin. His touch sparked shivers of pleasure within her. "Will you trust me, love?"

Sera blossomed with a childlike smile. "I've always trusted you," she confessed.

"You may come to regret that in time," he warned ominously.

"Never," she protested. "It's reckless and scandalous, but if I had to be ruined with any man, I am pleased it is with you."

"You know not what you speak, but you will belong to me any way," he vowed in a tone that did not suggest argument.

Before she could question his displeasure, Gabriel sealed his vow with a searing kiss. Raw masculine desire overwhelmed Sera in a heated embrace.

She thought of nothing beyond the man who had beguiled her from the moment he appeared out of a midnight fog like her mythical knight-in-shining-armor. She knew without question that he had not been on that road by chance. Destiny brought Gabriel into her life. She could not fight it, no matter what the consequences.

Whatever he asked, whatever he demanded, Sera would gladly give it to him. To belong to him would be the most wondrous thing in the world. The angels would sing and God would smile if she became the mistress of the Blackguard of Blackstone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

GOD WAS frowning and the angels shed tears.

Or so Gabriel thought as he gazed through his bedchamber window studying the London street below. Heavy rain softened to a steady drizzle filling the pre-dawn night with cold shadows. Shadows that lingered about him echoing his brooding silence.

It was an ominous end to a long night. All around Mayfair, the merrymaking members of the Social World were taking to their beds. Gabriel figured he had a few hours before the scandal hit the best clubs on St. James Street.

It wouldn't be long before Society deduced the players in the night's tale of seduction. The Blackguard of Blackstone would have another sinister mark to add to his sordid reputation. And the poor misguided innocent, Thornbridge's singular sister, would be branded a ruined woman for her indiscretion and willful disobedience of her family.

It was a clever plan, a cruel and wicked manipulation of Gabriel's notorious persona. Society was entranced with rogues, but a heartless debaucher would be despised. His tenuous acceptance in Society would be compromised. While he dealt with the consequences the Frenchman would be free of his obtrusive competition. Grimly, Gabriel wondered what else his blackhearted foe planned for himself and Sera in the Red Velvet Hell.

Gabriel's blood ran cold at the thought of what could have happened to her tonight.

Sera was no fallen angel. She was a sweet, pure and trusting soul. She did not deserve to be dragged into his sordid world. Yet, by morning the world would believe her his mistress.

Dunstan was right. Only drastic means could save Gabriel's reckless angel.

Arranging a midnight wedding was a daunting task. One suited to a clever spy with friends in the right places. The ceremony took place in a small chapel near Lambeth. The special license procured only a few minutes before. Only a handful attended, including a trusting bride who chose to wear her husband's cloak throughout the brief ritual.

With any luck, Gabriel hoped, the impulsive bride and groom's romantic elopement would overshadow the torrid rumors spread of an illicit liaison.

It was the best excuse he could devise. Gabriel hadn't wanted to force Sera into marriage. He felt guilty for ever allowing her to become mired in his archenemy's plans. She belonged with her family, but instead she came to him. The fates had conspired to deliver his enticing angel into his lap.

Part of him was thrilled. The part that was obsessed with her. The part that kept reminding himself that she was legally his now. Just a few feet away in the next bedchamber.

Another part remembered how wrong he had been about her at first. His lust drove him to believe Sera the Angel's pawn. That cold-hearted desire was to blame for her predicament. Perhaps when she awoke from her drugged sleep, she would realize how cruelly she had been treated. She was the innocent victim of a cynical blackguard's reputation.

Gabriel frowned at his reflection in the window. He stood like a silent sentry. Cold shadows drifted outside the glass pane, taunting him with his isolation and guilt.

Cutting through the silence of the bedchamber, a gentle tap resounded against the connecting door. A moment later, the heavy oak cautiously swung open. Gabriel watched his bride hesitantly peek inside.

Sera's eyes focused on the darkness flooding Gabriel's room. Or at least, she hoped it was his room. She had been half-asleep when they finally arrived at his townhouse. She thought she remembered him saying he'd be just through the door if she needed him. The door turned out to be two doors separated by a short walkway, but it did lead her there. Unfortunately, she could find no trace of Gabriel.

The bedchamber was huge. A large mahogany bed lay between two draped windows. Only the glow of a dying fire illuminated the room in mysterious shadows.

Sera shivered from the cold as she pulled her borrowed nightdress closer. The wretched thing was twice her size and kept falling down her arms. She wondered if she should return to her allotted bedchamber for a blanket.

Frowning, Sera dismissed the notion. With a determined sigh, she strode forward.

"Gabriel?" she whispered to the darkness of his bed. Her eyes scanned the velvet drapes and rumpled sheets. "Are you asleep?"

"Not at the moment," he rumbled from the window. His dark figure emerged from the drapes.

Sera's hand flew to the bedpost as her heart jumped a beat. "You startled me!"

"My apologies. I did not expect company. Why aren't you asleep, Sera?"

She glared at Gabriel's propensity to surprise her until she realized how irritated his voice sounded. Sera quelled her unease and forced herself to answer. "I woke up in a strange bed and I couldn't go back to sleep. I'm sorry to barge in unexpectedly."

Gabriel approached her, grabbing the bedpost bare inches above her hand. Overwhelmed by the intimidating warmth of his presence, Sera trembled and backed away.

Gabriel stopped her with a gentle touch to her chin. His fingers lingered over her skin forcing her to meet his gaze. Free of her dreamy clouds, Sera soberly stared back waiting for him to speak.

"You were not in a strange bed, Sera," he corrected. "Nor do you barge here. You are the Countess of Blackstone now. Mistress of this house."

Sera blushed and pulled free of his grasp. The shoulder of her nightgown slipped down her arm. "As to that, my lord," she flustered trying to right her nightgown and quell her embarrassment. "I was wondering..."

"Yes?" Gabriel coaxed when she drifted into a wary silence.

"I suppose it is all a bit awkward at first," Sera excused. "But is it not customary for brides to share their husband's beds?"

Tenderly, he stroked Sera's cheek. The touch made her shiver and lean into his caress. A curious tremor of warmth spread from her cheek to his hand. A warmth of tenderness, compassion and desire.

Gabriel paused a moment as if stifling a wild impulse. His hand dropped to his side with a frustrated grumble. When he spoke his voice was gruff and commanding.

"You're tired, Sera. Go back to bed," he ordered. "A gentleman would let you rest after the eventful night you've had," he added in mild recrimination.

"In truth, I'm not all that sleepy anymore," Sera protested. "I'm really too restless. And if I'm just going to lie awake in bed with my thoughts, then I'd much rather be with you, Gabriel." Her hopeful voice turned reticent. "That is unless you'd rather sleep."

"It is very late, love."

"Yes, I suppose I should go then," she agreed. Awkwardly, Sera chewed her lower lip. Despite her words, she hesitated at the foot of Gabriel's bed. She stared at him in worried concentration.

"Love, there's time enough for this conversation later. When you're ready."

Gabriel watched her stare at his shoes for a long minute. In the shadows of night, he knew she was blushing over something. The oversized sleeve of her gown slid down her shoulder again, but she seemed too absorbed in thought to notice. He saw the gentle curve of her arm develop into the swell of a tender breast. He remembered the silky softness that awaited his touch.

Gabriel repelled the desire to reach out and peel the restricting garment away. He had to get control of himself. He wasn't even touching her and his lecherous body surged with need. He dreamt of her night after night and now here she was, standing at the foot of his bed in only a nightgown and legally his for the taking.

"Are you vexed with me?" she blurted.

"What?" Gabriel stared at her in disbelief. Sera seemed very nervous about her concern.

"You're angry with me for what happened tonight, aren't you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You weren't pleased when you found me earlier. You kept frowning."

"I did find you hanging off the side of a building. I was startled, love."

"I'm sorry, Gabriel," Sera confessed. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Sera—"

"I didn't realize he would stoop to such levels to avoid detection," she continued unabated. "If I had known the blackmailer would concoct something so heinous, I never would have pressured you into locating his thief. It's my foolishness that is to blame for this horrendous situation."

Gabriel caressed her cheek. "You aren't to blame for any of this, Sera. You are just as much a victim in this cruel machination as I am."

"I should have realized you didn't send me that note earlier," she persisted. Her eyes blurred and her voice turned grim. "If I had realized it was a trap, I never would have gone to the Ruins and been brought to London."

Bothered by the reminder of what could have happened to her there, Gabriel barely removed the censure in his voice. "It is pointless to regret the past. What's done is done."

Sera frowned at his harsh reply. He thought he saw disappointment and worry edging the amber highlights of her eyes. She asked, "I suppose all we can do is make the best of it then?"

"Our marriage?"

"Mama always said once you make your bed, you must be prepared to lie in it."

Watching his nervous bride seek shelter in the drapes of his bed, Gabriel found her comment ironically amusing. The urge to comfort her moved him. He grasped her hand on the bedpost. "The bed needn't be an uncomfortable one, Sera, albeit a bit strange at first."

Sera's frown turned to a tentative smile. He rubbed his palm against her silken cheek. "In time, with proper care, the bed could become as warm and familiar as your own," he encouraged in a sultry murmur. "Warmer even."

"Gabriel, why didn't you send for me?" Sera blurted. "Did you not get my letter? I waited and waited, but you never replied." Clutching her fists, Sera's voice picked up steam. "If you changed your mind about helping me find Mr. Bixby and the blackmailer, then you should have had the decency to tell me. I would have been more wary when I went to the Ruins then and not been kidnapped and obliged us into this unfortunate predicament."

The reminder of the brazen way she had sought out trouble tonight alarmed and enraged him. "You shouldn't have gone to the Ruins at all," he roared. "It's time you learned your curiosity and impetuous nature lead you dangerously astray. You're not suited to playing amateur sleuth."

"But I had no choice," Sera demanded.

"You have no business chasing after blackmailers, or Percy's egg!" he gritted savegely. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you tonight? First I have to rescue you from highwaymen and then from a brothel wall? Your obsession is senseless and stupid. As your husband, I will not permit it to continue. Percy Dunne is dead and the only promises you have to keep are the ones you made to me and the minister."

Sera glared at Gabriel in amber confusion. She looked ready to cry or kill. "You needn't blame me for my foolishness, my lord," she retorted primly. "It's probably precisely because I wasn't thinking of Percy or the blackmailer that I caused this situation. The sinful truth is that I was hoping to see you again at the Ruins."

In a rush, Sera rambled on. "The last time we were there, things were so...nice. Then you just left. Every one in East Chatham said you grew bored with me and sought the livelier entertainment of Town ladies. It would have been much simpler if you had just told me before."

"Told you what, Sera?"

"That the only reason you'd marry me is to save us both from scandal," she baldly replied. "I wouldn't have carried on so, even if my dreams of you were driving me insane. Honestly Gabriel, I never meant to trap you into a marriage you clearly didn't want."

Eyes filled with guilt and regection, Sera dropped to the bed in defeated silence. Gabriel's anger fled in a heartbeat. He sat beside her and gently pulled her into his lap. Sera whimpered softly to his chest. "Quiet now, love," he whispered against her brow. "I'm not a man who lets Society decide how I will conduct my life. My choices are made for my own reasons. Including marrying you."

Cooed by his assurance, Sera meekly perked up. Tentatively, she gazed at him. "Then you aren't displeased with our marriage?" she asked. "Even though I'm inexperienced compared to the sophisticated ladies of Town?"

Gabriel's frown was as thoughtful as it was severe. "Sophistication breeds a cynicism I hope you never know, Sera," he softly vowed. "You are too beautiful and pure for that."

Sera blushed furiously. "I'm not pure, Gabriel, at least not in spirit. I used to be, but then I met you. The first night we met my mind rebelled against me. I noticed things about you I shouldn't have. You made me strong and weak in the same breath whenever you looked at me. I just wanted to be near you. To be held by you, kissing you." Her blush turned crimson.

Her honest admission of desire humbled Gabriel. He knew he had inspired it with his calculating seduction, but the sincerity of her blush enticed him. He remembered the pride he felt knowing he had been the first to witness her introduction to passion. He didn't want her to quell the heavenly passion God bequeathed her.

Turning her face toward him, Gabriel rumbled with gentle authority. "It is not sinful between us, love. The passion, the desire you feel is beautiful and natural. Something to be cherished."

"Will you kiss me, Gabriel? Just one kiss?"

Besieged by the memory of the last time she asked him that devil's bargain, Gabriel frowned. He almost stole her innocence then, while she naively asked him for just one more kiss. "It is late," he hesitated. "You should be getting back to sleep."

Stubbornly, Sera curled up in his lap instead. "I'm really not tired, Gabriel. Not when I'm with you. Why don't you want to kiss me?"

The tossed out question confused him. She really had no notion how enticing she was. A sweet and gentle siren his for the taking. He gritted, "It will probably kill me not to."

Sera lifted her amber eyes. She looked at him as if he'd asked the strangest question ever. "What's stopping you? I don't understand. I want you to kiss me and my brothers aren't here."

"I don't give a damn about your brothers, Sera. They aren't the reason I left you in East Chatham."

"Then why?"

"Because I knew I wouldn't be satisfied with just a kiss. You entice me, love. Dangerously so. If I kissed you now, I wouldn't stop until I made love to you."

Sera's eyes sparkled with desire. "You mean like you made love to me beneath the willow tree?"

"That was just a taste," Gabriel corrected softly. "When I make love to you, you will only have me for a blanket. And I'll be fully inside you when we fall apart in each other's arms."

Sera blushed wildly at his sultry words. A familiar warmth blossomed in the pit of her stomach. A warmth that had brought a pleasure she had never known before Gabriel. Innocently, she wondered if there was more. "Gabriel, is it possible for both of us to feel the same way?" she asked hesitantly. "Like before when you held me and I was swept away. It was a most thrilling sensation. I kept dreaming about it night after night since you left."

"Maybe not the first time, but with the right amount of passion and practice," Gabriel cooed. "It is like a complicated dance that must be mastered by two partners."

"Would you...teach me?" she huskily begged. "I'm cursed with two left feet, but with you...? Assuming I have enough passionate tendencies to master the dance, that is."

Gabriel gazed into her smoky eyes. The burgundy fire of desire ignited within them. Unconsciously, she stroked his shoulders and rubbed her little bottom against him in a tantalizing way. "You probably have enough passion to kill me, love." He smiled over the prospect.

Sera beamed under his compliment. She gazed at his lips expectantly. Gabriel caressed her tender cheek. Like a hungry kitten to its master, she leaned into his touch. He tried to reassert control over his raging thoughts. Sheer will alone kept him from rolling her onto the bed and turning his nightly fantasies to reality. But before he indulged his desire, he had to be assured she wanted the same.

"Sera, listen to me," He commanded. Dutifully, she gazed at him through long eyelashes. "If we made love there would be no going back. No changing minds. You wouldn't be a virgin anymore. You would be mine. Forever and always, good or ill."

"Would you also belong to me?"

"We'd belong to each other," Gabriel vowed.

Sera beamed a hopeful eager smile. "Then teach me, Gabriel. Make me yours, because in spirit, I already belong to you."

He stared at her a long moment, then traced a delicate line across her lips with the pad of his thumb. Unconsciously, Sera tasted his skin. Anticipation grew within her. He answered withan enticing rumble from his chest. "Seraphina," he murmured. "Born of angels. Your name suits you, love."

Sera thought that a silly comment to make. She wondered if he would kiss her before she lost all sense. He just kept staring at her lips in a way that made her feel queasy inside. But his arms surrounded her, rubbing her arms and back, coaxing her closer and closer into his embrace. After a minute of eternal silence, Sera opened her mouth to explain where her mother got her name.

He kissed her on the second word. The sound died abruptly under the gentle assault of Gabriel's penetrating kiss. Provocatively, he nibbled her lower lip then teased the injury away with the gentle ministrations of his tongue. The caress savored, lured and seduced.

Tentatively, Sera returned the kiss. She tasted brandy and rain in a heady masculine mixture. She began to feel dizzy again. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders in a secure hold. Boldness encouraged her to return his playful kisses.

"Open your lips, love," he beckoned. "Let me taste your sweetness again." She obeyed without reservation and he claimed her in a searing kiss. One that overpowered, dominated, inflamed.

Sera felt like she was drowning, falling, twisting. She landed safely in the middle of the bed still clutching her anchor's shoulders.

Gabriel kept the bulk of his weight from crushing her into the mattress, but enjoyed the feel of her softness lying beneath him.

He kissed her relentlessly. Until her lips where as flushed as her cheeks and as numb as her cluttered thoughts. Still it was not enough. His fingers stroked the long golden-brown tresses that fell about her shoulders. She smelled of honey and spring flowers. He nibbled her ear.

"You taste like nectar, my sweet. A beautiful fresh garden flower," Gabriel whispered against her cheek. "Now I understand why bees find flowers so fascinating."

Sera laughed though it came out as a halfhearted giggle. The queasy warmth in her stomach was changing, growing into the same feeling she felt beneath the willow tree. Yet, it was different somehow.

Fear and expectation filled her. She found it hard to keep still. Her legs kept fighting for a comfortable position amidst his. Her oversized nightgown kept getting caught underneath her.

Gabriel obligingly freed her, inching the garment above her hips. Sera felt the cool night air caress her bare legs. Then she felt the warmth of his britches. The lean muscles of his legs tensed above her, his knee settling between hers.

Gabriel worked open the ties and slipped a finger beneath the folds of her thin pantalets. He groaned when he found the telltale moistness already begin to flow. His own clothes began to feel cumbersome. Before he gave it a thought, he unhooked the buttons of his britches.

He was tugging off her pantalets when Sera nervously spoke. "Gabriel, you make me feel so strange. Excited yet terrified and woefully clumsy. Is that normal every time one makes love or just the first?"

Gabriel paused instantly. He cursed himself for losing control to his traitorous body. In a few more moments, he would have happily plunged himself inside her without a thought to preparing her. Virgins needed to be coaxed, teased and rendered completely willing before their bodies accepted the breadth of a man with minimal discomfort. But how long would that take? At that moment, Gabriel felt woefully inexperienced.

He tilted her chin toward him. "This is the first time for both of us, love. The first time we've danced this dance together. We must learn from each other," he explained. "Promise me, Sera, promise you will tell me what you feel. What you want. I don't want you to be frightened."

"I'm not Gabriel," she smiled gingerly. "Not when I'm with you."

Gentling his assault, he teased her with a kiss. Sera answered with a shy confession. "I am a little nervous, but I forget to be when you kiss me."

With an accommodating smile, Gabriel lowered his mouth to hers again. The kiss was a long lingering indulgence that left them both feeling giddy. And wanton.

Sera clung to Gabriel; intertwining her hands around his shoulders, in the tiny hairs down the back of his neck, in the ruffles of his linen shirt. The cravat was absent as usual, giving her delightful access to his chin and neck. She found the tiny hairs on his chest fascinating. Her curious fingers moved lower, popping open buttons as she went.

Sera had no idea how bold she was becoming or the fact that her haphazard means of undressing him was driving Gabriel mad. Finally, he took pity on them both and discarded the garment himself.

She wanted to wrap her arms around the expanse of warm, rough skin draping his chest, but Gabriel wouldn't cooperate. He kept pulling her arms back into the voluminous folds of her nightgown. The thing was becoming a terrible nuisance. Sera nearly shouted her frustration and asked Gabriel to stop kissing her long enough for her to right the thing. But then her arms were suddenly freed and he was covering her with another kiss.

Breaking their kiss abruptly, Gabriel rolled to his side to get a good view of her. He knew the instant Sera realized she was lying naked in his arms. She must've felt the draft across her middle. Surprise and a tinge of innocent embarrassment illuminated her features in the darkness. She tried to cover herself, but he pulled her hand to his bare chest instead.

"Nature doesn't hide beauty, love," he whispered huskily. "Like the garden flowers she tends, she shows them off to the world in a thousand different hues and shapes."

Not daring to look, she chewed her lip instead. "But not all gardens are for public viewing," she protested.

"True," he agreed with a tender grin. "Then we must consider this our private garden. One to savor and cherish."

She turned her gaze to his. "Mutually?" Sera asked. Experimentally, she stroked a small patch of skin on his chest. Gabriel kissed the knuckles of her hand.

"We shall tend each other's garden," he promised.

With that vow, Gabriel leaned over to take Sera's lips in his. His kiss moved lower to her chin, then to her neck and to the tip of her shoulder.

Sera wrapped her fingers in his hair. Her voice was dreamy and whimsical. "Gabriel, what will we grow in our garden if we tend it carefully?"

Distractedly, he trailed kisses along the slope of a tender bosom. He teased the rosy nipple with whisper caresses, tasting and intriguing the eager flesh. "Anything we want to grow," he answered.

Sera bristled. The warm flow of Gabriel's breath dancing off her skin made her body feel energized and anxious. He wasn't touching her, but the mere presence of his body so close to hers was overpowering. She felt him, sensed him and was longing for his touch more every second he denied it.

"Could we grow a child?" she asked.

Gabriel smiled over the tension and anticipation he caught in Sera's voice. From the way her fingers dug into his chest, he concluded she was torturing herself with the desire to pull him into her embrace. To save himself some painful scratches, he guided her wrists safely back to the bed. Gently, he tasted the contour of a pert little nipple. Sera groaned and turned toward him seeking more of the caress. He indulged her.

Returning to her question, he asked, "Is that what you wish?"

Sera misunderstood. "I wish you would kiss me again. You're irritating me."

He chuckled in a sultry masculine way. "You're frustrated, love, not irritated."

"Stop teasing me," she begged petulantly.

"I'm teaching you to savor, Sera." he instructed playfully. "Do you wish to grow a child in our garden?"

Sera's irritation fled when Gabriel began nibbling on a tender nipple. She found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation. Familiar sparks sprang to life inside her, small yet insistent. The warmth in her belly grew hotter and spread down her legs. Finally she remembered his question. "Yes," she gasped. "I'd like a child very much."

"Very well," Gabriel paused between teasing nibbles. "We must see that the right seed is planted. And then we must nourish it."

Sera began to ask how but her words became an excited gasp when she felt his mouth close around her nipple again. He drew her inside him, suckling and caressing the giving flesh. Sera nearly flew off the bed, wittingly or unwittingly giving him even greater access. His hands kneaded her, fingers stroked and caressed a trail. Down the side of her arm, over the swell of breast, around her waist, sweeping down her belly to the outer limits of the nest of curls eagerly awaiting his touch.

When Sera belatedly realized her hands were free again, she reached for her familiar handhold. She tickled a path around Gabriel's shoulders and down the back of his neck. Her fingers explored his unfashionably long midnight locks until he slipped out of her reach.

"Gabriel?" she called out in nervous curiosity.

He murmured reassuringly in reply. His lips followed the path of his fingers. His hand waited patiently over her thigh. "Slide your knees apart, love," he beckoned, caressing the narrow crack separating her legs.

Sera resisted. "You said I should tell you what I was feeling?" she reminded.

"Yes?" he kissed her.

"At the moment, I feel exposed and vulnerable," she admitted. "Maybe if you took off the rest of your clothes so we are both are the same way."

"Not yet, love," he whispered. "It's too soon. I don't want to frighten you."

"But you don't frighten me. I just feel, well, a bit awkward. I wish I knew what to do. I'm sorry."

Gabriel interrupted her with a playful kiss across the bridge of her nose. "Do you trust me, Sera?"

She answered without reservation. "I'll always trust you, Gabriel."

"Then close your eyes."

When she complied, he took possession of her trembling lips. It was a long lingering kiss, and a comforting embrace that chased away her inhibitions. When he pulled away to follow a trail down her body, Sera was dazed.

She didn't even realize she'd acquiesced to his request until she felt the gentle prodding of his hand. The feather kiss to her inner thigh immobilized her. Her innocent sensibilities wanted to recoil in shock, but the sensual, sinful part of her demanded she give herself up to his expert caress.

Carefully, methodically Gabriel ministered to her. Testing, teasing, preparing her for the invasion his own traitorous body demanded. Only years of training and ice in his veins gave him the strength to contain the desire bursting at the seams of his tight britches. More than fear of his virgin bride's reaction to his singular state of arousal, Gabriel feared bearing all until the last possible moment. Otherwise, he might disgrace them both like a naive schoolboy with his first taste of the carnal arts. But if Sera kept making those enticing little whimpers, he might just disgrace himself anyway.

He was killing her. She was convinced it was all some elaborate rouse to make her die of heart failure. Or insanity. Sera kept her eyes tightly shut. She didn't want to look. She knew he was down there. It was horribly wicked and absolutely decadent. If he stopped, she'd die. If he continued much longer, she'd go mad and probably kill him. Something was missing. Something she needed. She felt the gentle penetration of what she thought was his finger. Then another. He stroked, stretched, prepared. For what, she didn't know.

"Stop," she pleaded in shock when Gabriel kissed her thigh.

"Why?" he paused enticingly over the silky flesh.

"Shouldn't... I don't want..." she stumbled.

"You liked this beneath the willow tree, love," Gabriel encouraged gently. "You're like a tightly strung bow."

He knew he was pushing her beyond her breaking point, but in a few more moments she'd be crashing in her own storm. Oblivious to his own.

Before the storm could break, Sera gripped Gabriel's shoulders. She drew him into her sparkling gaze as if willing him to understand what her passion precluded her from saying. Gardens shelter together in the same storm.

Without a word, Gabriel rolled to his side. When he returned, he kissed Sera with uncontrolled passion. He was crushing her into the bed, settling atop her, gently lifting her knees.

She felt the bare skin of his hips and realized he was as bared as she. She held him, wrapped him tightly to her and kissed him back with all the passion consuming her.

She felt his hand drop between them, his fingers opening, guiding. Something blunt entered her. It was something unusually large and solid. Something warm and pulsing. Slowly, methodically it buried its way deeper and deeper. Sera would have asked what it was if Gabriel wasn't relentlessly kissing her.

Then suddenly the intrusion stopped.

Gabriel paused when he felt the frail barrier of her innocence. He hoped to God his eagerness hadn't tortured her. She was so small and tight, but the silken cage gave willingly to his intrusion. He never felt anything as soft and welcoming. There was only one necessary violation to perform before the worst was over.

Sera felt the beads of perspiration on Gabriel's brow. His expression seemed tortured when he stopped kissing her. For some reason he was lifting and holding her hips still. "Gabriel?" she whispered anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

His voice was harsh and serious. "Trust me, Sera. Dear God, I'll try to be gentle, but you must trust me, love."

"With all my heart," she vowed. "I always have and I always will, Gabriel."

"Remember that, love," he beckoned. "Always."

Sera tried to ask again why he seemed so disturbed. Instead, he kissed her with his whole body.

One moment she was awaiting ecstasy and the next she was envying hell.

Gabriel surged forth in one fluid motion breaking her maidenhead and burying himself inside her. He paused to enjoy the feel of her.

Tenderly, Gabriel kissed the tears away from her eyes and whispered sweet words of encouragement.

Sera was moved by how concerned he sounded. She assumed he thought he really hurt her. In truth, as overwhelming as the initial surge was, the pain was gone in the next breath. She was left only with an odd feeling of fullness.

Sera blushed when she realized she was full of Gabriel. It wasn't unpleasant or painful. In fact, holding each other, being so intimately embraced, all of it was rather scintillating. But a bit of a let down considering the other embraces they shared. This one was comfortable, but not exhilarating.

"Gabriel, this is nice but is there more to this kind of lovemaking?"

He laughed in wry amusement. From the disappointment and hope in her voice, he assumed she was over whatever discomfort he'd caused.

"Much more," he crooned against her lips.

When she asked what, Gabriel withdrew then surged inside her again in one fluid motion. She gasped. He recognized the familiar glint of passion in her eye. He smiled and surged within her again. She whimpered softly.

Sera didn't know what was happening, didn't really care except for the fact that she was with Gabriel. And every time he left her, even for a millisecond, she longed to have him back inside her. He penetrated her the fifth time, picking up what she thought was an erratic rhythm. He whispered things in her ear. Suggestions, requests, compliments.

He told her to wrap her legs around him. She did and held on for dear life.

He meant to go slow and gentle this first time, but she was too welcoming, too soft, too eager to join him.

They stumbled into an instinctive mating dance. Only their desire determined the rhythm and direction.

Part of him thought he was taking too many indulgences, too fast, too deep for the first time. The other part of him kept pushing and pushing, teasing her, encouraging her, baiting her into a frenzy.

Sera was certain she would die. Suddenly, the world was afire like it'd never been before. Every part of her, her teeth, her hair, each inch of her skin inside and out cried out for something. She didn't know what, but instinctively knew Gabriel needed it, too. Her whimpers met his deep groans. Nonsensical and yet conveying the need, the desire both shared.

It began in tiny ripples similar to a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

Gabriel felt the heightened muscles give way around him. Sera's release inspired his own in an explosion of pleasure. With a loud groan of satisfaction, he surged fully inside her and planted his seed.

Sera continued to writhe beneath him several moments longer, tormented by the extra encouragement his fingers gave another secret place of arousal for her. Then she arched her back gasping his name and collapsed in his arms purring in satisfaction.

Minutes later, Gabriel drifted slowly back to reality. His first thought was that he was crushing her. Sera protested weakly when he withdrew from their intimate embrace. She didn't seem to want to let him go as she settled beside him and drifted happily off to sleep.

Gabriel stared at her in the moonlight. Lying there, warm and naked, she was even more beautiful and fascinating to him. He realized how wrong he was to think he could get her out of his system. Sera's passion, her naive loyalty, she was destined for him. She was his sanctuary, his savior, his angel.

An angel cursed to live her days with a creature of darkness. More than anytime before, Gabriel despised the life he had chosen. A spy's life. One which forced him to keep secrets, to lie easily to those who trusted him most. Gabriel thought of Sera's fervent pledge of trust to him. No one in the world trusted him as much as Sera. He didn't think she was deluded by anything more than love. But what was that?

Gabriel didn't trust and therefore didn't love. He lived his life independently, but he had just taken on a big responsibility. The thought of Sera being in danger from Dumond or the Angel of Death set Gabriel's blood boiling. He had to marry her to protect her. From them, from herself, and from him.

Dismissing the worries, Gabriel tucked Sera under the covers beside him. Instinctively, she cuddled closer until her small chin was tucked under his as if it belonged beside no other.

He nearly laughed at himself for thinking she was the Angel's mistress. Assumptions could be dangerous as Sera proved in going to the Ruins. Given the outcome, he was finding the incident less and less intolerable. He'd have to find a way of discouraging her from pursuing this line of adventure before she blundered into further situations. That could be a problem, considering Sera's enthusiastic eccentricities.

Gabriel smiled when he considered where else those enthusiastic desires played out. If tonight's experience was a preview, then his biggest threat was not from a spy in a back alley but from his own marriage bed. Whether good or bad, Gabriel looked forward to sharing his nights with Sera.

Tenderly, he kissed her temple. She snuggled deeper into his embrace. As he finally surrendered to sleep, a snatch of conversation flitted back to him.

In a low and fervent whisper similar to the old minister's proclamation, Gabriel declared, "Now you belong to me, Sera."

Chapter Twenty-Three

SERA LINGERED in the looming darkness of a nightmare.

Night fog surrounded her on the country road of East Chatham. She stood by the gates of her home in earshot of her brothers' familiar bickering. They were debating their favorite topic again. Frustrated, Sera opened her mouth to tell them she could pick her own suitors.

A familiar voice stopped her.

"Sera," echoed the whisper from the road. "Come to me, love."

"Gabriel?" She stepped into the lane. Icy fog enveloped her, obscuring her view of home and family.

Sera shuddered with fear and isolation. "Gabriel?!" She scanned the lane, frantically trying to find him in the drifting shadows.

"I'm here, love," he rumbled distantly.

Turning toward the sound, Sera focused on the dancing leaves of a tall willow tree. Long draping leaves slowly became a tiered cloak. The wool swirled around a dark knight lounging atop his black stallion.

Relief and joy poured through her. "Gabriel, I knew you wouldn't leave me!"

He said nothing, opting to stare at her instead. His misty emerald eyes sparkled ominously in the moonlight. Then Gabriel extended his hand. "Come to me, love," he beckoned. "I will protect you."

The warmth in his voice soothed Sera. She went to him heedless of her path. With each step, the dirt lane seemed to change. Sera nearly tripped on the uneven path crunching beneath her feet. She lost sight of the road to her family. Instead, she focused on her guardian angel.

Wind blasted through her, blinding Sera in the chilling fog. "Gabriel, where are you?" she cried in a panic.

Only the howling wind replied.

"I can't see you. Gabriel?"

Again nothing.

"Gabriel!" Sera shouted her plea once, twice, three times. Each time she heard nothing. Saw nothing.

Spinning wildly around, she realized in terror that Gabriel was gone and she was alone in the menacing shadows.

Sera awoke with a start. Instinctively, she clenched her fists as if grasping for a weapon. The howling winds of her dream faded to a sultry silence. Between her fingers, she felt linen and down. She was in a bed, not her own but one even more comfortable. She felt warm, contented and... alone?

"Gabriel?" she mumbled and reached for him.

As in her dream, there was no reply.

Sera opened her eyes in search of her husband. His pillow lay bare. The velvet bed drapes were drawn closed, encasing her in a protective cocoon of darkness.

A soft knock resounded in the distance. A moment later, Sera heard the faint swishing of the bedchamber door. "Gabriel?" she called hopefully.

A young female voice with a cheery Irish lilt answered. "No ma'am, tis Nellie, yer maid."

Sera's hope drowned in anxious disappointment. The isolation of her nightmare crept over her again.

"Ma apologies for disturbing ye, milady," the maid interrupted her silence. "I thought ye might want some tea while I prepare yer bath." She added tentatively, "Or would ye prefer I let ye sleep a while longer?"

"No!" Sera half-shrieked. The last thing she needed was to return to her nightmare. Realizing she was letting her fear control her, Sera softened her tone to polite reservation. "I'd like some tea. Thank you, Nellie. Please bring it in."

"Yes, ma'am." The maid's footsteps crossed the room.

Within the concealing bed drapes, Sera tossed off her covers determined to face the world. A rush of cool air belatedly reminded her of her bare state. She stifled a gasp of embarrassment and quickly yanked the covers back up to her chin.

"Are ye all right, milady?" Nellie's footsteps tapped lightly toward the bed. The velvet cocoon rippled ominously before Sera's mortified eyes.

"I'm just sleepy," she squeaked beneath the covers.

"I'll pour ye a cup to chase those dream cobwebs away then," Nellie offered. "I know how hard it is waking up sometimes. On ma days off, I could sleep all day."

Sera uttered a grateful sigh when the maid's footsteps retreated. A heavy tray clattered to a halt atop the table near the bed. "What time is it?" Sera's sigh became a yawn.

"Nearly noon, milady."

"Noon?!" She was appalled. She never slept this late before, not even when sickness confined her. It felt unseemly to lie naked in bed as half the day passed. Sera scrounged in the dark for something to wear besides a sheet.

"You mustn't worry," crooned Nellie. "His lordship said ye were more accustomed to country hours, but the gentry usually keep later hours in Town, milady."

Town? Yes, Sera thought, she was in London. In Gabriel's townhouse where she had arrived after a scandalous midnight elopement. Which explained why she was lying in his bed with nothing to wear.

Sera huddled beneath the covers. It was most embarrassing to be trapped in bed like a wanton hoyden. All alone.

"Where is Lord Blackstone?" she asked.

"His lordship had to leave early on business," Nellie explained. "Mrs. Jenkins made ye some breakfast. Are ye hungry, milady?"

She was famished, but Sera thought she'd starve before she'd have the nerve to get out of her scandalous bed. Then her fingers stumbled on the oversized nightgown draped carefully on Gabriel's side of the bed. She latched onto the garment silently thanking her husband's attentiveness.

"I'm afraid there isn't much time for ye to linger over breakfast," Nellie warned. "Madame Claudette will arrive in an hour."

"Madame Claudette?" Sera asked as she poked her head through the voluminous nightgown.

"She is the modiste Lord Blackstone engaged to outfit ye with a new wardrobe," Nellie explained.

Good Lord, Sera thought. She didn't have a stitch of clothes. Here she was in a strange man's bed, her husband's bed, without even so much as a day dress to present herself. "How long did Lord Blackstone say he would be away?" she asked in a small voice.

"He didn't, milady. Least not to me. Ye might ask his secretary, Mr. Dunstan. He's in the Study. I can ask him for ye if ye wish?"

Sera groaned softly. The idea of rambling about her new home alone was daunting. Why wasn't Gabriel here with her?

"Is something amiss, milady?" Concern filled the maid's voice. A moment later, the bed drapes began to sway. "Are you certain ye are well? I can fetch Mrs. Jenkins for ye."

"I'm fine," Sera insisted. "Don't mind me."

"That's my job, milady," Nellie quipped. "If ye need anything at all, ma'am, please ask. His lordship instructed us to take special care of ye." She added conspiratorially, "He explained the dreadful circumstances of yer arrival in London last night."

"He did?" Sera was surprised. Visions of her brothel excursion flooded her mind. It was a horrifyingly embarrassing tale to tell servants. Even loyal servants.

Nellie consoled, "It must have been awful for ye to be set upon by thieves. And the villains stole everything from ye. Including yer trunks. It's fortunate his lordship managed to find ye before they could do more. I don't know what the world's coming to!" she wailed melodramatically. "No one is safe on the roads anymore."

"Yes, of course," Sera agreed flatly. She vaguely recalled the explanation Gabriel gave to his staff for bringing home a midnight bride. Curiously, they seemed extremely adept at handling her unexpected night arrival. The housekeeper never even raised an eyebrow at her need of a nightgown.

"Ye have nothing to worry for now, milady," Nellie assured. "His lordship keeps a well-run and loyal household. And," she added pointedly, "he had the foresight to instruct Madame Claudette to send over a few things for ye."

"A few things?"

"Ye'll be wanting something more than britches and a nightgown," the maid explained wisely. "When ye're ready, I'll have yer bath and wardrobe ready in the Countess's bedchamber. It's just down the hall, milady."

"Thank you, Nellie. Please forgive my laziness. I'm not usually this slow to awaken."

"I expect all brides are a bit uncomfortable in their husband's homes at first," the maid suggested freely. "But the staff is eager to help ye get acquainted. If ye need anything, just ask." As she crossed to the door, she ordered, "Now hurry up and drink yer tea before it gets cold, Lady Sera."

The bedchamber door swished open at the maid's informal command. When it closed, Sera peeked through the bed drapes to assure she was alone. The room empty, she hiked up her oversized sleeves and emerged from her velvet cocoon.

As soon as she stood up, Sera regretted it. She braced her hand against the bedpost, struck unexpectedly by the unfamiliar ache between her legs. Sera thought her stint of ledge climbing caused the twinge in her muscles. Then a blush of memory brought back the other dangerous activity she indulged in before dawn's light.

She'd actually done it. Made love to Gabriel. Not just a few stolen kisses beneath a willow tree, but everything. He had been a part of her, inside her, driving her beyond the point of sanity.

It was more spectacular than any epic poem, more wondrous than any of her dreams, and more terrifying than her worst fears.

She was his now. Gabriel's wife, his lover; legally, morally and bodily. She had given herself to him without reservation. As he had given himself to her.

Something nagged her as she carefully made her way to the table. She identified the worry over tea.

There would be hell to pay.

Her brothers would learn she wasn't in Thornbridge Manor, assuming Chalmers and Adrian hadn't discovered her missing already. She hoped they wouldn't be too worried and wished she'd thought to leave a note. But then, she had expected to return from last night's rendezvous at the Ruins.

Memories of what befell her infuriated Sera. East Chatham's blackmailer was a cruel manipulator. London's gossipmongers were probably agog with tales of her midnight liaison with Gabriel.

Sera winced over speculation of her family's reaction. They'd be concerned, no doubt, and a touch irritated with her for marrying without them present. But when they saw Gabriel chose to marry her certainly her brothers would accept he wasn't an unscrupulous rake out to seduce her.

Sera was positive she and Gabriel could win them over. After all, she was happy with her marriage.

Marriage. It was mind-boggling to Sera. With all the women he could have, ladies far more sophisticated and beautiful than she, Gabriel wanted to spend his life with her.

He wanted her, he told her when they made love. So much so that sleeping became an opportunity to dream of having her in his bed. Sera glowed over the words. She was a simple country mouse yet Gabriel made her feel beautiful, passionate and cherished.

She felt amazingly lucky and wished to tell him so.

Why did he leave without waking me?

Sera told herself he was being considerate. After all, Gabriel insisted she needed her rest after last night's dirty business.

She frowned at the reminder. The blackmailer was out there plotting to spread more of his vile tales. A marriage announcement in the papers could stave off the rumors of an illicit affair, but Sera doubted the dull-witted gossipmongers would let it go so easily. It was more exciting to extol the Blackguard of Blackstone's vices than recognize his gentlemanly honor.

More than ever, Sera raged against the cruel Society that underrated her guardian angel. In East Chatham, she championed him out of friendship and admiration. Now that she was Gabriel's wife, she had a moral obligation to defend his honor. She'd make sure the whole world knew the real Gabriel and not the fantastic lies that sprung up around his travels.

Sera mulled over her plans as she finished her breakfast and hurried through her bath. Warm water soothed her unfamiliar aches, but she wasn't allowed to linger. Donning the pink cotton day dress sent over from Madame Claudette's shop, Sera presented herself to the modiste a crisp hour later.

In the usurped upstairs Sitting Room, Sera endured nearly two hours of endless measurements and questions. With every minute, she thought she'd go mad watching the clock for her errant husband.

"A style?" Sera asked when she belatedly registered the modiste's question. Madame Claudette seemed obsessed with defining a unique style for the new Countess of Blackstone.

"Oui, milady," she crooned. The modiste's adopted French accent contradicted her sturdy English looks. "The ladies of the ton always have a certain style beyond the latest fashions."

"Oh, I see." Sera felt woefully ill-equipped. She wished Cleo was there to advise her. "Exactly what style is appropriate for a countess in London?"

"Every lady must have her own," Madame Claudette decreed beneath bobbing ashen curls. "It's her signature design to make her stand out amidst the crowded ballrooms."

"What sort of designs?"

Madame Claudette smiled indulgently. "Well one client of mine, the Marchioness of Greystone, is called the Sparkling Lady. Every dress she wears has golden threads sewn through it." Waving her arms with a flourish, the modiste raved, "She sparkles in the sun, glitters in candlelight and makes everyone think of her as a dazzling pixy. The gold works very well with her red hair. She's the envy of many of the gentry. The Marquess is forever being reminded of his good fortune."

"Is that why the Marchioness dresses so?" Sera questioned naively. "To make others envy her."

Madame Claudette laughed. "No, milady, Lady Greystone is far too bright and devoted to her family to care what others think. She dresses so because it reflects her personality."

"I fear my personality is very simple," Sera admitted disappointedly. "I'm used to simple country life. I don't really have a feel for the ever-changing styles of London ladies. I confess I usually prefer tending my menagerie of pets. And my brother's garden, of course. I wouldn't know the first thing about how one sets a style or trend in London Society. Perhaps I am best relying on the popular fashions you have?"

"That simply won't do, milady." Madame Claudette stamped her foot. "You must have your own style. Do you have a favorite color?"

"Not really." Sera frowned. "My neighbors say I'm a like a brown country mouse. I always get my skirts dirty scrounging in the garden, you see."

Arching her brows, Madame Claudette pensively scanned Sera's frown. "A mouse? That's absurd, milady. Why with those rounded cheeks of yours and your long eyelashes, you sparkle like an angel."

Sera's mouth opened on an automatic protest, but Madame Claudette beamed. "That's it!" she exclaimed. "You should wear the colors of the sky. Blue, pink, lavender, white. Simple yet elegant designs as angels aren't too ostentatious but elegant." The modiste scribbled in her order book. "Plenty of silk and lace for the ball gowns and simple muslin prints for the day dresses. I have just the right shade of ivory for your debut next week."

"My debut?" Sera wondered.

"At the Countess of Pennington's ball," the modiste chimed. "His Lordship insisted I design something special for you. You will look divine, my lady. And all the ton will clamor to know how Lord Blackstone captured an angel for his bride."

Sera thought the notion hopelessly optimistic. Descriptions of Lady Pennington's dazzling guests still made her wary. Although everyone seemed determined she'd make a splash at the premier event, Sera pictured herself drowning amidst the crowd of sophisticated opinions. In East Chatham she was a renegade, but in London she'd be no more than a bumbling innocent.

An innocent who was now Gabriel's countess. Grimly, Sera realized she had an obligation to present herself accordingly.

"I trust your expertise, Madame," Sera told the modiste. "I don't want to embarrass my husband with my dress."

The dressmaker looked as if that were a ridiculous comment. "By the time I am finished with you, Lady Blackstone, you will be the envy of Society. Along with your husband." Madame Claudette smiled. "Now what do you think of this particular design?" She pointed to the fashion plate in her book. "I think the cut would be perfect for Lady Pennington's ball. It would be magnifique with the bolt of silk in my shop. It's a gauzy thing soft as angel's wings."

Sera nodded as she curled up on the settee with Madame Claudette. The modiste raced through the different styles, jotting notes down in her order book. By the time she was done, they'd made plans for so many dresses and ball gowns Sera thought it highly extravagant. She never spent so much money on her wardrobe for the Season. Thornbridge wasn't known for his wayward generosity with a penny. Not that he was a tightwad like Cleo's dreadful brother, but Sera knew Magnus considered women's wardrobes a frivolous expense.

Gabriel, on the other hand, had exclusively reserved Madame Claudette's services until the work was completed. Sera was assured two dresses would be sent over the next day and the rest within a fortnight. All was to remain in the strictest confidence, given her recent circumstances.

When Madame Claudette finally left, the clock chimed three. Sera lingered by the window, studying the street below. Steady drizzle filled the narrow cobblestone way with misty fog. The sight mirrored her nightmare earlier.

She had stepped into the shadows for Gabriel, only for him to disappear into the fog. Sera hugged herself against the unsettling notion. She glanced at the clock, disappointing minutes passed without Gabriel returning from his morning errands. Certainly, he was a busy man and her presence in his life was unexpected, but where could he be all day long? This was their wedding day, after all.

The door opened softly on Sera's irritated thought. She spun around with a hopeful smile. It fell immediately.

"Oh, Mr. Dunstan, is it?" Sera failed to keep the disappointment from her voice. The secretary's brows arched in a whimsical fashion that belied his well-dressed appearance.

"Just Dunstan," he corrected with an informal twinge to his tone. "I never cared much for titles. I trust that you are fully recovered from your ah, adventurous arrival in Town last night?"

His lopsided grin teased Sera into wary realization. She had seen that same expression bestowed on her husband. "You were there," she remembered awkwardly. "At the wedding?"

Dunstan's expression turned almost pained. The baiting laughter edging his words told her otherwise. "I nearly froze my fingers off waiting for you and Blackstone to decide where the ceremony would take place," he boasted. "Did you forget your carriage driver?"

Embarrassment inflamed Sera. "You were there too? When I was..."

"Perched like bird on a crumbling wall?" Dunstan wryly finished. His eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Oh dear." Sera chewed her lip. "It must have been a very undignified sight."

Dunstan's tone softened encouragingly. "And a courageous one, Lady Sera. Not many ladies save themselves from disaster," he complimented. "But don't do anymore ledge climbing, lass, or else your husband will end up in Bedlam, and me with him."

"Where is my husband?" Sera blurted exasperated. "His errands can't be keeping him all day, can they?"

The secretary echoed Sera's frown, but his tone remained airy and unconcerned. "He tends to run on a bit. One errand leads to another, but I expect he'll turn up shortly. Blackstone can be a pest about details, but he usually gets his priorities straight."

Sera noted subtle familiarity in the secretary's voice. "Have you worked for Gabriel a long time, Mr. Dunstan?"

"Seems like forever sometimes," he jested. "His father employed me when I was fresh from the navy. Then Lord Julius sent me to St. Sebastian's with a message for his son."

"St. Sebastian's?" Sera repeated as she curled onto the settee. Eagerness flooded her at the notion of learning more about her mysterious husband.

As if seizing her mood, Dunstan casually sauntered through the room and settled on the windowsill by the settee. "St. Sebastian's is the university your husband attended near Brussels," Dunstan explained.

"He was there for a long time, wasn't he?" Sera interrupted conversationally. "Since his mother died?"

"I believe so," Dunstan concurred with a curious frown. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, Lord Julius mentioned it when I visited," Sera remembered somberly. "Was St. Sebastian's a nice place?"

Dunstan paused. "It was unique," he commented. "Education and honor measured highly, but I didn't stay there long."

"Because you were delivering a message?" Sera recalled. "What about?"

Dunstan cleared his throat audibly. "It was a decade ago. I can't really remember the exact contents." He added in a lighter tone, "In any case, your husband was just forming his own crew, so I stayed on with him. I've been his secretary and his friend ever since. His confidences are my confidences. And the same is true for you, lass."

At his conspiratorial wink, Sera glowed. "I'm pleased to know my husband and I have such a good friend." She felt the anxiety surge inside her. Sera restlessly glanced at the clock. "I confess I've been feeling a little lost today. I wish I'd been able to talk to Gabriel before he left."

"He didn't want to disturb your sleep," Dunstan grumbled as if unhappy with the excuse. "There were some complications he had to attend regarding your hasty betrothal. If he's not back within the hour, I'll send for him myself," he grunted. "Blackstone isn't used to having a bride to look after, else he wouldn't have abandoned you."

Sera beamed a quizzical glare at her husband's secretary. "You mustn't be upset on my behalf, Mr. Dunstan. I know this situation has caused a lot of turmoil for Gabriel. I hope I haven't interfered with his work too much. He seems so busy running his father's earldom. Is it hard to arrange shipping orders?"

For a moment, Dunstan's eyes widened and went blank. Sera wondered if Gabriel's secretary forgot what his employer did for a living. He recovered with a reserved grin. "It can be challenging. Experienced captains know how to obtain the most prized items for their cargo holds."

"Gabriel is adept at motivating the right people, isn't he?" Sera blossomed at the thought. "I imagine my husband could talk a queen into giving up a treasured heirloom."

Dunstan's eyes gleamed shrewdly, his voice wry. "I think you're clever yourself, Lady Sera. Perhaps more clever than your husband realizes."

Sera didn't know what to make of that compliment so she choose to ignore it. "You traveled with my husband, you said, at sea? You were in the Orient with him then?"

Dunstan hesitated a pointed second. "Yes, I was," he acknowledged. "Among other places."

"I envy you," Sera crooned. "It must have been very exciting. Seeing all those strange places and different people."

"It was adventurous," Dunstan admitted cautiously. "But a man needs to settle down and take up his family responsibilities. War can't last forever."

"Do you have a family to be responsible for?" Sera asked conversationally.

"Not one that wanted to claim me," Dunstan revealed flatly. "My father cared more for his hunts than his family. I parted ways with mine about the same time Gabriel parted from his," the secretary explained. "But eventually a man gets around to thinking of his future. I admit I'm glad to see Blackstone is finally considering his," he confided. "You're good for him, Lady Sera. You make him think about more than he usually does."

"I don't know if that's good," Sera groaned. "It seems I just keep creating problems for him to solve. I fear he may get tired of being my guardian angel."

"You keep him on his toes," Dunstan encouraged.

"No, he's right," Sera grumbled. "I should have been more reticent last night."

"You're better off not dwelling on last night, lass," Dunstan advised grimly. "It's over; you're safely with us now. Gabriel won't let that slimy thief get away with just a broken nose."

Sera perked up. "Gabriel's looking for Bixby?"

Dunstan blanched over the question. "He'll probably run into him sooner or later, if the fool keeps saying scandalous things about you," he downplayed. "Blackstone protects his own. Your reputation is just as important as his. Probably more so."

"I don't want Gabriel harmed anymore because of me," Sera insisted. "Did you know my brother challenged him to a duel?"

Dunstan nodded. "The Blackguard of Blackstone attracts many challenges, lass. Don't let it concern you."

Sera vehemently shook her head. "Magnus was completely unreasonable, and my brothers acted like a brutish mob just because they caught us kissing. It's fortunate Gabriel had the good sense to keep them from turning to bloodshed. I never would've let my brothers forgive themselves."

Dunstan's mouth lifted at the corners. "You think you can influence your opinionated brothers?"

"Mama said little sisters can twist Papas and brothers around their little fingers," Sera boasted. "We know that beneath their bluster they have soft hearts. I'm certain once my brothers understand the reason for our elopement, they'll forgive their prejudice against Gabriel."

At her words, Sera heard a carriage rumble to a quick halt on the street below. Dunstan beat her to the window, effectively blocking her view. He uttered an exasperated sigh.

"Is something wrong?" Sera wavered. "Is Gabriel home?"

"Unfortunately, no," Dunstan grumbled, straightening from the window as if he was preparing for battle. "And I think he forgot a rather important complication this morning. I have to remember to thank him for leaving it to me," he added sarcastically. "It would be better if you stayed here until your husband returns, Lady Sera."

She wanted to ask why, but Dunstan left the room before she had a chance. His hurried footsteps resounded on the staircase in the same moment as a loud incessant pounding on the front door.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"WE DON'T give a damn who you are. We want to see our sister!"

Sera winced at the bellow rattling the townhouse walls as she exited the Sitting Room. From the landing above, she observed three furious gentlemen filling the foyer. Her brothers sounded like spoiled children as they accosted her husband's secretary.

"I'm afraid Lady Sera is resting now, my lord," Dunstan calmly advised the tallest visitor. "Isn't that correct, Nellie?"

Sera noticed her chatty maid beside Dunstan. Nellie's hand rested incriminatingly on the front doorknob.

"Yes, Mr. Dunstan," Nellie echoed with a touch of censure. "I'm sorry yer lordships, but I did try to tell ye when ye were pounding down ma master's door. Lady Sera is not receiving visitors just yet."

"Don't give me that," roared Thornbridge. "Whatever lies Blackstone paid you to say young woman, I'm not interested." Imperiously, eagle gray eyes glared at Dunstan. "Where is my sister?"

"They probably have her tied up in a room somewhere," hissed Cassius beside him.

"They better not or I'll challenge Blackstone myself," warned Sera's youngest brother. Menacingly, he turned on the maid. "Where is your bastard employer anyway?"

"Adrian!" Sera shouted. In unison, her brothers looked up to the landing above. Hands on hips, she matched them glare for glare. "Would you kindly refrain from abusing the staff? Your bellows can be heard clear across Hyde Park probably. Mama would have fits if she saw all this blustering."

"Sera, come down here this instant," commanded Thornbridge. The earl made a step forward, but Dunstan quickly usurped his thunder.

"Lady Sera, I was just telling your brothers that you were resting. I'm sure they can come back another time," he said in rigid politeness. "Preferably when Lord Blackstone is at home."

"Stay out of this," Cassius hissed charging toward the stairs. Dunstan spread his arms across the railing.

"Sera, come down here now!" Thornbridge bellowed. "We're taking you home."

"You're not taking her anywhere," Dunstan defied softly. His unyielding expression softened when he turned back to Sera. "Lass, I think you should go back to your room until Blackstone arrives."

Sera's brothers rioted at the command. "Unless you want to be brought before the magistrate for accessory to kidnapping," Cassius warned, "I suggest you get out of our way!"

Sera bounded down the steps before violence broke out. She stopped just behind Dunstan on the stairs. Mostly, because he refused to get out of the way of her angry brothers. The protective action just infuriated them more.

"Cassius, stop that!" she shouted when he looked as if he would renew the fight. "You're acting like a childish brute. Apologize to Dunstan at once," Sera demanded. When he merely glared at her, she leaned over Dunstan's shoulder. "Please forgive my brother. He's overwrought."

"I am not overwrought," Cassius grumbled.

"Yes, you are," she demanded. "And it's all my fault. Nellie would you please ask Mrs. Jenkins to make some tea so my brothers and I can sit down and talk reasonably."

Eager for the chance to flee, the young maid bobbed to the task. "Willowbark, milady?"

"Yes, please." Sera frowned at her brothers. "I think it's going to be one of those days," she mumbled.

"We don't want any tea," Adrian grumbled after Nellie hastily retreated to the kitchens. "Sera, do you have any notion the trouble you put me through today? Chalmers had me up at the crack of dawn looking for you. What the deuce are you doing here?"

Sera felt herself pale. She gripped the folds of her gown, quelling the feeling of being mistaken for a naughty child. "I'm sorry, Adrian. Really I am. I didn't mean to upset you. If I had thought to leave a note before I snuck out last night, I would have. But in all fairness, there was a fairly bad storm last night and my plans changed rather quickly."

"What plans?" gritted Thornbridge.

His accusatory glare gave her pause. Awkwardly, Sera faced her guardian. "Well, it's difficult to explain, Magnus. I'm sure Mrs. Jenkins will have the tea ready soon. Why don't we go into the Drawing Room instead of discussing this in the hall."

Sera whispered in Dunstan's ear, "We do have a Drawing Room, don't we?"

He nodded without ever taking his eyes off her brothers. And without ever bothering to step out of her way.

"We're not staying in this bloody townhouse any longer than we have to!" Cassius declared savagely.

"I really think you should go back upstairs, Lady Sera," Dunstan reiterated, his gaze matching her brother's.

"Don't order my sister about," demanded Adrian.

"Come here Sera," commanded Thornbridge. "We're taking you home, now!"

"No, you're not," Dunstan corrected sharply. "My employer was most adamant that no one is to take Lady Sera anywhere."

"I could care less what your employer wants, man," the earl roared. "I came for my sister and I'm not leaving without her."

"Blackstone is due back shortly," Dunstan persisted. "You may speak to him about that then. But for the moment, I would ask you to please lower your voice. Lady Sera will be deaf with all your shouting at her."

Sera smiled tenderly at her husband's friend. He was beginning to play the part of an ardent protector like his employer. Still, she couldn't let him be browbeaten like Gabriel that day in the woods. She had to correct her brothers' misguided assumptions about her presence in a bachelor's townhouse.

"Magnus, you don't understand," Sera explained. "I can't leave." Biting her lip, she steeled herself for the shocking admission. "This is my home now. I married Gabriel last night."

She expected shock and hurt. The violent rage in her brother's eyes horrified her.

"We know Seraphina," Thornbridge dripped with disdain.

Sera swallowed her gasp. Her lip nearly bled from the abuse she gave it. "I suppose you're furious with me, for eloping." Her voice was small and tentative. "I didn't intend to marry without you all present. I always imagined having my family and friends around when I wed, but things happened quickly last night. And given the circumstances—"

"The rumors are all over Town, Sera!" Cassius snapped. "How do you think we found you here after your midnight escapade?"

Sera blushed with the reminder of her scandalous predicament. She buried her face behind Dunstan's back. Dutifully, he stepped forward.

"It was a legal ceremony, my lords," Dunstan defended. "There is no other basis for rumor."

"Get your things Sera," Thornbridge ordered again. "We're leaving now."

"But I'm married, Magnus. I can't leave my husband."

"Even legal ceremonies, if that's what it was, can be reversed."

"What are you saying?" Confusion riveted Sera.

"I'll have the damn thing annulled as soon as possible," her guardian decreed. "Now get out from behind Blackstone's lackey and get into the carriage."

"But you can't annul my marriage, Magnus!" Sera raged.

"I can and I will! Now are you going to get in that carriage or do we have to carry you?"

"You're not taking her anywhere, Lord Thornbridge," softly warned Dunstan.

"No, you can't annul my marriage!" Sera fired back at the same time. "It's too late. The church would never let you. I would never let you."

"Bloody hell," Adrian hissed. His eyes sparkled with morbid realization. "The bastard got to you, didn't he, Sera?"

"Did he force himself on you, sister?" growled Cassius. "Cunning bastard. I knew we should have put a bullet in him that day he had his hands all over her in the woods."

The implication of their questions infuriated Sera. Obviously, her brothers assumed Gabriel molested her in the night for the sake of a legal marriage. "No, he did not, Cassius," she raged. "You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking such a vile thing. My husband is a gentleman not a debaucher."

"It doesn't matter," Thornbridge gritted. "I'll see the marriage ended one way or another."

"And don't think you can arrange a divorce either, Magnus," Sera defied. "Gabriel would never divorce me. He wouldn't go back on his word. He is a decent and honorable man."

"Blackstone is a bounder and a scoundrel, Sera," Cassius hissed. "He tricked you into marrying him. He wickedly lured you away from your family, seduced you and then wed you out of hand. Wake up from your silly dream, Sera. You're nothing but a pretty broodmare to him now. One with an impeccable bloodline."

Ominous silence filled the hall. Sera grew numb stonily staring at her brothers. "Why are you saying this to me?"

Her eyes glittered with moisture. If only her brothers had cared to look, they would have seen the hurt stricken there.

It was the faint crackle to her high-pitched voice that first caught Dunstan's attention. Subtly, he turned to gaze into her cherub face. Lady Sera's cheeks were flushed. Her chin was taught and trembling. He thought she might be on the verge of a dangerous fit of anger or an emotional outburst of despair. Dunstan wanted to put an end to this confrontation, but her brothers relentlessly continued their assault.

"It's your own reckless tendencies that are to blame for this, Sera," Adrian condemned. "You're making the same mistake as Anne Millbank. Except your husband is not a feckless poet but a callous bastard. He'll use you for all you're worth and then he'll cast you aside. You should have listened to us before you brazenly gave away your honor."

"I think that's enough, Sir Montgomerie," Dunstan gritted. "My employer will not tolerate such disparaging remarks about his wife and neither will I."

"We are her family, dammit," raged Cassius. "Stay out of it."

"Families generally congratulate sisters on their wedding day," Sera retorted bitterly. "And are happy for them. I expected better of my brothers. I'm certain Mama and Papa did, too."

"Don't bring our parents into this, Seraphina," Thornbridge warned. His voice was lethally soft. His demeanor that of an enraged military commander dressing down a young officer. "Do you realize what you have done by running away like this? With the Blackguard of Blackstone, no less?" The earl's voice grew harsh and cruel. His eyes burned with disgust and condemnation. "Damn your reckless hide! You have disgraced this family as well as Mother and Father's memories. We're the laughingstock of Society because we let you skulk off to that damned pirate in the middle of the night."

Sera reacted as if she'd been struck. Her fingernails were digging into her palms. The pain seemed paltry to what she felt looking into her guardian's eyes. Horrified, her gaze drifted to Cassius and Adrian. Instead of sympathy, each one bestowed blind anger and hatred. Hatred for what she had chosen to become in the middle of the night.

She silently raged. It wasn't fair of them to condemn her decision. They were being judgmental and overprotective. She knew she inadvertently gave them a scare disappearing, but at least they could have been glad to see her. And given her a chance to explain her reasons for marrying Gabriel.

Instead, they shouted and condemned her. They treated her like what she expected of other families. The ones who viewed daughters as nothing more than chattel to be bought and sold on the marriage market. Not as the intelligent, capable younger sister her parents insisted she was. No, her brothers seemed to think of her as nothing more than a brainless twit. A burden to be bartered by a rogue's desires.

When she spoke again, her voice was flat and lifeless. The eerie sound gave pause to Dunstan. Even Nellie halted in midstep as she rounded the corner with a full tray of tea. The young maid echoed the shocking horror in her mistress's expression.

"Mama and Papa taught me to be of my own mind." Sera stared at her brothers. "I made my own decision to marry Gabriel. I am content with the match. That is all that should concern you."

"You're content because the bastard's entranced you, Sera," Cassius defied heedless of the subtle change in his sister. "Blackstone's a cunning rake. I wonder how long he's been planning this. You're lucky he married you, Sera. He could have just left you to die like his whore Marie Dumond."

The front door opened softly on the forbidden name. On the threshold, Gabriel stared in dawning comprehension. He was faintly out of breath. Signs of a chase that went unfulfilled. His intended audience was already in his house. And by the looks of things, they had already unleashed their anger on the wrong target. Gabriel stared helplessly into the face of his unhappy angel. The pain in her eyes made him want to kill each of her brothers. Her loathing words stilled the attempt.

"I remind you Gabriel Blackstone is my husband, Cassius," Sera declared coldly. "I share his name, his reputation and his home. You will never refer to him in such insulting terms again in my presence. I would take it as a personal offense against me and have no choice but to call you out," she threatened. Then her pained amber eyes turned to her guardian. "Since you feel that I have disgraced your name, Thornbridge, then you can hereby consider your connection to me dissolved."

The Montgomeries swayed under the severity of their sister's declaration. Cassius resembled a green boy challenged to his first duel. Thornbridge glared as if his title was threatened. But Adrian concentrated on his sister's teary eyes. The sight filled his face with horror.

"Sera, we're your family," the youngest brother reminded plaintively.

"By marrying Gabriel last night, I ceased being a Montgomerie," she proclaimed. "I am now a St. Clair. The Countess of Blackstone. And until you respect the name and those who bear it, you can forget I even exist."

Shock riddled the faces of her wary audience. Ominously, Sera stared at her brothers as if they were strangers.

"You can't just disown us, Blossom," Adrian insisted warily.

Her reply was brutally succinct. "I already have." Not even a glimmer of warmth remained as she stared at her kin. With icy formality, Sera gazed down at her husband's secretary. "Dunstan, please see these people out."

With the grace of a bitter queen, Sera turned and ascended the stairs. Her stride was calm and measured. Her back ramrod straight as tears burned paths down her ashen cheeks. Her brothers called after her, but she ignored them. And when once she had stepped out of their view, Sera stumbled and trembled her way to her husband's bedchamber.

THE OMINOUS click of the upstairs door closing was the most painful sound Gabriel ever heard. He wanted to go to her and take his fragile bride into his arms. Silently, he condemned himself for not being quicker and more effective about his errands. He hoped to stave off this particular consequence of the midnight devil's bargain he'd forced on Sera. He wanted to save her from the angry wolves, but instead he found them waiting for him in his foyer.

Shock and horror turned to furious outrage when the Montgomerie brothers finally noticed him in the doorway. They gave him little time to prepare his defense, let alone remove his cloak.

"This is all your fault, Blackstone!" Cassius raged. "I told you we should have killed the blackguard when we had the chance."

"Very cleverly done," Thornbridge sneered. "I must congratulate you Blackstone. I suppose that pirate blood in your veins makes you a born thief. Damn you for stealing Sera away from us."

"You must be proud of yourself," Adrian gritted. "How long have you been standing there watching that display? Did you prompt her to dismiss us?"

Gabriel's expression was grim. "What you choose to believe about me is of no consequence. I confess, I am a bit at a loss to find you bellowing at my wife. I have been trying to locate you all morning, Thornbridge."

"To get my approval for this dastardly plot, no doubt," the earl scoffed. "I told you in East Chatham that I would never support a marriage."

"Yes," Gabriel admitted ruefully. "You did."

"So you seduced her behind our backs?" Cassius raged. "How'd you lure her away from her own bed, Blackstone? Through flowery love letters and the promise of a romantic rendezvous? Curse your hide! If that blasted storm hadn't kept Thornbridge and I in the inn last night, we would have been home to see she never got the chance to fall into your lecherous traps."

"How did you get Sera to marry you, Blackstone?" cornered Adrian. "Assuming it is a legitimate marriage and not one of your deceptive tricks. A blackguard would enjoy unveiling his bride as nothing but a penniless mistress cut off from her family."

Squelching a surge of protective outrage, Gabriel forced calmness into his voice. "Sera is my legal wife and my moral responsibility now. She belongs to me."

"Perhaps you'd like to settle that question over pistols?" Cassius challenged.

"I will not fight you, Montgomerie," Gabriel declared. "There is no question left unsettled. And while it probably would give me great pleasure to take a few pounds out of your insensitive hide, it would only hurt my wife."

"Sera might be better off a widow than suffering your husbandly attentions," the blond warrior retorted in disgust.

Gabriel locked glares with Sera's murderous brother. Rage and guilt overwhelmed him. Rage that what he had shared with Sera in the pre-dawn night could be characterized like what she would have suffered at the hands of Dumond. And guilt that if he hadn't desired her so obsessively, Sera never would have been marked by the Frenchman.

His feelings like his thoughts remained private. Gabriel adopted his practiced bored defense. Silently, he reminded himself that only Dunstan and himself knew the truth of what almost befell his naive bride. It was the only way he could protect her from his enemies' vile intentions.

"This conversation begins to bore me gentleman," Gabriel drawled. "If you have nothing further to discuss, then I suggest you do as my wife bids. Dunstan?"

At the command, the secretary moved forward. His ominous presence subtly forced the Montgomeries toward the door. When the blonde warrior lingered longingly over the stairs, Dunstan gave him a gentle nudge forward. Cassius twisted violently away from him. His eyes glared cruelly at the secretary.

"I'm not leaving here without talking to my sister!"

"You've said enough already," Dunstan grimly denounced.

Grumbling and wary, Sera's brothers were ushered out the door to their waiting carriage. Thornbridge lingered on the threshold. His shoulders seemed to droop under the weight of grim realization. He resembled a military commander who had failed in his noble duty.

His back turned to his rival, Sera's guardian called out in wary curiosity. "Blackstone, the rumors that have come to my ears..." He drifted off in mournful hesitation.

From his tone, it wasn't difficult for Gabriel to discern what rumors Sera's brother referred to. Silently, Gabriel cursed the rat-faced Bixby and his tale of indecent seduction.

"Whatever you believe of me, Thornbridge, Sera is and always will be an innocent," Gabriel assured tightly. "Her heart is too pure for anything other."

With a touch of relief and resignation, Sera's guardian adjusted his great coat around him. His voice was harsh and commanding as he stepped out the door. "If anything happens to Sera, I'll hunt you down, Blackstone. Remember that."

The door closed resolutely on the threat. Gabriel sighed heavily in a rare unguarded moment.

"That was interesting," Dunstan sarcastically remarked in his ear. "Where the hell have you been, Blackstone?!"

"It's a long story." Gabriel eluded his friend's indignant glare. "Nellie, what are you doing with that tray?"

Sera's maid jumped at the earl's harshness. China cups jangled precariously until he plucked the tray from her hands. Indecision and concern edged Nellie's distracted stare up the staircase. "Milady asked for tea, but... Did you see her eyes?" she asked in haunted tones. "Poor Lady Sera, on her wedding day, too..." Nellie shuttered at Gabriel's grim expression. "I'm sorry, milord. I'll take your wife her tea now."

"That's all right," Gabriel kept the tray from her hands. "I've been away longer than I expected."

"Too long if you ask me," Dunstan mumbled.

Gabriel shot his friend a quelling glance, then followed his troubled bride upstairs.

He found her standing by the window. Sera's back was toward him, but he could see her trembling. The wheels of her brother's carriage trailed off in the street below. Pitiful sobs wracked Sera in response.

He meant to offer her tea and calmly talk her out of her pique. Instead, he left the tray on the table and went to her. Something about Sera's weeping isolation tore his heart. She seemed so alone and vulnerable. He had to reassure her that was not so.

"Sera?" he whispered in her ear. Gabriel wrapped his arms around her. She sagged against him, weeping freely in his embrace. "Don't cry, love." Gently, he turned her around to face him. His words were quiet and soothing. "You know I don't like it when you cry."

She sniffled. "Why did they have to be so cruel?"

He stroked her hair away from her moist cheeks. "It's me your brothers are angry with, not you love. I stole you away from them."

"I came to you," she corrected. "That's all that should matter to them. If they loved me."

"Montgomerie loyalty and love is fierce." Gabriel reminded, "You told me that. Your brothers are clouded by anger and disbelief. They were trying to protect you from me."

"They never should have said those horrible things about you," she bitterly insisted. "You're my husband now. An insult to you is an insult to me. They know that. Mama and Papa always said husbands and wives protect each other's honor. It's a sacred duty."

Gabriel didn't know what to say to that assertion. It was his blackhearted reputation that soiled Sera's. She lost her safety, her home and now her family. The price of his passion seemed unforgivably high for his innocent cherub. Guilt assailed him as he held her close. Only the warmth of his touch seemed suitable comfort to her sorrows.

Sera curled into her husband's embrace a long, lingering moment. The tears that burned her cheeks slowly trickled away against his chest. He was still wearing his woolen cloak. A voluminous thing that brought back haunting memories of her late morning dream. When Sera spoke, her voice came out small and muffled against his shoulder.

"Gabriel, where were you this morning?"

"Among other places, I was attempting to track down your brothers. Apparently, Thornbridge and Cassius decided to take an unexpected trip back home when I dispatched my notes." Gabriel grumbled. "They spent the night in an inn. Unfortunately, I couldn't locate the correct one to inform them of where you were. I returned as soon as I learned they were on their way here. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner, love."

Sera snuggled deeper into Gabriel's embrace. He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head. Sera felt warm and safe. The beautiful moments she drifted off to sleep in her husband's arms filled her mind. She had only him to blanket her, to pleasure her until she dreamt only of angels.

And shadows.

"Why didn't you wake me before you left?"

The question caught Gabriel off guard. There was a faint note of vulnerability in Sera's voice. A nervous bride waking up in a strange bed, perhaps? Again, he had another reason to feel guilty. In truth, he would have easily stayed beside her in their sultry cocoon. Only his traitorous desires and gentlemanly courtesy stopped him.

Making love to an angel was an experience he would treasure on his deathbed. Waking up with her cuddled seductively in his arms was one that would send him to the grave. He should have been surprised at how eagerly his body awoke to indulge in the sweet heaven between his siren's legs. She had curled around him. Her legs trustingly entangled with his. His hands stroked her until she groaned with sleepy enticement. He would have rolled her over and taken her while she slept if his gentlemanly sensibilities hadn't kicked in. It was too soon, too fast for her to lose her innocence so quickly. Sera had almost been debauched by a depraved bastard last night. It would be little different if her eager, impulsive groom defiled her after so soon tearing what was left of her innocence.

It had nearly killed him, but Gabriel struggled out of bed. He left her nestled amidst the covers carrying their scent. She had slept like an angel.

"I didn't want to disturb you," he rumbled against the top of her head. "You were sleeping too peacefully."

Sera thought that the oddest contradiction she ever heard. Her peaceful dreaming had been filled with haunting shadows. Shadows that obscured and stole Gabriel away from her. Leaving her alone in the dark.

"You could have woken me," she mentioned meekly. Then she quickly added, "I would have told you that my brother usually stays at the White Horse Inn when he stops over from Town."

Gabriel wondered at the masked vulnerability he noticed in Sera's voice. His instincts said that she was hiding something. A secret fear or concern. Gently, he tipped her gaze toward his. His fingers cradled her chin.

"It'll be alright, Sera. Your brothers will come around in time. Have patience, love."

The reminder of her traitorous family filled Sera with unexpected rage. She pulled back from her husband's embrace. Her eyes burned with betrayal and hurt.

"I'm not certain I want things to be all right, Gabriel." Her voice was hard and unforgiving. "You haven't seen my family the last month. They have been absolutely horrible to me. Even Cleo joined in the regular debates over my reckless romantic tendencies. One would think I was a brainless twit who couldn't make up her own mind."

The heat in his gentle bride's glare surprised Gabriel. He recognized the determination and spirit he imagined in the heart of a lion. Or the cub of a fierce soldier family. "I daresay you have proved them wrong today, Sera," he pointed out. "For all their overprotectiveness, you still became my wife."

"They should respect that," she demanded forcefully. "The minister said 'what God hath joined together let no man put asunder'. It was obscene for Magnus to suggest that we undo our marriage. Wasn't it?" Sera added nervously.

Sensing the question lurking in her insecure eyes, Gabriel took his bride back into his arms. "You and I are tied to each other for life, Sera. As of last night, there is no going back," he reminded using the words he vowed before they had consummated their union. Gabriel's voice turned pointedly soft. "But I would rather you didn't spend that life feuding with your brothers."

"I'm not feuding," she protested. "I'm making a point. Until they learn a little respect, I don't want them in our house."

"You're determined to disown your family then?" Gabriel challenged her spiteful stance. Vaguely, he recognized her brothers' childish tirade. It was probably a Montgomerie tradition along with pride and honor.

"Yes." Sera jerked her head in sharp confirmation. "I don't need them, Gabriel. Not really. Not as long as I have you." Coaxingly, she cuddled against him. Her head rubbed snugly under his chin.

"I'm your husband, Sera. You'll always have me," he rumbled against her hair.

A moment of contented silence passed. Husband and wife held each other close. Their thoughts were vaguely similar.

Feeling his Sera's softness pressed against him, Gabriel's treacherous desires sprang to life. He rubbed her back, kneaded her shoulders and nuzzled the silky softness of her hair. He silently condemned the passionate obsession that inspired him to be an unvaliant husband.

Warmed by her husband's caress, Sera felt her anger at her family soften. She felt warm and contented in Gabriel's arms. His embrace made her wish he would kiss her. Make her feel swept away as they made love. She always felt the most wondrous things with Gabriel. He introduced her to a world she never knew existed. And she had given him only grief and turmoil.

"Gabriel, is it all right if I disown my family?" she asked timidly.

"Hmmm?" he murmured against her temple. "I thought you just said you were."

"I am," she insisted. "It's just that if I do disown them, then I would come to you with nothing. No family, no name, not even a dowry or a stitch of clothing. Most grooms would feel cheated if their brides came to them penniless."

"I'm not most grooms," he reminded. "I have no need of your family's name or money, Sera." Gabriel coaxed her gaze to his. "All I ask is your loyalty and your trust, love."

His eyes entranced her. Emerald shadows danced seductively. It was a frightening sight, yet more compelling than she had ever known. "I do trust you, Gabriel." The declaration came with a subtle realization. Perhaps one she had always known. Since the night her guardian angel had first saved her from the wolves on the country lane. "I trust you with all my heart." She added on an angelic whisper, "I love you, Gabriel."

Their gazes held for what seemed an eternity. The honesty and vulnerability he saw tinting her doe-brown orbs overwhelmed him. He thought his breath might have stopped. His angel had professed the love that he had seduced. She had given herself to him and now admitted why.

Part of him was thrilled. Another was ashamed. She was waiting for something from him. An answer to a silent question. There was only one he felt able to give.

"I know, love," he whispered against her lips. In the next breath, Gabriel kissed her. He loved her with his mouth, cherished her with his passion. When he had distracted her thoughts and enticed himself as far as he dared, he abruptly ended the embrace.

Before she'd roused herself from the sensual kiss, Gabriel left her by the window. His hand paused briefly on the bedchamber door. "I have some work to do, Sera. There's tea on your table." His voice filled with mild concern as she continued to stare at him. "You had a long night, love. You look tired. Why don't you take a nap before dinner?"

"Gabriel?"

The door closed on Sera's bemused expression. One moment she was kissing Gabriel, caught up in their combined passion. And the next he was gone. Like a shadow.

Emptiness settled in her stomach. It was a bitter disappointment she was on the verge of realizing.

She had professed her love for Gabriel. She waited for him to do the same. To validate their passion and marriage, their new family, with a bond of love. But he refused her. He just kissed her and left.

An ache settled inside Sera's heart. It was worse than she ever imagined. She couldn't breathe under the crushing weight of the emotion. Her worst fear was coming true. She was alone. Abandoned by a family who misunderstood her only to turn to a husband she loved more than anything who disappeared into the shadows again.

What had she done?

The thought persecuted Sera. Numbly, she settled at the table. Her hands shook as she poured a cup of willowbark tea. The warm brew slowly enticed the troubling thoughts to emerge from her heart.

She married a man her family despised. A man who lived in shadows. A man she chose over her own family. Was it worth it? If he could not, or would not, profess his love to her in return?

Miserably, Sera reminded herself her foolishness forced them into this marriage. Gabriel didn't even send for her. Perhaps he never would have. Oh, he felt a certain passion for her. She was amazed at that, but passion was not love.

Surely, Mama said those very words to her long ago. Love was a noble emotion. One based on the fondest respect and most loyal trust. It was eternal, while passion was a carnal thing. In time desire would be spent. And then what would she have?

The thought of a loveless marriage terrified Sera. She had lived for so long in the bosom of her family. Love was taken for granted along with loyalty and trust.

Why didn't Gabriel trust her?

He always seemed distant to her. Just out of her reach. Beyond her understanding. Sera sensed the secrets lingering behind the shadows in Gabriel's eyes. They troubled her. Not in a way that would make her doubt his noble intentions toward her. Gabriel was a gentleman. A man of honor who always kept his word. He was a gallant protector.

Marie Dumond.

The name of Gabriel's former mistress popped into Sera's mind unexpectedly. What really happened in France? What secret was he hiding that drove him not to ever discuss it? Did Marie betray him? Did she make him not trust?

You trusted the ones you love and love the ones you trust. Her parents taught her that. Sera trusted Gabriel from the beginning because she loved him. She understood that clearly now. In hindsight, she had probably loved him since the afternoon his father enchanted her with stories of his courageous travels. Sera couldn't imagine a better husband for herself than Gabriel.

But if he didn't trust her...? Did Gabriel love her?

The question horrified Sera. She felt the familiar terror begin to well inside her. If Gabriel didn't love her, or could never love her, then whom did she have left to turn to?

It would be just like that horrible day on the mountainside. Alone with the wolves while her protectors, her poor Mama and Papa, drowned. And all she could do was cry in the dark.

Chapter Twenty-Five

GABRIEL EMERGED from the night fog engulfing Lighting Street. His steps wore heavily as he entered his townhouse. The hall clock chimed the late hour.

Grimly, he realized a full day had passed since his unplanned midnight elopement. Life remained the same. Filled with a notorious blackguard's clandestine meetings and scandalous rumors. He had been so busy chasing down his bride's errant brothers this morning, Gabriel belatedly reported to his superiors that night.

Caesar was furious. The old commander spent a blistering day trying to explain and understand his agent's reckless behavior. The involvement of an innocent in an operation was dangerous and forbidden.

It took Gabriel over an hour to convince his superior he had everything under control. Caesar wanted to remove him from the case, but Gabriel could not allow that. The Frenchman was his rival. And the traitorous Angel still awaited Blackstone vengeance. What the pair tried to do to Sera was one more reason for him to continue hunting the bastards.

The foyer lay dark as Gabriel bolted the townhouse door behind him. He assumed everyone within the house was fast asleep.

From a hidden alcove, an irritated voice rang out.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Blackstone?"

Gabriel straightened and turned toward his secretary. His tone was soft and arrogantly assured. "Having trouble with your ears, Dunstan? I believe the clock just chimed two."

"In the morning." The secretary uncoiled from his hiding place. His eyes simmered with annoyance. "You've been gone nearly half the night."

"My meeting took longer than I expected." Gabriel frowned over his friend's displeasure. "Is something wrong? You didn't have anymore unexpected visits from the Montgomeries?" His voice turned harsh and wary. "Or Dumond?"

"No," Dunstan dismissed. "It's been very quiet. Since dinner," he added pointedly. A gentle scolding came to his words. "Lady Sera went straight to bed after you snuck off. Her maid said she complained of a headache. But when Nellie took her some tea, your bride was already cuddled up in your bed."

Gabriel pursed his lips in rueful reminder. "Sera is still recovering from her hellish escapade last night." Memories of how weak and fragile she was as she clung to him on the brothel wall flooded his mind. And then the bitter fight with her family over him. The notorious blackguard gave his angelic bride only misery it seemed.

"Your bride isn't tired, Gabriel," Dunstan retorted knowingly. "She's depressed. No doubt because her groom saw fit to practically abandon her on her wedding day."

The scathing accusation sent ripples of unease through Gabriel. He had distanced himself from his bride. The act of a blackguard, one would expect. Yet, his intentions were drawn more from his own sense of honor and responsibility. It would have been pleasing to spend the day in bed with his eager bride, but Sera's honor and life were at stake because of him.

"I did not abandon my bride," Gabriel countered defensively. "I left you to look after her while I attended important matters." He shed his cloak careful to turn his back on his friend so he wouldn't discern the truth lingering behind his words.

"You've been a spy too long, Gabriel," Dunstan chided in his lecturing tone. "Women need reassurances from their husbands. They need to know they belong in the strange new house they find themselves."

"Sera is my countess now. She knows my house belongs to her. And I trust my staff has followed my orders to make her feel comfortable?"

"You know we have!" Dunstan gritted in frustration. "Nellie and Mrs. Jenkins have taken to your wife ever since that fiasco with her brothers." Dunstan smiled proudly. "You should have seen her before you arrived. Lady Sera matched those bullying brothers of hers glare for glare." Then his smile turned bittersweet. "Until they broke her heart, insensitive clouts."

"You need not remind me," Gabriel grumbled. "I should have awaited their return at Thornbridge's townhouse instead of chasing them halfway back to East Chatham. I could have averted that nasty scene." Or asked Sera the route her brother generally used to go home, he thought.

Dunstan's expression softened at his friend's frown. "That scene wasn't entirely your fault. Lady Sera's brothers had your notes awaiting them. They chose to listen to gossip and draw their own conclusions," he defended. "It was unfortunate they got here before you." His tone shifted authoritatively. "Although had you been here, you could have used your sly charm to ease their ruffled feathers."

"No amount of finesse will deny their sister was forced to marry the Blackguard of Blackstone," Gabriel gritted unhappily. Keeping his back turned to his friend's inquisitive eyes, Gabriel stalked to his Study and poured a brandy.

A moment of silent compression passed. Dunstan leaned against the door watching his employer linger in his Study rather than return to his bride. Shrewdly, the secretary guessed the earl's reluctance was based on a twisted sense of restraint. The same one that foolishly forced him to abandon his cherub-innocent to the wilds of East Chatham.

"You're feeling guilty, aren't you?" Dunstan accused. "Your original assessment of your impetuous lady proved wrong, but your interest attracted your enemies' attention as well."

Gabriel bristled uneasily by the window. Stubbornly, he sipped his drink in silence.

"The lady would have married you under any circumstance, Gabriel. Now that the deed is done, there's no sense bemoaning how it occurred. Whatever guilt you bear for your unusual courtship, get over it!"

Gabriel turned on his friend with an almost savage look. "All of Town is entranced with my unusual courtship," he raged. "The rumors range from debauchery to a forbidden liaison. My innocent wife is seen as either a fool or a brazen lightskirt in the eyes of her peers. Until I correct that assumption, I will not get over it, Dunstan! Sera deserves more than to be known as a blackguard's wife."

"She doesn't care about that," Dunstan protested. "Lady Sera sees through the roguish facade of yours. She probably has since the beginning. She believes you to be her gallant guardian angel. One that she'd valiantly defend, even to her own family. In fact, I think she's become your most ardent champion, Gabriel."

"And I have become hers," the earl coolly retorted. "My wife's admiration and trust are things I value above all else. No matter what else, I must protect her from my world."

Coldly, Gabriel's eyes fell on the Egyptian cat concealing the Triad egg. He had thought his most important find that long ago night was in the cemetery. Only now did he realize it was the hoydenish innocent he rescued on the lane. "Sera is my most important treasure," he pronounced softly.

"Then what are we going to do?" Dunstan asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"About what?" Gabriel lingered thoughtfully over his brandy.

"Our mission? What did Caesar have to say about all this?"

Gabriel grimaced over the reminder. "He wasn't pleased," he admitted mildly. "But he's deigned to let me handle things my own way."

"Which is?" Dunstan prompted.

"Our mission is unchanged." Gabriel decreed. "We still have the Scrolls to find and a treacherous pair of enemies plotting traps to siderail our quest. Now that Latham is dead, we shall have to pursue other leads. Bixby may be a possibility, assuming he's still alive."

"Wouldn't it be wiser if you quit Town a while?" Dunstan suggested. "Take your bride on a honeymoon trip to Gretna Green. At least until things settle down a bit in Town."

"And have a tragic accident befall us on the journey?" Gabriel scoffed. "You forget how cunning the Angel is. Even Mirabella isn't safe from him. As long as the bastard remains free, Sera is in danger."

"And what happens to your wife while you're out hunting the assassin?"

"You are to keep an eye on her," Gabriel ordered. "Keep her safe and as content as possible. I will handle my own inquiries."

"She's very curious about you, you know," Dunstan confided. "She asked me today about your shipping business. She's bound to want to know why you are keeping late hours. You're not a bachelor anymore."

"Above all else, Dunstan," Gabriel declared savagely, "my wife is to know nothing of my true activities." His insides filled with an almost wild fear. "I do not want her to become more embroiled in a spy's confidences than she already was with Percy."

"Your lady is very clever, Blackstone," the secretary countered. "Her curiosity will not always be appeased with generalities of estate duties and trade meetings. Especially not when they keep you from your bride till two in the morning the night after your wedding!"

Remorsefully, Gabriel remembered the weak excuse he'd given for his hasty retreat after dinner. Sera had looked so sweet and enticing sharing his table. Her shy smile and pensive stare beguiled him throughout the meal. If he had allowed it, he would have joyfully accompanied her early retirement to bed. Fortunately, the urgent meeting with his superior saved him from indulging the urge. The disappointed frown on Sera's face when he left humbled him. Her innocence betrayed her desire for him.

"My decision is final, Dunstan!" Gabriel growled. "Sera stumbled into Percy's confidences and in so doing put herself at great risk. It was a burden she neither wanted nor could bear alone. I will not force her to suffer the same fate as my wife."

"Caesar's wife shares his secrets," Dunstan argued. "The lady sparkles with curiosity and cunning. Like Lady Sera."

"And waits and worries for her husband's return," Gabriel shot back. "Caesar would have gladly concealed his position in the War Department had his wife not usurped his investigation. And she paid a heavy price for it, if you remember. Even now she mistrusts fair-haired dilettantes of the ton whose intentions remind her of Le Sabre," Gabriel gritted in disgust. The mission to capture the Parliamentary spy ended a year ago, but it still left its mark on the participants. "Sera is a trusting innocent. I will not defile her in a web of deceit. Even if I have to lie, I will protect her!"

"That's a bloody contradiction if ever I heard one," Dunstan balked. "What about Lady Sera's search for the egg? You don't think she'd abandon her noble quest forever."

"She will if I ask her to," Gabriel confidently assured. "At the moment, she's convinced herself the mysterious East Chatham blackmailer arranged last night's escapade. Considering the results, I don't think she envies chasing him or his thief anymore. If it comes up, I will simply tell her Bixby no longer has the item she seeks."

"And when she finds out the truth?" Dunstan challenged. "That you've had the egg all along?"

"She won't," Gabriel's tone was absolute.

"Lady Sera has an inquiring mind for all her innocence," Dunstan asserted. "She's an intelligent, independent young woman who doesn't like to be bullied by overprotective brothers or an equally bullheaded husband. If you deceive her, you'll be making a big mistake."

The subtle comparison between Gabriel and Sera's secularly-opinionated brothers annoyed him. "When you're married Dunstan, then you can give me advice on how to deal with my wife. Until then, you have my orders. I expect them to be followed."

With unexpected force, Gabriel slammed his empty glass down on the brandy tray. "I suggest you check the locks on the windows and doors then get to your bed."

"Yes, your lordship." Dunstan bowed mockingly. "I did that hours ago when you first skulked off."

"Then I suggest you do it again," Gabriel tartly commanded. "Good night, Mr. Dunstan."

Leaving his secretary grumbling about stubborn fools, Gabriel arrogantly stalked off to his bedchamber.

Gabriel's anger softened the instant he noticed the cherub innocently slumbering in his bed.

Sera lay curled on her side. Her cheek pressed against his pillow. Small soft hands tucked under her chin as if in a child's prayer. Her eyes were red. A telltale trail of moisture trickled down her cheek.

Grimly, Gabriel realized his gentle bride had been crying. Perhaps crying herself to sleep all alone in his bed. He remembered her tears earlier. The ones she had shed for her bullying brothers. The enormity of what she had done probably caught up with her. Disowning her family out of spite was an inauspicious way for a bride to begin her married life. So much had happened since Dumond lured her to the Ruins. Sera's life had changed completely, irrevocably. He wondered if she was beginning to regret her rash elopement.

Looking at Sera sprawled upon his pillow, Gabriel admitted he held no regrets. Fate had conspired for him for a change. His secretary's judgment was accurate. Whatever the circumstances that forced their union, it felt right to have Sera in his bed.

Snuggling amidst the covers, she reminded Gabriel of the dreams that tortured him for weeks. Sera's long, golden-brown hair splayed around her head like a silken halo. The drawing he made of his sea nymph paled in comparison to the angelic siren christening his bed.

Raw aching desire rumbled within him. Gabriel told himself he should leave her alone. Her sleep was too peaceful. His passion still too wild and untamed. His bride needed more time to adjust to her new life. She needed at least a full night's sleep to recover from her adventurous wedding.

He told himself to go, but his stubborn body refused. His bride left him a large space beside her. The idea of holding her while she slept enticed him. Quickly, quietly, he shed all but his britches and climbed into bed.

Sera woke the moment she felt masculine hands enclose her.

"Gabriel," she gasped. "You startled me. I'm not accustomed to sharing my bed, my lord."

The look in his heated eyes bespoke mild amusement. "You do have your own bedchamber, Sera," Gabriel pointed out. "If you want privacy you can sleep there."

She chewed her lower lip. "Mama and Papa always slept in the same bed. Mama only used the Countess's bedchamber for the wardrobe. Papa said Mama never had enough closets."

With a wry grin, Gabriel replied, "You may always use my closet, love. I like returning to find you sleeping in my bed." Tenderly, he ran his fingers through his siren's hair. The silken threads glistened like gold fire in the dim light of the room.

"How was your meeting?" Sera asked oblivious to the seductive glint in her husband's smoky gaze. "You're late returning, aren't you?"

Gabriel followed the curve of her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. Gently, he cradled her face in the palm of his hand. His distracted answer came out in a husky whisper. "My meeting ran longer than I expected," he admitted. He gazed longingly at his bride's pouting lips. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to disappoint you after dinner, but my affairs often entail late appointments."

"Are you always this busy?" Sera bristled warmly. The way Gabriel was studying her made her nearly forget how miserable she had felt when he abruptly abandoned her. Twice in one day, he'd kissed her and run off to work. The first time she had been numb. The second she had given into her self-pity and tears. But when she'd awoken, her mysterious husband returned from the shadows to caress her into his arms again.

Tracing the faded trail of moisture down Sera's cheek with his thumb, Gabriel belatedly answered her question. "At times my affairs oblige me to keep odd hours, but I will always return to you, love," he murmured. "If you ever need me and I am away, tell Dunstan. He knows how to locate me. And trust him too, love. Dunstan's advice is usually sound. I wouldn't want a repeat of today."

The reminder of her confrontation with her arrogant family made Sera frown. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss my brothers," she bristled.

"Alright, sweet. We'll save that topic for another time," he whispered coaxingly. "When you're less adamant about the subject."

Sera thought the day she was less adamantly riled over her barbaric brothers would be when hell froze over, but she kept the opinion silent. Gabriel's mood was relaxed and comfortable. Stroking her the way she indulged Miss Cleopatra made him seem more congenial. And talkative, she hoped.

"There is a topic I'd rather discuss," Sera mentioned quietly.

"Hmm?" Gabriel hummed as he caressed her mouth with the pad of his thumb. "What's that, love?"

"You," she confessed. "You're a mystery to me, Gabriel."

"I thought my father told you all about me, love." His eyes lingered over the sultry contours of her lips.

"Fathers don't know everything." Sera sparkled with brewing passion and curiosity. Dimly, she wondered if Gabriel would kiss her soon. Then she remembered there were still a host of questions she wanted to ask. If Gabriel kissed her, her mind would be consumed in their embrace. Stubbornly, she banished the thought of kissing from her mind. "Gabriel, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how beautiful you look in my bed," he whispered. Seductively, his fingers cradled the curve of her chin. "My sweet angelic siren," he murmured against her mouth.

His words sent tremors of desire through Sera. She blushed in reaction. Her voice shivered with husky determination. "Gabriel, are you pleased with our marriage?"

His answer came in a kiss. An unexpected caress that turned into a long, lingering indulgence. Gabriel's lips brushed softly over hers. His tongue traced the contours of her sweet mouth. With a sultry sigh, she parted her lips. Rapturously, he deepened the kiss.

Her mind was going. Errant thoughts drifted wildly through Sera's head. Her insides trembled with warmth and hunger. Her hands stole around his broad shoulders. Eagerly, she returned Gabriel's ravaging kiss only vaguely aware of her anxious and determined curiosity. Passionate shadows were engulfing her mind. Stubbornly, she forced herself to focus.

"Gabriel, stop!" Sera pressed a plaintiff hand against his chest.

Dutifully, he obeyed. Curious, he watched Sera's nervous trembling. Her cheeks were flushed and she gnawed her lower lip.

"You distract me when you kiss me," she complained breathlessly frustrated. "Shadows cloud my mind and I can't think."

"You like to be swept away by my kiss," he reminded.

Sera blushed in silent agreement. Her gaze drifted downward. She prodded tentatively, "I thought perhaps we might talk a little."

"About what, my sweet," he asked. "What's troubling you?"

"Your father told me so much about you, but I realize now there is so much I don't know. I confess, it unnerves me a little, Gabriel. You know all of my secrets, but I know so few of yours."

A hesitating silence answered her request. Sera looked up at Gabriel's taught lips. His answer echoed grimly. "There are some things you may not want to know about me, love. But if it would ease your concerns a little, you may ask me whatever you wish."

Sera had not expected his ready acceptance to her request. Questions surged to life in her mind. She spoke the first one on her lips. "How old were you when your mother died? Your father spoke of her. I gathered her death saddened him greatly, but he didn't give me any details."

Gabriel frowned and rolled back upon the pillows. Sera came with him eagerly studying the distant quality that came into his misty green eyes. She recognized it as an old sorrow he had long since buried in his heart.

When he answered, Gabriel's voice was rigid and vaguely bitter. "I was thirteen when she died. She had a fever. It was a long time ago, Sera."

The brevity of the explanation intrigued Sera. His father had also dismissed the topic of Lady Marianna's tragic demise with the same muted shadows in his eyes. She wanted to ask why, but sensed it was a sensitive subject. Still husbands and wives shared things, painful or otherwise. She just had to convince her husband of that fact.

Sera snuggled within Gabriel's arms. She tucked her head under his chin and rubbed his chest soothingly. She felt his fingers tracing idle patterns down her back. Even through the muslin nightgown she sensed the enticing heat of his fingers. She struggled to temper her thoughts.

"Your father sent you off to school when your mother died," Sera mentioned breezily. "To St. Sebastian's?"

"Yes," he rumbled against the top of her head. His hands roamed the enticing angel cuddling beside him. He doubted she realized how seductively she whispered against his neck. Gentlemanly honor demanded he make her stop and curl back on her side of the bed. He should let her sleep, but she wouldn't let him.

"Where is St. Sebastian's?" cooed Sera inquisitively.

"Near Brussels," Gabriel answered distractedly. He followed the contour of her arm. His fingers slipped around her waist. Then his palm cradled the gentle swell of her thigh. Idly, he wondered if he should allow himself to feel the silken flesh beneath her frail gown.

"Is that where you met Marie?" Sera continued.

"Who?" Gabriel acted as if he'd never heard the name. Tentatively, his fingers were absorbed in inching his bride's muslin nightgown above her legs. He turned only a casual ear to her nagging queries.

"Marie Dumond," Sera clarified. "Your former paramour."

She had mentioned the ghost from his past so sweetly, Gabriel almost ignored it entirely. Then recognition and shock sharpened his thoughts. He paused instantly.

Disgust and fear riddled his tart reply. "Sera, men do not discuss their mistresses, formerly or otherwise, with their wives."

She lifted her face to stare at him. Her amber eyes were petulant and pleading. "Why not?"

"Because it is unseemly and irrelevant," Gabriel snapped. "You are my countess, Sera. That's all that should concern you."

"Are you afraid that I would believe the rumors about how she died?" Sera stared provokingly. "That you betrayed her?"

He glared at her in stony silence.

"I'd never believe that Gabriel," Sera vowed. "I know you would never betray a woman, especially one who shared your bed."

"Then what is the source of all this curiosity?" he demanded. "I knew Marie Dumond a long time ago, Sera. It doesn't matter now."

"It does to me," she pleaded.

"Why?" Gabriel persisted angrily.

"Because you obviously cared for her to keep her as your mistress for three years. And I worry I won't be able to keep your interest for three months!"

His bride's anguished confession softened Gabriel's mood at once. Ruefully, he sensed Sera's naive insecurity. She was new to the bond of lovers and had no notion of how enticing she was to behold.

Possessively, he pulled her into his arms. His words murmured across the bridge of her nose. "I could never lose interest in having you in my bed, love. Do you know what a temptation you are to me? I'd die happily in your arms if God decreed it so."

"You didn't seem to have trouble leaving me this morning."

"I had to, sweet, but I assure you it was a struggle," Gabriel soothed. "I watched you sleep as long as I dared. It took all my strength to fight the urge to wake you and make love to you all over again."

Sera trembled over the admission. Wickedly, she grinned. "It's decadent, but I confess I wish you had woken me up, Gabriel. I liked making love with you."

"I know," he echoed smugly. "You sang your sultry song in my ear when I held you this morning. And like Odysseus and Calliope, I was seduced. I couldn't get your song out of my thoughts all day, love."

Tentatively, Sera asked, "Do you want to make love to me now, Gabriel?"

His gaze held hers. Intense emerald eyes danced with seductive shadows. Gabriel stroked an errant tendril of hair behind Sera's ear. "More than anything, I want you, love," he assured. "But I shouldn't."

Sera frowned. "Why not?"

"Because you need time," Gabriel reminded himself. "Time to heal before I dare let myself give in to the urge to bury myself inside you and feel you tremble all around me."

The frank admission brought a scarlet blush to Sera's face. She burned with the memory of awkwardness she'd felt leaving bed that morning. Vaguely, she recalled there had been a tiny unexpected pain when Gabriel first joined himself so intimately to her. But it had been little more than a pinch and far more disconcerting to him than her. Sera didn't want to make him do anything he felt uncomfortable doing.

"We could just kiss then," she suggested shyly. "Like we did beneath the willow tree? I felt so many wondrous things then, Gabriel. Perhaps you could teach me to please you the same way?"

He smiled wickedly at the suggestion. The idea of Sera touching him in the tantalizing ways he had touched her enticed him. But his mind insisted his eager bride was still too naive for that kind of sophisticated lover's play. "It would please me to give you pleasure, Sera." His voice came out a husky whisper against her mouth. "Would you like that, love?"

Entranced by the heat in his question, she nodded mutely.

"Then come closer, love," he beckoned softly. "So I can kiss you."

Obediently, Sera lowered her mouth to Gabriel's. Her lips brushed tentatively against his. Gabriel groaned with desire and pulled her close.

She parted her lips for him allowing him to deepen the kiss. Gabriel drank her sighs. He caressed her tongue with his and stroked her lithe body with his hands. Sera's muslin nightgown slowly ascended her thighs. Tugging persistently, Gabriel managed to rid her of the useless garment in a few restless moments. It fell carelessly to the floor.

Commandingly, he rolled her to her back. His mouth explored her. His fingers caressed her. Attentively, Gabriel suckled Sera's breasts. She moaned with a siren's delight. Her fingers threaded through his hair. She clutched his bare shoulders.

"You're so beautiful to me, love," Gabriel huskily confessed against her breast. "I could never get enough of you." Passionately, he cherished her. His mouth savored every inch of silky skin it could find. He trailed a path of kisses down her stomach and over the swell of a thigh.

Sera felt his hands edging apart her knees. She expected to feel his graceful fingers stroking her, loving her as they did beneath the willow. Instead, she felt his mouth.

The kiss shocked her into silence. Only a timid squeal of surprise and delight escaped Sera's lips. And then he was pleasuring her. Savoring and tasting her with the illicit indulgence.

Sparkles of familiar fire coiled in the pit of Sera's stomach. Her head twisted against the pillow in silent agony. Her fists clenched tightly in the sheets. She felt as if she were drowning in a storm of desire. When she thought her fragile body could take no more, the storm broke in a rush of unrepentant ecstasy.

Gabriel studied Sera's bemused expression with a smug smile. Lazily, he stretched out across the length of her, holding her in his arms as she emerged from her sensual firestorm. "You are my passionate angel, love," he whispered against her cheek.

Gingerly Sera opened her eyes wondering when she had shut them. Gabriel's seductive gaze entranced her.

"You are so easy to pleasure," he marveled as he stroked the tangles of her hair. "You were born for lovemaking, Sera." Lovingly, he kissed the tip of her nose.

She felt sated and seductive. She returned Gabriel's gentle caresses with a careless wanton abandon. She tilted her mouth to his. He meant to bless her with just a sweet, lingering kiss. Instead, Sera opened her mouth and passionately tasted herself on his breath. The scent enticed her wickedly.

Instinctively, her hands enveloped Gabriel. She explored the strong muscles rippling his chest. Seductively, her fingers wandered down his back and over the firm muscles of his thighs. She lingered over the waistband of his britches. Coarse fabric marred her path to warm skin. The catch was not so dissimilar to her own pair of borrowed britches. She had the restrictive garment undone before either of them realized what she was doing.

Sera acted by sensual instinct. Her thoughts were clouded by desire. She knew only that she wanted to pleasure her husband the way he had pleasured her.

Gabriel's innocent angel's kisses wooed him. She curled in his arms inadvertently pushing him further on his back. She leaned over him, nibbling his neck and then the flat expanse of his chest. Her gentle ministrations were killing him. He wanted so badly to bury himself inside her. Even now, his manhood seemed on the verge of splitting free of his britches. Then he felt Sera's timid hands pulling back the edges of the tight buckskin garment.

"Sera, no," Gabriel commanded weakly. His body obstinately refused to impede her. He lay prone to her touch with only his rapidly fading restraint disciplining his rebellious desire. "That's enough, love. Anymore of your gentle kisses and I'll lose my control."

Sera looked up from his belly. Brandy fire sparkled through her long, silky eyelashes. "Husbands and wives cherish each other," she declared. "You cherish me, Gabriel. Let me cherish you in return." She ran her hand down the middle of him. "You have such a handsome body, Gabriel. From the first moment I saw you on the lane, I couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like to be your cloak. Swirling about you, caressing you the way I'd caress my cat. Wondering if you would purr for me like she does."

She was trying to seduce him, Gabriel thought wryly. And doing a damn good job of it. He smiled despite himself. Restraint demanded he deny his angelic siren's request, but his body cried for her touch.

"You could cherish a man happily to his grave, love," he groaned. "My body is yours, Sera. Indulge your curiosity, but leave me my sanity."

The smile Sera gave was reminiscent of a cat handed a delicious snack. Attentively, she caressed her willing husband. She placed tiny kisses across his chest. She stroked his lean and graceful thighs. She pealed back the folds of his britches until the curious engorged flesh emerged.

The appendage fascinated and scandalized Sera. Inquisitively, she trailed her fingers down the length of trembling flesh.

Gabriel groaned hungrily. His bride's hesitant exploration of him was driving him mad. Raw desire defied his restraint. "Again, love. Hold me in your tender grasp."

Obediently, Sera wrapped her fingers around the length of him. She stroked the silky flesh from the roughened tip to the throbbing base. The touch felt wickedly sensual to her. She loved the feel of him trembling at her caress. From the way Gabriel kept groaning, she feared she was torturing him to death. But he refused to let her stop.

Then she saw the tiny bead of moisture forming on the roughened tip of him. Almost like a tear of pain or pleasure from her inexperienced indulgence. Sympathetically, she bent her head to kiss the tear away.

The feel of Sera's silken lips on his hungry flesh shredded the last remnants of Gabriel's control. With a lusty groan of animal desire, he pulled her against his chest. His kiss was wild and passionate. Sera returned the embrace with the same desire.

The pair tumbled together on the bed until Gabriel stretched atop her. His britches ripped from the force he used to discard the annoying garment.

Passion blinded him as he lifted her hips and settled himself between them. He kissed her relentlessly, baiting her inexperienced rapture. Then with one long, forceful burst of need Gabriel thrust himself deeply inside her.

Sera gasped and froze beneath him.

Gabriel instantly paused. "Oh God, did I hurt you, love?"

"No," Sera whispered. Her amber eyes blazed. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I don't want to hurt you," Gabriel gritted in agony. "But dear God you feel so good to me. A silken cage so trusting and willing. Even now you embrace me as if I was made to be inside you. I'm like an eager young pup. God, I'm so sorry. I know I should stop, but I want you too damn much."

Sera ended his confused ramble with a gentle caress of his shoulder. Reassuringly, she smiled and kissed him. Her words echoed with honest passion. "I want you, too, Gabriel. I was just surprised, but that's past. Make love to me, husband. I want to feel swept away with you again."

Her words humbled and enticed him. He grinned proudly at his seductive angel siren. Then he rolled them over so Sera lay atop him. She stared down at him in confusion. Tenderly, Gabriel caressed the small of her back. "Cherish me, love. Cherish us and drive the storm until we're both swept away."

Instructively, Gabriel's hands settled on her hips. He gave her a gentle nudge. Realization glimmered in her inexperienced eyes. Sera tentatively lifted and lowered herself feeling him caress the inside of her. The motion created a familiar sparkle of need and pleasure within her belly. She repeated the action and heard Gabriel's frustrated moan of desire. Instinct made Sera bold. She mimicked the mating dance she recently learned. She felt different being the one to set the rhythm. Powerful, seductive and wild. She tortured him and herself with the often chaotic, unschooled dance. The flames of desire and need raged and were abated only to rage again with a new permutation of the erotic dance. It left them both hungry and helpless.

Finally, Gabriel cupped Sera's tender bottom and urged her to end the torment. When neither thought they could bear the sensual torture a moment longer, the first tremors of release were upon them. Sera tipped her head back, a long siren's cry on her lips. At the same moment, Gabriel surged deeply inside her and gave way to his own lusty groan of male satisfaction. The storm raged between them, inside them, engulfing them.

When it dissolved into a comfortable wave of sated pleasure, Sera collapsed in Gabriel's arms. She panted against his neck. A sweet honest declaration, borne of intimate exhaustion, hovered on her lips. "I love you, Gabriel."

His reply came in a gentle rumble against the top of her head. "I know, love."

Sera waited for him to say more, hoping he would return her vow of devotion.

When the silence dragged on, Sera bristled with unease. She tried to retreat from his embrace, but Gabriel stopped her, protectively settling her beside him. His arms surrounded her. His hands stroked her, coaxing her to forget everything but his warmth.

She leaned into his embrace. Her head nestled snugly against his chest.

Realization glimmered in Sera's mind as she laid in silence with her husband.

He did not say the words, but Gabriel held her and touched her as if he loved her. He was a gentle and indulgent lover. He was a gallant and protective husband. And he was an attentive guardian angel.

Sera smiled as she drifted off to sleep. The quiet reassurance of Gabriel's heartbeat reminded her she was not alone. Not as long as she was in his arms. Not as long as she belonged to him.

Sera placed an appreciative kiss above her husband's slumbering heart. "I'm glad I belong to you, Gabriel."

Chapter Twenty-Six

A week later, tension filled the Blackstone carriage as it traversed the rainy streets to Trotter's Court. The fashionable haute ton flitted out of traffic in eager anticipation of the popular Pennington Ball. For the week-old Countess of Blackstone it was torture.

Sera knew all their peers gathered to await the introduction of Gabriel's scandalous bride. By the strained silence he shared from his seat, she assumed he was as worried asshe about the prospect. His reputation as a noble gentleman relied on the impression she made tonight.

Sera bristled with the thought, absentmindedly rubbing the stiffness in her troublesome knee. A gown of ivory silk flowed around her otherwise plain physique. Sera felt like she was playing dressup in her mother's wardrobe. Nellie, her maid, had done her best to make her appear a fairy princess. Her hair dangled in ringlets woven with ribbons; diamonds and emeralds circled her neck in an angel motif. The necklace was the only thing that gave her some pleasure, not for its extravagance but for its meaning.

The Blackstone collection was a family heirloom. Lord Julius had fashioned the set as a wedding gift from stones his pirate father had collected at sea. By giving them to her tonight, Sera felt Gabriel was sharing some of the affection his father must have felt for his bride.

It wasn't an outright declaration of love, but then she had learned her husband rarely did things she expected. While she had remained ensconced in their home this week, he had meetings and errands at all hours of the day and night. She was curious about what he did outside the townhouse, but true to his word he always returned to her at night usually waking her up to say good night and make love to her until nearly dawn.

Gabriel said he was content with the marriage. Sera knew she couldn't change the circumstances of their elopement. He had done the noble thing in giving her the protection of her name. And now she needed to do the same, by presenting herself as the wife he deserved. Not a bumbling country maiden, but as a dazzling lady of the ton with the grace to match her elegant husband. Her knee ached as the carriage rumbled to a stop. Gabriel her hand stopping her from wrenching the already stiffening joint.

"You need not worry, love," he murmured. "Say the word and we'll leave." With a conspiratorial glance at the crush outside, he added, "I'll not have you face the gossiping wolves any longer than you wish. Say the word and we'll leave."

Sera beamed a brave smile. "As long as I'm with you, I'll survive anything."

Together they made their way through the crowd lining Marsham Street. Sera staunchly ignored their observers as Gabriel led her up the wide sweeping stairs of Lady Pennington's townhouse. People seemed to disappear inside the imposing oak doors guarding the austere Elizabethan manor.

When Sera crossed the Elizabethan threshold, her eyes filled with an unexpected, dazzling sight.

A large Palladian ballroom bustled with two floors of splendor. Between large marble pillars, guests lingered along a gilded balcony encircling the length of the hall. Two sweeping staircases led to the crowd filling the sunken ballroom below. Opposing the glass garden doors, the orchestra serenaded a whirling dance floor four times the size of Lady Athelridge's quaint country gatherings.

Sera was entranced. The world of Trotter's Court was full of color, light and activity. Chatter rambled on beside the rush of people and music. Laughter rang out in boisterous carelessness and timid glee. Society was alive with frivolity and amusement. The whirling cacophony of sight and sound filled the ballroom with eternal motion.

Eternity halted when the notorious Earl and Countess of Blackstone were announced.

The room surged with anticipation. Sera heard the scandalous whispers begin as soon as she and Gabriel approached the staircase. She hesitated on the top step, rigidly resisting the urge to chew her lip. Sera forced a mild expression on her face. Only Gabriel could know her hand trembled against his arm. She refused to embarrass him by acknowledging her terror. There were so many people. Hundreds it seemed, all staring at her as if she were one of her cat's mice. She felt like a mouse. A simple brown country mouse masquerading as an elegant man's countess. The urge to flee filled her, but she refused to obey. Neither could she seem to move.

Gabriel sensed his wife's wary hesitation. Then he followed her wide-eyed gaze.

The wolves were in force tonight. Gabriel could almost hear them licking their chops in expectation. Gently, he squeezed the trembling hand nestled in his elbow.

The touch beckoned Sera to look at her husband instead of her detractors. He smiled and single-handedly banished all the nervous thoughts plaguing her mind.

She squeezed his hand in silent reply and they descended the steps like a regal pair. Sera was determined not to let the brewing whispers get to her. The crowd looked anxious for her first test facing the gossiping wolves. It didn't take long.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the grand staircase, a beautiful dark-haired woman surged forward. From her rich russet-colored gown and regal position, Sera assumed the evening's illustrious hostess had taken a keen interest in their entrance.

"There you are Blackstone!" Lady Pennington's eyes glittered beneath an elegant feather headdress. "I thought you were going to be naughty again and miss my affair."

Dutifully, Gabriel bowed over his hostess's hand. "I regret that I was detained longer than expected, Countess. I wouldn't have wanted my wife to miss your charming entertainments."

"Ah yes, your wife," Lady Pennington cooed as if handed a playful bit of gossip. Her cat eyes glanced at Sera. "I heard that the notorious earl had been conspicuously adventurous again. The ton is whirling about your midnight elopement. Shame on you for not introducing her to me first."

"Then by all means, let me correct that oversight," Gabriel replied. "Lady Glorianna Pennington, may I introduce my new countess, Lady Seraphina Blackstone."

Sera forced an elegant curtsy and gracious smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Pennington. I've heard so much about you."

The countess hid an amused grin. "Have you? And who's been telling tales about me? Your rapscallion husband?"

"No, my sister-in-law, Lady Beryl Montgomerie," Sera flustered shyly. "And Lady Chillingworth. They said you were a talented hostess." She beamed an appreciative glance around the brightly-lit hall. "I can see from the crush here tonight why you garner such praise. One does expect magic and myths to appear before one's eyes."

The countess glowed at the whimsical compliment. "My lord, I believe you have found the most charming young lady. How did you ever convince her to take you for a husband?"

"Fate conspired for me, Countess."

"Indeed it has," crooned Lady Pennington. Her eyes seemed to scan Sera from head to toe. "How a rogue like you ever ended up with such a fair bride, is beyond me. Was she sent from heaven to redeem you at last?" she teased.

"It's my husband who is my guardian angel," Sera blurted. "He saved me from a life of tedium as a country mouse."

"Guardian angel?" the countess hummed inquisitively at Gabriel. Her left brow rose in silent amusement. Her tone was idle, but Sera sensed a certain purpose in Lady Pennington's gaze. "So the Blackguard of Blackstone has become a gallant protector of his bride."

She eyed Sera in airy admiration. "I must congratulate you for finding a way of redeeming your husband's ways and keeping his pride in tact, my dear."

Sera repressed a blush at the assumption. She wanted to correct the countess's thinking, but approaching newcomers distracted her.

There were two couples, one dark-haired the other fair. Their confident stature denoted importance, but she recognized only one lady of notoriety. The Sparkling Lady intrigued her at once. The golden threads woven through her emerald dress glittered more fantastically than the candles. Her arm was wrapped securely around her tall, imperious husband.

The Marquess of Greystone was a frightening sight, to be sure. Short dark hair cut like the statues she'd seen of Marcus Aurealis. The hair above his temples shared the same gray as his cold, blue-steel eyes.

The marquess glared unhappily at Gabriel. It was a look shared by the fair-haired gentleman at his side. Sera noticed while the men seemed annoyed, their wives were entranced.

"Glorianna, who have we here?" asked the redheaded Sparkling Lady.

"Blackstone's brought us a bride, Virginia," answered the Countess. "Rescued all the way from the country of East Chatham, I believe. May I present Lady Seraphina Blackstone." To Sera she added, "This is Lady Greystone and her cousin Lady Darrington. Their husbands are the ones frowning behind them."

Again, Sera curtsied dutifully to her betters. It was odd bowing humbly to a woman who looked only a few years older than her. She had heard so much about the Sparkling Lady, Sera assumed the marchioness was at least as old as Lady Delia. Instead, she saw a pair of young sapphire eyes studying her in curious amusement.

"Rescued from the country?" the marchioness echoed before turning to her cousin. "Caroline, it seems Blackstone does have an interest left unexplored. I would have thought Town life provided him with all he roguishly desired."

Reminding Sera of Cleo, the ashen-haired Lady Darrington turned a sympathetic eye on her. "There were some in London who thought your husband far too cynical for marriage."

"No man is too cynical when he has found the right bride," Gabriel interjected. "Isn't that true, Lord Greystone?"

The marquess glared at Gabriel a long considering moment. Treason seemed to simmer on his lips. It was clear that he disliked Gabriel. From the disgust and irritation brimming his eyes, Sera feared he'd condemn them both as the disreputable couple of Society.

"I wouldn't know Blackstone, as I don't employ such peculiar and reckless ways of procuring a bride," the marquess gritted.

Lady Pennington chided, "Greystone, don't be so pedantic. Blackstone rescued her from life as a boring country mouse."

Sera rolled her eyes over her impulsive outburst. The countess made it sound like such a childish declaration.

"A boring country mouse?" the Sparkling Lady echoed in amusement.

The countess nodded. "He has become her guardian angel, so she says. What do you think Virginia? I think Lady Blackstone is far more angel than mouse, but you have more experience being rescued from country spinsterhood than I."

The marchioness smiled whimsically over the question. Her emerald dress sparkled merrily about her lithe body. Her voice was musical and faintly sensual. "My husband calls me more of a wild pixy than a mouse, but I suppose both creatures live in danger of spinsterhood ensconced in the country," Lady Greystone admitted before turning to her cousin again. "Thank goodness, our gallant husband's rescued us from the fate of Dorchester, Caroline. I thought I'd forever spend my days wallowing in Martins-down."

Lady Darrington's sympathetic nod overwhelmed Sera with curiosity. She spoke before she could think better of it.

"How long have you been involved in Town life, Lady Greystone? My modiste raved about your unique style and I confess I thought you always lived near London. I wouldn't expect to find a Sparkling Lady anywhere else."

The marchioness blushed beneath her freckles. "I came for the first time the season I met my husband," she replied. "He outrageously sought me out when I spent all my time worrying I'd embarrass myself and be forced to quit Town a dismal failure. Fortunately, we rescued each other. Me from my grandfather's country manor and him from his stuffy old books."

"They're called treatises, sweetheart," the marquess grumbled affectionately. Defying his rigid demeanor, humor glinted his blue-steel eyes. "And as I seem to recall, you have a tendency toward outrageous things too, my Sparkling Lady."

"Someone had to save you from that dusty library of yours," she protested with a playful flicker of her peacock fan. "I just hope our son doesn't pick up his father's obsession for old battle strategies." She added with a taunting glint in her eye, "The only ones who think everything goes according to plan are old prudes, Greystone."

"Improvising usually gets you into trouble, Sparkling Lady," he retorted.

The intimate banter between husband and wife filled Sera with envy. She glanced at Gabriel.

He stood beside her in his practiced boredom. His face held a casual, nonchalant expression. His eyes were unreadable as he stared at the group of social butterflies.

When Sera anxiously tugged his hand, he lowered his misty green eyes to hers. Instantly, the distant boredom was replaced with affection. When he smiled, the conversation halted around them.

"It seems Blackstone and his bride have rescued each other as well," observed Lady Pennington. "From spinsterhood and notoriety. They are guardian angels well met, don't you think Virginia?"

"Lady Blackstone truly has a heavenly smile," the marchioness qualified. "And that dress. My dear, it is you who sparkles with those diamonds and lace. Why you look like you just descended from the celestial realm on a cloud."

"She's Blackstone's angel," Lady Darrington chimed. "Come to save him from his reckless ways."

Sera blushed under the compliments. Lovingly, she caressed the angel pendant Gabriel had given her. "Thank you ladies, but your praise is misplaced. My husband is not in need of redeeming as he may let others assume. He is a gallant and noble gentleman."

Gabriel deftly interjected, "I told you fate had conspired for me, Countess. Surely, God must have thought me not beyond redemption. He sent me one of his precious creatures to champion my cause." He added with a kiss to Sera's hand, "I am most humbled, love."

"Very cunning, Blackstone," intruded the sarcastic voice of Lord Darrington. The feckless fair-haired noble reminded Sera of her brother Cassius. He had Byronesque looks and an arrogant cavalier stance. His tone was mildly reproachful.

"In what way?" Gabriel asked with just a hint of challenge.

"You seem to have chosen a bride more notorious than yourself," quipped Darrington.

"I suppose we should be thankful," the marquess drawled in a mocking tone. His smirk reminded Sera of a rueful commander bested by his inferior. "I was getting damn tired of my wife's obsession with you, Blackstone. I prefer she is beguiled with speculation of your charming bride."

Gabriel shared a lingering gaze with Lord Greystone. Each pair of masculine eyes danced in measuring shadows. They seemed to be considering each other's thoughts, for what reason Sera didn't know. Gabriel broke the silent tension in a smooth tone.

"It is not your wife who is beguiled by my bride, but me, Greystone." Gabriel gazed lovingly at Sera. "I will forever be in her debt for accepting my meager offer of marriage."

"My dear Lady Blackstone, you truly are an amazing woman," Lady Pennington exalted. "I believe you've captured the Blackguard of Blackstone's heart." The Countess's feather fan fluttered in an eye-catching way. She pronounced with authority, "With his impetuous nature, I can see how your scandalous romantic elopement occurred."

"Just look at them Caroline," the Sparkling Lady added in admiration. "See how they gaze adoringly at each other. No doubt, Society will be abuzz with another lovematch soon. One to ease poor Anne Millbank's woes."

"Lord Byron never did look on his bride the way Blackstone lingers over his," Lady Darrington countered. "She must be an angel."

"An angel that captures a rogue," Lady Pennington crooned. "There's a story in that. Lady Blackstone you must tell me how the two of you met. I'm certain it's a fascinating tale."

"If you don't mind Countess," Gabriel interrupted as the strains of a waltz began to sound. "My wife can entertain your curiosity later. At the moment, I was hoping she would grace me with this dance?"

Gabriel offered his hand to Sera. She accepted and bowed her leave from her new admirers. Their eager smiles left her puzzled. She didn't know if they were like her pets playing with a new friend or a new toy.

Then Sera felt the curious stares on her again. Hundreds of eyes watched her traverse the crowd clinging tightly to her husband's hand. His stride was regal; hers began to tremble.

She feigned a mild smile for their onlookers as Gabriel swung her into the dance. Her bad knee stumbled at the first turn. Gabriel caught her without missing a step.

His hold was reassuring and gentle. Just like the first time they danced at Lady Athelridge's soiree in East Chatham. Sera's confidence grew.

"Gabriel, do you think they liked me?" she whispered above the music.

His murmur rumbled with amused triumph. "You had them eating out of your hand, my sweet."

Sera's eyes drifted to her husband's. In the misty emerald, she saw the unspoken affection and admiration centered only on her.

Her smile blossomed as she whirled about the crowded ballroom only faintly aware of the masses studying her. From that moment on, she decreed nothing would darken her mood. Not even the three familiar men she glimpsed glaring at her from the balcony above.

* * *

LEANING ON the railing, Sera's brothers lingered unhappily over their drinks. It seemed the whole world was gazing at the notorious Earl and Countess of Blackstone with a mixture of awe and admiration. The crush was totally absorbed in watching the pair dance with an aura of unfailing loyalty and seductive intimacy. Thornbridge didn't know whether to be infuriated or impressed.

By the look of his brothers's frowns, he assumed they were in the same pickle.

"I should have locked her in her room," Adrian grumbled.

"She would have gone after him anyway," Cassius replied. "Blossom follows her own foolish heart."

"Away from us it seems," Thornbridge added with a mournful frown. The three brothers heaved heavy sighs fraught with resentment and self-recrimination. In their defeated silence, a voice taunted from behind.

"You three look like the fates waiting to pass judgment."

Thornbridge turned to see his neighbor approaching, to gloat probably. Sera's brother affected a reserved tone. "Evening Chillingworth. I expected you to be cleaning out Chilton in the Card Room."

"And miss all the fun?" the portly viscount mocked as he sidled next to the balcony railing. Beneath his severe white hair, he gazed at the dancers below. "My wife tells me your sister has accomplished quite a coup."

"In what way?"

"Haven't you heard the whispers yet? One meeting with Lady Pennington's friends and they're acclaiming her Blackstone's Angel."

Cassius snorted in protest.

Thornbridge shot a warning glance toward his hot-tempered brother then reservedly addressed his neighbor. "My sister charms many."

The viscount's pudgy brows lifted at the comment. "So you approve of the match after all?" he queried. "I heard rumors you were dead set against it. Something about a duel in East Chatham over their friendship?"

Thornbridge's eyes narrowed. It wasn't the first time his neighbors needled him about his failed attempts to protect his ward. "Gentleman don't discuss such things," he chided.

"Just struck me odd you were so adamantly against the man dancing with your sister in East Chatham, but there he is with her again," Chillingworth persisted. "Look at them. They've been staring indecently at each other like that for months. You should have put a hole in the bastard long ago."

Out of the corner of his eye, Thornbridge saw his brother bubble with protective anger. With a calming hand to Cassius's shoulder, he ursurped his brother's angry retort. "What's done is done," he grumbled. "Seraphina's made her choice."

"A damned poor one, if you ask me," Chillingworth jeered. "With Blackstone's reputation, one expects he has enemies to spare. Doesn't that concern you?"

Grimly, Thornbridge stared at his sister and her groom. For all his cunning deception, Sera's husband had a peculiar sense of honor about him. "Blackstone knows the consequences if anything happens to Sera."

His ominous decree inspired a shudder of grim determination to course through the three Montgomerie brothers. They could do nothing beyond watch and wait for Sera to need her brothers again. Thornbridge only hoped her blackguard husband knew how to keep at least one promise.

"So you're just going to let it go at that?" Chillingworth baited. "The bastard married your sister out of hand, for God's Sake. After he lured her to a brothel first. You can't be content for the world to know your sister as his."

Each of the brothers bristled under the accusation. The elopement was still a touchy subject none discussed openly since the day they lost their sister to the blackguard. Their silence was the only means they had left to protect her.

Taking up his inherited position of leadership, Thornbridge offered the family's formula reply in true Montgomerie pride.

"Our contentment or discontent is not a matter for discussion, Chillingworth," Thornbridge decreed. "If you'll excuse me, I think I could do with some fresh air."

Regally, he stalked away. Without a word, his two brothers followed. They kept a wide berth around the ballroom, their gazes drifting on the dance ending below.

Pride and sorrow filled Thornbridge as he glimpsed his sister swarmed by a party of admirers. Sera's charm was a given, a rare treasure that assured Blackstone his dreams of acceptance.

It was a damned poor decision, he thought. In his heart, Thornbridge knew his sister had no idea the deception her husband was capable of.

* * *

AN HOUR SHY of dawn their carriage rumbled through the rain blanketing London streets. Within the ebony conveyance, the notorious Blackstones reclined on velvet cushions.

It had been a long, arduous night facing the judgmental wolves of Society. Gabriel stretched, careful not to jar his sleeping wife in his lap. Sera was exhausted. In one night, she went from being the most scandalous bride in London to the most admired.

With a smug smile, Gabriel concluded the Pennington affair had been a smashing success. Society went from speculating about their scandalous elopement to acclaiming it a wildly romantic lovematch. His plan worked marvelously, thanks in part, to his superior's clever friend.

The Countess of Pennington was a master of social manipulation. He could see why Caesar relied on her heavily during the War when traitors walked among the noblesse. Her wry reinterpretation of the torrid rumors cloaking his rash marriage instantly caught on. And with the added support of the esteemed Sparkling Lady, Sera's image easily transformed from speculated vixen to his miraculous redeemer.

Society took to the twisted tale with amazing speed. One dance and the whispers of the ballroom called Sera his angel. He knew the cynical and fanciful of the ton envied him. Sera had gazed at him with trusting, entranced eyes. Her celestial white gown made her a spectacular vision of elegant innocence. Innocence, admiration and trust pledged only to him.

Lady Pennington proclaimed him a man beguiled with his bride. It was an easy role to play. When he held Sera, gazed into her doe-brown eyes, Gabriel felt himself consumed with her.

He knew it was a dangerous obsession, especially now. He needed his wits to focus on his enemies' conspicuous silence. Despite his inquiries for Bixby, all had been quiet from Dumond and the Angel since the harrowing night at the brothel. He wondered what the treacherous pair was doing. And planning.

He hoped they were silently twisting over their dismal failure to harm Sera and ruin them both.

Gabriel frowned. For all the acclaim Society seemed ready to award the notorious Blackstones, there was a dark cloud.

The Montgomeries had watched them half the night from the balcony. Their brooding stares caught many eyes and brought whispers to Gabriel's ear. He knew Sera had noticed her family. There were a few tentative gazes, but Montgomerie pride proved too mule-headed. She refused to acknowledge them and they refused to acknowledge her.

Their silence evoked more whispers from the crowd. Sera didn't say, but he knew she brooded over the bitter argument she'd had with her brothers. They didn't openly denounce her, but rumors of a feud quickly circulated the room.

Many defiantly turned against Sera for her choice in husband. Namely East Chatham's regulars, Lady Athelridge and Lady Sutton. The stodgy social matrons gave her the cut direct and encouraged many of Sera's neighbors to do the same.

Gabriel expected the childish behavior. Blackstones always faired poorly in East Chatham's narrow view. The scalding his mother received for her unpopular American origins was enough to drive his family into enforced isolation. The idea Sera would suffer the same fate infuriated him.

Only one thing salvaged his opinion of his repressive neighbors. Lady Delia Chillingworth and Cleo Athelstan braved the local censure to offer their congratulations. Gabriel was warmed by the show of support mostly for the relieved smile it brought to his innocent angel's face.

Lady Delia proved as adept a social manipulator as Lady Pennington. She extolled the romantic gossip enveloping them in terms of a Shakespearan play. At her side, Miss Athelstan defied her querulous brother's glares to introduce her best friend to her stodgy aunt. All three ladies seemed genuinely outraged Society unfairly labeled Sera.

Gabriel filed the information of his wife's supporters away. It would be good for Sera to have friends to socialize with while he was busy investigating. As long as Dunstan looked after her, he knew she would be safe from Dumond's and the Angel's treacherous grasp.

As the carriage rumbled over a pothole, Sera stirred in his arms. He brushed a tendril of errant hair behind her ear. The gesture was a loving one, born of comfort and familiarity.

He had a week to cherish her in isolation. She had given him the most unexpected and undeserving treasure of her love and faith. In return, he protected her from the dark truths she could not bear. But he didn't want her to remain a prisoner of his fears.

With a considering gaze of his sleeping wife, Gabriel decided to encourage her to seek the friendships offered tonight. Perhaps even attend Lady Pennington's fashionable salon to further her popularity. He may exist in shadows, but Sera was born for sunshine.

With an almost reverent touch, he kissed the top of her head.

Sera rumbled awake and beamed sleepy eyes at him. "Are we home yet?"

"Almost, love," he crooned against her forehead. "Are you ready for bed?" The sensual undertone to his question rippled desire through both. Sera blushed and buried her head beneath his chin. He could feel her hands seeking the warmth of his chest.

"Gabriel, do you really think I had people eating out of my hands tonight?"

The unexpected question brought a familiar smile to his lips. His innocent angel seemed adept at tantalizing him boldly in one breath and timidly seducing his reassurance in the next. He rumbled in her hair, "Like doves, my sweet. Even Lord Greystone grudgingly sang your praises."

"The marquess and his wife are interesting people. Do you know them well?"

Gabriel paused thoughtfully over the question. "Inevitably, everyone knows the stodgy marquess and his wife. They are shrewd judges of character, love. With their approval, you were assured of a successful night debuting as my new countess."

Sera lifted her wide-eyed gaze to his. "I almost didn't," she confessed. "When I saw all those people staring at us, I wanted to run home. But when we danced, I forgot about everything but you."

"I know." He squeezed her affectionately. Her ivory gown pooled around his legs just as it had done on Lady Pennington's dance floor. Sera clung to him in the same trusting, carefree manner. Passion that sparked within the dance uncoiled around Gabriel, but this time there was no audience to forbid him from enjoying his partner's kiss.

"When I hold you in my arms," he confessed in a sultry rumble, "I forget things, too."

"Like what?"

He whispered a hair's breadth from her mouth, "The shadows of my past."

Sera evaded his touch in an unexpected jerk of her head. Her alarmed amber eyes hunted him in the muted darkness of the carriage. She blinked as if trying to repress a nightmare. "Promise me you won't ever leave me, Gabriel."

The shakiness of her words compelled and confused him. "Why would I ever leave you?" He firmly held her gaze, his fingers stroking a cherishing path across her rigid chin. "The fates blessed me with you, love," he declared softly. "You redeem me in Society's eyes. A rogue couldn't ask for more from his adoring wife."

She stared at him a lingering moment. Her eyes seemed to change color. Just for a moment, the brandy passion cluttered with a dull, fearful shadow. She bit her lip and the wariness steadily disappeared.

He felt her fingers on his rigid jaw. She caressed him as if willing a response. "I love you, Gabriel."

"I know," he murmured sweetly against her lips. "You're my angel."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

WARM AFTERNOON sun escorted Sera and her friends down a rose-lined path in Vauxhall. The garden was alive in the frivolity of June, but Sera had only a feigned interest in her friends' conversation.

"Lord Lacey is a dashing young man, don't you think, Cleo dear?" Lady Delia prodded as she stopped to admire a rosebud the same dusty rouge as her gown. "Lord Byron is his hero, you know. Lacey considers himself a budding poet, when he's not dazzling his peers in Parliament. I've seen him lingering over you once or twice at the balls."

"Lord Lacey is nice," Cleo admitted. "But I get the impression he's more fascinated with Sera than me. I've always been standing beside her when he comes to ask for a dance."

Sera snapped to attention at the sound of her name. "You know I'm not much of a dancer like you Cleo. Lord Lacey is much happier asking for your hand than mine."

"Nonsense," she countered. "You dance with Blackstone all the time."

"When his business doesn't preclude him from attending the balls, you mean," Sera gritted in frustration. "If my husband didn't insist I go out so much, I'd rather stay at home. There's little for a married woman to do at the socials alone, Cleo. You're much better off socializing with Lord Lacey and your other admirers than me."

"Don't take yourself for granted, Sera darling," Lady Delia interjected smoothly. "Society is still entranced with Blackstone's Angel. If you had a mind to, you could have any paramour you wished."

"Lady Delia!" Sera gasped.

The viscountess smiled over her sophisticated admission. "Just stating a fact, my dear," she dismissed. "If you weren't so utterly devoted to that roguish husband of yours, I know dozens of men who would beg to have you."

"Really, Lady Chillingworth," Sera chided. "I wouldn't want anything to do with that type of gentleman. And my husband isn't a rogue."

"Not anymore, thanks to you, my dear," the viscountess agreed. "Your spectacular social recovery at the Pennington affair is still mystifying many. Even a month after the deed is well and done. You and your husband should be praised. I've never seen certain disaster turned into certain triumph so quickly in social circles."

"My husband is a clever man," Sera admitted.

"Indeed," Lady Delia hummed conspiratorially. She paused as if pondering her words. "What do you think of Cpt. Marsham, Cleo dear? You remember my husband's lieutenant."

"Was he the man with the eyepatch you introduced me to last week?" she asked.

Lady Delia nodded. Her voice filled with sympathy. "Poor William lost his eye to the same sniper who tragically cut short Lt. Dunne's noble life. He's never really forgiven himself for being the one to survive. I thought the two of you might have something in common."

"I'm not sure I'll be in London that long." Cleo clenched her fists at the offer. She refused to look her benefactress in the eye, turning instead to her best friend. "Sera, do you think you could talk to my Aunt Martha for me? She's talking about going home early to Dorset. And I'd rather not return to East Chatham right now. Chilton is not pleased with me lately."

Sera studied her wary friend. The old fear and curious hatred lurked beneath her sky blue eyes. Yet, for some reason, Sera sensed the ill will between Chilton and his sister had turned irreparably worse. "You know you can always stay with me, Cleo."

"My brother would take immense exception to that," she divulged. "He's not a fan of your husband."

"Then you must allow me to assist you, Cleo dear," Lady Delia intruded. "I'm certain I could talk some reason into Chilton for you. He is a friend of my husband's, after all. Edward's friends can be difficult, but helpful most of the time."

The offer earned a long measuring stare from Cleo. "Thank you, Lady Delia," she accepted hesitantly. "My brother has taken a hard line on certain issues of late."

"Namely my marriage?" Sera added wryly. "Chilton isn't the only one of my neighbors to condemn Gabriel and myself."

"Speaking of which, isn't that your sister-in-law with Lady Athelridge and Lady Sutton?" Lady Delia waved down the rose-lined path.

Sera froze at the sight of the approaching trio. Lady Athelridge and her cousin flanked Beryl on a stroll through the gardens. From the way their smiles turned frigid as they approached, Sera assumed her haughty neighbors belatedly realized who stood beside their local hero.

After a polite nod, Lady Athelridge ignored Sera to focus on the dazzling viscountess.

"I understand you and your husband have decided to spend the rest of the Season in London, Lady Chillingworth," she stated conversationally. "Didn't you mention taking a trip to Brussels this summer?"

Lady Delia's smile relieved a bit of the tension in the air. "I fear my husband's business has kept him unavoidably detained," she replied. "But it gives me more time to spend with my latest protégés. Miss Athelstan is still occupying many fancies for marriage. And of course, the new Lady Blackstone here is charming all the ton, aren't you Sera dear?"

At the mention of Sera's name, the three visiting ladies blushed. Lady Athelridge and Lady Sutton shared gazes of condescension with each other. Sera ignored them. Her sole attention was paid to her conspicuously quiet sister-in-law.

Beryl flustered uneasily beneath a flower-trimmed bonnet. Her hands twisted in the folds of her reticule. She seemed riddled with angst and confusion. Helplessly, her green eyes stared at Sera. Words edged her still lips, but something kept her from speaking.

Her sister-in-law's continued silence hurt Sera more than she could express. She hadn't spoken to any of her family members in over a month. Out of spite at first and then time had drawn an impenetrable wall between her and her family. A wall none seemed inclined to break.

"We should be going," Lady Sutton decreed in her haughtiest voice. "Sir Adrian would be upset if he knew we kept his wife dawdling. If you'll excuse us ladies."

Before anyone could object, the East Chatham regulars hustled their silent charge away.

She stared after her sister-in-law. She wanted to call out to Beryl and stop her, yet she kept her silence.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sera saw Cleo's gaze fill with helpless compassion.

Lady Delia, by contrast, seemed to study the scene with the amusement of a shrewd cat. She fluttered her peacock fan with a thoughtful stare.

"Oh my, Virginia!" called out a familiar jovial voice. "Look who we have here. Good afternoon, Lady Blackstone. Socializing with your friends again, I see?"

Belatedly, Sera noticed her three dazzling admirers. Lady Greystone, Lady Darrington and Lady Pennington dressed in all the hues of the garden. The marchioness sparkled in blue, her cousin charmed in golden yellow, and the dark-haired Glorianna Pennington wore the red of a rose.

"Good afternoon, Countess," Sera greeted warmly. She was still unaccustomed to the dashing Pennington circle paying her such notoriety. "We were just touring the roses while they were still in bloom."

"The prospect of their aging saddens you?" the Sparkling Lady Greystone asked. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes gleamed shrewdly. "Forgive me for noticing, Lady Sera, but you seemed most unhappy when I first saw you a moment ago."

Sera blushed at the observation. She hoped she was getting better at concealing her emotions. Like her ultra-secretive husband who never seemed to confide what he was feeling.

In Sera's silence, Lady Delia answered for her. "We were just visiting with some of our neighbors."

Cleo added in grim honesty, "They have singular opinions about certain things."

"I see," Lady Greystone hummed thoughtfully. Her sapphire gaze focused inquisitively on Sera. "Wasn't that your sister-in-law, I saw? Lady Beryl Montgomerie, I think?"

Mutely, Sera nodded. It seemed just mentioning her family brought silence to her lips.

"Lady Beryl?" Lady Pennington pondered aloud. "She's the charming young lady who said all those delightful things about me, isn't she Lady Sera? You must introduce me to her," she encouraged.

"Lady Sera is not exactly in the position to do that, I fear," Lady Delia interrupted chattily.

Her comment earned the eagle glare of the countess. A glare that seemed oddly cold to Sera.

"Oh, and why is that?" quirked Lady Pennington.

Sera blushed. "It's a complicated story."

"It seems the Montgomeries are opposed to our dear Sera's impulsive marriage," Lady Delia breezed. "They're a stubborn blue-blooded lot, but I'm certain Blackstone will win them over eventually."

The Pennington ladies glared at the gossipy admission. Then their friendly gazes turned to Sera.

"I'm sure Lady Chillingworth is right," the ashen-haired Lady Darrington reassured.

"My grandfather was not pleased at first with my choice in husbands either," Lady Greystone continued. "I think he feared losing me. But now he is one of Greystone's staunchest supporters. And he dotes on his great grandson."

The Countess added sagely, "Time heals many wounds, Lady Sera."

Sera smiled at the unexpected support, unsure exactly what else she should say. In truth, the distance between her and her family was only one of her problems. It was the distance in her marriage that troubled Sera the most. Five weeks of marriage had only convinced her the chasm was growing.

Gabriel was indulgent and encouraging in an almost irritatingly perfect way. While he seemed to descend further and further into his world of midnight meetings, she was sent to frolic. He denied it, but she knew something dreadful was responsible for the scowl on his face every time he came home from his errands.

As if echoing her thoughts, Sera noticed the icy tension between the entertaining countess and Lady Delia. Almost bitterly, the two women glared at each other.

"What's this I hear about Lord Chillingworth?" the countess taunted. "My friends tell me he is conspicuously absent from the balls because he is busy sulking in his clubs."

"My husband doesn't sulk, madam," Lady Delia curtly retorted. Her eyes blazed with quiet fury. "At the moment I believe my Edward is preoccupied with a special project of his. He often has those time to time."

"Oh, and what project is that?" inquired Lady Darrington.

"Oh, some such," Lady Delia dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I don't pester him for details. Whenever Chillingworth's preoccupied, it just leaves me with more time to entertain myself with my friends."

Her smile turned brilliant and cunning. "Which reminds me dears, I was thinking of holding a country social in East Chatham next week."

She beamed inviting eyes over her fan. "And of course, I'd love for you and your friends to come Lady Greystone." Lady Delia caught the entertaining countess's jealous eye. "Perhaps I might even be able to produce an affair to rival one of yours, Countess."

"Perhaps," Lady Pennington hummed with a touch of speculation.

The viscountess snapped her fan shut with excitement. "Excellent!" she chimed. "With Blackstone and his angel there, plus the dazzling Pennington ladies, my meager social will be a veritable crush."

Sera frowned. "I'm not certain that will be possible, Lady Delia."

The viscountess looked at her in mock horror.

Sera chewed her lip. "My husband is busy these days and I've already imposed on him enough. Until he's finished whatever he's working on, I don't think we can leave London."

"You simply must come, Sera!" Lady Delia insisted. "While our husbands are busy toiling over their private affairs, it behooves us to indulge our whims. Surely, you'd like to see your home again."

Mention of her home made Sera pale. She reminded herself for the umpteenth time she should be happy. She had made her choice. She was the Countess of Blackstone. She had an attentive husband, money, position and popularity. She even had loyal friends to stand beside her. But her family was still distant. And Gabriel....

It seemed even Sera's trusted guardian angel was keeping her at a safe distance. She was confused, wary and caught on the tentative border of contentment and unease.

Hesitantly, Sera agreed. "I'll speak to my husband about it, Lady Delia. Perhaps I can convince him to take a break."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

GABRIEL STALKED into the Gentleman's Arms Club in the bustle of the afternoon. The posh establishment was known to cater to a particular highbred lot: blue-bloods and army heroes from the Southern counties of England. It was also a favorite haunt of his intended prey of the day.

A dozen glaring male eyes followed the blackguard's progress through the front door. Defiantly, he ignored them as he settled at the bar and ordered his customary brandy. He was lingering over the drink when a familiar voice echoed in his ear.

"What are you doing here, Blackstone?"

"Consuming a beverage at the moment, Lord Chillingworth," Gabriel retorted. Like many of the notable East Chatham regulars, the popular viscount had adopted an annoying dislike for his neighbor. Rumor said the war hero was silently jealous over his loss of an audience to Gabriel's charming wife. "I'm surprised to find you here at this hour. Aren't you usually over at Manton's practicing your fighting skills?"

"At least I used them in a noble endeavor," the viscount gritted coldly. "You do remember the War, Blackstone? Or were you too busy cavorting with whores and pirates to notice such a thing?"

"I assure you, it was difficult to escape the War, no matter which side you found yourself," Gabriel grimly retorted. "Death has a peculiar stench, especially on the massive scale as war. But it is over now. I'm sure people are tired of hearing about it. Especially when it is the same glorious stories retold over and over again."

The viscount seemed to chortle with silent rage. "You must be damn proud of yourself, Blackstone."

"Oh, why must I?"

"All Society is abuzz with how you manipulated the gossip about your marriage to the Montgomerie chit," the viscount seethed. "You should have been denounced a debaucher and a kidnapper, but you got away with it, didn't you?"

"My wife isn't a chit, Chillingworth," Gabriel chided. "I suggest you watch your tongue unless you wish me to challenge you into another scandalous rumor."

"You won't fight me, Blackstone," Chillingworth jeered knowingly. "The same as you cowered away from her brothers in East Chatham, you have no interest in fighting a duel over the lady."

"She was my neighbor at the time," Gabriel qualified. "Now she is my wife. I will do what I must to protect her and her honor."

"I suppose that's why you're still living your blackguard ways?" the viscount challenged menacingly. "Where are you spending your nights while Society is delighted with your angelic bride, Blackstone?"

Gabriel suppressed a guilty twinge at the accusation. He had taken to using disguises to peruse the secrets of the stews. His nightly searches for Bixby and Latham's contact had gone unfulfilled, but Dumond and the Angel were blissfully unaware of his moves.

Or so he hoped.

Only Sera and his staff knew he was often detained for late night meetings. Society had been fooled more than once into believing he was merely tardy as he met his popular bride at the evening's entertainments. He learned long ago the best way to deter rumor was to boldly ignore it.

"I have no idea what you're on about Chillingworth," Gabriel dismissed. "Aside from accompanying my wife, I have been attending my estate affairs. I am a reformed rogue, if you haven't heard. Marriage suits me."

"Another clever disguise, is it?" goaded the viscount. "You always were a bastard of deception."

Something slimy slithered down Gabriel's throat. He swallowed another mouthful of brandy to burn out the bitter taste.

"Exactly what is that supposed to mean, Chillingworth?"

"Nothing in particular. Just that you are accustomed to outmaneuvering your enemies." The viscount's voice took on a low, conspiratorial tone. "But be warned, Blackstone. In the end, no disguise can hide us. The angel of death always knows us by name."

Gabriel paused in mid-swallow. His thirst suddenly died in his throat. Very carefully, he set the half-empty glass down on the bar.

By the time he turned around to face the viscount, the man had vanished. In his place approached three familiar newcomers to the club.

Like three raging bulls in gentleman's attire, the Montgomerie brothers charged forward. Adopting his cavalier grin, Gabriel tipped his glass in mock greeting.

"Good afternoon, gentleman. Will you join me in a glass of brandy. Or do you prefer port, Thornbridge?"

"I would prefer to know why you summoned me," the earl answered tightly.

"What have you done to our Sera?" accused the youngest brother.

"My wife is just fine, thank you for asking Sir Adrian." Gabriel surveyed the furious expressions of his adversaries. As expected, the fair-haired Cassius seemed on the verge of violence. No doubt, he was mentally measuring Gabriel for a coffin.

"You're deliberately trying to bait us, aren't you?" the warmongering brother hissed. "If anything happens to my sister, I will personally take it out on your hide. Duel or no duel."

At the mention of a challenge, voices in the crowded gentleman's club abruptly hushed. Curious eyes turned toward Blackstone and his latest confrontation.

Gabriel calmly sipped his brandy. His words were quiet and commanding. A faint murmur over glass. "Unless you wish your sister to be assailed with yet more troubling gossip at the next ball, I suggest we take this discussion to the next room."

The bar patrons grumbled when Gabriel led his querulous in-laws to the small library reserved for tantalizing discussions.

Gabriel relaxed within one of the four leather chairs gathered around the fireplace. He watched the Montgomeries grumble their way into the room. Only Thornbridge deigned to sit directly opposing him; the younger brothers stood sentry by the fireplace.

"You never answered Thornbridge's question," Adrian reminded. "What's the meaning of this summons?"

"You said it was in Sera's best interest that we all come," Thornbridge added. His eagle gray eyes were hard and shrewd. "Why?"

"Because I've decided this foolishness has gone on long enough," Gabriel pronounced. "And since no one else seems inclined to end it, I must."

"What foolishness?" Cassius growled.

Gabriel sipped his drink. His eyes lingered over each stubborn Montgomerie a long defining moment. "My wife can no more deny her family than you can deny her."

Cassius chortled in smug dissension. "So you come crawling for our support after all, Blackstone? What is it you're after?"

"You said you had no need of Sera's dowry or our approval," Thornbridge remarked. "Has that changed?"

Gabriel frowned. "This isn't about me. Are you all so obsessed with your reputations that you no longer care what effect your continued resentment has on your sister?"

"Society doesn't give a damn what we think of our sister's marriage," raged Cassius. Resentment filled his voice. "You should be complimented. The way you used Sera to woo the support of Lady Pennington's circle was impressive. Now all Society believes your traitorous marriage to be a lovematch worthy of Shakespeare."

"I can take little credit for what my peers believe," Gabriel dismissed. "My bride is aptly recognized for her charm and romantic eccentricities."

"You are a clever manipulator, damn you," hissed Adrian. "Sera has no idea what kind of scoundrel you are, does she? You've used her to resurrect your own sordid reputation. If you weren't such a coward, I'd challenge you myself!"

Gabriel sighed in frustration. He looked at the brothers as if they were schoolyard bullies riling themselves for a fight. "I will not duel with any of you, so you may cease your posturing, gentlemen. It's only creating embarrassing gossip for you among the bloodthirsty of the ton."

"What are you afraid of?" Cassius prodded. "Have you so little honor that you'd rather hide behind a naive girl then die a noble death for her?"

Gabriel surveyed his brother-in-law for a second. "Be careful what you wish for, Montgomerie. I have never lost a duel. And at the moment, nothing would please me more than putting a bullet in that overbloated ego of yours."

"Then face us at dawn and put an end to this debate," Adrian taunted dangerously.

"It never ceases to amaze me what fools old soldiers become," Gabriel jeered. "You'd think the taking of one life would sicken you forever of the task." He narrowed his gaze. "Let me make myself perfectly clear gentlemen, under no circumstances will I fight any of you. As much pleasure as it would give me to shake some sense into those thickheaded minds of yours, my hands are tied."

"Why?" Thornbridge pressed. His eyes narrowed in speculation. "What are you truly after, Blackstone? What deception are you plotting against our sister now?"

"I don't know what you mean," Gabriel lied. "Sera is my wife. Unfortunately, she loves each of you, despite your highhanded attitudes. I would hardly be an accommodating groom if I was obliged to harm one of my bride's brothers, would I?"

"You expect us to believe you actually care about Sera's feelings for us?" Adrian mocked. "If you truly cared, then why are you keeping her from seeing or speaking to her own family?"

"If you remember," Gabriel countered smoothly. "Disowning you was Sera's impulsive idea."

"One you don't support?" Thornbridge queried.

"Of course he doesn't support it," Cassius hissed. "What groom would want a wife without so much as a family name to enhance his own connections? Sera is a pariah without us."

Gabriel surged with protective fury. "I would've married Sera if she was a penniless beggar, and she would have charmed her peers all the same." He pronounced tightly, "For the last time Montgomerie, I want nothing from your family. Blackstones have fared well regardless, of the pompous criticism of their neighbors. Sera will do just as well if not better than my mother in my house."

"Sera as the mistress of the Sultan's Palace?" Cassius sounded horrified. "Exactly what I'd expect a blackguard to recommend as a noble duty for the country innocent he seduced."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed on his small-minded brother-in-law. "Say what you will about me. I'm content to suffer your loathing, but I must confess I am appalled you'd let that ill will fall so easily on your sister." He turned a beckoning glare on the eldest. "Thornbridge, I expected better of you and your illustrious family. Surely Seraphina doesn't deserve the hatred I'm hearing."

"We love Sera, dammit!" bellowed Adrian. "We always doted on her until you stole her away from us. She's our little sister for God's sake."

"Ah, I see. And this love for your chattel is what drove you to merely walk away when she threw a temper tantrum and disowned you?" Gabriel mocked. "Forgive me, I find it hard to believe loving brothers would abandon their sister to a man they believed an unscrupulous rake."

"Damn you, we never abandoned Sera," Thornbridge seethed. "I've had my eyes on you every day since you kicked us out of your townhouse. If she hadn't been so ridiculously adamant about staying under your spell, I would have gladly rescued Sera from you weeks ago."

"So I noticed," Gabriel shrewdly acknowledged. "Your penetrating stares have burned more than one hole in the back of my evening coats. But if you don't mind the criticism, you have a poor way of showing your concern for your sister."

"We didn't ask your opinion on the matter," Cassius gritted.

"Sera made her choice," Adrian grumbled.

"We haven't publicly condemned her for it," Thornbridge declared.

"Not that she'd care if we did," Cassius concluded bitterly.

Studying the miserable brothers, Gabriel recognized a familiar trait. It was one he saw in Sera whenever he attempted to broach the topic of her quiet family feud. Stubbornness and defensiveness defied all attempts to understand and compromise. The problem seemed insurmountable to the Montgomeries, but obvious to Gabriel. Neither side wanted to admit defeat, which meant an enforced surrender was needed.

"I've learned quite a lot about your sister since our marriage," Gabriel began conversationally. He swirled his brandy in his glass. "Despite her romantic nature, she is loyal and stubborn. A trait I gather she learned from you three. She may protest she cares nothing for the opinions of others, but Sera is constantly seeking acceptance. Especially from those she cares most about. When she doesn't get it, she gets hurt and withdraws. It leaves her vulnerable."

"To bounders like you?" Cassius taunted.

"Your sister's trust and loyalty is an unexpected gift I value more than my life," Gabriel declared. "I dote on her, you might say." He smiled whimsically at his dour faced in-laws.

Then Gabriel grew succinctly serious. "Which brings me to why I'm here. Simply put, I've noticed Sera is not as happy as she should be. I believe she's homesick for her family, but too stubborn to admit it."

"We miss her, too," Adrian confessed mournfully. "My wife hasn't smiled at me in a month, Uncle won't stop grumbling, and our nephew refuses to talk to his father."

Thornbridge closed his fist in helpless frustration. "Sera made her choice. I can't undo it for her."

"No," Gabriel agreed. "But you can quit avoiding her. This childish game has gone on long enough. The whispers of a silent feud are growing annoying."

"You should have thought of that when you barred your house to us, Blackstone," Cassius denounced. "Your arrogant servants had the audacity to try sending us away without even seeing if our sister was alive and well after she abruptly disappeared from her bed."

"Sera became my wife and my responsibility that night," Gabriel countered smoothly. "My orders were to prevent you or anyone from taking her out of my care. You were never barred from visiting her. Let alone staying in the same room as her in whatever social your paths crossed."

"Sera's just as likely to run from us as we from her," Adrian grumbled. "She avoided us an entire month in East Chatham just because Thornbridge challenged you."

"Then I suggest you meet your sister in a place she can't run from," Gabriel advised. "And when you do you might try talking to the woman she's become instead of shouting at the girl she once was. Sera is a fascinating young lady if you take the time to listen to her."

"So we noticed," Thornbridge admitted wryly. "She gathers an even bigger crowd than the Chillingworths used to. Exactly how do you expect us to corner Sera without every gossipmonger in the ton relaying every sentence?"

All three brothers gazed inquisitively at Gabriel.

"If your digestion could stand it, I'm confident my housekeeper can make space for you and the rest of Sera's family at dinner."

"Tonight?" Cassius prodded.

Gabriel nodded.

"Then it seems we have no choice," Thornbridge conceded amidst a long, measuring stare. "If what you say is true, Sera needs us."

Gabriel downed the last of his brandy, defying his brother-in-law's speculative silence. The younger Montgomeries turned from anger to anticipation. Satisfied, Gabriel stood. "Then if you'll excuse me gentleman. I have other business to attend to."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

THE HALL CLOCK struck seven when the townhouse doors opened on Lighting Street.

"Gabriel, you're home!" Sera chimed as she ran down the steps.

He wearily handed his cloak to Dunstan; Gabriel's mood lightened the instant he caught the angelic blur whirling into his arms. Sera kissed him heedless of their audience. It was meant to be a sweet indulgence, but his bride's natural exuberance teased him to return the caress.

He drank her satisfied sigh as he deepened the kiss. Sera had become accustomed to her passionate nature. Gabriel hummed seductively, reminded of their nightly indulgences. He was finding his marriage bed even more enticing than the most lavish of courtesan's charms.

Before he was enticed to abandon his plan for the evening, Gabriel ended the kiss.

In the background, Dunstan tried to make himself look busy while hiding a knowing smirk. Sera, however, stared at her husband with blatant charm. Her sudden happiness intrigued him. He hadn't seen that bright smile on her face in a long while.

"What has you so pleased, love?"

"You're home," she answered simply. Thoughtfully, Sera chewed her lip. Her voice turned vaguely hesitant. "I just miss you when you go out for the day. Especially when you leave so early in the morning I don't get a chance to say good-bye."

A pang of guilt hit Gabriel. He sensed his secretary's knowing glare on him. Dunstan hadn't failed to browbeat him with Sera's plaguing questions about his troubling business concerns. His friend was under the impression she felt left out by his secrets. Defiantly, Gabriel reminded himself he needed to protect her from his world of treachery.

"I'm sorry my business takes me away from you so much, love," he soothed. "Hopefully, it will be concluded soon. Then I'll take you home to Mirabella. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Sera?"

"I still can't believe I'd be mistress of that glorious place." She smiled whimsically. "What dreams would I conceive inside a fairy tale castle?"

"Any you wished, love." Gabriel grinned appreciatively. "I promise we'll go home to East Chatham soon." He added in a gentle tone, "I know you're homesick."

She chewed her lip and looked away. "Gabriel, there is something I wanted to ask you, about East Chatham." She waited for his attentive nod. "Lady Delia invited us to a country party at her husband's estate next week. Do you think we could go?"

"Next week?" Hesitation filled Gabriel. His instincts sounded an alarm. "Is her husband aware of the plans?"

"I don't know," Sera admitted. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Lady Delia did say Chillingworth was busy with some project. I think she was planning the party as a diversion for herself. She invited Lady Pennington and her friends as well. Lady Delia seems inclined to outdo Lady Athelridge and her cousin, I believe."

Sera gleamed with playful satisfaction. Gabriel's frown darkened to a scowl.

"I suppose I could just go with Cleo if your business requires you to stay in London." Sera frowned over the possibility.

Gabriel traced the lines of her upturned smile. "I'm sorry, love. I know you're anxious to go home and see your old friends. Your menagerie of pets must miss you."

"Chalmers dotes on them," Sera protested. "Cleo told me before she left, he was adopting the kittens. They must be nearly full grown by now."

"You gave up a lot to marry me, didn't you, love?" he prodded. "I wonder if you regret it."

Honesty poured through Sera's amber eyes. "Not a moment."

"I do," he contradicted. "At least the circumstances of our marriage. I would have preferred a less scandalous ceremony. One that didn't drive a rift between you and your family. I blame myself for that, love."

"But you didn't do anything wrong, Gabriel! My brothers just didn't understand or listen. They are stubborn, over-confident—"

"And cursed with the same impulsive nature that led you to marry me?" Gabriel countered deftly. Expertly twisting the argument in his favor, he continued. "Love, you are my wife, but you will always be a Montgomerie at heart. If your brothers were impulsive and dictatorial, blame it on their fear for you. After all, you did fall in love with a notorious blackguard."

Sera's mouth opened in automatic protest.

Stubbornly, Gabriel nullified her rigid denial with a determined glare. "Your brothers wouldn't have gone to so much trouble of chasing you down that day or hounding us since, if they didn't care about you. Certainly, their breach of calm didn't earn you disowning them out of hand."

The mutiny in Sera's expression collapsed in a helpless frown. Her voice echoed with defeat and pain. "I was just hurt and angry at the time," she confessed. "I'm used to my brothers bellowing at me, but they'd never been so cruel before."

"Given the circumstances of your departure that night, they had reason to be upset."

"I know," Sera grumbled. "I realized everyone was just overreacting. I would have apologized weeks ago, but we keep avoiding each other. Even Beryl can't seem to talk to me anymore."

"In the bitterest of feuds, someone has to make the first move."

As if ominously echoing Gabriel's tactful declaration, the front doorbell rang.

Confused, Sera looked between the door and her husband. "Are you expecting someone?"

"I invited a few dinner guests," he informed. Then Gabriel beamed a wry smile at his secretary. "If I were you Dunstan, I'd put on your most humble smile before you open that door."

With a sardonic groan, the secretary admitted the surly guests. The Montgomerie clan descended on the foyer like a pack of anxious bears.

The eldest bear was the first to speak.

"Before you start throwing another tantrum, Seraphina, your husband invited us to dinner and we're staying until we've said our peace."

"Thornbridge, I didn't invite you to browbeat my wife," Gabriel warned.

"What does he mean, you invited them?" Sera raised her voice in annoyance. "Why didn't you tell me, Gabriel?"

"We're your family Sera," protested Adrian. "Whether you like it or not."

"Don't remind me," she gritted sarcastically. Sera's hands flew to her hips. "I believe I told you already that when I married I became a St. Clair."

"It doesn't matter what your name is Blossom," discounted her Uncle Silas. "Family sticks together even if it means tolerating each other's choices, or mistakes."

"You can't throw us out of your life, Sera," Cassius demanded.

"We won't let you," added Thornbridge. "No matter how much you rant and rave."

"I told you before, until you accept my marriage, I want nothing to do with you." Sera defiantly tapped her toe. "Have you changed your minds about my husband?"

In turn, each brother grumbled in frustration. Tension filled the room. Sister opposed brothers in silent standoff for what seemed an eternity.

The silence ended when Sera's demure sister-in-law gave her husband a sharp jab in the shoulder. Dutifully, he stepped forward.

"Blackstone isn't our choice for your husband," Adrian grumbled. "But you're old enough to make your own decision."

"Regardless," Thornbridge interrupted. "You may be his wife, but you'll always be our sister. It's our job as brothers-in-law to ensure he dotes on you. Sera, how could you ever think I would put honor above my responsibility to you? I don't give a damn what Society thinks. I just wanted to protect you. You took a good ten years off my life the night you vanished and reappeared as Blackstone's wife."

Sera's hardened expression softened. "I'm sorry, Magnus. I wanted to explain, truly, but you never gave me the chance. Gabriel didn't lure me away, as you think. He saved me from my own foolishness."

With that, it seemed the stubborn Montgomerie walls began to crumble. The brothers and their uncle shuffled with mumbled groans of confession. Sera bordered on tears and her pregnant sister-in-law gave into the misty urge.

Beryl rushed forward and embraced her sister-in-law. Her words were fraught with sorrow and recrimination. "Oh Sera, I felt just awful earlier at Vauxhall," she confided. "Lady Athelridge and her cousin are so jealous of you. I finally got so sick of their insults, I threatened to sic father on them."

"You didn't." Sera grinned.

Beryl nodded triumphantly. "I wanted to talk to you, but I feared you'd turn me away. Or think I was just ingratiating myself to your new friends. I suppose you don't need to be Lord Lacey's wife to be popular."

Sera erupted with laughter. "Beryl, I'm such a ninny for not talking to you. I wanted to ask you how you were. And the baby, is he kicking yet?"

"Up a storm," Adrian added with a playful yawn. "He's keeping us awake almost as much as Beryl's round of entertainments."

"Don't forget poor little Julias," Uncle Silas added. "The lad's heartbroken since you married, Blossom. He refuses to come home from school until you do."

"Chalmers would be glad to see that," Cassius mentioned. "Even if just for a visit to reclaim that menagerie of yours. He's being run ragged and Odysseus cries at the door every night for your return."

"My butler is threatening to quit, Seraphina," Thornbridge added playfully.

"He's been threatening that since Mama and Papa hired him to look after us, Magnus," Sera retorted. "He grumbles a lot, but he secretly loves challenges."

"Challenges?" echoed Uncle Silas. "Take it from an old soldier, Blossom, your menagerie is a conquering army. Napoleon would've won if he'd recruited them."

"No," Adrian countered playfully. "All he needed was for Lady Victoria to thwart Wellington's cause. Blossom, now that you're an old married woman, maybe you can join my wife in giving our brother some romantic advice," he added with a wink. "Cassius seems to need it."

"I do not," the brother grumbled.

"Oh yes, you do," Beryl admonished. "It's shameless the way you've been ignoring her lately. She'll cut you direct if you don't shape up."

Gabriel smiled as he watched the Montgomerie clan fall into their comfortable family debate. With a discreet nod, he urged Nellie to usher the group into the Dining Room.

Satisfaction filled him at the sight of Sera's teasing smile. She was enjoying the good-natured ribbing of her bachelor brother. So much so, she barely registered she was the last to enter the Dining Room unaccompanied.

"How many arms did you have to twist to get them here?" Dunstan quipped when they were alone in the foyer.

"I thought I'd leave that to you," Gabriel retorted.

"Thanks." Dunstan frowned and handed his employer a missive. "This arrived a few minutes ago."

Noticing the distinctive seal, Gabriel tore open his superior's note. "Damn," he grumbled as he scanned the contents.

"Trouble?"

"You'll have to mind things here," Gabriel ordered as he reached for his cloak. "Keep them on their best behavior until I return."

Dunstan called as Gabriel stalked to the door, "What about Lady—"

"You're not staying?" Sera intruded from the dining room doors.

Her disappointed tone sent a twinge of guilt through Gabriel. He turned to face her with an apologetic frown.

"I have a short meeting, love," he explained.

"But you invited my family to dinner. It's rude not to stay."

"Something tells me your brothers will have a heartier appetite without me," he quipped lightly. "In any case, it's better if you have time alone to make peace with the brood. Dunstan and the staff will be here to help you."

His secretary scowled at the suggestion. Sera's frown deepened bitterly.

"I'd rather you stayed," she insisted. "Can't your meeting wait until later? You were out all day."

Gabriel kissed away his wife's bitter frown. "It won't take long, love," he promised as he reached for the door again. On the threshold, he called, "I'll be back before dessert."

Chapter Thirty

HE'D BE lucky to return home before Sera went to bed.

Ship bells and tavern revelry serenaded Gabriel's grim thought. With the silence of a spy, he climbed the rickety stairs of a decrepit rooming house. Only a few hanging lanterns lit the narrow walkways of the ill-constructed building. It was a hovel worthy of a rat.

Worn wooden doors lined the narrow corridor of the top floor. The rooms were dark, undoubtedly because their occupants were still out for a night of carousing. Gabriel hoped his search would not prove fruitless, again.

This was the third hovel he'd been required to search as the evening grew late. His prey had turned infuriatingly elusive in the last few weeks. The longer he remained silent, the more Gabriel feared his enemies had silenced yet another important loose end.

Something scampered down the squalid hallway. A tiny mouse scurried under the farthest door as if beckoning Gabriel to follow.

Keeping his footfalls light, he listened to the faint murmur on the other side of the door. Muted light poured underneath casting shadows in an ominous pattern of a man's feet. The feet creaked against the floorboards.

Peeking through the keyhole, Gabriel glimpsed the familiar face of the occupant. A whiskey bottle in one hand, the rat-faced thief seemed absorbed in his jumbled method of packing.

Gabriel twisted the rusty doorknob, pushing the door open without a sound. He waited a moment for his prey to acknowledge him. When he was ignored, Gabriel closed the door with an audible click.

"Taking a little trip, Bixby?" he mildly noted.

The thief twisted toward the door, his whiskey bottle raised as a weapon. His eyes gleamed with terror and fury. "What do ye want, cove? Get out afore I throttle ye!"

Gabriel feigned a casual grin. "Business must be improving for you to travel so much, Bixby. What have you been stealing from vulnerable ladies lately?"

"Nothin'," snapped the thief. "I got outa the blackmailin' business months ago. Too much competition, if ye ask me, milord. I take it yer not sufferin' since ye chased me outa East Chatham?"

"You know as well as I do you failed to heed my warnings that night." Gabriel stalked forward. "I believe I promised a suitable reward for disobeying my request."

"What the devil are ye doin' 'ere?" Bixby railed, backing away. Whiskey spilled down his trembling hands. "I don't know nothin', cove. Yer wasting yer time with me. I jest want to git as far from 'ere as me legs can take me."

"So I've heard," Gabriel crooned. He surveyed the meager contents of Bixby's travel case. "One of my captains tells me someone of your description inquired about passage to the Colonies. I take it from your packing, you have given up on life in England?"

"Let me be, cove. I won't be a interferin' no more."

"Interfering in what, praytell?"

Bixby gulped another mouthful of whiskey. "I told ye, I don't know nothin'!" he slurred as he returned to his rushed packing. "Leave me outa it. I 'ad enough of yer cloak and dagger games."

Gabriel grabbed the thief by the shoulder. "If you ever want to leave this country alive, you'll tell me everything you know Ethan Bixby," he warned. "Beginning with who hired you."

The rat-man's beady eyes widened in horror. "If I tell ye that, I'm a dead man."

"There are many ways to die," Gabriel pronounced coldly. "I'm accustomed to helping the damned along to their hell. Now tell me what I want to know!" His voice turned savage, "Who hired you to steal the egg from Chilton Manor?"

Bixby blinked in confusion. His mouth twisted in a sly smirk. "Ye are clueless, aren't ye?" he mocked.

With a defiant shrug, Bixby twisted out of Gabriel's hold. He lifted his whiskey bottle to his mouth. "Tha' was me own job. Till ye messed it up." The thief flashed a disgruntled glare. "I coulda gotten some pretty blunt for tha' trinket. 'epled me poor sister's family out, I coulda."

"Or advanced your own gaming habits, more likely," Gabriel corrected knowingly. "The Wakerslys are all too happy to sell you out. You are quite friendless without me."

The thief bristled at the declaration. He turned his gaze out the window. "I take care of meself," he grumbled. "It's no' a crime. Things were goin' well till ye and that meddlesome chit started nosin' about. It's yer fault, no' mine. I didn't even want the job."

"What job? The one Rene Dumond hired you to do?"

Bixby nodded. His hands whitened gripping the half-empty whiskey bottle as if for comfort. "I didn't know what they wanted," he bemoaned. "I was jest supposed to take the chit to London. Then 'e gave me some blunt and a story to tell. I thought it was jest a bit of 'armless social corruption. Served ye right for meddlin' in a poor man's honest trade."

"Kidnapping is a capital crime." Gabriel gritted, "If anything had happened to the lady, I would've personally taken revenge on you."

"I didn't know what they truly intended, 'onest!" Bixby ran his pudgy fingers under his collar. His face turned red and sweaty. "I'm a thief, not a killer. Dumond's a sadistic bastard. I 'eard 'im talkin' to 'is whore 'bout the wench. I was ready to hightail it outa there afore ye showed up."

"Your employer must've been furious when his plan went awry."

Bixby snorted. "Aye, 'e and 'is partner went crazy. Dumond slit that redheaded whore's throat right afore me eyes. I thought I was next on 'is list, so I ran."

"Not very far, it seems," Gabriel drawled. "Why are you still in London?"

"Nowhere's safe from the Frenchman," Bixby declared over another mouthful of whiskey. His voice scratched in reply. "That's what I 'eard when I tried to set off for the Continent. 'e's got 'is 'ooks everywhere. Even in East Chatham."

Gabriel hummed speculatively. "What hooks?"

"The bastard's got a nice little operation going," Bixby answered. "Been quietly thriving since the War."

"What operation?" Gabriel pursued. His shrewd eyes narrowed in anticipation.

Bixby gulped another swig of whiskey. " 'is partner handles the trickier elements of the trade, I hear. And the two of them are up to more than just smuggling fine French silk, if ye know what I mean."

"Who is Dumond's partner?"

Bixby stared mutely into the distance.

Gabriel twisted his arm. "Answer me, dammit!"

The rat-man's beady eyes turned glassy and crazed. "Let me go!" Bixby howled, clawing his captor's arm.

Gabriel's grip hardened. "Tell me the name!"

"Git away from me! I'm tellin' ye nothin'. I don't know, I tell ye. Let me go!" With each impassioned plea, Bixby struggled more fiercely.

A mouse squeaked from the door. Bixby's gaze changed abruptly. Cloudy, inebriated eyes glared into the distance over Gabriel's shoulder.

Bixby shuddered in fear. "I won't tell," he shouted. "I promised I'd keep me mouth shut. Go away! Leave me alone!"

Gabriel shot a glance over his shoulder. Lifeless shadows danced on candle flame in innocuous silence.

At the same moment, Bixby twisted out of his grasp with the frantic force of a man being mauled by a monster. When Gabriel snapped his head forward, the thief was racing for the window ledge.

"Stop!" Gabriel bellowed.

In frenzied panic, the thief climbed onto the perilous ledge. His words came out rushed and terrified. "Leave me alone, I say. I said enough. I'm leaving England."

"Not that way, Bixby. Look down. You'll kill yourself, man." Gabriel reached out for the frightened man.

"The Angel of Death always knows your name," Bixby rambled as he wrestled free of Gabriel's grasp.

"No!" Gabriel shouted, but the rat-faced man thrust himself out of the window.

Bixby plummeted to the pavement four stories below at the same moment his empty whiskey bottle smashed ominously on the floor. The smell of poison mingled with the noxious fumes of death.

Chapter Thirty-One

SUNLIGHT illuminated Sera as she tiptoed into her husband's Study. Her mood dimmed the moment she spotted him at his desk. The shadows in his eyes seemed even darker in the daylight. He frowned at the missive in his hand.

Curious, Sera studied the uniquely feminine scrawl. "Who's Mrs. Romney?" she asked.

Gabriel scowled and crumpled the missive into his pocket. His expression softened the instant he met Sera's gaze. "No one of importance, love," he lied with a sensual smile.

"Is something wrong?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You're business kept you out much later than you said last night," she noted. "And you haven't been in a good mood since you returned. I'm beginning to worry, husband."

"There's no need," Gabriel dismissed. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her forehead. "If anything, I'm sorry I was delayed last night, sweetheart. All through my meeting, I found myself wishing I were here with you. I don't know what I'd do without you waiting for me, love."

The intensity of the words alarmed Sera. Through the sincerity, she sensed an almost wary need. "I'd rather be with you than waiting for you."

Gabriel grinned whimsically. "Does that mean you're no longer angry with me for my small deception last evening?"

Sera frowned at the reminder. "Poor Dunstan was just as put out with you as I was for inviting my entire family."

"My secretary likes surprises," Gabriel taunted. "It keeps him on his toes."

"My brothers kept on his nerves, I think," she admitted. "I've never seen anyone glare so much while smiling. If you're not careful, I think Dunstan would like to box your ears for telling him to act humble in front of them."

"And you, love?" he prodded. "Am I forgiven for manipulating a truce or should I protect my ears from my angel's wrath?"

Sera pursed her lips in thought. "I suppose you were only trying to help."

"And I succeeded?"

"Perhaps," she qualified. "Not that anyone apologized, but we didn't argue either. At least not much."

"I'm sorry I missed it. Your family is an exciting brood, when its members aren't rebelling that is."

Sera bit her lip at the playful taunt. "My brothers can be difficult at times, but they are there for me if I need them. Families share each other's burdens. All you have to do is ask, Gabriel."

She lifted her entreating gaze to his. "You are part of my family now. If you need assistance with anything, even business, my brothers and I could help. Magnus has a lot of friends in the Exchequer."

Gabriel's playful smile flattened. "I doubt Thornbridge could be convinced to help me do anything healthy, love."

"That's not true! My brothers are softening to you. Thornbridge admits you're not just a neighbor anymore. You're my family and therefore his."

"I'm surprised he didn't have indigestion grumbling that admission," Gabriel quipped.

"Family loyalty is important to my brother," Sera admonished. "By interfering, you showed him that it's important to you also. Like it or not, the St. Clairs and the Montgomeries are tied together now." Again, with a pointed intensity to her words, Sera encouraged, "You can trust us to help you and stand by you, Gabriel."

The naive insurance brought smiles to his shadowy eyes. "Do you trust me, love?"

"With all my heart."

Gabriel kissed her, then whispered against her silken lips. "Your trust and love is the only gift I desire from your family, love."

Sera sighed in frustration. Getting her husband to confide the reason for the shadows in his eyes was more difficult than convincing her brothers to stop scowling at the mention of his name. Just as she used on her recalcitrant family, she kept her tone light and affectionate.

"Mama said husbands and wives trust and love each other," she crooned against her husband's chest. "Concerns of one are concerns of the other. You helped me when I was troubled over my family, can't I help you?" She beamed quizzical eyes at him. "With your business?"

Gabriel scowled at the question. "You have quite enough to worry about being my countess, Sera. Besides arranging shipping contracts is exceedingly boring and tedious."

"You could teach me," she encouraged.

He eased her off his lap. Sera wanted to pursue her quest, but the door swished open behind her.

"What is it, Dunstan?" Gabriel growled over his newspaper.

The secretary peeked into the room. He glared at his employer's back and beamed a pleasant smile on Sera. "Has your husband apologized for last night or is Blackstone still mulling over his paper too much to be humble?" he teased.

Sera hid her grin.

"Stop taunting my wife, Dunstan and tell me what you want," Gabriel harshly demanded.

"It wasn't your wife I was taunting," Dunstan scoffed. "I came to tell Lady Sera that her friends are here." His tone softened to her, "I just showed Lady Chillingworth and Miss Athelstan into your Sitting Room. The viscountess's carriage is waiting outside so don't dally too long."

Before she could reply, Gabriel sharply looked up. "Where are you going?"

"Shopping for Lady Delia's country party," she explained. "I saw a little violet bonnet Cleo said would be perfect for the blue chinoise walking dress Madame Claudette made me. What's the matter, Gabriel? Why are you frowning?"

In a matter of moments, her husband's scowl went from surprised to frigid. He exchanged a brief glare with his secretary sending Dunstan from the room with the same perilous expression. Sera didn't know whether to be terrified or infuriated by her husband's ever-changing mood.

"Gabriel, what is bothering you today?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to take you to Lady Delia's party," he advised grimly.

"Why not?"

Gabriel turned his attention back to the post with a nonchalant shrug. "My business requires my full attention at the moment, love. Shipping contracts can be complicated when there is competition."

"Competition from whom?"

He seemed startled by the poignant question. "No one you need concern yourself with," he evaded mildly. "It's a nuisance more than anything else. I fear until I can conclude things, I won't be able to take you out of London."

Sera frowned. "I suppose I could travel with Lady Delia and Cleo then."

"I prefer you stay here," he insisted. "Dunstan can escort you wherever you wish to go in Town."

"Gabriel, I don't need a bodyguard," she protested. "Unless," Sera hummed in thought, "you haven't heard from the blackmailer again, have you? If we found Bixby we could ease a lot of minds in East Chatham. Not to mention find Percy's egg and the rogue who betrayed him."

Gabriel shot a pair of harsh, commanding eyes at her. "Under no circumstances are you to pursue that reckless line of thinking," he warned. "It's caused us enough trouble already."

Sera bristled at the bitter tone. "Of course, I'm sorry our marriage came at such an untoward time." She twisted her fingers together. "If your competition worries you that much, I can understand why you don't want to leave town yet. I don't know how you can stand all those late night meetings."

He grasped her hands in his. His touch was soft and sensual. "It helps to know you're waiting for me, love," he crooned.

Sera suppressed the distracting sensations of his caress preferring to study her husband instead. He seemed to have trouble affecting his usual grace. Beneath the cavalier smile and commanding tone, turbulence dallied within the shadows of his eyes. Clearly, he was troubled by something. And even more evident, he refused to tell her what it was.

"Gabriel, do you trust me?"

He looked at her as if her question was absurd. "I trust you to give me your word, love. Don't let me keep you from your friends," he beckoned. "When my business is concluded, you can plan your own soiree for our country home, if you like."

With that gentle enticement, he kissed her soundly and shooed her out the door. Sera frowned as she left her husband's Study. His behavior worried her all the way upstairs.

Without so much as a hinted explanation, he had dismissed her and went straight back to work. Work that kept him out until all hours of the night. Work that troubled him in frightening and dangerous ways. Work with unseen competition that kept them both prisoners in London.

The doubts and suspicions plaguing Sera after their elopement surged to life. There was so much she didn't know about Gabriel. So much he kept hidden from her. He had lived a long time alone, she reminded herself. Alone at sea with only Dunstan and his mistress for companionship.

Marie Dumond.

The name seemed to taunt Sera from the shadows. She was a ghost. A mystery woman who held the secrets to Gabriel's past. A past, that like his present, he refused to talk about.

It didn't make sense to Sera that her husband's shipping business could keep him out so late at night.

Again, the doubts rallied inside her. She told herself Gabriel kept his own council because he was used to doing so. He cared for her. He trusted her word. He valued her love. But still he kept secrets.

Secrets too unbearable to share?

The silence was deafening to Sera. It seemed every time she asked her husband about his private life, he gracefully eluded her in the shadows. Shadows of the past. Shadows that begged to be explored and enlightened.

Sera's thoughts turned dangerous. She chided herself for the betrayal she pondered. Surely, there was some unwritten vow she had sworn when they married. Wives should not pry into their husband's lives. Lady Delia insisted a good wife waited patiently for a husband's council.

And his love? Sera wondered.

They had been married for nearly two months. Sera pledged her heart and loyalty to Gabriel long ago. God help her, she could not wait any longer for him to do the same.

Reaching for the door to her Sitting Room, Sera came to an ominous conclusion. If her husband insisted on languishing in the shadows, then she must go in to rescue him.

Chapter Thirty-Two

SHADOWS engulfed Sera as she concealed herself on a darkened street in Knightsbridge. In a hired hackney, she shielded herself with her borrowed cloak and messenger's disguise.

It was a peculiar place to await her husband. Part of her denounced the whim that encouraged her to follow him to this midnight meeting. Yet, his elusive behavior affirmed her insatiable desire to reveal the shadows engulfing her Gabriel.

He'd taken a hired hack to the distant, London borough. His path must be long and diverted for she lost him halfway there, but she knew his destination. Or rather feared it.

In her hand, she crumpled the missive she borrowed. He said Mrs. H.G. Romney was just a nervous captain's wife, but the woman's second late night missive had been filled with enough mystery to get them both out of their cozy bed.

Sera knew little of the woman, or her interest in Gabriel. Lady Delia and Cleo never heard of Mrs. Romney or her husband. That was odd in a town that knew everyone's name. There was only one explanation Lady Delia could fathom. Gabriel's troublesome captain's wife was really a lady with a dark past she wanted to conceal behind a widow's name.

The possibility brought a palpable fear to Sera. A fear that the woman was a former paramour, perhaps bent on blackmailing Gabriel for some dark secret or past indiscretion he found unbearable to confide. That would explain his worrisome behavior of late, and perhaps his distance.

Either way, Sera couldn't let the situation continue. Mrs. Romney's latest urgent missive confirmed her fears and hardened her intentions.

In elegant, scrolling script, the missive read: Mon chere, I need to see you. Come by midnight to keep the past buried.

Checking her timepiece, Sera registered the distant midnight chimes of Westminster. She looked down the street trying to locate a sight or sound of her husband.

Like an eerie moonlight shroud, the fog parted as he emerged a good pace down the lane. He traversed a block of small houses in a hasty, roundabout way. Then with one quick and wary glance behind him, he disappeared down the narrow alley across from her carriage.

Sera scrambled from her seat to follow. She tossed a coin to the driver promising more if he waited; then she darted across the street in pursuit.

The alley was full of fog, but Sera heard her husband's stealth footfalls whispering against cobblestone. The path cleared enough for her to glimpse him at the garden wall of a house. Appearing as if he had done it many times before, he found a convenient chink and thrust himself over the obstacle.

Sera tiptoed into the fog engulfing the alley, following him. Forgiving moonlight illuminated the slippery cobblestones for her. Drizzle made the garden wall glow with moisture and decay.

She shoved the tip of her boot into the convenient chink in the wall. She climbed as high as she could to peep over the side. The sight she was given inside the garden nearly made her fall.

Two dark figures conversed in the shadows beneath the tiny terrace of the house. Though Sera saw distant silhouettes, she recognized her husband standing beside an elegant woman.

Long, flowing curls flew in the breeze as the woman threw herself into Gabriel's arms. The sound of a plaintive sob caught Sera's ear on the wind. She would've felt compassion if Mrs. Romney didn't seem so familiar with her husband's embrace.

Standing like a rigid protector, Gabriel wiped the woman's tears with his handkerchief. It was a gesture Sera had only known him to do for her: his loving and trusting wife. Yet, here he was consoling another woman with devastatingly beautiful and sophisticated looks.

Sera quelled the sudden surge of jealousy. She reminded herself there must be a reasonable explanation for Gabriel's behavior. She watched and waited for him to give some sign why he was comforting his blackmailer.

On the wind, Sera heard her husband's voice. It was low and insistent, but not harsh or demanding as she expected. He promised Mrs. Romney something, but the exact words were muffled.

Desperate to hear, Sera climbed a little higher on the garden wall. Her knees dug against the jagged cracks inspiring sparkles of pain in her old injury. She ignored it, mesmerized by the sight of her husband with Mrs. Romney. A woman he didn't seem the least bit troubled to meet in the dark of night when he told his loyal wife he was "tending business".

A carriage clattered in the distance. Wheels raced by the alley while more rumbled slowly towards Mrs. Romney's small house. A cold, sensation of awareness teased Sera, but she refused to leave her precarious perch.

Her vision remained focused on the woman Gabriel deceived her to console as a matter of business.

In the pale moonlight, Mrs. Romney clutched his handkerchief as if it was a gift from her guardian angel. She beamed a grateful, loving smile at him. Then, to Sera's ultimate horror, she wrapped her arms around Gabriel's neck and kissed him.

Sera's weak knee erupted in pain and outrage. With a small shriek, she fell to the cobblestones in a confused heap. There was little time to recover. A cacophony of sound erupted on the street outside the Romney house.

A man's commanding voice raged on the wind in the direction of the approaching carriage. More voices, guttural and vicious, answered amidst the faint sounds of a struggle.

The night crackled with a battery of resounding pops that made Sera's ears sting and heart stop. Then an ominous silence answered. Sera's mind whirled with dangerous possibilities. She had never actually heard a street robbery in London, but it sounded as if that was exactly what was taking place out front.

For a moment, she opened her mouth to shout for Gabriel, but paused wondering if he was too busy consoling his mysterious friend. Sera suddenly felt vulnerably alone in the shadows of the alley. It only got worse.

A scant second later, two ragged men ran down the path toward her. They reminded her of feral wolves. The looks in their eyes were crazed and angry.

Sera glimpsed the smoking pistol in one's hand as the robbers charged toward her. There wasn't time to think or hide in the narrow alley. She quickly struggled to her feet and braced herself for attack.

A dark blur blinded her as it scaled the garden wall. Like an angry Goliath, Gabriel landed on the cobblestones before Sera. His impressive figure blocked the path between Sera and her would-be attackers.

From behind her husband's shoulder, Sera spotted the thief raise his pistol.

"Gabriel, look out!" In one long painful twist, Gabriel wrenched the weapon free of the man's hand. With the force of a giant, he sent him careening into the garden wall. The thief clattered senselessly to the ground.

His comrade blinked in morbid menace. Growling like a hunted beast, he lashed out at Gabriel with a rusty blade. Sera winced in warning, but her husband deftly avoided the blow. He snatched the villain's wrist, twisting it until the weapon fell.

The thief snarled, kicking and fighting with furious vigor. Sera's heart stopped when the thief wriggled free of his captor. With murderous eyes, he lunged for her.

He managed only two steps. Just like his friend, Gabriel pounded his skull against the garden wall.

While the unconscious villains languished at her feet, Sera met Gabriel's dark gaze.

The shadows in his eyes terrified her. Slowly, he surveyed her attire with a mixture of disgust and fury. He kept his lips flat in the grimmest frown she had ever seen. For a moment, she thought he might want to knock some sense into her like the thieves.

She did the only thing she could. Placing her hands on her hips, she glared back challenging him to speak, terrified of what might be said.

Mrs. Romney's panicked cry answered instead. The sound echoed ominously from the street. "Henry!" she wailed. "Mon dieu, Henry!"

Gabriel abruptly abandoned his silent glare at her. "Bloody hell," he grumbled as he gripped Sera's wrist and pulled her down the alley behind him.

Rounding the corner to the street, Sera edged around her husband's back. He firmly pushed her behind him into the shadows.

She poked him in the back to mark her displeasure at his gruffness.

"Blackstone!" shouted a familiar male voice. Dunstan sounded irritated and alarmed. "Where in the hell did you go? Those bastards were swarming all over here a minute ago."

Gabriel's response rippled with repressed rage. "I was tending to the details you were supposed to look after." Pointedly, he stepped aside to reveal Sera hiding in his coattails.

"Lady Sera, what are you doing here?" Dunstan reeled.

"Facing demented alley cats," Gabriel growled jerking his head toward the dark path.

That did it. Now both her husband and his secretary looked ready to kill her or lock her up. "Shouldn't someone do something to help that poor lady?" she asked to divert the angry male glares concentrated on her.

Defiantly, Sera shrugged out of her husband's hold and headed for the front of the house. She just glimpsed the melee of the carriage when Gabriel caught up with her. He said nothing, but gave her a warning squeeze and pulled her behind him as he walked toward the wailing feminine cries.

In the shadow of the carriage, the dark-haired Mrs. Romney knelt beside a fallen man. Crumpled on the sidewalk, the victim looked to be a middle-aged gentleman of modest means. His crisp linen shirt bled an eerie crimson, but his eyes fluttered open determinedly.

"Hush now, Charlotte," the man crooned gruffly. Despite the tenderness in his voice, his breath was labored. "I'm not ready for my deathbed. It's only a scratch."

"Henry, they shot you," Mrs. Romney cried. "It's my fault. Please don't leave me. Don't die, mon chere."

"I've had worse in the War, Charlotte," he insisted. "Blackstone, tell my wife to quit mourning me already."

Sera blinked in surprise at the term wife. Visions of the teary-eyed woman kissing Gabriel crossed her mind. She studied her husband carefully. He seemed to survey the Romneys with recrimination and familiarity.

"You're a damn fool Romney," Gabriel hissed. "What in the devil are you doing here?"

Henry turned pale to blush to pale again. Weakly, he answered, "We can't run forever, Blackstone. Man has to stand and fight sometimes."

"This isn't the War anymore, mon chere," Charlotte demanded. "Why didn't you listen to me? We should have stayed in Bath like Gabriel said."

"I'll not have that bastard decide your life for you, Charlotte," Romney roared beneath an ominous rattle in his chest. "No more, sweetheart." His eyes burned at Gabriel. "No more, Blackstone."

"Do you realize what you've done, you old fool?" Gabriel raged.

Charlotte answered with mysterious terror. "He's found us, hasn't he? He knows who I am?"

The question rippled with panic and horror. The Romneys clutched each other's hands, shivering like a hunted couple awaiting Gabriel's answer. His face was impassive, but the shadows in his eyes danced forebodingly.

Urgent footfalls resounded on the sidewalk behind Sera. Gabriel barely flinched as he called out behind him.

"Did you find them, Dunstan?"

"You sure you knocked them cold?" The secretary grumbled, "Nothing's back in that alley but starving cats. Their comrades must have circled around."

"Mon dieu!" Charlotte gasped. "His villains are everywhere. Gabriel, what are we going to do?"

The tension filling the air was surreal. For the first time, Sera considered her husband might be an actual guardian angel opposing the devil himself.

"Get Romney and his wife into the carriage, Dunstan," the earl quickly commanded. "We'll have to take them back to the house."

As if he'd obeyed the gruff order many times before, the secretary wordlessly did as he was bid. Sera tried to offer her help as Dunstan lifted the injured Romney into the carriage, but Gabriel refused to let her go. His grip turned almost painful as he pulled her aside a few steps.

One look at her husband's murderous glare made Sera tremble all over again. Bravely, she smiled at him. "Are you going to kill me or kiss me, Gabriel?" she jested. "I warn you, I just may faint if you keep glaring at me like that, husband."

"What in the name of heaven are you doing here, Seraphina?"

Oh Lord, she thought. Her husband was beginning to sound like her domineering brother. Reminding herself of the tawdry scene she had caught him within only a few minutes before, Sera matched Gabriel's angry glare. "I should ask you that. What are you doing sneaking over people's garden walls at midnight?"

"God dammit, Sera!" Gabriel hissed. "You don't belong here."

"Who are those people?" she persisted. "The Romneys? Who are they to you?"

"Someone I never wanted you to meet," Gabriel growled dismissively.

"Blackstone," Dunstan called from the driver's seat of the carriage. "Hurry up!"

"Gabriel, wait!" Sera protested as her husband dragged her toward the carriage. Her knee trembled precariously across the slippery cobblestones. "What's going on?"

"Later, Sera," he gritted as he picked her up and tossed her into the carriage.

He paused in the door with one last commanding glare at the occupants. "No matter what happens, the lot of you stay inside. We'll deal with this when we get to my townhouse."

The carriage door slammed shut on his words. Then with a violent shake of the cab, the driver seat rumbled as a second angry body climbed atop. The conveyance rattled quickly down the cobblestones in a hasty retreat through night fog.

Awkward silence surrounded Sera. On an opposing seat to the Romneys, she disguised a blush within her messenger attire. The costume seemed especially embarrassing considering the beautiful woman seated across from her.

Charlotte was dressed in gossamer silk, but her behavior made her seem even more angelic and ethereal. Mrs. Romney cradled her husband in her lap, tending his wounds as if they were her own.

Her touch was gentle and frantic. Love and concern etched the woman's sophisticated features. Sera realized the woman didn't appear to be the type to dishonor her husband with an illicit affair. And yet, she was so familiar with Gabriel. The memory of the black-haired beauty kissing her husband filled Sera with jealousy and curiosity. She stared at the woman wondering if she could shrink into the shadows completely.

Sera thought, at least she had her disguise to save her the embarrassment of a confrontation with the woman.

"Do you have a handkerchief?"

The question mortified Sera. She stared at Mrs. Romney in mute confusion.

"Your cravat would do if you don't mind parting with it from your clever disguise, milady," Mrs. Romney suggested amidst mild concern. "I need it to help staunch the blood from my husband's wound."

"Yes, of course," Sera stumbled as she wrenched free the garment.

The woman gathered it to her husband's chest. "Thank you, Lady Blackstone. Henry's a tough old soldier, but the bullet hit him deep. I do hope your husband hurries so we have time to fetch a physician."

"Gabriel, will do what he must."

"Yes, he always does," Charlotte nodded grimly. "You surprised him, I gather. Was he not expecting you tonight?"

Sera bristled, remembering his angry reaction to her forced investigation. Again, womanly prudence lost to her insatiable curiosity. "How do you know who I am, Mrs. Romney? Did my husband tell you about me?"

The dark-haired beauty smiled. "I knew the moment I saw you peeking over his back at us. It wasn't difficult to tell," she explained. "Gabriel is angriest when he's worried about someone he cares for. And you strike me as just the kind of female Blackstone would marry."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're unpredictable, like him," Charlotte decreed. Ominously, her unconscious husband groaned in his sleep. Mrs. Romney shifted the crimson-stained cravat over his heart. Her voice turned as frail as her expression. "You shouldn't have come here tonight, Lady Blackstone. He's too dangerous."

Sera felt the foreboding tension return. "Who is dangerous?" she prodded. "Who do you think caused thieves to attack your husband?"

"Not thieves," Charlotte intoned, "assassins." With an anguished shudder, she pronounced the name like the devil's. "Rene Dumond is to blame."

Sera's mouth dropped with memory of the one secret Gabriel refused to share with her. His former mistress, the one he was rumored to have betrayed and killed, was a Dumond. A ghost from his past come to life again, filling him with rage and terrifying shadows.

As if sharing Gabriel's secret terror, Charlotte paled at the sight of her husband's blood. "Rene is a devil," she blurted angrily. "He won't stop until all of us are dead. Including you and your husband, Lady Blackstone."

Chapter Thirty-Three

THEY DESCENDED on Lighting Street in a blur of ordered confusion. As if they'd done it many times before, Gabriel's staff barely blinked when the earl bounded home lugging a bleeding and unconscious man on his back. Trailing behind, Charlotte cried over her poor Henry's ashen face. In the Romney's wake, Sera followed Dunstan doing her best to look dignified despite her appearance as the secretary's unkempt protégé.

Only Gabriel seemed to mind her attire when he gruffly ordered her to her room. Sera chose instead to help Mrs. Jenkins and Nellie settle the injured Henry Romney in an upstairs bedchamber with his frantic wife.

A few minutes later, she escaped the foreboding tension filling the room on a mission of mercy. The virulent conversation in the foyer below stopped her on the landing above.

His back was turned toward the staircase, Sera's husband seemed far too intent intimidating his secretary to notice her. His back arched, hands fisted; he resembled a furious panther. He took out his anger on his prey. "I gave you a simple instruction," Gabriel hissed.

Defiantly, Dunstan crossed his arms and glared down his nose at his posturing friend. "I told you she was curious," he retorted crossly. "And clever. Nellie didn't even know she'd left until I'd sent her to check on the lady."

"I gave you the assignment of looking after her, Dunstan." Gabriel growled, "Do you have any idea what could have happened tonight?"

The savage intensity of the words made Sera and the walls seem to tremble.

"Nothing happened to her, Blackstone," Dunstan reminded in a calmer voice. "You jumped over that garden wall before anything did."

"Dammit Dunstan!" Gabriel roared. "If those bastards had gotten their hands on my—"

"Lady Sera!" the secretary blurted when he happened to glance up. The lopsided grin sprawled across his face and pointed nod subtly alerted his friend to the intrusion.

Slowly, ominously, Gabriel twisted toward the landing.

The look in her husband's eyes made Sera wish she could crawl inside the walls. Even from a distance, she could sense the dangerous shadows flaring to life in his gaze. He seemed cold, remote and bloody furious.

With an almost feral groan, he chided her. "Why are you lurking there, Sera?"

Her smile defied her anxious mood. "I'm not lurking," she corrected. "I was waiting for you to finish your discussion."

"Why?" Dunstan asked in a congenial tone. "Is something wrong?"

"Mrs. Romney is beginning to panic again over her husband," Sera admitted. "She's wondering why the physician isn't here yet."

Without removing his penetrating gaze from Sera, Gabriel commanded his secretary. "Get on to Sir Weatherby. See what's taking the man so long."

"Right." Dunstan headed for the door, then paused. His words were soft and not without affection. "Go easy on her, Blackstone. She didn't know."

With that, Dunstan fled into the night escaping the scene that was left to unfold. His friendly advice seemed to echo hollowly around them. Sera endured her husband's silent gaze until she was nearly insane with the desire to make him speak. And explain.

"Go to your bedchamber and change out of those ridiculous clothes, Sera," Gabriel commanded curtly. "Before I say something I will regret." Dismissively, the earl turned his back on her and disappeared into his Study.

Sera lingered on the landing above in stunned silence. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her fists turned white with realization and outrage. She had been ignored, glared at and ordered about enough for one night.

She raced down the stairs and threw open the Study door.

Pausing over a glass of brandy, Gabriel spun toward the noise. His eyes narrowed darkly. "I thought I told you to change out of those ridiculous clothes, Seraphina?"

With a defiant glare of her own, she slammed the door shut behind her. Sera crossed her arms like Dunstan a moment before. "You also said you'd answer my question later," she haughtily reminded. "We're home now, Gabriel. Start answering."

"Dammit Sera," he growled like a bear. "This isn't the time for questions. I want you out of that indecent outfit."

"Not until you talk to me! I want to know what happened tonight and then I'll think about complying with your suggestion."

"It wasn't a suggestion," her husband chortled over brandy. "It was an order. You seem to have problems following my orders, don't you?"

"You're angry, aren't you?" Sera understated.

"You deliberately disobeyed me," he gritted bitterly. "I specifically told you I didn't want you leaving this house without an escort, but you snuck out anyway. In those clothes, no less. Do you have any idea how dangerous London streets are at night? You're easy prey for the filth that walks the fog."

"I wore your cloak," Sera protested.

"Those men would have cut you down if I hadn't jumped over the garden wall!" Gabriel roared savagely.

At the reminder of the nefarious garden she spied her husband in earlier, Sera reeled with renewed jealousy and suspicion. Her words trembled with bitter accusation. "Exactly what were you doing in the Romneys' garden tonight anyway, husband?"

"Wives shouldn't spy on their husbands."

"Why not?" she challenged. "How else are they to know what their loyal husbands are doing behind their backs?"

"You don't know what you're saying, Sera," Gabriel chided dismissively. "You put yourself and me in a lot of danger tonight with your reckless curiosity."

"Don't blame tonight on me," she protested vigorously. "If you had only told me about Mrs. Romney, I never would've followed you tonight."

"There is nothing to tell," Gabriel gritted. "For the first and last time, stay out of it Sera. The Romneys are none of your concern."

"It is so my concern!" she shot back. "You're my husband. Who is Rene Dumond?"

The added question caught Gabriel off-guard. For a moment, his outraged eyes flashed with wariness and confusion. "How do you know that name?"

"Charlotte Romney said Rene Dumond wanted to kill you and me," Sera explained briskly. "He sent those men tonight, didn't he? The ones I thought were robbers were there to kill the Romneys and you?"

Wariness turned to outright terror in Gabriel's eyes. The anger in his voice fled instantly. In a wave of swirling shadows, he blinked into an altogether different mood. The tone of a cavalier chameleon.

"This is a ridiculous discussion to be having right now. It's high time you went upstairs and changed, Sera. My God, do you realize you look like a boy in those britches? You've embarrassed yourself enough for one night."

Defiantly, Sera glared back. "This isn't a discussion, husband. It's an argument!" Her words grew to an ear-piercing shout. "And I'm not leaving until I've won some answers."

"Whatever it is, it's over." Gabriel stepped forward menacingly. "Stop acting like a childish shrew and go upstairs."

"No!" Sera demanded as she challenged her husband with a step. "Not until you tell me what I want to know."

Bordering on violence or madness, Gabriel towered above his diminutive wife. In his most repressive tone, he hissed down his nose at her. "You don't want to push me, Sera," he warned. "If you don't go upstairs this moment, I'll carry you."

"Fine!" Sera spit back. "But first, tell me who the Romneys are. And why was that woman kissing you?"

The shouted accusation echoed ominously throughout the small townhouse. Its high-pitched shriek serenaded the sudden angry opening of the front doors. Like the wheels of Ares' chariot, male footsteps invaded the emptiness of the foyer. From the nonstop direction of their pacing, it was clear the intruders heard Sera's every outraged bellow. In hindsight, she wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

"Blackstone was kissing another woman?" resounded her brother Adrian's shout as it shook the closed Study door.

"Goddamn bastard has a paramour," Cassius gritted in response.

"A paramour?" rang out the confused murmur of Sera's Uncle Silas. "But he's only been married to our Sera a couple months."

"Sera!" Thornbridge shouted as he shoved open the Study door. "What's going on here?"

Barely evading the thrust of the door, Sera jumped toward her angry husband. The looks on her family's faces were priceless. Four overprotective men glared in outrage, confusion and horror.

"My God!" Cassius gasped over a long look at his sister. "What happened to you?"

"Are those my clothes, Blossom?" Adrian chimed at the same moment.

Escaping her relatives's intrusive stares, Sera ducked behind her husband's side. Her mouth went dry and she gripped his arm for encouragement.

Gabriel saw her cheeks turn pale and crimson. Rigidly, he shook his head and shouted over his in-laws' heads. "Dunstan!"

The secretary barged his way past Thornbridge and Sera's stupefied uncle. His eyes rolled with resignation. "Sorry Blackstone. They were with Sir Weatherby when he got the message. When they heard we needed a doctor, they jumped to conclusions."

Cassius growled, "What have you done to our sister, Blackstone?"

"He's done nothing to me!"

"Go upstairs, Sera," Gabriel commanded wearily. Visions of the night's explosive escapades kept pouring through his mind. "The last thing I need to deal with now is you and your family."

"No," she defied. "My family can go, but I won't let you send me away without talking to me."

Grumbling in frustration, Gabriel glared at his secretary. "Where's Weatherby?"

"Upstairs," Dunstan replied. "I sent him ahead to tend Romney." He indicated the brood of fuming relatives. "What do you want me to do with them?"

"We've had enough of your manhandling," Cassius growled. "We came to see Sera is alright. What in God's name is she doing in britches?"

"That's what I'm wanting to know," added Uncle Silas.

"What's going on here, Blossom?" Adrian demanded.

"What's this about your paramour, Blackstone?" Thornbridge accused.

Obtrusively, all eyes turned toward the embattled earl. He ignored his obstinate in-laws, but his wife's plaintiff gaze proved far more invasive. Sera's voice riddled with tension and accusation.

"Yes Gabriel," she demanded softly. "Who is Charlotte Romney to you?"

Guilt and refusal plagued the shadows in Gabriel's eyes. His muscles turned to stone. His breath froze in icy determination. Silence and discretion commanded him. He pressed his lips together in an unhappy frown. It seemed nothing would make him speak. Not any form of torture or coercion could soften the duty demanding his noble sacrifice. Then a tentative voice echoed from the doorway.

"It's time, Gabriel," declared the lilting voice of a dark-haired lady. "You're wife deserves to know the truth."

"Who are you?" quirked Cassius boldly.

"Mrs. Romney," Sera flustered in embarrassment. "Forgive our shouting. Shouldn't you be with Henry?"

"Henry Romney's her husband?" asked Uncle Silas. He seemed surprised by the admission.

"She sounds French," Adrian added. "Like that other innocent Blackstone ruined."

"Gabriel," Charlotte Romney pressured. "The secret can't stay buried forever. He's kept the truth twisted too long."

"What truth?" Thornbridge and Sera prodded simultaneously.

"The truth of Marie Dumond," Charlotte echoed ominously.

In reaction to Charlotte Romney's declaration, Sera's brothers each coiled in morbid condescension. The object of their disgust projected firmly on Gabriel.

He grimly glared at Charlotte. Their eyes seemed to exchange a silent, bitter understanding. Finally, Gabriel turned his gaze on Sera. He said nothing as the storm raged around them.

"Who's Marie Dumond?" Uncle Silas asked in confusion.

"The schoolgirl Blackstone seduced," Adrian gritted.

"The one he betrayed to the French to save himself," Cassius added in disgust. "He left her to die a whore."

"Her cousin told us the whole sordid tale," Thornbridge declared. "The bastard should have faced Dumond's blade a decade ago for what he did to that poor child."

"Gabriel did nothing to Marie Dumond her cousin hadn't done to her already," Charlotte shot out bitterly. "You listened to the wrong bastard, gentlemen. Rene Dumond has played you all for a fool as he has done so many since Marie's death."

"So what lies did Blackstone seduce you to believe?" Cassius suggested dangerously.

"None but the truth," Charlotte's tartly replied.

Tentatively, Sera poked her head out into the fray. "Which is, Charlotte? What really happened to Marie Dumond? How did she die?"

A long, hesitant stare passed between Mrs. Romney and Gabriel. His expression seemed filled with reticence and warning. Charlotte's beamed with guilt and determination.

Then with a resolute sigh, she surveyed her attentive audience. Her voice lilted with a telltale French accent obscured by years of affecting an English tone. "Marie Dumond didn't die, Lady Sera. She's alive and well because of your husband."

Shock and doubt filled the male faces in the room. Defiantly, Sera's brothers glared at Charlotte.

"How do you know that?" Thornbridge asked. "Did Blackstone tell you?"

"No," she replied grimly. "I know because, God help me, I once was the whore my cousin made me." As if repeating a dark oath, Charlotte Romney pronounced, "I am Marie Dumond."

Chapter Thirty-Four

ALL EYES stared at Charlotte as if she were the sinfully condemned returned from Hell. Sera woodenly turned to her husband, voicing the question the room wanted answered. "Is this true?"

Gabriel's expression turned to stone. He said nothing, but his refusal to meet her gaze provided all the confirmation she needed.

Unease curdled through Sera. Not at the unseemly introduction to her husband's long-dead mistress, but at his blatant silence on the matter of her double identity.

"You could have told me," she muttered unhappily.

"Don't be angry with your husband, Lady Sera," Charlotte pleaded. "I asked him to keep my identity secret years ago. True to his word, he has never revealed it. Or the truth of what happened in Marseilles. Even after my cousin began spreading those twisted lies."

"If you're Marie Dumond," Thornbridge inquired, "what are you doing in England?"

"Married to Henry Romney, no less?" Uncle Silas added. His white whiskers drooped in a recriminating frown. "Does he know of his wife's sordid past?"

"Henry knows everything," Charlotte professed. "I told him before we were married on Gabriel's ship." To Sera, she added, "We owe our lives to your husband."

"Blackstone let his mistress marry on his ship?" Cassius blurted in disbelief.

Sera suppressed a wave of unease at the reminder. Images of Gabriel being intimate with the sophisticated beauty plagued her imagination. The fact that Charlotte's, or rather Marie's husband knew of the liaison only darkened Sera's initial suspicions. Gabriel had kept the woman's identity secret, gone off to meet her at midnight and kissed her when her husband was rambling home. Exactly what sort of arrangement did the three of them have, Sera wondered silently.

Gabriel interrupted her thoughts with an indignant rumble. He glowered from the fireplace. "This discussion is absurd and ill-timed. What happened in Marseilles is irrelevant. It's time you went up to bed, Sera."

Anger churned over the unease in her stomach. "I disagree, husband," she refused tightly. "Since we're already up, I think it's high time my family learns the truth of your most notorious secret. Assuming it is all right with you, Mrs. Romney. I'm tired of my brothers believing my husband a murderer of a living ghost."

Male eyes flashed repressively at Sera. She ignored her brothers' mutiny and her husband's irritated scowl. They could curse her impulsive impudence all they wanted, but she was determined to have her way.

With a look of almost morbid impotence, Gabriel withdrew to the shadows of the hearth. Sera's brothers and uncle grumbled, but Charlotte beamed an unexpectedly warm smile of sympathy and admiration.

Her smile collapsed with a heavy sigh. "It is long story, Lady Sera."

Dunstan's familiar cough drew everyone's attention. "I'll see if I can scrounge up some tea then." He cast a sympathetic gaze on Mrs. Romney. One Sera expected of an old, close friend. "Weatherby will be a while yet, Charlotte. You have time to dispel the rumors before Henry starts bawling for you again," he teased, heading for the door. "That husband of your never could stand a bullet. He made a poor soldier."

Uncle Silas snorted. "Romney was the best young officer I ever trained!" He stiffened indignantly under the surprised scrutiny of the room. "Henry's father served with me under Cornwallis in the Colonies. I was grooming his lad for command when he abandoned me to Castlereigh's office." He grumbled, "Diplomatic core is no place for a horseguardsman."

"My Henry is brave, but he is a man of peace," Charlotte qualified. "If only we were free to live our lives as we hoped." She bemoaned dramatically, "My cousin is tenacious and ruthless. He won't stop until we're in our graves."

"Your cousin Rene Dumond?" Adrian clarified. "Why is your former guardian threatening you?"

"For running away with Blackstone?" Cassius suggested.

Charlotte nodded. Her eyes glittered with tears of remorse and shame. "It wasn't Gabriel's fault. I just couldn't stay there any longer. I knew Rene would be angry, but I never imagined he'd go to such lengths to avenge my betrayal. He hunted us for three years. No place on the Continent or seas was safe from the Daemon Lupe."

"Daemon Lupe?" Sera echoed.

"My cousin's ship," Charlotte explained. "It means demon wolf, an apt description of Rene."

"He was a smuggler during the War?"

"More than that, Lady Sera." Charlotte's dark eyes blazed in terror. "He is a treacherous beast. I've seen him kill for the simple pleasure of it more times than I wish to remember. His blade is never empty of blood for long."

Icy shivers rippled down Sera's spine. Behind her, she sensed her husband's impatient glare.

"That's enough Charlotte," Gabriel commanded softly. He caught Sera's gaze. "Suffice to say Rene Dumond is someone you don't want to meet."

"How did you meet him?"

Gabriel stared at the contents of his glass as if pondering the fires of hell. "St. Sebastian's." As if pronouncing a curse, he admitted, "Dumond used to be my best friend."

"You ran off with your best friend's ward?" Cassius balked. "No wonder he hunted you. To seduce an innocent chit is bad enough, but when the girl is your friend's responsibility is beyond indecent."

"Gabriel never seduced me," Charlotte shot back.

"But you were his mistress?" Thornbridge challenged.

"He never asked for me in his bed." Charlotte grimly admitted. "I was sent there. As a gift.

"A gift?" Sera echoed, confused.

Twisting her the folds of her gown, Mrs. Romney hesitated answering. The timely arrival of Dunstan carrying a large tray laden with tea aroused an appreciative sigh from the dark-haired beauty.

After a few moments of Dunstan's distracted manhandling, the Montgomeries took their seats around Gabriel's former mistress. Sera sat across from Charlotte on the wingback chairs by the hearth. Between them, Gabriel stood sentry in the shadows of the fireplace. He exuded the casualness of a brooding gargoyle.

As if she were a pretty bird used to sheltering in the gargoyle's shadow, Charlotte composed herself. "You must forgive my delay in speaking, Lady Sera. Marie's life brings back many painful memories for me." Her eyes fell to the teacup rattling in her hand. "Until I chanced to meet your husband, I was little more than an ignorant animal trained to obey my cousin's vile desires. I lived in terror and shame. I dread to think what would have happened to me if Gabriel hadn't agreed to take me with him that horrid night."

"The night you fled the schoolroom?" Sera recalled the gossipy tale.

"I was never in the schoolroom," Charlotte countered bitterly. "Not the kind my mother hoped. I was supposed to be my uncle's ward, but he gave me to his lecherous heir instead." She scoffed, "The Count was as corrupted as his ancestors. You're right, Gabriel, the Dumond family is an old, evil one that never should have been created."

"You sound like one of Napoleon's rebels," Uncle Silas observed.

"Bonaparte's warmongering was nothing compared to the lethal oppression the Dumonds have wielded over their serfs," Charlotte gritted back. "Their Count d'Mortrend title is older and more corrupt than most of the corrupt aristos in France," she grumbled. "Many would rejoice the end of the Dumonds." She added speculatively, "Perhaps their deceit and betrayal will end with Rene. He is the last of the Dumond aristos. God, I have wished it so many times. He deserves to die a slow torturous death for all those he ruined."

Charlotte's eyes burned with hatred. The depth appeared generations old to Sera. She had never known an emotion to cut so deeply. Charlotte's hatred seemed to consume her soul.

Tentatively, Sera probed, "What did he do to you to make you despise him and your family so much?"

Charlotte kept her eyes focused on her swirling tea. She recited her tale in a flat and bitter tone. "I was eight when my father died. He was a fourth son, untitled and poor. My mother and I ended up wards of the Count. He showed his generosity by impressing us into service in his kitchens," she remembered.

"I was a pretty child cursed with a lilting tongue and naive curiosity then. Mon mere tried to protect me." Pain flooded Charlotte's dark eyes. "She gave herself to the Count so he would educate me. He drove her mad with his cravings only to betray her last wishes for his favorite nephew's lust."

Disgust curled her lips. "Rene noticed me when he visited from school. At first, I was impressed with him," Charlotte confessed. "Gentlemen from St. Sebastian's have the bearing of medieval knights. It's part of their code." She condemned, "I was such a young eager fool then."

"How old were you?" Sera asked.

"Twelve, although God cursed me with a sophisticated appearance," Charlotte grumbled. "I thought I'd be a lady someday. My great uncle's ward shown off like all the other pretty baubles in his collection. But then the Count took sick and Rene filled his stead. My tutors were sent away. My dresses taken from me. I thought Rene was sending me back to toil in the kitchens."

"But he didn't?"

Grimly, Charlotte shook her head. "He came to me that night." She shuddered. "He wanted to know if I had begun to bleed. I didn't understand. I was too busy crying and begging him not to make me live as a peasant again. I was desperate. I would have done anything to keep my pretty room."

Charlotte's voice reeked with bitter disappointment. "Rene liked my misery, the cold-hearted beast. That's why he took everything away from me. So I would not be distracted from his form of education."

Tension coiled in Sera's stomach. "Education?" she echoed as if the word was a vile oath.

Charlotte's voice crackled in agony. "That night was the beginning. His tasting to see how naive I was. The Count had signed the papers, he said. By law, I was Rene's ward. His dutiful loving cousin who he intended to train in service to any man he desired."

An uncomfortable tension filled the room. The blue-blooded Montgomeries twisted uneasily in their seats. A tale of seduction was enough to unsettle the prim lot. One of calculating rape seemed to paralyze them.

Sera's mind reeled from Charlotte's admissions. The story horrified her. Gabriel's mistress was only a child when her cousin inflicted his lecherous intentions upon her. She was a penniless orphan alone in a bedchamber with a man who wanted to turn her into a whore. To taste her innocence and take it from her.

Memory echoed ominously through Sera's mind. The night she ended up in the brothel, the redheaded mad woman said he was coming to taste her.

Echoing the whore's words, Sera asked, "He wanted to make you one of his fallen angels?"

Tears cascaded down Charlotte's ashen cheeks. "God have mercy on me, that's exactly what I became. Rene Dumond enjoys the corruption of innocence. He collects virgins as his whores. I think he likes to see the fear and confusion in their eyes. He seduced me into obedience with laudanum. Soon I forgot everything but my cousin's deceitful demands."

"You weren't to blame," Dunstan consoled, handing her a handkerchief. "Tell them about the night you left."

Obediently, Charlotte wiped her tears and faced Sera. "I was 16, and Rene's favorite little angel. He used me to entertain his guests, but I'd never met his best friend."

Pointedly, Charlotte gazed at Sera's husband. "Gabriel St. Clair came to Mortrend Castle only once. Rene wanted me to entice him to stay longer. Until the Society gathered."

"Society?" Sera echoed inquisitively.

Gabriel uncoiled quickly from the hearth. His obtrusive glare settled Charlotte. "I found Marie in my bed."

Sera glowered at the intimidation in her husband's tone; Charlotte bristled as if silently warned. Then her tale picked up where he left off.

"Gabriel was the first gentleman I encountered in my cousin's care," she declared. "He sent me away without so much as a leer. When I learned he was leaving the Continent in the morning, I begged him to take me with him on his ship."

"And he did?"

Charlotte smiled ruefully at Sera's question. "Not until I tracked him down in my uncle's library. He had other things on his mind and he didn't trust me." She added ominously, "Then Rene found us."

"What happened?" Sera prodded.

"We had an argument," Gabriel bristled. "It's not important, Sera."

Charlotte pursed her lips, but continued as if skipping over a few telling beats of the story. "My uncle...died and we fled together. I assumed Rene was too busy to care about either of us. We were horribly wrong."

"He came after you?"

Gravely, Charlotte nodded. "The Daemon Lupe caught us in Barcelona. Rene's men chased us halfway up the Perinnes before Dunstan rendezvoused with us in Portugal."

"That's smuggling territory," Cassius remarked. "What were you doing there, Blackstone? A little nefarious business with your mistress?"

"The poor girl should have been taken to safety after what her cousin put her through," Thornbridge grumbled. "Not traipsing over the Continent with a pirate."

Charlotte and Dunstan shot plaintive looks at Gabriel. Sera wondered why they seemed to await her husband's permission to object to the sordid characterization of his shipping activities.

"Magnus, my husband is not a pirate!" Sera chided. "Many people have legitimate business in those mountains. Papa had investments there until the French confiscated them in the War."

"The time she's talking about was during the War, Blossom," Cassius countered. "The only business going on in the Perinnes then was controlled by the French or of an illegal nature."

"Some might call smuggling things in and out of the French blockade noble," Dunstan suggested indignantly. "Especially from the Crown's point of view."

"In any case," Gabriel's booming voice dominated the room. "What my business was is neither here nor there. My marriage has changed my responsibilities and I would rather not inundate my wife with more questionable details than her curiosity obliges her to hear."

Dunstan and Charlotte stiffened like marionettes obeying a master's subtle command. In turn, each gazed at Sera and sighed in frustration.

Defiance lingered in Charlotte's gaze. "You are right to defend your husband, Lady Sera. My cousin spent three years gossiping his reputation into ruins. It suited Gabriel's purposes, but those of us who counted ourselves his friends were always appalled by the tales captains spread in the taverns."

"About Gabriel kidnapping and seducing you?"

"Among other things. Your family isn't the first to believe Rene's lies. My Henry was ready to call Gabriel out for me." Charlotte smiled over the memory. "He didn't understand at first. He thought I was another passenger. When the tales reached his ears in Venice, he thought he needed to kill Gabriel to rescue me."

"He was damned serious about it, too," Dunstan remembered with a grin. "Knocked me senseless and charged the captain's cabin with a pistol and a blade."

Charlotte blushed. "Henry fell in love with me. He wanted to marry me, even after I told him the truth about how I came to be on Gabriel's ship and why I stayed."

"Romney knowingly married Blackstone's mistress?" Uncle Silas balked.

"I wasn't living as Gabriel's mistress then," Charlotte explained. "I was one of his crew, his ward. He was my guardian, you might say."

"So to marry Romney you made up the story of Marie's death and changed your name?" Sera asked.

"Not exactly," Charlotte flustered. "I refused Henry's offer of marriage. Rene refused to let the feud go. As long as my cousin sought revenge for my betrayal, I couldn't endanger Henry so." Fresh tears flooded her bittersweet eyes. "In the end, I only managed to betray him myself."

"You didn't know General d'Clerque was awaiting us in Marseilles," Dunstan insisted as if he'd done so many times before.

"General d'Clerque?" Sera echoed.

"The Dumond family has many enemies," Charlotte explained. "The d'Clerques were once allies until Rene betrayed them. General Armistade d'Clerque recognized me from one of his visits to Mortrend Castle. He arrested Henry and I for smuggling and treason."

Charlotte lingered over a long, suffering sip of tea. The liquid splashed dangerously in her trembling grasp. "Poor Henry was tortured and sent before the firing squad." Haunted tears clouded her eyes. "I would have done anything to save him. d'Clerque's price was a signed confession implicating Rene and Gabriel in crimes against the emperor. After I signed the wretched thing, he decided to use Henry and I as bait."

"The general ordered you hanged?" Sera remembered the gossip.

Charlotte wrapped her hand around her throat. She swallowed audibly. "He would have done it, too," she confided. "Fortunately, your husband showed up when he did."

Charlotte's admiring smile inspired a wave of memory in Sera. Despite his glowering moods, Gabriel was a heroic man. One who came to the aid of damsels in distress in enemy soldier's hands or from highwaymen at midnight.

Briefly, Sera flashed on the first vision she had of Gabriel on the country lane. He was a fierce medieval knight. He charged heroically and ably into battle. With eager whimsy she asked, "How did Gabriel rescue you from the French?"

Charlotte shrugged. "He negotiated for us."

"Blackstone's clever at that sort of thing," Dunstan drawled.

"d'Clerque recorded my execution and released me with Henry," Charlotte recalled.

"And Gabriel?" Sera reminded. "What did he give d'Clerque in return for your freedom?"

Charlotte looked at Gabriel. His eyes narrowed, but it seemed as if they shared a private understanding in that gaze. When next she spoke, Charlotte's words echoed with care.

"He gave him some information."

"About a passenger I once ferried," Gabriel quickly added. "The general was more concerned with his treachery then my smuggling."

"Who was it you betrayed?" Cassius pestered accusingly.

"No one you'd care to know," Gabriel admonished. "His cloak and dagger games got him into enough trouble. He was used to getting out of dangerous or uncomfortable situations."

Sera's eyebrows rose in shock. "You betrayed a spy?"

He husband glared at her. "Spies betray no one but themselves," he declared. "In any case, the General never found his prey. Rene Dumond killed him before we'd passed Corsica."

Charlotte shuttered. "Fortunately, he believed d'Clerque's records and didn't investigate my grave."

"So Rene Dumond believes you are dead?"

Charlotte froze at Sera's question. "He did. Until tonight." She looked toward the hearth for guidance. "Gabriel, I recognized some of those men tonight. Armand shot Henry. He was waiting for him outside our home."

"Armand is Rene Dumond's man?" Sera interrupted. "You think he tracked you to this country to exact revenge for running away with Gabriel a decade ago?"

He growled at the question. "Dumond's hatred for me goes much deeper then jealousy over a former paramour." Wild fury sparked in Gabriel's penetrating stare. "You never should have followed me to the Romneys tonight, madam wife."

"Our sister followed you to your mistress's house?" her brothers balked simultaneously.

"Charlotte Romney is not my mistress!" Gabriel roared. "I don't have a mistress, Sera. Your curiosity is pointless and unfounded."

"But Marie was your mistress," she protested.

"For all intents and purposes, Marie Dumond is dead!" Gabriel commanded sharply. "You've heard all you need to put any nagging suspicions to rest." Shooting an intimidating glare on the Montgomeries, he warned, "The Romneys choose not to live in gossip that is no longer relevant to their lives. I suggest we drop this matter now, understood?"

Sera bristled under the command, but her brothers nodded their acceptance. Only one voice of dissension remained.

"What about Dumond?" Cassius challenged. "Did he come after you tonight, Blackstone? How did Sera get mixed up in all this?"

"She's married to him," Adrian reminded. "Blackstone's enemies are her enemies now."

"My cousin won't rest until we're all dead!" Charlotte echoed in terror.

"Dammit Blackstone!" Thornbridge raged. "I warned you what I'd do if you let anything happen to our sister."

"Nothing happened," Dunstan exclaimed. "Blackstone jumped the garden wall. And I was just a step out front. Either way, we would have found Lady Sera before Dumond's thugs had a chance to grab her again."

"Again?" Adrian snapped.

Gabriel's quelling glance silenced his talkative secretary and inspired his wife's curiosity.

Sera's mind worked shrewdly. "Rene Dumond had me kidnapped and taken to that brothel?" she interrogated Gabriel. "He started the rumors about us and forced our elopement?"

Gabriel crossed his arms in front of his chest. His glare was obstinate, but Sera ignored the command to be silent.

"I thought it was the blackmailer who wanted to embarrass us, but it was your rival." Sera's inquisitive eyes sharpened. "Dumond was hoping to do to me what he did to Marie and blame you. Why Gabriel?"

"So we'd be forced to kill Blackstone," Cassius gritted angrily.

"But Gabriel would never do such a thing," Sera protested. "No matter how much laudanum they made me drink to forget, I'd never believe that of Gabriel."

"It wouldn't matter, Blossom," Adrian informed. "If anything happened to you because of Blackstone, your family would hold him responsible."

"I don't like the idea of my sister being married to a man who's enemies send armed thugs to attack people in their own homes." Thornbridge pompously declared. "I expected Sera to be safe in your keeping, Blackstone."

"She is," Gabriel growled defensively. "I protect mine own, Thornbridge. There have been no repeats of the disastrous night that obliged Sera into my keeping."

Sera cringed at the harshness of her husband's decree. He was showing his rage again. Menacingly, he glared at her in brooding silence as he downed the rest of his brandy. Only her brother's shouted protest turned his obtrusive attention.

"Then what happened tonight?" Cassius bellowed. "And why is my sister wearing britches, for God's sake?"

"Because she is cursed with a certain reckless curiosity I hoped she'd abandon in marriage," Gabriel ruefully admitted. "Unfortunately, I hadn't expected her interest to be deflected into my private affairs. If she would've told me the object of her earlier queries, I would have straightened out the assumptions in her mind."

"I was concerned about you, Gabriel," Sera argued. "You seemed so upset when you received Mrs. Romney's notes. You told me it was just business, but there's only one type of business I know of at midnight."

"I often have late meetings, Sera. Most are with stodgy old sea captains," Gabriel scoffed. "I assure you none can qualify as my paramour."

"I never thought you'd be disloyal to me," she raged. "I was bothered you were keeping a secret from me. Something you were afraid or reluctant to tell me. In a word husband, I was afraid you were being blackmailed."

"By me?" Charlotte chirped in surprise.

Sera nodded. "I borrowed your note from my husband's desk."

Charlotte flushed and trembled in concern. Her eyes filled with tears. "I tried to convince him we should have stayed in Bath, but Henry can be obstinate. He swore we'd only stay in London until he settled the contracts with Lord Eppingham." She beamed horrified eyes at Gabriel. "He wanted to come alone, but I couldn't allow that. Not after your warning that Rene was lurking here. Henry insisted we'd lived in fear too long. I was afraid he'd do something drastic. Like go after Rene."

"Damn old fool!" Dunstan gritted impatiently. "You can't challenge Dumond."

"Why not?" Cassius challenged. "It sounds like he's caused enough trouble. Why didn't you kill him after the elopement, Blackstone?"

"I considered it," Gabriel revealed. His shadowy gaze glittered ominously.

"Only fools challenge my cousin," Charlotte insisted. "He's a treacherous opponent to cross swords with. The last time they fought, he stabbed Gabriel in the back."

Ruefully, he frowned. "It was a pointed lesson to me."

"If it had been Henry caught with me in the Count's Study, Rene would have killed him," Charlotte recalled amidst fresh tears. "My Henry's a brave man, but he's not good in a fight. He never should have stayed in his lordship's service as long as he did."

"Lord Castlereigh's?" Uncle Silas clarified. "What fighting did one have to do in the diplomatic core?"

The question seemed to confuse Charlotte. She frowned amidst her tears. A frantic shake of her head echoed her denial. "I meant the War," she meekly corrected. "Henry rode reconnaissance for Wellington before Marseilles. He put himself in a lot of danger changing posts. Fortunately, Marseilles was his last—"

"Stop before retiring," Gabriel abruptly interrupted. His voice was strong and deafening.

Charlotte blinked in surprise as Gabriel handed her a fresh handkerchief. She stared mutely at his impassive face a long moment, then gasped as if in realization before dutifully burying her face in the linen cloth.

"We both retired to England," Charlotte sniffled a moment later. "I told everyone I was a widow who lived abroad until remarrying my Henry. He made me respectable as his wife. And I buried my past as Marie."

Intently, she gazed at Sera's family. "We let Gabriel take the blame for my death, but he has been our protector. He warned us the Daemon Lupe was in England. We stayed in hiding until just a few days ago." Charlotte turned her wary eyes on Gabriel. "If he's found us, what are we going to do?"

The response was swift and absolute. "You and that stubborn husband of yours are going back to the country," Gabriel commanded. "This time I want you to stay there until Dumond slithers back out of England. With any luck, he'll tire of London as soon as he discerns he can not provoke me into a duel."

Dutifully, Charlotte nodded. Her misty eyes glittered with relief and gratitude. She appeared a woman used to obeying Gabriel's curt instructions. That realization irked Sera.

She bristled uneasily under his commanding stare. She had only seen him behave so resolute and highhanded once before. The day she confessed Percy's secrets at the Ruins and he dismissed her out of hand. Sera frowned at the memory.

"You intend to just dismiss what happened tonight?" she challenged him. "Rene Dumond doesn't sound like someone who will just slink away. What he's done is atrocious. Surely we must bring him to justice," she compelled. "To put the Romneys at rest, at least."

"I have more experience than you dealing with bastards like Dumond, Sera," Gabriel gritted. "With the Romneys out of reach, he no longer has a means of forcing me into situations he controls like tonight."

"What about your wife?" Cassius reminded.

"We can't have Blossom put in danger because of Blackstone's rivals," Uncle Silas demanded.

"Or running about in my clothes," Adrian grumbled. "You look ridiculous, Sera. Those britches are bigger than you. Is that a rope holding them up?"

Sera blushed under her brother's negative scrutiny. A scrutiny shared by her husband and eldest brother. The two men gazed at each other ominously.

"They're right, Blackstone." Thornbridge's voice resembled a commanding peacock. "Until this rival of yours is dealt with, Seraphina is in danger here with you. She should come home with us."

"Absolutely not!" Gabriel growled possessively. "I did not marry my wife so she could be lured out of your house and into Dumond's lecherous traps again. Seraphina will stay here where I can keep an eye on her."

Gabriel imprisoned Sera's eyes. "And I expect you to obey my word in future, madam. I will not have you pursuing these dangerous midnight quests. Burn those absurd garments. I don't want you gallivanting after blackmailers again, Sera. In fact, I don't want you leaving this townhouse alone until my business is finished and I can take you home to Mirabella."

"You're making me a prisoner?" she challenged.

"I'm keeping you safe. If your brothers wish to help in that endeavor they can each take turns watching you for me."

Resolutely, all three men nodded at Gabriel. Fierce and protective glares surrounded Sera. Even Dunstan showed no signs of his usual sympathetic friendship. The secretary looked disappointed with a rebellious ward.

"I'm not a child!" Sera protested. Enshrouded in her brother's attire, her appearance belied her words. Absentmindedly, Sera rubbed her scarred knee. Her keepers' oppressive stares made her feel small. As she did every time she felt that way, she fought back. "Gabriel, if you had told me about the Dumonds, I never would have obliged you to do anything!"

"What's done is done," he dismissed. "You know about Dumond and he knows of you. I will not allow him to get his hands on my wife. From now on you will do exactly as I command and stay out of my private affairs. Is that understood, Seraphina?"

Mutiny flashed in Sera. "I'm not a sheepish wife," she warned. "I detest being ordered around by overwrought and demanding keepers."

"You're my wife and my responsibility," he shot back. A raw, mesmerizing fury filled his words. He growled like an injured animal rallying to protect his cub. "Since you obviously have little notion of the dangers your curiosity leads you to explore, then I must protect you from yourself. Even if that means locking you in your bedchamber. I don't want to find you traipsing about in that disguise again. It isn't decent for the Countess of Blackstone to be seen looking like a reckless hoyden!"

Pain struck Sera. Being chided and insulted by her husband was bad enough, but in front of an audience was humiliating. Her brothers didn't see it that way, she knew. They and her uncle nodded and shared the condescending glare of her highhanded husband.

Sera bubbled in rage. With an ear-shattering clatter, she slammed her teacup on the tray and shot to her feet.

"I don't appreciate being browbeaten," she hissed. "I'm sorry my reckless tendencies annoy you so much, my lord. After all, it was those that led me to elope with you."

Gabriel advanced a towering step towards her. "Like it or not, you are my wife now, Sera. You can't disown me or deny me." His low command grumbled almost suggestively between them. "Now go upstairs. I want you out of those clothes and back into bed where you belong."

The fire in his eyes quelled Sera's feminine outrage. His elusive emerald shadows seemed ablaze with a tension and dangerous passion she had never acknowledged in him before. He seemed ready to kill or kiss her.

A delicate cough dispelled the moment. "I should be getting back to Henry," Charlotte mentioned. "My husband will worry if he wakes and I'm not there. Husband's can be that way, Lady Sera, can't they? I sometimes think Henry's favorite way of telling me he loves me is to bluster at me."

"You should tell him there are other ways of getting his point across." Sera pointedly narrowed her eyes at Gabriel.

Tauntingly, Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. "Charlotte please see that my wife gets to her room so I don't have to carry her. I have a few things I want to discuss with her brothers."

Sera ignored the baiting comment as she felt Charlotte's tentative hand wrap around her arm.

They must have looked comical being shooed out of the Study, Sera thought. A former mistress in an elegant blue silk gown escorted by a countess in the baggy clothes of an unkempt boy.

Male eyes watched their progress in brooding silence. At Charlotte, they projected sympathy. But for Sera there was only lingering shock and condescension.

Defiantly, she gripped the sagging rope belt of her britches and let the Study door slam shut behind her.

Halfway up the stairs, Charlotte ended the fuming silence. "I realize this must be awkward for you."

The tentative admission stilled Sera. "What is awkward?"

"Meeting me," Charlotte replied. "Like this. I'm sorry."

Sera frowned. She tried to force sophistication into her tiny voice. "The circumstances of our introduction were rushed, but you are not to blame for that. Your cousin sounds horrible to send those men after you."

"He is," Charlotte rumbled darkly.

"You and your Henry are safe here."

"I know," Charlotte smiled gratefully. "Your husband is a very capable man. And he has a most unusual bride."

Embarrassment flooded Sera. "I suppose I'm not what you'd expect for a countess." Pointedly, she looked over her messenger garb. "I thought my disguise was clever and practical. Men are so backwards in their thinking at times. There's nothing that indecent about a woman wearing britches, is there?"

"No more indecent than a wife conversing with her husband's former mistress." Charlotte pointed out with a wry grin.

"You surprise me, Lady Sera." The comment unsettled Sera. Everything about this night was unseemly, but she refused to appear missish. Besides what happened was long ago before either had marriage in their lives.

"In what way?"

"Most women when confronted with their husband's paramours want to scratch their eyes out. But you welcome me into your home."

Sera paused uncomfortably. "I knew about you before I married," she reminded herself. "I mean the story of Marie. I admit I was curious. I asked Gabriel about her, I mean you, but he refused to talk about Marie."

Charlotte agreed knowingly, "Your husband is a private man. He keeps his own council no matter how infuriating it is to others."

"I noticed," Sera grumbled. She worried her lip. "It makes him seem mysterious and dangerous. And leaves one wary."

"Wary?"

Sera considered, "One never really knows what he's thinking of them beneath the shadows in his eyes."

"Or the bellow in his voice?" Subtle laughter tinkled Charlotte's lilting tongue. "I don't think I've ever seen him so riled before as when he was arguing with you, Lady Sera. You bring out the emotion in him."

"Annoyance you mean," she grumbled. "My reckless tendencies seem to have a habit of bringing out the worst in my overbearing relations."

Charlotte giggled at the admission. "I can see you make a good wife for Gabriel. You keep him on his toes."

"That's what Dunstan's always saying," Sera admitted as the pair continued climbing the stairs.

"Dunstan glows brighter than a peacock," Charlotte remarked conspiratorially. "He and Lord Julius encouraged your husband to take a wife years ago. I think his father feared he'd die a bachelor out of spite."

Sera paused on the landing. "Spite for what?"

Charlotte answered as if they were discussing the obvious. "The falling out they had before Gabriel went away to St. Sebastian's. Neither talked about it much, but there was a definite chill whenever marriage or Mirabella came up. Gabriel's always been staunchly committed to his work."

Sera remembered the conversation she'd shared with Lord Julius. "His father wanted him to come home."

Charlotte nodded sadly. "It's a shame he died before the two ever got a chance to clear the air. Although, it never seemed to bother their... business."

Sera ignored the pause as an awkward realization struck her. "I suppose you got to know Gabriel well. You lived on his ship three years, with him?"

Charlotte stilled at the question. "Gabriel protected me when no one else would. In return, I helped him in his work. We've remained friends, but nothing else."

Biting her lip, Sera couldn't resist asking the question that consumed her many sleepless nights. "I can see the way he looks at you, like a confidante. You must've learned to care..." Sera drifted off into an embarrassed silence.

She felt like a fool asking a woman about the nature of feelings she shared with her paramour. But Gabriel refused to even discuss the woman's existence not to mention his continued refusal to profess more than desire and duty to his bride.

It hadn't hit Sera until just that moment. When it did, the realization paralyzed her. It seemed the ghosts of Gabriel's past knew more about her husband than Sera. The thought made her uncomfortable and wary.

"Lady Sera, your husband is right. The past is irrelevant to you," Charlotte declared. "There was never anything between Gabriel and I beyond necessity and convenience. Certainly nothing that could ever threaten a marriage." Whimsically, Charlotte smiled. "If that were true, my Henry probably would have killed Gabriel the day he burst into his cabin. Instead, he ended up letting your husband convince him to propose to me. The romantic fool," she chided with a grin.

Her face lit up with fond memory. "He proposed to me on the deck. Got down on one knee and asked for my hand in front of the whole crew. I broke his heart when I said no, but Gabriel knew I was hooked. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he was the one who arranged for us to be stranded together on the dock in Marseilles." Conspiratorially, Charlotte admitted, "Your husband is a clever manipulator of situations. He always knows how to make the best of plans gone awry."

"Like when the general arrested you?" Sera reminded.

Charlotte nodded. She grinned contrary to the grim topic of her words. "Gabriel was at his most clever that day. He gave General d'Clerque something he desired for his promotion, then took it away before he ever realized what he had."

"My husband is a master of deception," Sera thought aloud. Her dark proclamation drew the anxious stare of her guest. Sera smiled mildly. "He betrayed a spy that day, didn't he? Someone who was on his ship?"

"People did many things in the War they regret later," Charlotte quickly retorted. "Some can't let it go, like my cousin, but don't concern yourself, Lady Sera. Trust your husband. I'm certain Gabriel must have your best interests at heart."

Sera studied her husband's ex-mistress carefully. Charlotte trembled with hesitation. It was the same wary pause she exhibited whenever Gabriel interrupted her confession in the Study.

Suddenly, Sera flashed on all the private gazes Gabriel and Dunstan had shared with this woman. She sensed there was something more to the story of their shared past and Gabriel's present. Something his friends seemed to want to tell her, but her highhanded husband demanded she remain ignorant of.

The secrets had not been revealed tonight, Sera realized. There was still something much darker and dangerous keeping Gabriel in the shadows. He had betrayed a spy to the French. He incurred the wrath of a rival who hunted him for more than stealing his mistress. He kept things from Sera. Not little tedious things like shipping business, but things that explained his life as a notorious blackguard. As a pirate with a knack for fighting, smuggling and manipulating people to do his bidding.

As suspicion prolonged Sera's ashen silence, the door to the guest chamber flung open. Bellowing like a rumbling thundergod, Henry Romney's voice echoed down the hall. "Charlotte! Where is my wife?"

Nellie poked her head out the door. She sighed in relief when she caught sight of Charlotte on the landing. "Oh, thank goodness, ma'am." "Yer 'usband's pestering the doctor to leave 'im alone until 'e sees ye're all right. I told 'im ye were just talking to 'is lordship, but 'e'll yank 'is stitches out proving us wrong."

Charlotte rolled her eyes dramatically. To Sera, she whispered, "I better go to him. Henry will do more damage than he realizes trying to protect me."

She took a step toward the bedchamber then paused as if sensing Sera's unease. "Remember what I said, Lady Sera. Trust Gabriel. He knows what's best for all his charges. Like his father, he's a born guardian."

Chapter Thirty-Five

A NAME reverberated through Sera's muddled mind as she sipped lukewarm tea in her sister-in-law's Drawing Room.

The Guardian.

The first time she heard it, she was hiding in the shadows of a foxhole. Percy said the Guardian would stop at nothing to find his treasure. The elusive spy was engaged in a bitter rivalry with a murderous foe.

Three days ago, Charlotte Romney praised Gabriel as a guardian who would stop at nothing to protect his charges. According to her, he was a born guardian—a clever man embroiled in a bitter feud with a corrupt friend.

Just that morning, Sera heard the ominous name again. This time it was not a person but a place. Dunstan said Blackstone's flagship, the Guardian, would stop at nothing to ferry the Romneys to safety as it had done ten years before.

A child could draw the obvious conclusion, but Sera refused to accept the truth of her husband's shipping activities. It would mean he had lied to her, deceived her for months, making her believe she was reforming a notorious blackguard. That notion was even more distasteful than the idea her brave and misunderstood husband was a spy.

"Sera, watch what you're doing!"

Her sister-in-law's command drew Sera's attention. "I'm sorry, Beryl. I'm distracted today." She frowned at the splotches of cold tea dripping to the carpet.

"You're not still miffed about the other night, are you?" Beryl prodded. Lingering over her baby's receiving blanket, her voice chimed with maternal censure. "Blackstone and your brothers only have your best interests at heart. You shouldn't have followed your husband to that meeting." She whispered, "Especially in that outfit."

Sera rolled her eyes wondering how many times she'd be lectured for that breach of etiquette. "There were extenuating circumstances."

"Adrian told me."

"He did?" Sera blinked in surprise.

"Of course. Husbands and wives share things," her sister-in-law proclaimed. "What I don't understand is if you thought your husband was being blackmailed, why didn't you come to your family for help?"

"My brothers weren't exactly my husband's biggest supporters."

"They are now." Beryl smiled. "I understand Henry Romney raved about Blackstone. He smuggled a lot of former soldiers from the Continent, didn't he?"

"Apparently so." Like he smuggled the Romneys away on his ship, Sera thought. "I knew Gabriel wasn't pirating as everyone believed. There were many noble ways of serving one's country in the War without being a soldier."

Sera frowned at her dangerous thought. She sought solace in another cup of tea.

"It was clever of Blackstone to rescue the Romneys from that French General and protect them all these years from his business rival," Beryl expounded. "The Count d'Mortrend sounds positively horrid."

"He is."

Rene Dumond frightened Sera in the extreme. Charlotte's tales of her beastly cousin were enough to give one nightmares for months. He had a taste for fallen angels. He had a taste for poisonous laudanum.

Gabriel was his sworn enemy. A lethal man with a taste for corrupted angels and murder versus the noble pirate captain of a ship named Guardian.

Sera forced the suspicion aside. Gabriel couldn't be a spy. If he was he would have told her the day at the Ruins when she confided her secrets and pledged her loyalty and trust. Gabriel trusted her. Didn't he?

"It's horrid of Dumond to spread those tales to ruin Blackstone and then you," Beryl declared with feminine outrage. "It's a good thing your husband had the presence of mind to arrange a hasty wedding."

"You sound like you approve of my elopement."

"I still think it was reckless of you, but you always were impetuous," she admitted. "Chasing a blackmailer after dark? How could you be so naive and foolish, Sera? That sort of cloak and dagger stuff is left to men equipped to handle it."

"Why?"

"Because they don't let their romantic fancies color their thinking," Beryl opined. "Your head is in the clouds, Sera. You believe what you want and fail to see the truth that lays just before your eyes."

The proclamation shook Sera's mind. Out of the whimsical and passionate shadows, she allowed herself to accept the shocking truth. The Guardian was not just a ship, nor was it just a name. It was a legacy. Like the earldom that passed from father to son.

Charlotte said Gabriel and his father were born to be guardians. The Blackstone men were much alike. Lord Julius struck her as a clever, reclusive man. He had a love of puzzles and a special business with his son. A son who was a fierce protector and a deceptive manipulator.

Ruefully, Sera realized both father and son earned her willingness to confide about Percy. But why didn't Gabriel tell her he was Percy's contact? Why didn't he trust her?

"Fortunately, your husband is far more practical than you," Beryl continued. "He'll protect you from your own reckless whimsy."

"I'm not a child." He couldn't think such a thing, she argued silently. There was a logical reason for Gabriel's deception.

Sera knew her family couldn't handle dangerous secrets. They never faced the wolves alone, but she had. She could be an asset to her husband, if he just confided in her.

She knew from Percy, spies were reluctant to discuss their work. Exactly how did one go about broaching the topic when one's husband was ignoring them?

"Aunt Beryl, is this the one?" called a young voice from the hallway.

Sera looked up from her troubled reverie to see her nephew cradling a traveling trunk.

"Yes, that's it Julias," Beryl answered. "Set it down over here please." While their nephew trundled to the settee, she leaned over to Sera. "In all the confusion since we came to town, I haven't had a chance to deliver some of the things Chalmers sent along."

Julias deposited the trunk on the floor between his aunts and sank eagerly to his knees. "What's in it, Aunt Sera?"

Her eyes widened at the sight of the oak chest. Thistles and roses were engraved along the top in the pattern of the little Scottish town where her father had it made.

"My hope chest?"

"Chalmers thought you'd be missing it when you eloped. Sending it along was his way of putting his stamp of approval on your match, I think," Beryl mused. "He felt bad you took next to nothing with you."

Sera frowned. "I didn't mean to be gone so long the night I left. I hope Ulysses is keeping the kittens in line. Miss Cleopatra hasn't taunted him into anymore fights with Minotaur has she?"

"Chalmers has been keeping your menagerie in the garden, I believe," Beryl drawled.

"He says they won't leave until your home," Julias chimed. "Especially that damned dog."

"Julias! You shouldn't be using such language in front of ladies."

"Yes, Aunt Beryl." He grumbled, "That's what Chalmers called him. So did Uncle Adrian the night Ulysses chased the two of you out of bed with his yelping."

Ignoring his aunt's repressive glare, Julias explained to Sera, "Ulysses sat in your bedchamber and howled through the night for a full week. Father ordered him banished to the garden, but he just curled up outside your terrace and barked whenever a mouse ran by. I think he's standing guard until you come home, Aunty Sera."

"Or settle in Mirabella to collect them," Beryl corrected. "London is no place for a menagerie of strays. Will Blackstone mind having so many animals wandering about his beautiful home?"

"Is the inside really more mystical than the outside?" Julias asked.

"What I saw of it." Sera frowned over the memory of her impetuous visit. "I was distracted the day I dropped in."

"Distracted by what?" Beryl idly asked over her sewing.

Drawn by the memory of why she sought out Lord Julius, Sera cast her eyes on the oak trunk at her feet.

Julias's eyes lit up at his aunt's gaze. "Can we open it?"

"Julias, be careful," Beryl warned when her nephew unlatched and flung open the lid. "Your aunt went to a lot of trouble to pack that away. Most of it wouldn't concern you anyway. It's things your grandparents saved for her wedding."

"Like a trinket box?" the boy asked amidst folds of white linen.

Julias yanked out the miniature version of the trunk. The lid popped open dumping half the contents on the floor.

As if by instinct, Sera reached out to catch the small French map book before its contents splattered to the ground.

"Julias!" Beryl voiced Sera's stunned outrage.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

"You shouldn't be going through other people's things without permission. Your curiosity will get you in trouble, young man."

"Yes, Aunt Beryl," Julias intoned. As he dutifully picked up the tousled items on the floor, he glimpsed the book gripped tightly in Sera's hands. "Is that the map book I borrowed from you? The one from your friend in France?"

The question taunted Sera into silence. Her fingers cradled Percy's dangerous missives. She could feel the edges protrude from the torn binding of the manuscript while the scarlet bookmark dangled its chilling medallion down the book's spine.

"What's it doing in your trinket box?" Julias persisted.

"Protecting it from your prying hands, no doubt," Beryl quipped. "Nothing is sacred from your exploring curiosity, Julias."

"I wouldn't have taken it again, Aunt Sera. You didn't have to hide it from me."

Sera sighed over her nephew's hurt tone. "No, you don't understand. I just forgot that I put this in there. I didn't realize until now how easily it could have been lost."

Julias perked up. "Because of the highwaymen?"

"What highwaymen?"

"The ones who robbed Father's coach," he answered as if stating the obvious.

Sera shot a worried glance at her sister-in-law. "Magnus was robbed?"

Beryl glared at their nephew. "Julias, stop pestering your aunt and clean up that mess." To Sera, she explained, "It's of no concern, really. One of Thornbridge's coaches was waylaid on the way to Town." After a hesitant pause, she added, "Chalmers was sending some of your things to Town when it was stopped."

Alarm coursed through Sera. "With my hope chest aboard?"

"Adrian and I brought that along with some other things of yours," Beryl assured.

Julias interjected, "Good thing too, because the thieves ransacked your trunks on the travel coach, Aunty Sera."

Beryl shot him a warning glance. "It doesn't matter, Sera. Blackstone's outfitted you with an entirely new wardrobe to replace most of what was ruined."

"Was anyone hurt?" Sera worried.

"The coachman got a black eye and a bump on the head," Julias eagerly replied. "Old Dennison wished Chalmers sent Ulysses along to bark a warning. They were real fierce, he said. Wore masks and carried knives and pistols. They even had tattoos."

Sera was morbidly entranced. "A tattoo?"

"That's enough tall tales, Julias," Beryl chided. "You know Dennison just likes to elaborate his escapades to make him sound more daring to naive ears."

"He wasn't elaborating," Julias protested. "He saw the mark on their arms. It was just like the hilt of their daggers."

"A triple-crossed sword with a serpent and a rose wrapped around the hilt?"

"That's it!" Julias quirked his brows curiously. "How'd you know, Aunty Sera? Did Dennison tell you, too?"

"I have to go home," Sera blurted as she sprung to her feet.

"Now?" Startled, Beryl dropped her sewing. "But Lady Chillingworth and Cleo are coming for tea, remember?"

Panic gripped Sera. Panic and realization. Clutched protectively in her hands was the last gift she had from Percy. The peculiar crest on the jeweled egg was the same worn by the villains who probably tried to take it. She didn't know who they were or why they were after the discarded missives, but their presence near her brother's family terrified Sera. The book was dangerous. Somehow, it held the secrets to Percy's lost treasure.

The Angel and the Guardian were locked in battle to obtain the mysterious secrets. It was Percy's last mission. The reason he had been betrayed and murdered. Belatedly, Sera realized the danger she inadvertently put her family in. She had lost the egg, but she could still complete Percy's mission for him. All she had to do was deliver Percy's missives to his guardian.

Ironically, Sera realized she had her reason for bringing her husband out of his intriguing shadows. She would give Gabriel the book and force him to explain his reason for deception. She would make him trust her, confide in her the way she confided in him beneath the willow tree.

Charged with her new mission, Sera bundled Percy's book in her reticule and headed for the door.

Beryl stopped her at the threshold. "Are you feeling well, Sera? You look pale to me."

"Yes, I'm fine," she insisted. "I just remembered something I have to do at home. Tell my friends I'm sorry, will you?"

"Should I fetch Uncle Adrian to get the carriage?" Julias eagerly offered.

"No, I'll just hire a hackney."

"That's not a good idea," Beryl persisted in the foyer. "Your brothers don't want you going out alone. Julias, tell your uncle to hurry up. It can't take him this long to sort through his library for your aunt's books. He's probably reading them again."

"Don't disturb him," Sera countermanded. "Beryl, leave Adrian be. I can send Dunstan around later to collect my things. I don't need to bother my brothers if I'm just going home."

With an obstinate nod, her sister-in-law rolled her eyes toward their nephew's prying ears. "Aren't you forgetting your husband's request? Blackstone was most adamant, I understand."

"What does adamant mean?" Julias interjected.

"Bullheaded," Sera quipped.

"She means insistent," Beryl corrected.

Julias opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but the doorbell usurped his words. Heedless of the callers, Sera engaged her sister-in-law in a silent war of staring.

"You can't just run off whenever you want," Beryl hissed.

"I don't need a keeper," she shot back. "And as for my husband, it's him I have in mind speaking to at home."

On her irritated decree, the front door opened to her friends. Afternoon shadows cloaked their frowns.

"You're leaving?" Cleo called.

Rolling her eyes in frustration, Sera faced her friends. "I'm sorry, but I have to go home." To her sister-in-law, she added, "Don't worry. I'll send a note back so you know I arrived."

"What's this?" Lady Delia quirked curiously. "Is our Sera giving her family trouble again after so soon reconciling?"

"She wants to take a hackney home instead of my Uncle Adrian's carriage," blabbed Julias.

"Julias, run along upstairs and see what's keeping your uncle," Beryl commanded.

"It's not necessary," Sera protested.

"Nonsense," Lady Delia interrupted. "Your sister-in-law is right, dear. You shouldn't be gallivanting off in a hired hack. If you need to return home, I'd be pleased to offer my carriage. It's just outside."

Sera hesitated. "I don't want to be a bother."

"Of course not," the viscountess agreed as she wrapped an arm around Sera's. "Cleo dear, you don't mind if I leave you here while I escort Sera home? She looks pale to me. I do hope you're not coming down ill, dearest," she added as she guided Sera out the door.

The sympathetic tone tugged at Sera's conscience as she entered the carriage. "I'm not really ill, Lady Delia."

"I know," she whispered. Conspiratorially, she added, "I hope you don't mind but I was hoping to talk to you a few minutes without your family." Lady Delia's usually confident demeanor wavered. "I need a friend, Sera dearest," she confessed.

Concern filled Sera. She never saw the viscountess so distressed. Her dark eyes glittered with unshed tears. "What's wrong?"

"Something dreadful. I don't know what to do." She sobbed in frustration. "I've trusted him, loved him so implicitly and now...I just don't know what to do to help him anymore. He seems so lost to me."

"Who?"

"My Edward," Lady Delia whimpered. "Lady Pennington and her friends have been most cruel to him ever since his popularity started to wane."

"It has?" Sera blinked in confusion. "But he's a war hero.

The viscountess cried. "If only that were enough. Society is a fickle creature. It craves new heroes, new stars to look up to. Like you, Blackstone's Angel. You captivate the ton, Sera."

She frowned ruefully. "My husband captivates them. I'm just window dressing."

Lady Delia paused to wiped her tears away. "You sell yourself short, Sera," she said into her handkerchief. "I can see why Blackstone married you. Your husband is a clever man. The way he turned Society around to acclaiming you his redeemer was a stroke of genius. Blackstone is a clever manipulator."

Unease tickled Sera. "What are you getting at?"

The viscountess blinked through her tears. "I only meant you are lucky you can turn to your husband if you need him. I wish my Edward did not have so many harsh feelings toward him. Blackstone could be a powerful ally." She murmured, "Especially now."

"Did something happen other than Lord Chillingworth's decline in favor from the ton?"

Lady Delia shuddered. "I fear we are on the brink of ruin."

"In Society? It can't be that bad."

Lady Delia blanched and buried her face in her handkerchief. "It's all such a mess. I feared this would happen one day, but Edward is so determined and independent. He refuses to give his wife council. I've done everything I could for him. Been his hostess, his loyal wife, his greatest supporter. But Edward plays with danger."

"What kind of danger?"

Lady Delia looked up. Beneath sophisticated dark curls, she looked a timid creature. One filled with embarrassment and fear. "If I tell you this, you must promise not to tell a soul. Please Sera, not even your husband or family. Not unless I ask you to. It would ruin us and possibly send Edward to the gallows."

Sera burned with ominous concern. "What is it?"

Lady Delia's eyes glittered in hesitation. "Of all my friends I thought you might be the least appalled. Given Blackstone's notorious past. I wish my Edward's was not so."

"Lord Chillingworth has a notorious past?"

"Not that anyone would know," the viscountess explained. "He's usually good at obscuring the details of his youth. He was a second son, you see. Sent off to the horseguards before Bonaparte's first campaigns. It was difficult in the regular ranks, he tells me. Soldiers had to make do with limited salaries and other means of increasing their fortunes. That's when he made his acquaintance with the Society."

"Society?" Sera echoed remembering a snippet of conversation from the other night. Charlotte Romney said Gabriel had been invited to Mortrend Castle for the Society to gather.

"I don't know much about it," the viscountess admitted. "Only bits that I've overheard Edward discussing with his associate."

"Someone from this Society?"

"I think so," Lady Delia echoed in muffled confusion. "He's a nasty man. Crude and frightening to look at. Edward and he had some sort of business during the War. A smuggling operation from the Continent to England. It lined Edward's pockets so that when he inherited the viscountcy, he had money to raise the esteem of his brother's title."

"Who is your husband's partner?"

"I don't know his name." The viscountess shook her head in her handkerchief. "I don't want to know it. I'm afraid of him, Sera. His voice sounded so cruel. He threatened my Edward. I heard him, just last night." Conspiratorially, she confessed, "Sheba escaped into our garden. I went to fetch her and I heard them. They were arguing. Edward's partner did something that failed. They talked about dealing with a rival. In business, I think. Someone who is competing with them in some sort of hunt for smuggled goods. I fear my Edward may resort to violence."

Fear riddled Sera. "Violence against your husband's business rival?"

"Or his associate." Lady Delia shuddered. "Oh Sera, he is a dreadful man. He always carries a blade with him. A dagger in his boot and a long rapier like they use to train in the French academies."

Visions of Rene Dumond trickled through Sera's imagination. She had never actually seen the man, but just the mere thought of a French man with a blade sent icy shivers down her spine.

Sera's mind worked shrewdly. "Is this the business that's had your husband preoccupied lately, Lady Delia?"

"Yes, I fear it is," she cried. "Edward's always had his special projects. He'd go off sometimes for days or weeks. I wouldn't know where he was. I assumed he might be keeping a mistress somewhere."

"And that made it more acceptable?" Sera challenged.

"No," Lady Delia wailed. "No wife likes to think her husband is keeping a bit o'muslin somewhere. But I loved Edward from the day I met him. I've trusted him with everything and in return he's given me his name, title and place in Society. I never asked questions about his other activities, because he didn't want my intrusion. I've kept my suspicions to myself." Pointedly, she paused to look up. "Until now. Dear Sera, you once said you would be there for me in return for my kindness in East Chatham."

"What do you want me to do?" Sera queried hesitantly.

"I don't know what to do," the viscountess whimpered in frustration. Her dark eyes glittered with anxious tears. "I fear my Edward has done far worse than just smuggle. If the truth were known, I'd be ruined. I'd have to go into exile with my cousin on the Continent. I could lose everything. You're fortunate Sera. If you are threatened with ruin you have Blackstone and your family to protect you. My family is scattered and my friends are few. I fear if Edward disgraces us, I will not even have those friends."

Sera grasped the viscountess's hand. "You will always have my friendship," she assured. "No matter what business your husband may be involved in, you are not responsible. You're an independent woman not a device of Lord Chillingworth."

Lady Delia blinked back her tears. "You have unusual ideas, Sera dear. No wonder you were labeled an Original in East Chatham. No one is too outlandish to be welcomed into your menagerie of strays. Even a foolish viscountess crying because her husband chooses to keep his business secret from her. I must look a sight to you."

"You look as beautiful as ever," Sera comforted. "But if what you say is accurate about Lord Chillingworth's activities, perhaps it would be safer if you distanced yourself from the viscount for a while."

"Abandon him?" Lady Delia sounded appalled.

"This partner of his sounds...unhealthy to be around," Sera explained carefully. "I wouldn't want you to be in jeopardy because of some nefarious trade your husband may be involved in."

The viscountess frowned in consideration. "What would I do?"

"The Season's almost over." Sera remembered, "Didn't you say you had some friends in Scotland?"

Lady Delia nodded. "The Logans were friends of my first husband. But what about Edward? What should I do?"

"If you love him, then advise him to quit whatever business he is in with this partner." Sera advised darkly, "Before it's too late."

"Oh Sera, if you had only heard them. They were so angry with each other. They couldn't decide how to deal with this rival of theirs. He's a cunning foe. An elusive adversary adept at manipulating the shadows around him. I don't think my Edward would ever do him harm, but his partner—" Lady Delia shivered. "His partner could frighten the devil out of hell."

"Or an angel from heaven," Sera murmured thoughtfully.

Outside the carriage window, Lighting Street rumbled into view. Sera watched the rows of houses pass by in silent concentration. When she turned back to her companion she was surprised to see Lady Delia watching her with just a hint of a smile.

"You remind me of Blackstone," she explained. "I think you both see around quite a few corners. The two of you must make an indomitable pair."

Instinctually, Sera gripped her reticule. "I hope so," she whispered to herself. Thoughts of what she'd say to Gabriel tumbled through her mind. She was on a mission. To deliver Percy's missives. To report her suspicions to her guardian. And to once and for all dispel the shadows that kept her husband elusive from her love.

Anxiety and eagerness compelled her. With relief, she saw her townhouse rumble into view. The carriage stopped not a moment too soon. Sera reached for the doorlatch, but her companion's tentative whimper called her back.

"Don't worry so, Lady Delia. Everything will be all right. Just remember what I said. If you need anything, send word to me or my husband. Gabriel is born to be a guardian."

The viscountess beamed a smile. "And you are born to be an angel, my dear. I must admit I underestimated you at first, but I have come to value your friendship. I hope your husband does as well."

"He does," Sera declared. With a parting smile, she bounded from the carriage and climbed the steps to her townhouse.

Rather than ring the bell and disturb the staff amidst some task, Sera let herself in.

Curiously, the house was quiet. A dark, empty hall loomed in the entrance. Sera latched the door behind her, then faced the echoing silence of the hall.

It was strange being in the townhouse all alone. She was used to having a keeper rambling about, especially the last few days. At the very least, Dunstan should be marching around checking the locks on the doors.

The hall clock chimed the hour. Each clanging bell tolled hollowly throughout the barren halls. On the last chime, voices echoed in the distance.

It was a muffled sound, as if coming from somewhere deep inside the house. Curious, Sera followed the trail of words into her husband's Study. The wall beside the tall brick hearth rumbled with the force of masculine noises.

There were three in all. Three men's voices grumbling in secrecy. One was gruff, the other placating and yet a third fraught with irritation. Knowing her curiosity was leading her astray again Sera pressed her ear against the wall. Slowly, the voices came into focus.

Chapter Thirty-Six

"YOU HAVE two of the pieces now, Blackstone. See if you can figure a way to open it without the third key."

Pressing her ear against the Study wall, Sera frowned trying to identify the familiar grumble. Despite the bored drawl, the speaker sounded educated and used to being in command.

"Going home, milord?" chimed Dunstan.

"My wife will get anxious if I stay away from my library any longer," the grumble answered. "If you make progress, Gabriel, you know where I'll be."

Sera heard her husband's mumbled acknowledgment. Then footsteps sounded in the distance, down a staircase and silenced by the swift closing of a door she never guessed existed.

She told herself to back away, but the candid voices within the hidden room held her attention.

"You sure that's the same box stolen from your father's Study?" she heard Dunstan ask.

"It has the Triad crest," Gabriel replied. "We're fortunate Caesar's agents were able to locate Latham's collecting friend before Dumond's men."

"The Angel must have gotten wrong information from Latham before he killed him."

"Perhaps," Gabriel murmured. "It might also have been a rouse to get me to Dumond's hell. They were determined to force me into a situation that night."

Sera paused with realization. The night she'd been lured to the brothel, her wedding night, her husband was following an assassin.

"Charlotte's right then," Dunstan's voice caught her ear. "Dumond won't rest until he kills you."

"Unfortunately," Gabriel grumbled. "At least with the Romneys out of the country there won't be a repeat of the other night." His voice rumbled violently, "That was too close for comfort."

"Dumond knows how to put you into predicaments. Do you think Henry tipped him off?"

"The bastards must've followed my errant wife on her midnight escapade." Gabriel's voice arched in displeasure. "One you were supposed to prevent."

"I told you she was curious and resourceful," Dunstan defended. "I would think you'd be comforted at how she sought to protect you from your blackguard reputation. She handled Charlotte's presence remarkably well, don't you think?"

Gabriel grunted.

"Of course if you hadn't been too busy brooding the last three days over what didn't happen, you'd appreciate her defiant support more," Dunstan taunted.

"I'd prefer her obedience to her supportive curiosity." The ice dripping from Gabriel's voice shocked Sera.

"Then why did you allow Charlotte to tell her story if not to appease your wife?"

"It soothed the Montgomeries," Gabriel answered matter-of-factly. "The last thing I need to be bothered with now is another ridiculous duel over my reckless wife."

Again, the anger rolled off her husband's tongue. Three days time had apparently done little to soften his mood. If possible, he seemed even more irritated to Sera.

"So you're just going to leave it at that?" Dunstan challenged. "Lady Sera's family might be settled with a noble pirate story, but she's more clever. Charlotte thinks you should tell her the truth."

"I have," Gabriel snapped.

"Not about who you really are and what you're doing."

"I made my decision on that. Under no circumstances is Sera to know our mission." The declaration roared resolutely. "She's involved herself enough already."

"She might know something more," Dunstan persisted. "Something Percy told her or gave her before he died."

"No."

"She had the egg. Perhaps she smuggled more Triad pieces out of France."

"No," Gabriel demanded. "She would have told me the day she tried to recruit me to find her blackmailer. I interrogated her thoroughly. She knows nothing." With a sneering voice, he added, "Nothing beyond a few fanciful suspicions of a cursed treasure, that is."

Against the Study wall, Sera winced at her husband's proclamation. His mocking tone made her admission sound foolish.

"It might be fanciful," Dunstan defended, "but she's not exactly far off. The Angel's killed almost everyone who's come in contact with the egg. Including her blackmailer?"

Sera reeled at the news. Bixby the blackmailer was dead?

"The man flew out of my hands," her husband recalled. "The poison must have been in his whiskey."

"Then the Angel knows how and when you got the egg back," Dunstan concluded. "Have you considered someone might have been using Bixby when he stole Percy's egg from Miss Athelstan? It could have been an elaborate rouse for you."

A rouse? Sera pondered. But the theft lured her onto the road at midnight where she faced highwaymen, and her mysterious husband.

"Bixby didn't lie to me at the cemetery," Gabriel declared. "He didn't know what he had and was too frightened and greedy to care for more than the coins Sera left him. The foolish hellion didn't even go there with an escort," he added in disgust.

"In that case, it was serendipitous you trailed Lady Sera that night."

"No, it was cunning." Gabriel's voice splintered like hardened steel. "Sera confirmed my suspicions from the moment she opened her mouth. She's too naive to tell a lie." As if picking up the strains of an old argument he added, "Which is precisely why I don't want her to know anything about this! Quite simply, she isn't like Charlotte or Caesar's wife. Sera can't handle the deception."

The bitterness in her husband's voice sent shivers through Sera. He seemed more than angry with her. He was downright mean and judgmental. She wasn't even as capable as his mistress or his associate's wife. Two women who were welcomed into his world of shadows.

"You're underestimating her again," Dunstan argued.

"I've learned from my mistakes. Sera's reckless curiosity has obliged me into enough of Dumond's traps," Gabriel denounced ruthlessly. "Since fate decrees me her husband, then I intend to see her as far removed from my business as possible. Before she gets us both killed."

Clinging to the wall in the Study, Sera's face crumpled in distress. Bitterly, she remembered her husband's words the night of their elopement. He had been so furious when he saw her on the brothel wall. He called her a silly fool. A fool for involving herself in his business. She thought he was there to save her, but she was just the bait. A lure for his enemies to trap and ruin him.

Sera's fingers blanched beneath the strain as she clawed her way into the cracks of the wall. Fury and sadness overwhelmed her. She wanted to flee, but couldn't move. Instead, she listened to the shadowy voices.

"Lying to Lady Sera will only prolong your troubles, Blackstone," Dunstan gritted in irritation. "She's not some foolish chit. She discerned the truth about Percy. And she'd probably have discovered your father's work for the War Department if the Angel hadn't poisoned him first. Stop penalizing her for your assumptions. Trust her."

Optimistic, Sera pressed her ear against the wall even closer. Her fingers inadvertently tripped a hidden latch and the door opened a tiny crack. With the last vestige of hope she had, Sera waited to hear just one kind word from her husband.

"I did not ask for your opinion, Mr. Dunstan," Gabriel haughtily dismissed. "Deceiving Seraphina is the best way I can keep her from meddling in this case again."

With a painful gasp, Sera froze in the opened doorway. Her eyes sparkled with tears. Pain and betrayal consumed her. Like the hunted deer that faces its manipulative killer, she peered stonily through the crack.

The shadowy figures emerged standing around a small table. Sera focused on her husband. In his hand, he cradled a small lacquer box and Percy's egg as if they were the most important treasures to him.

"Damn," Gabriel gritted in frustration.

"What is it?" Dunstan echoed impatiently.

"It needs the third key. I can't trip the tumble device without it."

"So we're back to the drawing board?"

"I have my suspicions, but we need proof. The Scrolls hold all the Society's names. If only I could open this damn thing!"

Dunstan pursed his lips over the defiant treasure. He indicated the concealed lock on the base. "The key can't be that big. No bigger than a coin. Percy could have concealed it elsewhere. If you asked Lady Sera—"

"For the last time Dunstan, asking Sera anything is a waste of time! You were right. She's utterly unsuited to this business."

Clutching the hidden door, Sera cringed at her husband's proclamation. He seemed at his breaking point, but she couldn't imagine what more hurtful things he could possibly say. Then the vile dripped from his unshielded lips.

"It was my own stupidity that made me think she had the wherewithal to poison my father."

The blasphemous words enraged Sera's pain and betrayal into a storm of outrage. Without thinking, she slammed open the door and charged into the shadows. "You think I killed your father?"

Both men jolted into protective stances. Sunlight bathed the spies in an unguarded moment of embarrassment and shock. Dunstan was the first to emerge from his stupor.

"Lady Sera, why aren't you with your brothers?"

"I decided to come home." Sera's voice echoed flatly as her gaze settled on her husband. "I understand now why you preferred me in my brother's house."

An ominous pause settled between Gabriel and Sera. The bitterness in her eyes tore at his soul.

Grimly, he asked, "How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough," she hissed.

Bile flooded Gabriel's senses, but he fought the noxious taste. "I told you I don't want you going anywhere alone. Where the hell are your brothers?"

Her eyes sparkled with rebellion. "I don't need keepers!" Sera shot back. "And for your information, Lady Delia escorted me home."

"Chillingworth's wife?" Gabriel's insides chilled with suspicion. "I don't want you going anywhere near Lord Chillingworth or his wife, Sera."

"Don't blame Lady Delia," Sera countered knowingly. The shrewdness in her eyes surprised Gabriel. "She's just another victim of her husband's deceptions, like me it seems."

Rippling with condemnation, her declaration seemed like a portent of doom. Where once Gabriel had seen passion and admiration in his wife's eyes now he saw only fury and betrayal.

"Lady Sera, it's not as bad as you heard," Dunstan interjected.

"You don't have a shipping business, do you husband?" Sera stated the obvious. "You're the Guardian. The spy Percy spoke of."

Gabriel's taught lips curled unhappily. "It doesn't concern you."

"You came to East Chatham looking for Percy's egg," she persisted. "You followed me to the cemetery that night. You stole it from Ethan Bixby and you let me believe it was lost." Pain riddled her voice. "You knew how guilty I felt. I told you that day at the Ruins." Bitterly, she remembered. "The day you seduced me to trust you!"

"Sera, don't do this."

Obstinately, she ignored his warning. "It was your father I saw that night with Percy. Meeting in the woods by the Ruins. They worked with you. Until your enemy killed them. Did you think I betrayed that meeting to the Angel? That I told anyone besides you?"

"No, lass!" Dunstan urged. "That wasn't what he was thinking. You kept your secrets."

"Just like you kept my husband's from me?" Sera shot back testily.

Dunstan turned red. "Lass, please don't take it personal—"

"You were only following my husband's orders," she finished his words with a sneer.

Dunstan answered with a warning glare at his employer.

"Well, husband?" Sera provoked. "Tell me the truth. I'm tired of being kept in the dark to suit your purposes. Of believing the story you concoct for me." She trembled with bitter accusation. "You lied to me!"

"I protected you," Gabriel demanded.

"By treating me like an ignorant fool?"

"No," he growled defensively. "By keeping you from a world you don't belong in. You don't know the people who made this egg." He tossed the dangerous trinket maliciously between his fingers. "You don't know what these bastards are capable of. They use innocence to destroy."

"And what do you use?" Sera challenged. "How could you believe for even a moment that I would harm your father? Lord Julius was the kindest, sweetest man. He understood far more about me than his son ever did." Sera's voice trembled with haunting awareness. "What must you think of me?"

Tears flooded down Sera's ashen cheeks. Her eyes turned cold. "I know what you think of me," she pronounced. "Your deceptions condemn you husband. You lied to me to protect yourself!"

"Sera, stop it," Gabriel demanded. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh? Forgive me if I forego adopting your version of the truth," she fired back. "You may be a clever manipulator, but you don't know everything, Blackstone!" Sera abruptly yanked a book from her reticule and thrust it toward him. "Here. I came home to give you this."

The French markings on the embattled tome gave Gabriel pause. Cautiously, he reached for it. "What is it?"

"I found it among Percy's things in Quatre Bras," Sera revealed with a haughty lilt. "I would have given it to you had you confided in me what you were really after months ago. Before you were obliged into marrying me. I regret disturbing your plans so."

The disappointment in his wife's words paralyzed Gabriel. The book dangled carelessly between his fingers. "Plans change but not always for the worse. What's done is done. It's best to accept the situation and move on."

"You sound like a cold-hearted soldier speaking of a conquest," Sera remarked coldly. "Spies betray themselves, that's what you said. If you had trusted me in the beginning with your search for Percy's things, none of this would have happened. You manipulated yourself and me into this marriage."

Guilt flooded Gabriel. Knowing he could not defend the acute accusation, he lashed out at the only circumstance truly beyond his control. "Percy Dunne had no right to involve you with this mission."

"Percy trusted me," Sera raged. "He knew I would keep his secrets safe. Unlike you, he didn't think I was a simpering fool."

"Sera, you're twisting this into hysterics." He attempted a calmer, reassuring tone. "Listen to Dunstan, love. Whatever you heard is not as it seems. There's no reason to be this upset."

She looked as if his head had exploded and he failed to notice. Defiantly, Sera glared. "Forgive me, my lord. Discovering one's husband has been lying to one since the day he deceived his way into your life is unsettling." Her mouth flattened in bitter pronouncement. "Quite frankly, it leaves me wondering exactly who I married, and why!"

"You will not doubt me now, Sera," Gabriel warned savagely. "I have your best interests at heart."

"Do you?" The doubt rang hollowly in her words. Sera's brandy eyes sparkled with recrimination and disappointment. "On second thought, maybe I am a simpering fool. After all, I let my romantic sensibilities marry me to a man who prefers his shadows to anything I could give him."

As if condemning him to his choice, Sera turned and fled the hidden room. Her footsteps echoed upstairs until silenced by the slam of a bedchamber door. An aching silence filled her wake.

The hurt in her eyes haunted Gabriel. He took a step forward intending to chase after her when something shifted in the palm of his hand.

"I think you've done it this time, Blackstone."

Gabriel ignored the censure in his friend's tone. The torn binding of the book drew his attention instead. Its scarlet bookmark curled around his fingers dangling a silver medallion. "I'll be damned," Gabriel murmured as he glimpsed the ominous engravings.

"You shouldn't have lied to her," Dunstan baited again. "She's got it all twisted. Gabriel, you have to straighten her out."

Oblivious, he fitted the silver medallion to the base of the treasure box.

Dunstan raged with annoyance. "Dammit, are you listening to me?"

Gabriel nodded to the trinket in his hands. The medallion twisted in the lock. "It's the third key," he echoed wondrously. "Sera had it all along."

The jeweled egg magically split in half. The lid sprung open, revealing a tainted parchment roll. Excitement filled Gabriel. Flames of revenge burned his soul. His hunger for justice consumed him, driving out the concerns of a moment ago.

As if in a trance, Gabriel bounded from the Study and gathered his cloak. Dunstan's imperious glare was fast on his heels.

"You're not leaving?"

"I have to," Gabriel ordered as he tucked the parchment and treasure in his pocket. "The Scrolls have to be decoded. The work will go much faster with Caesar's help. With any luck, I'll have the Angel before he knows I'm hunting him."

Gabriel reached for the front door, but Dunstan's haunted question halted him in midstep.

"Have you gone mad? What about your wife? You can't just leave her like that. You saw her eyes."

Gabriel followed the staircase with his gaze. He sensed Sera had taken shelter in her room. Like the day she faced her brothers and misunderstood their protective wrath. He hadn't been able to explain it to her then either.

The Scrolls burned a hole in his pocket. He had the names of the traitors. He had the proof he needed to end this madness.

"The longer the Angel is free, the longer my wife is in danger. Keep her out of trouble until I return or next time I will kill you."

Dunstan bristled at the proclamation. His shout echoed with impatience. "While you're out hunting that Angel of yours Blackstone I hope you come to your senses and realize why you're so damned angry. When you figure it out, tell your wife. Maybe then she'll forgive you."

Gabriel answered with a repressive glare over his shoulder. "Just keep Sera safe for me. I'll be back to explain later."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Timidly, the knock sounded at the door. It seemed an eternity had passed leaving Sera to stare hopelessly out her bedchamber window. She wiped her tears when the door slid open behind her.

"Lady Sera?" echoed the tentative male voice. "I'm sorry to intrude, but your brother, Sir Adrian, is downstairs. He'd like to see you."

"Tell my keeper I'm not going anywhere," Sera gritted unhappily. "You needn't worry, Dunstan. I won't try to sneak out on you again."

"Lass, please don't be angry with me," he pleaded. "I'm impressed with your cleverness. I always knew you'd figure things out." Grimly, he added, "I just wish it hadn't been in such dramatic circumstances. Lady Sera, you don't understand the things you heard downstairs."

She bristled. "I'm not a simpleton."

"No one thinks you're a fool, lass. Gabriel did what he did to protect you."

"So he said," she echoed mirthlessly. "Where did my husband go?"

Dunstan's hesitant pause drew Sera's gaze. Indecision seemed to rumble through the secretary. He glanced down the hallway and back again.

"I suppose I'm not supposed to ask," Sera quipped sardonically.

With a resolute sigh Dunstan stepped inside and closed the bedchamber door behind him. His demeanor darkened.

"Blackstone went to finish this case," he informed. A faint smile christened his lips. "Thanks to you, he finally has what he's been after all these months."

"Percy's map book helped then."

Dunstan frowned at her flat voice. The joyous enthusiasm that once enlightened her eyes seemed bitterly absent. Optimistically, he hoped the details of her success would cheer her. "The bookmark was the key to the treasure. It unlocked the whole thing."

"The medallion with that triple-crossed crest?"

Dunstan nodded proudly. "Where did you keep it, lass? It wasn't with you when you came here."

"I hid it in my hope chest in East Chatham," she explained. Regret filled her voice. "The night I went to the Ruins and ended up eloping. My brother's butler sent the chest to Town with my sister-in-law. It was Chalmers' way of putting his stamp of approval on my marriage," Sera added with a disenchanted frown.

"It's a lucky thing it made it back to you then. Many people have died for that key."

And been seduced into marriage, Sera remembered with a brooding shudder. "What's it for? This accursed treasure. What does that crest mean?"

"It's the symbol of the Triad."

"The Society?" Sera recalled.

Dunstan nodded, his voice filling with disgust. "They are a group of traitors dating back centuries. They operate for their own interests rather than a government. The key unlocks the Scrolls. It's a listing of their member names."

"Like the Angel of Death?"

"The Angel d'Mort is one of their assassins," Dunstan explained. "He uses poison and helpers to do his bidding."

"He murdered Lord Julius," Sera concluded ominously. "That was the reason for the unexpected illness. He was working on assembling Percy's treasure?"

"He had one of the pieces. He was deciphering the marks on the outside. Looking for map directions to where the other pieces might be hidden."

"In France," Sera discerned. She remembered the collection of medieval treasure maps she saw in Mirabella. "The Angel killed Percy to stop him from sending on the pieces?"

"Something like that," Dunstan grumbled. "So many confusing things happened during Waterloo. The treasure was lost and found a few times by several operatives. Chameleon had the pieces hidden in a church when Percy found them. Then he disappeared and died. We thought it was lost to smugglers or battlefield thieves. They scavenge after the bullets stop."

"The Angel is Dumond, isn't he?" Sera pronounced. "That's why he's Gabriel's enemy. The Guardian and the Angel would do anything for the treasure," she repeated hauntingly.

"The Frenchman has his own vices," Dunstan gritted. "Dumond prefers blades to the Angel's poisons, but the two have conspired together."

Sera quirked her brow in silent query.

"The night Dumond hired Bixby to kidnap you," Dunstan explained, "the Angel was involved."

"My husband thinks he poisoned Ethan Bixby's whiskey."

Dunstan curled his lip at the candid comment. "Bixby spread atrocious tales about you lass," he confessed. "I should've broken his neck instead of his nose for you that night." His hands wrenched empty air. "The Angel helped Dumond lure both of you to the Red Velvet. I thank God Gabriel found you on that wall before they had a chance to eliminate more than one of Blackstone's contacts. Theirs was more than a simple ploy of seduction."

Sera cringed at the memory. Bitterness flooded her. "I was the bait to offset the Guardian's plans."

"You were the key to offsetting Blackstone!" Dunstan demanded. "You're his greatest weakness, lass."

Sera's mouth curled with silent condemnation. She didn't want to be her husband's weakness. She wanted to be his greatest strength. His confidante and his trusted keeper of secrets. Instead, he thought her a reckless idiot completely unsuited to his world of shadows. The shadows that drew him away from her yet again.

"So now that my husband has his list of traitors, he's gone after them, I suppose?"

"After the Scrolls are deciphered." He nodded. "It's an archaic code, but Lord Julius spent years studying it. Gabriel's eager to learn who the Angel is masquerading as."

Sera beamed inquisitive eyes toward her husband's secretary.

"The assassin seems to have a lot of contacts," Dunstan explained. "On the Continent and in England. Among smugglers and gentlemen of the ton. Could be a soldier or a social climber. Either way, your husband's certain the Angel's known to Society."

"And to East Chatham?" Sera mused thoughtfully. Lord Julius and Percy treated their small hamlet like a bustling base of operations. Percy had been eager to meet the locals, especially those with contacts far afield. They were the bright stars of East Chatham Society who ingratiated themselves all the way to Wellington's table.

When a name came to mind, Sera's thoughts turned grim. In her mind's eye, she replayed the anguished confession of poor Lady Delia. The normally dazzling countess was terrified that her husband was hiding a secret worse than smuggling. Sera frowned. It seemed even the loyal and clever Lady Delia had been betrayed by the secretive husband she foolishly loved.

As the silence dragged, Dunstan began to worry. "Don't concern yourself, lass. Blackstone won't do anything rash going after the Angel. He's taken the scrolls to our superior at the War Department."

"Caesar?" Sera remembered overhearing the name. The third man's voice in the hidden room came to mind. It was a muffled grumble. A touch haughty, indignant and gruffly commanding. Rather like what she'd expect from one of the soldiers who served the Roman Ruins of her home. A cold, crumbling structure of gray stone.

"Yes," Dunstan nodded. "Caesar will know what to do with the names on that list." He cheered, "They have the upperhand now, thanks to you. Caesar will see the traitors rounded up and arrested. Including the rogues who came after you. This mission will be over."

"Do you think your superior will stop grumbling and frowning then?" Sera idly asked.

The secretary's lips blossomed carelessly. "Like your husband, Caesar plays his part well in Society. No doubt, he'll be smiling enough for both him and his wife when this is over."

Sera sparkled with shrewd awareness. Despite her shock, she kept her tone mild. "Lady Greystone knows her husband is a spy?"

Dunstan opened his mouth on a reply and abruptly halted. He belatedly realized they never used the man's name in the hidden room. "What makes you think that, Lady Sera?"

She scoffed at his feigned ignorance. The guilty look in Dunstan's eyes gave her all the proof her inquisitive mind needed to spin. "I was wondering why I was so quickly accepted into Society at Lady Pennington's ball," she dripped with bitterness. "The countess is a friend of Gabriel's as she is friends with the Greystones and the Darringtons. All are associates of my husband's, I take it?" Not waiting for an answer, she concluded bitterly, "My husband's superior was saving his operative's reputation so he could continue with his assignment!"

"No lass," Dunstan protested. "You impressed them on your own merits. You were scared, but you didn't back down or stop fighting for your husband. No one defends him as much as you, Lady Sera. You're Blackstone's Angel."

"One he condemns to ignorance," she jeered. "Who else has known about my husband's work? Nellie and Mrs. Jenkins? Neither blinked when he brought me and the Romneys home in the middle of the night." Sera's humiliation grew. "Gabriel trusts his staff more than he trusts his own wife!"

"Please lower your voice, lass," Dunstan chided in a hoarse whisper. "Except for myself, none of Blackstone's staff know about his activities. He kept his crew in the dark for years, just as his father did before him. They accept that the Blackstones keep their own council and sometimes are involved in hasty situations, but they ask no questions."

"I see. You tell them what they need to know. What my husband decrees is acceptable?"

Dunstan bristled. "I'm not Blackstone's lackey. I don't agree with all of his decisions, but he has a point about this. The Triad is a treacherous group, lass. Just knowing of them puts one in danger."

"And not knowing of your enemies puts you in even more danger," Sera grumbled defiantly.

"Lass, I know the things you overheard downstairs were upsetting, but don't take it personal." He advised in a softer tone. "Gabriel can be a stubborn idiot at times, but he has his reasons. He wanted to protect you."

"From myself," Sera bemoaned.

"No, from those who would use you against him. Please understand."

Blinking back fresh tears, Sera beamed a bittersweet smile on her husband's friend. "I do understand, Dunstan." She bitterly pronounced, "The Guardian made his judgment of me. He manipulated the situation until his enemies obliged us into marriage."

"You're good for him, lass."

The statement rang hollowly in Sera's ears. Her smile cracked. "Yes, I suppose so. My husband has his secret treasure at last. No doubt he'll use that list to take advantage of his enemies the way he did me."

"Lady Sera, whatever you're thinking right now, Gabriel probably deserves it. But don't condemn him or yourself outright. Blackstone's lived in the shadows most of his life. You are his redeeming grace."

Rigid, Sera gazed out the window. She could feel Dunstan's compelling eyes burn into her back. She ignored him as hot tears flowed down her cheeks in anger and mourning. All the hope and whimsical fancy she held for her mysterious knight-errant seemed to vanish. The shadows were cold, dark and ugly.

Ominously, she felt the cloud of deception closing in around her. She was alone. Alone in a reality she hoped was just a nightmare. Like those rainy mountains where wolves hunt weak and reckless kill.

As if drawing upon a well of strength she had reserved for times of disaster, Sera stiffened against the window. Her voice was flat and resigned.

"You are a good friend, Mr. Dunstan. Please tell my brother that I'm not feeling well. I think I'm coming down with a cold." She sniffled for effect.

From his disheartened expression, Sera supposed Dunstan wasn't happy with her request. His hands flexed as if vainly searching for a neck to strangle.

"Blackstone should be home...soon," he grumbled. "I'll have Nellie bring you some tea. Cheer up, lass. This will all be over soon."

Mutely, Sera nodded. Doubt coiled around her as the bedchamber door closed. Abandoned to the shadows, she curled up on the windowseat. The sun was setting. Gray clouds rolled in from the South. Soon the night would begin and the world of cloak and dagger that her deceptive husband seemed to prefer would come alive.

* * *

PRE-DAWN light poured through the windows of a silver-lined carriage. Muted shadows cloaked the passengers in familiar shades of gray. Wearily, the largest of the two men sighed.

"Well, that's done it," concluded the Romanesque commander. Reclining amidst his elegant coach, the Marquess of Greystone stretched out and rubbed the tired muscles in his battle-scarred leg. "Cain will interview the rest of the man's servants and report to me later. You did good work, Blackstone."

"Did I?" Gabriel rumbled hesitantly. His hands fisted in frustration. "I wish the bastard hadn't taken the easy way out."

"Slit throat is hardly the easy way to avoid capture," noted Greystone. "Your French friend has a brutal way of eliminating risky associations. Dumond must have gotten wind of your suspicions."

"The Angel deserved to die the way his victims did," Gabriel gritted harshly. Unrequited revenge raged inside him. "Chillingworth exposed himself with his loose slips of the tongue. And his hatred of me."

"Obviously, you and your pretty bride usurped the pool of contacts he garnered for his work and social standing." The marquess' gray eyes glittered shrewdly. The faint grumble cultured in his social tone softened speculatively. "Glorianna learned he lost quite a few friends by openly condemning you at that first ball. Chillingworth and Dumond probably thought they could push your overbearing brothers-in-law to challenge you by propagating those ruinous lies."

Shrewdly, Gabriel remembered the private conversation he shared with his wife's relatives. When they'd finally gotten around to discuss the truth of how the elopement came about, the Montgomeries had even more startling clues for Gabriel. Many whispered about Blackstone and Sera behind their backs, but only two men encouraged her brothers to kill him.

"The viscount was a clever bastard," Gabriel condemned. "Percy probably never knew what hit him in Quatre Bras."

"Poison would explain why he wandered into the sniper's path," the marquess agreed. "Dunne was too wily a foot soldier and courier to be that clumsy. It's a fortunate thing he had the wherewithal to conceal the treasure in the cottage before he tried to make contact."

Mention of Percy's egg and how it made its way to England turned Gabriel uncomfortably on the seat. The plaguing fury and fear that assailed him the last few days blanketed the unrequited revenge in his heart. "I just hope the damn thing identifies all these bastards once and for all. The sooner we deal with the Triad traitors the better."

"We will," his superior smiled confidently. "Thanks to you, we can scratch off the most villainous name. The Angel of Death won't be making anymore unexpected calls to deal with loose ends. And those papers you found in Chillingworth's Study should expose his friends in his smuggling operation through Rochester. How did you know to look inside that statue safe?"

Grimly, Gabriel recalled the obscure figurine. It was a three dimensional replica of the Chillingworth crest, with a dragon swallowing an angel. There were hundreds of angel figurines littering the viscount's townhouse. Ruefully, Gabriel realized he should have assembled the clue weeks ago. The Angel and Dumond both had a vile interest in twisted cherubs.

"Chillingworth's wife mentioned her husband's peculiar collection in passing when she visited my wife," Gabriel explained. "The viscountess said her husband was very possessive over his treasures. It seemed a likely place to store things he didn't want his curious wife stumbling across."

"Lady Delia was devastated, don't you think?" Greystone pondered aloud. "Virginia judged her an opportunist who latched onto Chillingworth and then your wife to elevate her own popularity. I wonder which concerns her more? Social ruin or finding her husband in a pool of his own blood."

The frightening scene on Chillingworth's terrace came to Gabriel's mind. The Study doors were ajar, port and half-filled glasses waited beside a small fire in the hearth. Obviously, the Angel planned a midnight rendezvous with his business partner. The river of blood flowing out the French doors told the story of the short and brutal fight that ensued.

"It's fortunate we arrived before Chillingworth's wife returned from her night out." Gabriel warned, "Dumond leaves few witnesses behind."

"The viscountess said your lady advised her to take a trip," the marquess mentioned. "What was that all about?"

"It was Lady Delia who brought Sera home from her brother's this afternoon." Visions of the scene that enfolded thereafter colored Gabriel's frown. "They had a conversation about their husbands. I didn't ask for details once I noticed the book Sera had."

Greystone smiled. "Your wife must be as clever as your secretary says, if she concealed the third key all this time. But why didn't she give it to you before?" Wryly, he asked, "Or did she only just figure out what you were up to, Guardian?"

Gabriel's mouth curled unhappily. He had not given the exact details of the afternoon's second serendipitous discovery, but his superior was a cunning decoder of unspoken revelations. Caesar's impeccable judge of character was what made him suited to his job as director. His agents never kept secrets for long from the inquisitive marquess, or his lady. Greystone's network of associates made it nearly impossible to keep reports from reaching his ears.

"Unfortunately my wife's curiosity was not settled the other night," Gabriel confessed. "I should have gotten the Romneys out of my house sooner. It was far too dangerous having them about with the Frenchman lurking. The bastard probably had dreams of rushing my house in the middle of the night."

"Fortunately, the Daemon Lupe has departed England's waters, so you can cease banishing your lady to her brothers' care," Greystone advised. "My men are getting tired of trailing the rambunctious lot. That nephew of hers had your wife traipsing through half of Vauxhall gardens yesterday. I see where Lady Sera gets her ability to give her keepers the slip."

Bitterly, Gabriel recalled how easily his reckless bride defied his decrees to keep her safe. Visions of her flight in men's britches burned his insides with impotent rage. It was a nightmare he had replayed repeatedly the last few days. A symphony of what could have been. If he hadn't heard her frightened cry. If instinct and blind emotion hadn't driven him over that garden wall. If he hadn't been there to defend her from the feral bastards charging her in the alley.

"Sera's too clever for her own good," Gabriel gritted. "She never should have followed me the other night." Confused rage gripped him. He bit back the image of his naive wife cut down because she dared to read the wrong scrawled missive. "Damn her prying eyes!"

Shrewdly, the marquess considered his agent. Gray eyes sparkled with curiosity and knowledge. "Your wife's as clever as you are, Blackstone. More, if you haven't faced the truth yet."

"What truth?" he demanded to know.

"You've lived your life in deception for as long as I've known you," the marquess professed. "Society believes you a notorious blackguard, a ruthless pirate and half a dozen other things. But your wife is different than the milksop gossipmongers. Like mine, she loves you enough to see beyond the facade. It was only a matter of time before she figured it out."

"Like the Sparkling Lady unveiled your secret?" Gabriel countered. "Virginia said you were in a rage when she suddenly appeared in the tunnels looking for you. Your wife thought you were going to kill her to keep your secret."

The marquess frowned over the memory. "At the time, Virginia wasn't my wife but she was just as angry as I was. Like you, her curiosity did hurry my arrangements along a bit."

"Maybe if you had married her sooner, you could have prevented her discovering your connections," Gabriel suggested. "To save her the worry, at least."

Greystone's eyes grew weary. "Virginia worries more when I keep things from her. I've learned the hard way not to keep secrets from my wife."

"Because of Blade?" Gabriel probed.

At the name, the marquess clenched his fist in old rage. His eyes darkened bitterly. "Le Sabre was a clever bastard. He used Virginia's sympathies against me. If I had listened to her, he never would have gotten his hands on my wife. He was fortunate Virginia eluded his lecherous touch." Greystone's flat mouth curled sinisterly. "I would have tortured him before I killed him."

"Dumond is still out there," Gabriel pondered morbidly. "Until the Triad crumbles and turns on the bastard, I have to protect Sera."

"The Frenchman's hands are tied. Between the Scrolls and Chillingworth's papers, we have enough to hang him for piracy at least. If he sets foot on English soil again, he'll be arrested. It's only a matter of time before the department unravels those names and exposes the Triad traitors in this country."

"The department?" Gabriel echoed curiously. "You sound like you're removing yourself from the hunt."

"I am," Greystone declared. "It's time for me to retire from the War Department. I've had enough cloak and dagger games."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Gabriel admitted. "You have been as dedicated to unraveling the mystery of the Triad as my father was."

"The Scrolls are found," the marquess reminded. "All that's left is rounding up the villainous lot. That's a job more suited to a policeman than an old commander. Cain can handle it admirably. Nemesis is pledged to avenge in the name of justice." Decisively, Greystone added, "Besides, I'm tired of indulging my wife's penchant for intrigue. As long as I am obliged to the shadows, Virginia demands she tag along."

"The Sparkling Lady has a way of handling her lord," Gabriel mused playfully. "You'd think giving you a son would soften her reckless curiosity."

"Alexander can be as reckless as his mother." The marquess grinned. "Flame red hair is suited to their temperament. Hopefully, Glaorianna will be so busy handling our second babe this fall she won't miss the intrigue."

"Your wife's expecting again?" Gabriel blinked in surprise. "So that's why you wanted a hasty conclusion to this case. Congratulations Greystone."

"Should I say the same for you?" the marquess quirked suggestively. "Virginia said your wife had been behaving exceptionally emotional lately. She glowed, I believe was the word my wife used. You too have been determined to conclude this case since your wife forced those revelations the other night."

Memories assailed Gabriel. From the moment she landed at his feet, Sera's loyalty and curiosity knew no bounds.

Grimly, he remembered the ugly scene in his Study when all the bitter truths spilled out. She kept pushing him, demanding his confidence. She enticed his passion and aroused his blind fury.

If he hadn't jumped that garden wall, if those bastards had reached her alone and defenseless in the alley? Gabriel shuddered at the mental image of his innocent angel pale and lifeless in his arms.

Shocking realization came to the Guardian's soul. If he had lost Sera, he would be forever trapped in the shadows. Alone.

"It's time I took Sera home to Mirabella," Gabriel declared. "I've ignored my father's estate long enough."

"I hope you don't close it off like your father did," Greystone commented. "Blackstone's Angel would give the Sultan's Palace Society's seal of approval. She's already beguiled Virginia with tales of the place. Your countess paints your grandfather's masterpiece as a mystical haven to the lost and whimsical."

Visions of the joy he saw dance in Sera's unshielded eyes at the Ruins tickled Gabriel's smile. "Like my mother, Sera is in love with Mirabella. She'll make it a home again."

A faint note of doubt crept out of Gabriel's heart. He had not contemplated the old fear in long time. "This time I intend to protect it far better. There has been enough tragedy at Mirabella. I don't want Sera to know more."

"Your father's death was enough for both of you," Greystone agreed tightening his fist around his walking stick. "Lord Julius was a good man. Perceptive and compassionate. There are many Bourbons who owe their lives to him."

As if suppressing an old argument, Gabriel glanced impassively out the window. The carriage rumbled down the darkened streets of Mayfair. Turning onto Lighting Street, only the corner house indicated the faintest glimmer of life. The tiny room adjacent to his bedchamber glowed with a waiting candle. A beacon to a man languishing in the shadows.

"My father's death is one more reason for me to be wary," Gabriel declared as the carriage drew to a halt. "Somehow the Angel found his weakness and used it against him. Until Dumond turns up, he'll be looking to do the same to me."

When Gabriel reached for the doorlatch, Greystone stopped him. "The Angel is dead and Dumond is a marked man," he reminded. "Retire yourself from this business, Blackstone. The Guardian's lingered in shadows long enough. Your wife would be better protected by your love than by your suspicions."

Impassively, Gabriel stared back.

"Don't make the same mistake I did with Le Sabre," Greystone implored with bitter warning. His gray eyes sparkled with secret understanding. "I can see you're fighting it. Strong men usually do, but you'll only hurt your wife in the process. She'll be your greatest asset if you accept it."

"Accept what?" Gabriel challenged.

"The reason you've been in a rage," Greystone revealed. "That nightmare plaguing your thoughts is the same Blade invoked in me. I didn't realize how helplessly in love I was with my wife until I almost lost her."

Speculation turned to wary acceptance. Absently, Gabriel glanced at the candlelight glowing in the bedchamber window upstairs. Out of the shadows, his gentle bride was waiting for him. Her reckless curiosity and naive loyalty obliged her into his mission. He desired her beyond distraction. She vowed her trust and her love. She gave her heart and soul to him while he lingered in the shadows. He had wasted there for so long, Gabriel almost forgot what real truth and honest compassion was like. Sera gave him beauty, innocence and a naive love that beckoned him from the shadows.

"You're right Greystone," Gabriel concluded. "It's time the Guardian retires." Grimly, he added, "But unlike Le Sabre, my enemy is still very much alive. I will do what I have to in order to protect my wife. She is my mission now."

With a determined stride, the Guardian abandoned the shadows of his superior's carriage.

The townhouse door opened before he managed two of the front steps. Briskly, Gabriel breezed by his secretary in the foyer.

Dunstan's hushed whisper halted Gabriel's flight up the stairs. He listened with half an ear as he shrugged out of his cloak.

"Darrington was by a while ago," Dunstan informed. "The Red Velvet had a fire. Dumond covering his tracks?"

Gabriel nodded. "Apparently so. I suppose Caesar's agent also told you about Chillingworth?"

"Bastard betrayed his own men," Dunstan grumbled. "He made a lot of young men tragic heroes with his special assignments. Poor Miss Athelstan will be crushed when she learns her fiancee's champion was his killer."

"Sera's friends and neighbors will all be shocked to hear the news. Caesar's trying to keep things quiet, but Lady Delia had company when she returned home unexpectedly."

"Chillingworth's wife was there?" Dunstan sounded surprised.

"She found us examining the body. Lady Delia went into hysterics. Cried all over Greystone until the physician came. We left her in Sir Weatherby's care, but she'll have more problems in the morning. There's no way to stop the news from hitting the gossipmills of the ton."

"I still can't believe he was the Angel," Dunstan grumbled. "Cunning bastard. He must have conned his way into your father's good graces the way he did the bluenoses of East Chatham. Dumond finally did something right and killed the devil for you."

"At least he won't be threatening Sera anymore," Gabriel gritted. Impotent revenge mingled with protective relief. "At all costs I must keep her from suffering the same fate as my parents."

Dunstan's expression glittered in renewed irritation. "I was waiting for you to remember your wife. I thought you'd forgotten her."

The anger in his friend's jibe stopped Gabriel at the steps. "For your information, I never stopped thinking about my wife. Caesar's men have been watching this house all night, so I know you haven't lost her again for me."

"No, you've done that all by yourself." Dunstan smirked. "You shouldn't have run off like that earlier. Lady Sera is very upset with you."

"I expect she is angry with me."

"More than that. I tried to explain, but your wife can be as stubborn as you." Dunstan frowned knowingly. "Lady Sera knows about Chillingworth. She suspected it earlier from her talk with Lady Delia. Darrington and I had to keep her from setting off to comfort her friend."

"Darrington spoke to Sera?"

"I told you she was clever," Dunstan demanded in a disgruntled tone. "She figured out about Caesar and his friends. She knows what they did to help you turn the scandal of your elopement, but she's got it all twisted, Gabriel. She doesn't understand why you refused to trust her like you did Charlotte and I. You have to explain it to her."

"I intend to. The mission is over anyway."

"Our last mission?" his friend echoed hopefully.

Resolutely, Gabriel proclaimed, "The Guardian is retired. I'm tired of midnight rambles. It's time I made a home with my angel."

"You're not in a rage anymore, are you?" Dunstan noticed. "Figured it out, did you?"

Gabriel glared at his secretary. "I suppose by your grin, I should assume you are waiting to gloat over an admission of mine?" He ascended the steps. "You'll have to wait until morning, Dunstan. My wife's waiting for me."

"No she's not," his friend warned ominously. "But tell your wife you love her and she just might forgive your deception."

Ignoring the grim proclamation, Gabriel found his bedchamber pointedly barren. The bed where his wife usually curled up waiting for him lay empty and untouched. Fleetingly, Gabriel remembered the candlelight beckoning him from the window. It had come from the smaller bedchamber adjacent to his own. The one his wife had not slept in since the first night he brought her home and she found her way to his bed.

In the connecting walkway candlelight flickered beneath the door to the Countess' bedchamber. He turned the knob half expecting it to be barred to him by a piquish wife. The door swung open with a deafening silence.

Curled up in the windowseat, Sera glanced at her intruder. Gabriel saw her misty eyes flash relief, then her gaze fell to the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're home."

The disheartened declaration confused and alarmed Gabriel. Swallowing back an ounce of guilt, he suppressed the realization he had left her to worry. "I'm sorry I took so long, love. There were a number of details to see to."

"I heard," Sera bristled as her husband approached. As if shrinking from his presence, she shimmied out of the windowseat and past him. Her back was rigid as she faced the glowing fireplace. "Lady Delia must be devastated with her husband's lies. And now she has Rene Dumond to deal with."

His wife's silent shudder compelled Gabriel. "Dumond is gone, Sera. Chillingworth has given us enough to hang him for piracy if he returns. It's over now, love." Gently, he reached for his wife to comfort her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed as she twisted away.

Gabriel frowned. "Sera there's no reason to be so angry with me." "The mission is over. The Guardian is no more. I'm retiring from the cloak and dagger games, so you don't have to spend anymore sleepless nights waiting up for me."

"How considerate of you," she remarked sarcastically. "Was this a decision you calculated over time or one brought about by my reckless discovery of your deceptions?"

"I considered it since my father's death," Gabriel admitted. "But you give me my most important reason for resigning."

"I'm your greatest weakness," Sera repeated mirthlessly.

"Yes, in a way." Gabriel hesitated. "The only mission I have time for now is you and my father's estate."

"Returning to your practical concerns, my lord? Like most noblemen, I suppose your primary interest in life now is tending your fortune and begetting your heirs. Or is that just another role you're prepared to play like the notorious blackguard?"

Gabriel winced at the bile in his wife's tone. Dejected eyes defiantly ignored his gaze. "You saw through my roles, love," he reminded gently. "Your brothers denounced me, but you saw the truth they didn't. You saw me as a noble protector, as your guardian angel, remember love?"

"Don't remind me," Sera groaned angrily. "Cass said you were deceptive. I should've listened to him. Maybe then I wouldn't have obliged us both into this marriage."

"Sera, we've settled that," Gabriel gritted unhappily. "It wasn't my intention to oblige you into anything, but what's done is done. From that night on, I vowed to protect you."

"By lying to me?" she jeered. "You deceived me, Gabriel."

"I had my reasons," he defended. "I didn't exactly lie to you, either. I just didn't tell you certain things."

"I'm not a child," Sera protested indignantly. "Or a fool as you think."

"You're curious, clever and naive, but not a simpleton," Gabriel agreed. "A simpleton couldn't give me so much trouble or plague my thoughts so."

"Then you only have yourself to blame for involving me," Sera chided. "You assumed I'd poisoned your father's tea that day, didn't you? But when I told you I drank it too and then confided Percy's secrets, you knew I was too incompetent to be a killer or a spy."

Unease and irritation flooded Gabriel. The memory reminded him of what his cold assumptions had almost encouraged him to do. "You're not incompetent, love. You humbled me with your trust and in truth I knew long before that day at the Ruins."

"When you saw me huddled on the lane at Persephone's feet?" Sera recalled bitterly. "I must have looked like a ridiculous waif to you. Smiling and going on about meeting your father. And all along you thought I was protecting the name of his killer."

"I jumped to the wrong conclusion," Gabriel confessed.

"Pity that, my lord," Sera haughtily jeered. "If you hadn't spent so many weeks seducing me to betray the lover I never had, your enemies never would have used me against you. I wouldn't have meddled in your precious case with my romantic sensibilities."

"I didn't pursue you for the Angel's name, Sera," Gabriel growled with growing fury and passion. "I let myself believe that because I wanted you. The only way I could have you was if you were available to seduction."

"Which you proved so admirably," she sneered. "Passion is a deceptive emotion. I suppose one accustomed to shadows knows how to master it in others."

"Dammit Sera, you wanted me as much as I wanted you! You never would have left your brother's keeping if you didn't want to be in my bed."

"Thank you for reminding me," she bristled. "I suppose beyond being reckless, I am also a brazen hussy."

"I didn't say that," Gabriel hissed. "You're twisting my words."

"How would you know the difference?" Sera taunted. "Or am I the only one clever enough to upset the Guardian's plans. I can understand why you were so furious with me at the Romneys'. You looked ready to kill me along with those two men you knocked into the garden wall. Did you think you could trap Dumond's men if I wasn't in the way?"

Reminder of that brutal night renewed the rage boiling inside Gabriel. Roughly, he grabbed Sera by the shoulders. His glare was savage and protective.

"Those bastards would have killed you! I haven't been able to get the vision out of my mind since. You had no business following me and waiting in that alley. Dammit love, don't you realize I could have lost you?"

Sera glared at her husband in doubt and defiance. She watched the subtle changes in Gabriel. His emerald eyes swirled with blind rage, outright fear and finally realization.

"You scared the hell out of me that night, Sera," Gabriel confessed gruffly. "I've protected a lot of people, but none like you. You drive me to distraction, love."

"You must hate me for the way I keep meddling."

"I love you, dammit!" Gabriel roared.

The declaration hung in the air around them. Passion flared in emerald shadows with the intensity of a heartfelt admission. The rage that gripped Gabriel disintegrated into an anxious silence. One that waited for his inquisitive, trusting wife to understand the emotion he found so difficult to accept. Guilt had kept him from admitting the truth. Guilt that decreed he had committed a sin by dragging his innocent angel into his web of deceit. But now the web was dispersed and Gabriel was free to accept the depth of his desire.

Pensively, Sera studied her husband's gaze. Brandy fire sparkled optimistically in her eyes. The declaration she had hoped for many weeks ago was delivered into her hands. Then the fire sputtered with a gust of cold shadows. The dark reminder was on the tip of her memory. She had vowed her love and trust to a man who judged her incapable of facing the dangers of his world.

"You don't love me," Sera bitterly denied. Defiantly, she twisted out of Gabriel's hold." If you loved me, you would have understood." Seeking shelter in the morning shadows of the window, she chided, "You would have trusted me."

Gabriel stumbled in stunned hesitation. "I couldn't tell you about my work without putting you in more danger than you were in already."

"You had my best interests at heart."

"Yes," Gabriel declared. "Love, you are too trusting, too innocent to be corrupted by the bastards who hunt the shadows."

"Innocence is not as vulnerable as you think," Sera murmured against the glass. Blankly, she stared out the window. Her voice was rigid and flat. "Your best interest should have been my heart. Maybe then you'd know how much I detest being handled, my lord."

"Sera, you're beginning to sound like a spoiled child."

"Am I?" she doubted in a mirthless tone. "It's been a long night, my lord. I'm tired. If you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed now."

Pointedly, Gabriel gazed at the small bed awaiting its countess. "Husbands and wives share the same bed, Sera."

"Do they?" she defied. "My parents shared many things. Theirs was a marriage to be envied." Sera curled her lips as if incriminating her own situation.

"Ah, so you intend to punish me like you did your brothers when we eloped? You can't disown or banish me from your bed, Sera."

"Leave me husband," she requested flatly. "Whatever you have to offer me now is not enough. You cannot change who you are and neither can I."

"You are my wife!" Gabriel reminded.

"I know," returned her glum agreement. "Like you, I will no doubt find a way to adjust to the situation, but not tonight. I fear, I've dispelled enough lingering shadows to seek out more. No matter how enticing they may be to my romantic sensibilities."

"I'm sorry you overheard what you did today, love. Obviously, it colored your thoughts as it did mine. This damn case cursed so many people including Percy and my father. I'm done with it now. It's time I took you home to Mirabella, so you can put this all in its proper perspective."

"And assume my role as your countess?" Sera sounded bored by the prospect.

Frustration gritted Gabriel's lips. "Sulk if you want, Sera. The only thing I regret is that I couldn't protect you from your own damnable curiosity. Like it or not, you are my wife and my responsibility now. I'll never let anyone or anything harm you."

"You are a most considerate protector, Gabriel," she mused disheartened. "I see why Marie Dumond defends you so passionately."

The intimation that Sera somehow compared to his former mistress outraged Gabriel. Momentary anger flared in him. Within two quick strides, he corned his cold bride by the window. Possessively, he cupped her chin between his fingers. His words came out a hushed and sultry command.

"Don't make light of the passion we share, Sera. You and I are bound together by law and by God. Your pride might encourage you to deny that in a fit of pique, but when you emerge you know where I'll be."

Roughly, he kissed her. The not-so-subtle reminder invoked the desire that rumbled between them since the beginning. Enticing fire lapped at the control and fury.

A brief moment later, Sera twisted away from her husband's embrace. Catching up to her racing breath, she forced herself to stare impassively out the window. Her face stubbornly turned against Gabriel's retreat to the connecting door.

Half expecting to hear her call after him, the elusive earl paused in the doorway. The first rays of sunlight streamed through the window casting a halo around his defiant angel. There seemed something ominously wrong about her. The glow that filled her eyes retreated behind darkened shadows. Grimly, he wondered if she was condemning herself to the place from which he was ready to emerge.

With a touch of haughty reminder, he called back as he exited the room, "And Sera, I do love you."

Chapter Thirty-Eight

CLOUDS DRIFTED over the elusive sun in haunting simile to Gabriel's wife. He watched her seated across from him in their travel coach as the familiar countryside whizzed by the window. As she had done since they departed London, Sera kept her attention firmly focused on the book in her lap.

Frustration coiled within Gabriel. It had been a week since their bitter argument. He assumed Sera's pride would mend easily in the time it took him to wrap up his duties for the War Department. He expected her to end the rift between them as soon as her temper cooled, but Sera's continued isolation defied him. Nothing he said seemed to affect her.

"We're entering East Chatham now," he announced with a pointed nod out the carriage window. "We're almost home, love."

Sera turned the page of her book without so much as a glance toward the window or him.

Gabriel stifled a grumble and tried again.

"You can see Mirabella from here." He nodded toward the window. Blackstone Isle came into view around an elevated bend in the road. "The golden domes are shimmering in the water. I don't think I've ever seen my home look so beautiful, have you Sera?"

Dutifully she tore herself from her novel. Her voice sounded dull and reserved. "Mirabella always looks like that in the sunlight." At her words, the clouds enshrouded the sky. Woodenly, Sera returned to her reading.

Gabriel's mouth curled in disappointment, but he would not be deterred. "Mirabella hasn't had a mistress since my mother died. I expect there will be things you'll want to change." Meaningfully, he suggested, "I hope you'll make it a home again, love. Your home."

Distantly, Sera answered, "I will aspire to be a dutiful countess to you, my lord. It's the least I can do for your protection."

Gabriel bit back an oath at the disguised insult. "You are my wife, Sera. Not my ward."

"Yes, my lord," she mumbled obediently. "I am aware of my predicament."

"It's not a predicament, Sera. It's a marriage," Gabriel quipped. Fisting his hands, he prayed for patience. "Don't do this, love. I know you're angry with me, but it's not worth this continued conflict. What's done is done. It's time you stopped brooding over an irrelevant past."

She turned another page. Sera's lips pursed in silent mutiny. Her control was worthy of a master manipulator.

Gabriel's mouth flattened with frustrated resolution. "You can't just disown me, Sera." He warned, "I won't let you."

"I have no intention of going back on my word, husband," she primly retorted. "My marriage vows are sacred to me. Like all my sacred promises, I remain true to my word. No matter how difficult the situation might become."

"The situation needn't be difficult at all," Gabriel countered. When she mutely turned another page, he grasped her chin between his fingertips. "Just let your injured pride accept what I say." His whisper rumbled seductively between them. "I love you."

Unrequited passion seemed to surge between them a lingering moment. Then Sera shrugged out of his hold with a bitter frown. Her voice turned crisp as she nodded toward the window. "We've arrived, my lord."

The final journey around Mirabella's inner courtyard to the portico seemed to take forever. Sera primped herself like a young queen about to greet her subjects while Gabriel considered himself the dejected court jester. The frost emanating from his wife was as ice blue as her gown. This was not as he imagined bringing his bride home.

Gabriel summoned his composure determined to make the best show of things before the staff. The last thing he wanted was for them to think his wife shrewish because she hadn't yet gotten over her temper.

As soon as the carriage stopped, she beat him to the door. Her attempt to flee him was stilled only by the line of curious servants assembled before the entrance.

They were a rag tag group, each with distinctive Irish looks and rough demeanors that opposed the gilded house they served. Gabriel placed a reassuring arm around Sera's and focused his attention on the middle-aged woman standing in the center of the crowd. His housekeeper's gaze shifted from him to Sera to something behind her back.

"Mrs. O'Reilly, may I present—"

At his words, a young redheaded girl with green eyes and freckles squeezed between the housekeeper and the wary cook. The child dodged their grasp as she bolted for Sera.

"Are you the new Countess?" she asked.

Gabriel waved off his housekeeper's interference when he saw the corners of his wife's mouth lift in a whimsical smile. He lowered his gaze accordingly.

"This is my wife and your new countess, Lady Seraphina Blackstone," Gabriel answered.

Wrinkling her nose at his formal pronouncement, Sera quirked, "No one calls me Seraphina unless I'm in trouble." She shrugged out of Gabriel's hold to meet the girl's eye level. "What is your name?"

"Molly McGill." The child curtsied then pointed to the row of staff. "My grandma's the housekeeper and my papa takes care of the horses. I help my mama in the kitchens. She's the cook." With a conspiratorial whisper, she added, "Her cheeks get rosey like that when I'm embarrassing her."

Sera's grin widened.

"The two footmen are my mama's cousins. Patrick and Sean Douglas share the butler's duty. Patrick has it on cloudy days and Sean Douglas has it on sunny ones. You can tell by the color of their hair. They're very strong and they fear only grandma."

"Molly," warned her mother.

Hesitantly, the child glanced at Gabriel. "And his lordship, of course. But grandma rules the roost mostly. That's what mama says."

With an embarrassed grin, the cook reclaimed her daughter. "I'm sorry, milord, milady. Molly's been eager to meet the new mistress."

The smile on his defiant wife's face quelled any irritation Gabriel might have felt. "It's all right, Kathleen."

At the same moment, the cook's daughter chimed, "Cousin Nellie was right mama. Lady Sera does look like an angel."

"Molly, you've met the countess," interrupted her mother. "Now go see what your brothers are up to."

"They're helping Papa catch his lordship's horse," she retorted. Her helpful gaze fell on Gabriel. "Crucible got mad when Danny tried to shoe him." Then her eyes fell on Sera. "Danny's my brother. I have three brothers," she confided. "They're always getting into trouble, that's why they aren't allowed in the house. Grandma kicked them out."

"She did?" Sera repeated with dramatic curiosity.

"Your brothers help in the stables," Mrs. O'Reilly interrupted. "Like their grandfather they prefer horses to fancy houses."

Apologetically, the housekeeper turned to her new countess. "Forgive my granddaughter, milady. She's a good child, but her curiosity gets the best of her at times."

"Not at all," Sera pleasantly dismissed. "Molly reminds me of my nephew Julias. He's always keeping my brother's butler guessing. Like I did when I was Molly's age. Enthusiasm is best enjoyed by the young, my Papa used to say."

"You have a nephew?" Molly sounded thrilled. "Is he an earl like his lordship?"

"Not yet," Sera replied. "Someday he'll inherit my brother's title, but for now Julias fancies himself a budding explorer. I see you like exploring, too," she added with a knowing nod toward the stains on the little girl's dress.

Her mother instantly scowled. "Child, how many times do I have to tell you not to mess about in the garden?"

"I didn't disturb anything, mama. I just wanted to give her ladyship this."

Proudly, Molly plucked a battered white rose from her skirt apron. "To welcome you home, Lady Sera. I hope you like white. If not, I can pick another color for you. The old countess, Lady Marianna, planted roses everywhere with all the colors of the rainbow."

"I know," Sera murmured as she accepted the present. "I used to admire the gardens from across the river." Her voice rang with forgotten whimsy. "Thank you for welcoming me, Molly. It can be awkward moving into a new home and making new friends."

The child beamed with enthusiasm. "My grandma says we're to help you make Mirabella a home for his lordship."

Before his wife could frown at the comment, Gabriel interjected, "You must be tired, my dear."

"Not too tired for a tour of my new home," Sera countered. Tellingly, her attention focused on his staff. "Molly, do you think you and your grandma could show me around Mirabella?"

The housekeeper puffed up like a proud peacock. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Blackstone." She hesitated, "Unless his lordship has other ideas, that is."

Sera's answer abruptly interrupted his. "I wouldn't want to disturb my husband's schedule. He's eager to return to his estate duties. Isn't that right, my lord?"

The subtle dismissal in her rebellious tone irritated Gabriel. Sera was intentionally trying his patience.

"I'll join you for tea after your tour then," he politely commanded.

Sera's jaw tightened, but she nodded. The silent tension vanished when she returned her attention to Molly and Mrs. O'Reilly. The three chatted merrily as they disappeared inside the grand entrance thus abandoning Gabriel to the obtrusive gaze of his staff. With a commanding nod, he sent them scurrying about their duties and turned on his heel.

"I'm surprised at you," Dunstan's amused voice followed him. "You don't usually runaway from a challenge."

"I'm not running away," he grumbled.

"Then where are you going?"

"To attend estate duties."

"Same difference, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you." Gabriel bristled. "Don't I pay you to do things besides harass me, Dunstan?"

"Not anymore. We're retired, remember?" His friend called after him, "Don't let her bully you into silence. She can't hold a grudge forever, can she?"

Gabriel grunted as he headed for the stables. Dunstan's comment toyed with his thoughts as he spent an hour calming his disobedient stallion. Crucible's fit of impatience was a welcome distraction. The animal had a stubborn streak that bent easily to a tender hand and commanding will. His wife, however, was another matter. Time seemed to only strengthen her temper.

Shortly before four o'clock, Gabriel entered the main portico of Mirabella. Voices accompanied the soft trickle of water from the fountain in the entrance hall. Following the sound, he quietly approached the pillars guarding the Drawing Room.

Amidst the flowery oriental decor, Sera lounged on a settee with Mrs. O'Reilly and Molly. His wife appeared suited for the whimsical oriental décor fancied after one of many places his buccaneer grandfather visited. He always considered this section of Mirabella ostentatious, but Sera made it seem like a natural place to while away an afternoon's tea.

"How long have you lived on Blackstone Isle, Mrs. O'Reilly?" Sera asked conversationally.

"Since I was a young lass. I was in a bit of dire straights and Lady Marianna, bless her dear heart, took me in. His lordship's mother was a kind soul, a true angel. She took in many outcasts in her day. She said Blackstone Isle was her home and should be ours as well. Most of us stayed." Mrs. O'Reilly's tone dimmed with sadness. "Even after her tragic passing."

"When I met Lord Julius he made his wife sound like a saint," Sera recalled. "He loved her."

"Dearly," Mrs. O'Reilly added. "When she died, something died in the earl, too. In all of us actually. Lady Marianna was too good a soul for East Chatham. Her peers never really understood or accepted her."

"Why?"

"Many reasons," Mrs. O'Reilly remembered. "Lady Sutton and her cousin were spiteful girls from old English families with old English homes. Mirabella was new and its first mistress more worldly." Conspiratorially, she added, "Lady Athelridge also fancied your husband's father, I think. She wouldn't admit it, but that would explain the vile things she said about Lady Marianna."

"What vile things?" Molly interjected.

"Never you mind, child," her grandmother chided. "Suffice to say it wasn't pleasant or nice."

"Did she call her a name?" Molly persisted. "Grandma called my brother Danny a rapscallion once," she confided to Sera. "He was red-faced for a week mostly cuz he didn't know what it meant."

"Molly, don't pester her ladyship with tales of your miscreant brothers again."

"But I never did tell her why you kicked them out," the little girl countered. "Danny and the twins were helping Mama bake for Christmas. They had a snowball fight with the flour. Took Mama and I until spring to clean it all up. We're still finding bits in odd places. Grandma says the boys will catch her broom if they go into the kitchen again."

"That's a good way of getting out of helping your mama, I expect," Sera observed with a sly smile.

"That's what I think!" Molly exclaimed. "I suppose you weren't in the kitchens much as a girl, Lady Sera?"

"My family's butler has strict rules on what we should and should not be doing. He ordered me out of the kitchens when I was caught sneaking meat pies before dinner."

"You were sneaking food?" Molly was incredulous.

Sera nodded unashamed. "Our cook made the best ones. And I was only six at the time. My brother, Cassius, encouraged me to steal some for him and my brother, Adrian. They didn't warn me Chalmers was wise to the plan."

"Your brothers got you in trouble?" The little girl frowned sympathetically.

"There's a special place in hell for brothers," Sera repeated. "My mama taught me that."

Molly gaped in horror. "Your mother thinks your brothers are going to hell?"

Sera almost laughed. "No, she meant that brothers like to tease sisters and every taunt has its just revenge in the waiting. Cassius and Adrian got stomach aches, I believe, while I just got banned from the kitchens. I never set foot inside them until my eldest brother demanded I leave my sickbed to fetch his afternoon tea."

Mrs. O'Reilly frowned. "Why would Lord Thornbridge demand such a thing?"

"It was his way of getting me to stop moping," Sera explained. Her expression subtly hardened. "Magnus was still rude and nasty about it though. He shouldn't have bellowed his command." Mischievously, Sera added, "Mama must have been right, because I did get even."

Molly hung on the edge of her seat. "What did you do?"

"I dumped the tea all over his desk," Sera admitted with a youthful smile. "The look on his face was precious. He was going over Papa's ledgers at the time, you see."

"I bet he never ordered you to bring him tea again," Molly beamed.

"Actually, he had me bring him tea every day for months," Sera remembered. "Magnus just got faster moving his papers out of the way. My brother can be pigheaded at times. He was adamant I shouldn't brood, so he pestered and bellowed at me. And everyday, I let him know how much I disliked it."

"Your brother has a strange way of showing his concern, if you don't mind my saying," Mrs. O'Reilly observed. "Was he a soldier?"

"Magnus has a soldier's heart and Papa's title," Sera professed. "He was trying to help me at the time. And I guess he did. After all, I was so busy planning my revenge against his dictates, I didn't have time to think about things."

"What things?" Molly asked.

Sera paused a long moment as she uneasily sipped her tea. "Waking nightmares," she answered. "I've always been afraid of wolves."

Her eyes filled with a haunted faraway look that intrigued Gabriel. He sensed an unguarded moment that begged inspection and comfort.

Then Sera's gaze fell on him. Vulnerability turned to stone in an instant.

"There you are, husband," she feigned warmth. "I was wondering what was keeping you. If you'd prefer to finish with your business—"

"I trust you enjoyed your tour, love?" he interrupted with a forced smile as he sauntered into the room.

"Lady Sera says we should put goldfish in the fountain," Molly blurted. "She's never seen a fountain inside a hallway. I told her it's like the one in the Sultan's palace your grandpapa visited, milord."

Gabriel studied his wife. He hoped to see some glimmer of change. Like the day at the Ruins when visions of his grandfather's whimsical home entranced her. For a few glorious moments, she had forgotten all about Percy and the trouble those accursed secrets caused her.

"On second thought, Molly, goldfish are impractical," she dismissed. "I wouldn't want to ruin the fountain."

"If you say so, Lady Sera."

Gabriel shared the child's disappointment.

"Enough wild ideas," Mrs. O'Reilly commanded as she stood up. "Come now, Molly. We've bothered Lady Sera enough. I'm certain his lordship wants a few minutes alone with his wife before company arrives."

"Company?" Gabriel stumbled over the word.

As if by answer, the front door bellrang. The ominous clamor of male voices drew Gabriel's attention to the front door. His secretary had only just opened it when Sera's brothers pushed their way inside.

"Where's our sister?" Cassius roared.

"In the Drawing Room awaiting you," Dunstan remarked. "Thornbridge, can't you teach that brother of yours some manners? It's customary to be announced before barging into someone's house."

"We're Seraphina's brothers not curious neighbors. You don't need to announce family. Do you, Adrian?"

The third Montgomerie brother hovered in the foyer with his entranced wife on his arm. Beryl's eyes were on the scenery while Adrian's found Gabriel by the Drawing Room.

"You don't mind us dropping in, do you Blackstone?"

Leaning casually against the doorjamb, Gabriel's mouth curled with wry humor. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," Cassius growled, leading the path to his sister.

"We're family now," Thornbridge paused to mention. "Doors are always open." Meaningfully, he added, "On both sides."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gabriel noted unenthusiastically.

"Forgive the intrusion, my lord." Beryl lingered on the threshold. "Sera's brothers mean well. They are a close brood."

"So I notice," Gabriel grumbled over the jubilant conversation beginning behind him. The Montgomeries' familiar banter began as soon as someone mentioned a certain Lady Victoria.

"When Sera sent word you'd arrived in East Chatham, we had to come visit," Beryl explained. "It's important for her brothers to make a show of approval for her, especially after the bad beginning after your marriage."

"Sera sent for her family?" Gabriel frowned in surprise. The thought occurred to him that Sera's answer to his command of tea was answered with the invitation to unexpected company.

Beryl seemed to understand his surprise. Sympathetically, she touched his arm. "Don't worry, my lord. It's natural for a woman to prefer her family to her husband's company in the beginning. I was emotional at first, but now I've adjusted to all but the waiting."

"It's good of my wife's family to welcome her into her new home," he observed mildly. "It is an adjustment for both of us."

"Sera's uncle is coming over, too," Beryl advised. "He's helping our nephew and Chalmers with a...special delivery for Sera." She hesitated a moment. "I hope you like pets."

The doorbell rang before he could answer. This time, he met Dunstan at the door.

"What was that all about?" Gabriel nodded toward Beryl. His confidential whisper indicated he knew the prying secretary heard every word.

"The pets?" Dunstan echoed. "I think that's on the other side of the door."

"No. Why is my wife sending for her family out of the blue?"

"Ah, well it seems Lady Beryl is under the same impression as Greystone's wife," Dunstan revealed. "They think Lady Sera is ignoring you because she's pregnant."

Gabriel didn't know what to say to that assumption, then he caught sight of the latest visitors on his threshold.

Two white-haired men, each carrying a kitten, flanked Sera's nephew. Julias held two more felines in his arms as an excited dog sat beside him wagging its tail.

"Is Aunty Sera in?" asked the boy.

Before Gabriel could reply, his wife's melodic voice wafted out of the Drawing Room. The dog jumped to his feet. His tail waggled in eager recognition.

"Ulysses no!" shouted Chalmers. Oblivious to the command, the mutt bolted past Gabriel and his secretary. The animal pounded down the tiled entrance, around Mrs. O'Reilly and her teacart only to end up bursting into the middle of the Drawing Room.

"Miss Cleopatra!" Julias screeched as the cats in his arms sprang from his grip. Following her lead, her playful kittens squirmed away from their keepers and took off after the dog. Fast on their heels, Sera's nephew and his guardians chased and shouted their way into the Drawing Room.

In a matter of moments, Mirabella descended into madness. Gabriel watched the scene unfold in stunned horror and amusement.

Four speedy kittens avoided capture. Ten adults shouted their displeasure. The dog sat in the center of the room and barked for his mistress's attention. Gabriel's housekeeper sheltered the tea while her granddaughter giggled after Julias' failed attempt to rescue a kitten from the hearth sculpture.

"Athena, come down here!" ordered the boy.

"Don't shout at her," Molly chided. "She'll never come down if you yell at her." Helpfully, she reached out. "Here kitty. Want some nice cream?"

"Molly, that's for the tea!" shouted her grandmother.

"Chalmers, I told you not to bring Sera's menagerie over yet," roared Thornbridge.

"Ulysses was lonely and you need me too much for me to quit, milord," the butler retorted.

"Blossom, can't you get that dog of yours to stop barking?" Cassius complained. "He's making my ears ring."

"I thought that was leftover from Lady Victoria's scolding, son," taunted Uncle Silas.

"He's trying to repress it Uncle," teased Adrian.

"Oh, dear!" Beryl exclaimed when two naughty kittens knocked over a small table with a resounding crash.

By the door, Gabriel was rapidly losing patience. His secretary openly laughed while his housekeeper seemed near tears. Infuriatingly, the Montgomeries were perfectly comfortable with the domestic war.

At the center of the fray, Sera just sat there. As if she was a phantom in the room, she idly sipped her tea. The sight alarmed Gabriel, and then his elusive wife moved with lightning speed and deceptive calm.

"Enough," Sera pronounced. Obediently, Ulysses heeled by her side and everyone in the room stopped.

Sera beamed a regal glare on Gabriel. Her tone dripped with icy reserve. "My apologies husband, I didn't expect my brother's butler to bring my entire menagerie."

"Are these kittens all yours, Lady Sera?" Molly chimed as she cradled Athena in her arms.

"Miss Cleopatra is their mother," Sera explained. "But judging by their size, I think it's time I found them homes of their own."

"I've already adopted Titan," Chalmers informed. "But you have to take that dog of yours. A man can't get any sleep with his howling."

Affectionately, Sera rubbed Ulysses' head. The canine whimpered and leaned into her caress. Between his paws, an unusually small calico kitten cried for attention. Sera's gaze softened the instant she noticed its crossed eyes and plucked it off the ground.

"Ulysses and Calliope can stay inside if they behave, but Molly please take Athena and her brothers outside. You and Julias may each have a kitten if that's all right with your parents."

Excited by the proposal, the children departed with their charges and the room returned to a semblance of order.

Protectively, Sera stroked her pets. The gentle caress she bestowed on the kitten made Gabriel faintly jealous. There was something so proprietary and affectionate about the touch. Something that made Gabriel wish his reluctant bride would look at him with similar familiarity again.

Coincidentally, Sera met her husband's gaze on that thought. "I hope you don't mind, Gabriel. I have a soft spot for strays. But I promise I'll keep them outside if they get to be too much trouble. Your home is too beautiful to ruin."

"And Thornbridge Manor isn't?" her brother balked. "Be warned Blackstone. Put your foot down now or else Seraphina will have the miscreants in the bedchambers."

"I have my own soft spot for strays," Gabriel admitted with a tender smile. "Feel free to keep as many as you wish, love."

He assumed his magnanimous gesture would at least bring a smile to his wife's dark eyes. She frowned instead.

"You're a gracious protector, my lord."

As he stifled a frustrated groan, the doorbell rang a third time.

Miss Athelstan and Sera's widow friend greeted his secretary with the similar annoying explanation of her relatives.

"Sera sent for us," informed Mrs. Bunpenny. "Is she feeling all right, my lord? Lady Beryl said she was out of sorts lately."

"My wife is in perfect health," Gabriel returned. "She's in the Drawing Room entertaining her family."

"It's good to be around family at a time like this," the widow mentioned as she followed the earl's direction.

Miss Athelstan lingered behind for a brief word with Dunstan. Her smile was fragile and genuine.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Dunstan."

"And you, Miss Athelstan." His usually satirical voice rumbled with warmth. A subtle change glimmered in Dunstan's eyes making them seem approachable and almost entranced. "I hope you've resettled comfortably in your brother's home."

"Chilton's away on business, fortunately." Cleo shuttered. "He wouldn't approve of my visit today, but Sera is my friend." Confidentially, she added, "I also wanted to thank you again. Your words were...a great comfort to me. I'm pleased Percy had so many good friends."

The appreciative stare that followed Miss Athelstan into the Drawing Room made Gabriel curious.

"If I didn't know better, Dunstan, I'd think you were developing a fancy."

The secretary bristled. "Miss Athelstan is a friend of Lady Sera's."

"Ah," Gabriel echoed doubtfully. "And what words of comfort did you offer her?"

With a careful glance around the nearby area, Dunstan leaned closer to his shadowy partner. "Lady Sera insisted we tell her friend the truth of how her fiancée died. The lass didn't want her to find out via gossip."

Gabriel frowned over the admission wondering how much his rebellious wife had left him out of her activities the last week. "And how did Miss Athelstan take the news?"

"She was upset naturally, but like your Lady Sera, Miss Athelstan is as clever as she is sweet. I think she suspected Percy's activities. She said she knew there was another reason they didn't elope. Percy was protecting her, she said."

Just as he had protected Sera by marrying her, Gabriel thought. "What did my wife think of that possibility?"

"She frowned."

Of course, Gabriel grimly concluded. Percy saved Cleo from a dangerous elopement, while he forced Sera into a marriage she was trying to disown.

"Blackstone!" The boisterous call of his brother-in-law drew Gabriel into the Drawing Room. His gaze drifted between his noisy guests and brooding bride.

"What's this I hear coming out of the War Department?" Thornbridge asked. "You and Dunstan have impressed the minister with your serendipitous find."

"It's nothing of significance." Gabriel watched Sera stroke her anxious kitten. The movement seemed to give her comfort and renewed strength to resist his gaze.

"I hear there's talk of knighthoods," Uncle Silas blurted. "You should have told us you were smuggling more than illegal contraband out of the Continent, Blackstone."

"I heard Lord Lacey was one of the Guardian's charges for a time," Adrian mentioned. "A lot of the soldiers you rescued are singing your praises."

"I suppose he was a noble pirate after all," conceded Cassius.

"The Blackstones are the new heroes of East Chatham," Mrs. Bunpenny declared.

"I don't know about that," Sera flustered.

"Better you than the Chillingworths." Cleo shuddered.

"I wouldn't want to be Lady Athelridge or Lady Sutton, now," Beryl chatted merrily over her tea. "They're beside themselves over developments. Both condemned Sera and Blackstone and embraced the Chillingworths. What with the scandal, they haven't a clue who to support."

"Poor Lady Delia," Sera bemoaned quietly. "I fear, she's irrevocable ruined by her husband's secrets."

"I understand she's fled to Brussels," Beryl gossiped.

Cleo frowned. "I thought Lady Delia said she was going to visit friends in Scotland, Sera?"

"She has a cousin on the Continent."

"I expect Chillingworth made many enemies his wife would want to avoid," Thornbridge assumed. "Spies and traitors usually do."

"Fortunately, Lady Delia also made friends who would protect her," Gabriel countered with silent meaning. Lord Greystone was among that list. The marquess obligingly arranged the viscountess' passage to Calais. Gabriel had wanted to do more, but the dejected lady refused his kindness. Gabriel wondered if the lady heard about her husband's victims and felt guilty to receive his assistance.

"It's ironic that East Chatham's notorious couple has usurped the popularity of the favorites," Beryl commented. Aside to her sister-in-law, she loudly confided, "Lady Athelridge and her cousin are furious and jealous of you, Sera. You have so many illustrious friends with Lady Pennington's circle."

"Lady Pennington and Lady Greystone are kind," Sera admitted reluctantly, "but they are really more Blackstone's friends than mine."

The bitterness in her tone made her relatives stop, stare and quirk a few questioning brows at Gabriel. He kept his expression benign.

"Nonsense, Sera," Cleo chided tenderly. "Lady Greystone raves about you. You should invite them to Mirabella."

"You were right about this place," Beryl glowed. "It's incredible."

"A perfect place for a country ball," Mrs. Bunpenny eagerly suggested.

"Perhaps you could outdo Lady Athelridge's socials as you wanted to Sera," her best friend enticed.

"It would be a pleasure to open Blackstone Isle again, milady," Mrs. O'Reilly encouraged. "The estate's been closed off too long."

All eyes turned to Sera waiting for her to embrace the idea.

"I'm not certain now is a good time," she finally answered. "Blackstone still has a great deal of work to do and I wouldn't want to disturb his schedule."

"His lordship has to make time for it then," Chalmers insisted. "The new mistress of the house must christen her home with a bonafide gathering to be a success."

"I'll help with the arrangements," Beryl offered.

"Cleo and I would also be of assistance," Mrs. Bunpenny cheerfully pitched in. "Right dear?"

"Yes, of course," Cleo echoed with only a glimmer of a doubt. "As long as Chilton is away."

The room implored Sera and still she hesitated. Gabriel recalled a passing comment his superior made to him. He feared his bride preferred turning herself into a recluse like his father had done when life took a nasty, unexpected turn. Determination filled Gabriel from a place as deep as instinct. He would not let Sera shut herself off from the world.

"It's time Mirabella was out of the spectacle of rumor, love," he declared. "I think a country ball is a perfect idea. Whatever your heart desires."

"It should be a masquerade," Beryl insisted.

"Like Mirabella," Cleo suggested. "A night for explorers and travelers from foreign lands."

Gabriel watched his reclusive wife. He hoped she would catch the whimsy and eagerness of her friends. Anything to make her relinquish the elusive shadows cloaking her.

For a moment, Sera's brandy eyes sparkled with emotion. Excitement, fancy, hope and expectation. Then her gaze fell upon her husband. The unadulterated feeling plaguing her eyes screamed a silent accusation at him. Disappointment brought the shadows back into her dull brown orbs.

"Very well," Sera agreed primly. "If it would please my husband. I suppose it's time Mirabella had a countess to show off its lord."

An uneasy silence seized the room. The stunned audience switched attention from Sera to Gabriel. He knew what they were thinking.

The tension between the Blackstones, a couple Society decreed was madly in love, was achingly apparent.

"Perhaps you should rest a few days before making any plans, love," he feigned politeness. "You are still getting over that cold. I would rather you settle in and do as you please with our home rather than what Society demands."

"Thank you, husband." Sera's answer sounded perfunctory. "I'm glad to know you have my best interests at heart. You are a noble protector."

The backhanded insult slapped Gabriel in the face. He growled before he could think better of it. "I am your husband, Sera, not your protector! In fact, I would be gratified if you would never use that word in front of me again."

"Yes, husband."

"Sera, you're not a sheepish wife, remember?" he taunted testily. "When you're finished sulking like a spoiled brat, let me know."

The condescending rebuke sent ripples of tension throughout the Drawing Room. Servants' mouths fell wide open. The female guests gaped in shock. Sera's brothers glared at Blackstone.

Belatedly, Gabriel realized he let his frustration and irritation get the best of him. Sera had pushed and he had crumbled. No doubt, her family was back to hating him again. And his impressionable staff would question him, too. Blackstone's Angel charmed all and infuriated him, it seemed.

Passion flared within Gabriel. Rage, impatience and unrequited desire consumed him. The instinct to charge over to the settee and shake some sense into his defiant wife nearly overwhelmed him.

Instead, Gabriel chose the gentleman's way out. It was the route his father had taught. The route that Sera forced upon him.

"If you'll excuse me," he called to the room. "I have some business to attend to."

Locked behind his own comfortable wall of shadows, he stalked away.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

SITTING IN his father's Study, Gabriel was at a loss. He ignored the stack of estate ledgers piled high on his desk. Days of meaningless work only left him with more troubling nights. More than ever, Mirabella felt like a mausoleum.

It was ironic. He thought bringing Sera home would dispel the old emptiness. Instead, a new rift had settled inside the house of Blackstone. A rift as impassable as the one that once drove apart father and son.

His gaze lifted to the portrait by the fireplace. His father's solitary image seemed to study him with a mixture of haunted reminder and sympathy.

Like many things, Lord Julius taught Gabriel the fine art of avoidance. Declaring the past irrelevant was his father's way of dismissing things impossible to change or too painful to accept. Like a son's failure, or in his case, a marriage plummeting toward disaster.

Gabriel suppressed his troubling thoughts with a sip of brandy. He couldn't control his wife's anger anymore than he could his father's. In the end, there was only one duty left to him. Whether a haven for lost souls or an isolated prison, Blackstone Isle needed a vigilant protector.

With icy resolve, he focused on the shipping orders on his desk. They were innocuous records by themselves. Only the location of their original hiding place made them suspicious.

Chillingworth's statue safe held a bevy of incriminating evidence. From the list of coded entries dating back years, Gabriel estimated his smuggling operation had grown from a few meager dealings with local East Chatham pirates to an impressive wartime trade. His assassin work most likely began with the sudden heart failure of his elder brother. From then, the Angel d'Mort was born. His birth date marked by the recent introduction of angels to the Chillingworth dragon crest.

There was only one problem. One nagging question that kept Gabriel awake. How did Chillingworth do it? How did the Angel poison the most careful man Gabriel ever knew? How did the bastard penetrate the security of Blackstone Isle and endanger one of its wards?

Unanswered, the questions haunted Gabriel with possibilities.

Dumond still lurked, waiting for a chance to strike. The Frenchman had failed in his mission, but he would not abandon his quest for revenge as easily. Triad justice demanded the absolute destruction of enemies. Grimly, Gabriel wondered if the cycle of hatred and violence would ever end.

His heart ached for Sera at the thought. Every night she had waited for him in London, he felt the wariness his enemies' inspired subside in her arms. The feel of her, taste of her, scent of her lingered on the edge of his memory.

Not a day had passed since she expelled him from her bedchamber that Gabriel didn't want her. More than a dozen times, he considered seducing her.

Sera was a passionate angel. Beneath the bitter shadows, he saw desire sparkle in her gaze. He was certain he could bring her rebellious defiance to heel with a careful seduction, but Gabriel wanted more than the comfort of his wife's body or her sultry cries of pleasure.

He wanted her love. A love she had given freely until he betrayed her trust.

His heart churned with her bitter accusations. They reminded him of the words his grieving father imparted in a defeated rage.

The memory filled him with realization and despair. Sera's eyes had carried the same doubt and disappointment as his grieving father. He knew he had hurt something more than their pride, but he didn't have a clue how to fix it. Bitterly, he wondered if it wasn't already too late to try.

Gabriel looked to his father's portrait as if seeking ghostly advice.

A plaintiff cry tore through the night at the move. Instinct drove Gabriel into action. He sprang from his seat and yanked open the door before he recognized the soft wail of a kitten. The sound reverberated down the darkened halls of Mirabella, beckoning him forth.

The house was still. Servants slept, leaving only elusive shadows to prowl the night. Gabriel trailed the frantic meow from the darkness of the West Wing to the illuminated entrance hall.

Wall sconces illuminated the center fountain and sweeping staircases in haunting echoes. The kitten's wail drew him to the bathhouse beyond.

Warm water lapped against the marble floor in soothing and sultry tones. Across the glassy pool, he saw an angelic phantom bathed in a rainbow of stained glass. Sera stood there, quietly gazing into the pale moonlight. For a moment, he thought she was too entranced to notice more than the kitten crooning for attention in her arms. Then she turned to him with the most haunted expression he'd ever seen.

"It's so quiet at night it's like living in a house of ghosts," she observed in a reverent whisper.

"You have nothing to fear here, Sera," he assured as he crossed the room to join her.

"I know. My fears are only in my mind."

The unsheltered vulnerability in her words concerned him. "Did you have a nightmare, love?"

She bristled at the question. Her eyes avoided him in the darkness. "It's nothing of significance. Calliope wandered down here and got lost. I was just collecting her for her mother." The calico kitten accentuated the explanation with a mewling cry.

"It's late," Sera announced. "I should go to bed."

He stopped her before she could retreat two steps. "You're not a bitter person, Sera. It's not in your nature to hold a grudge."

She hesitated a rebellious moment. Then her rigid back loosened with a heavy sigh. "I'm not angry anymore." She acknowledged, "I suppose you did what you thought was best. I'm sorry I haven't been a good wife lately. Mama said I never did anything well when my heart wasn't in it."

The honest admission scared and brightened Gabriel. He decided to concentrate on the promise of peace rather than the change in his wife's trusting affections. "We're both relatively new at marriage. I expect we're bound to make mistakes."

"My mother said she and my father argued constantly before I was born," Sera chimed with melancholy. "Papa said I was their peacemaker. My brothers insisted it was because our parents spent so much time minding my hoydenish ways they didn't have time to argue about Mama's books or Papa's travels."

"You capture people's attention, love," Gabriel complimented, "And their fancy."

Inquisitive doe-brown eyes faced him in the darkness. The shadows were there, hovering on the edge with her doubt and pain, but in the center glimmered a light. It was a calming hope that turned anger to a breezy child's conversation.

"Did your parents argue much?"

"Not that I can remember," he answered as he placed a booted foot on the vacant bench before him. "Father was a quiet man."

Sera frowned. "And your mother was an angel?"

Habitually, his gaze turned toward the fanciful sculpture enshrined in the wall. The face was a familiar one. Its visage appeared in every room where Lord Julius immortalized his wife in stone. "You would've liked my mother. She grew up in the Colonies and loved to tell stories about her travels to the Continent before marriage."

"Mrs. O'Reilly said Lady Marianna brought American ideals to Mirabella," Sera mentioned. "She cared for all souls beyond position or wealth. The gentry called her a rebel and shunned her for it."

"It was easier for her peers to discount her ideals as those of a foreigner." Casting a negligent eye over the cross-eyed kitten in his wife's lap, Gabriel smiled ruefully. "Like you Sera, my mother had a soft spot for strays. She touched many."

"Is that why I keep seeing her everywhere I go in this house?" Sera shrewdly noted the angel figurine watching them. "She's become Mirabella's patron saint."

"It's an old habit my father started," Gabriel admitted. Discomfort rippled through him with memory. "He wasn't here when she died and I think the figurines were a way for him to see her once again. If it bothers you, I can have them put away."

Sera's eyes beamed sympathetically. "I'm not bothered, just curious." She added pointedly, "Does that trouble you?"

The gauntlet was laid down, the message clear. Sera wanted him to entertain her curiosity instead of dismiss it. Emboldening himself against the darkness it might unleash, Gabriel turned his smile inviting.

"This is your home now, love. It's natural you'd like to know its history."

Sera chewed her lower lip as if debating the veracity of his indulgence. "Mrs. O'Reilly said it was your mother's love for outcasts that killed her. She caught a fever caring for a group of sick gypsy children." Sera continued, "You were the only one here while your father was away on business. Is that why you don't like to talk about it, Gabriel?"

The question challenged him, bringing back old memories he vowed to forget. He wanted to rebel, to dismiss it as his father had taught, but Sera's gaze hunted him. Without knowing why, he let the truth slip out.

"My mother didn't die of a fever," he revealed. "She was murdered."

The bitter pronouncement rumbled against the marble with the force of a raging secret. Imitating the statue of his mother, Sera's hand stilled on Calliope's back. She ignored the kitten's cry for attention and studied her husband instead.

His eyes seemed to rage with a mixture of distant shadows and bitter emotion. The turmoil tore at Sera's heart making her desire his confidence and condemn herself for prying.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know."

"No one does. My father declared the subject closed a long time ago."

"Why?"

Gabriel shrugged though his shoulders seemed to carry too heavy a burden to dismiss any longer. "A son's failure is as disappointing as a husband's."

Then he focused on her, turning his confession into an act of trust.

"I picked the wrong physician when my mother became ill," he answered. Condemnation seemed to fill him. "Sir Phoebus Addlebury was Lady Athelridge's uncle. He was from the old school, a disagreeable man with puritan attitudes. I let him take over my mother's care while I saw to the children."

"What happened?"

"When I came to see her, blood filled the sheets." He gritted, "Addlebury believed her rebel ideas tainted her blood. He bled her, thinking he was saving her soul by slowly torturing her to death."

Sera blinked in horror. The bitter taste in her mouth had a hauntingly familiar quality. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her battered knee. "You must've been furious with the doctor."

"Not at first," Gabriel scoffed unhappily. "I was young and naive then. I believed most of the stories I was told. Addlebury said it was the fever that took her. He probably would've gotten away with it too if my father hadn't returned in time for the funeral. The look on his face when he saw her shamed the demons in hell. His wrath was primeval."

"Is that when you quarreled with him?" Sera prodded. "Charlotte Romney said you had a falling out with your father before you went to St. Sebastian's."

"The night of my mother's funeral, my father was not himself," Gabriel bitterly recalled. "The shock, the horror to find his wife dead, it drove him to drink. He terrified Addlebury out of East Chatham and then he turned his anger on me."

"He blamed you for your mother's death?" Sera shrewdly guessed.

"Since the days of the old keep and even back to those Roman Ruins, the lords of Blackstone Isle have always been the guardians here," he explained. "My father left me in his stead. I was to protect the people of Mirabella and what they valued most. I failed my mother. I left her to die in her sickbed, while I thought she was in good keeping." Bitterness and self-loathing curled his lips into a frown. "My trust and naïveté cost her life to man who thought she was little better than the bastards she rescued."

"You were only a boy, Gabriel," Sera consoled. "No bigger than my nephew Julias. He's sweet and smart but far too young for that kind of responsibility. It was the doctor's fault, not yours."

Gabriel grimly shook his head. "My father was right. I failed in my duty. I earned his scorn and hatred. His angry words followed me long after he shut himself off from me and the world."

"Is that when he sent you away to school?"

He nodded. "St. Sebastian's was a good place to think. To sort things out and understand the illusions of your life. Like you, I was curious about my father's whereabouts while his wife was dying. He was supposed to be in London, but his schooner was missing from its berth. There was no way to reach him. I tried."

Realization glimmered to life in Sera. Her husband's muted frustration echoed her own recent feelings of exclusion. "Was he spying?"

"He was smuggling," Gabriel corrected. "France was in flames at the time. Old scores were being settled. People were being sent to the guillotine to satisfy others' craving for power and revenge. My father gave the innocent and helpless a lifeline to safety in England. In the process, he made a few troublesome enemies."

"Like the Triad?"

Gabriel nodded. "My father didn't know of the Society at the time. His run-ins with its charter family roused his suspicions years before he worked for the War Department. After my mother's death, he took up espionage as a means of pursuing them."

"Did you know?" Sera wondered. "When you were at St. Sebastian's, did you know your father was a spy?"

Gabriel's mouth curled in a rueful frown. "I wasn't able to handle it then. And at the time, we were still estranged." Despondently, he added, "There were things both of us left unsaid after our argument. We renewed relations, but the words were never really spoken. My father died before I could come home to face him."

Sera filled with empathy and reminder. When she'd met Gabriel, he seemed as restless and haunted as now. "What would you have told him?"

"That I understood," Gabriel explained. "The reason for his anger, the reason for mine. I spent years bordering on resentment for my father. He told me nothing of his whereabouts or his activities then. I accused him of not caring and he blamed me for my foolishness."

Gabriel pinned her with a pointed stare. "My father wanted to protect me, Sera, as I protected you. He didn't want my mother or I to live with the worry and the danger of the Guardian's life."

"Some horrors must be faced to be survived." Sera's hand trembled over her knee. Her heart wanted to accept her husband's noble concern, but the pain in her mangled leg inspired memory and rebellion. She struggled to make him understand. "I kept Percy's secrets from my family for the same reasons as you, but... I thought things were different between us."

"They are, love. You're my wife, not my ward."

"Then why do you treat me like the child I ceased being the day my parents died?" she challenged. "You just don't understand. You can't protect me with lies anymore than my parents could."

The simple proclamation provoked awareness in Gabriel. Sera rubbed her knee as if trying to suppress a persistent torment. One that seemed to stand between the forgiveness he sought and the disappointment he knew he encouraged in her.

He curled on the stone bench beside her and grasped her hand. "I know your parents' accident must've been painful for you, love."

"It was a learning experience," she answered grimly. "Like your mother's death."

"Your parents told you not to fear the storm?" he guessed.

"Papa said the lightning was just fireworks and the rain angel's tears." She closed her eyes as if shutting out the relentless images. "I wanted to believe him, but Mama held me so tight I could feel her terror. The coachman said we'd stop just over the rise, but the carriage lurched halfway up. I can still hear my mother's scream when we tumbled and I slipped from her grasp."

"It's a miracle you survived."

"I didn't think so," she admitted with a frown. "I thought it was a punishment."

"For what?"

"Mama always said there was a special place in hell for liars. I found out what hell was like for people who just wanted to believe in lies."

"What do you mean?"

"After the carriage rolled past me, my leg felt like it was on fire. I thought the angels were mad at me, punishing me with their tears." She shuddered. "One moment I was in my mother's arms and the next I was alone...with the wolves."

"Wolves?" The word rippled ominously off Gabriel's tongue.

Sera nodded. "They were big, huge monsters with demon eyes. They came out of the darkness to hunt the weak and injured. They must've smelled the blood from my leg and knew I couldn't run away."

"Who rescued you from them?"

Sera bristled at the question. "Papa said you should look your demon in the eye to defeat him," she explained. "I remembered that when I found his walking stick beside me. It helped me keep the wolves at bay. Once they saw I would be no easy kill, they just surrounded me and waited for me to fall asleep."

Gabriel's insides went cold. The image of a broken and bleeding child fending off a pack of hungry carnivores was absurd. Healthy men strong as three soldiers had fallen to the wicked beasts in the Perinnes during the War. But his fierce angel had managed the feat alone and survived. At what cost, he wondered.

"I couldn't sleep," she remembered. "Wolves sense weakness. I couldn't close my eyes. I couldn't give up, because there was no one left to protect me. The coachman's neck was broken and my parents had drowned. It was just me up on that mountain waiting for the dawn to rise and wondering if I'd live to see it."

"How long did you wait?" he asked. "How long before your were rescued?"

She frowned as if in confusion over the memory. "I lost so much blood and it was so cold with the rain, I had a fever by morning. I thought my rescuers were more wolves and swatted a few before they got the stick away from me. I didn't remember much after that. Just my brothers and the doctors swarming about me waiting for me to die."

Gabriel swallowed uneasily at the revelation. "You knew you were in danger of dying?"

"I was fevered, Gabriel, not stupid," Sera tartly replied. "The doctors gave me laudanum to dull the pain. It made me so sleepy, but I was afraid to sleep. Afraid to close my eyes."

"Because you hallucinated wolves?"

Sera nodded. "And the doctor's bloody saw. He kept telling my brother Magnus that my leg needed to come off. The wounds were too severe. I was so terrified my brother would listen, like you did to that cruel Addlebury. Fortunately, he was older than you at the time. Magnus found Sir Weatherby and I emerged from the disaster mostly whole. It took the better part of a year for me to learn to walk again," She added with a rueful smirk, "With the cajoling of my brother."

"Thornbridge's kitchen edicts?" He remembered from the other day.

"He thought if I was out of my sickbed everything would be back the way it was," Sera explained. "But it wasn't, Gabriel. Nothing in Thornbridge Manor was ever the same after my parents died. My brothers all had their places in the world, but mine died with my parents. I was left as just my brother's troublesome ward, tormented by wolves and wishing someone saw them besides me. Then I met you."

Sera's eyes glistened with bitter tears. "Everyone told me I was mad and reckless, but I wanted to believe in you. I should've known better. I knew my parents were terrified, just like I knew you were keeping things from me. When I finally found out why, my world was in chaos and the wolves taunted me for my foolishness."

Tears flowed down Sera's cheeks in a river of despondency. She cuddled the calico kitten in her lap as if to console the creature for her sadness.

Realization hit Gabriel in a whirl of irony. For months, he sought to protect Sera from his fears. In the process, he condemned her to face what she fought and feared most.

In an act of silent understanding, Gabriel stroked the fragile kitten in her hands. "You prefer outcasts and strays like this little one because the world would abandon them if not for you. That's why you champion them. They remind you of yourself, don't they? You save them because no one was there to save you."

"My parents died," she protested. "They couldn't save me. They couldn't even save each other. The angels cried for them."

"While the wolves growled at you?"

Tears burned exposing paths down Sera's cheeks. Each drop and whimper seemed to come from the dark corners of her soul she secreted away.

Gabriel cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his penetrating gaze. "Love, you're not alone anymore. Your world is with me now. I'll never let anything harm you," he vowed. "I'll always protect you."

The declaration rumbled like thunder, silencing tears with determination.

"I don't want a protector; I want what my parents had!" Sera entreated, "Let me be your greatest strength, Gabriel, your confidante. Let me aid you like Lady Greystone does her husband. Whatever happens, let me face the shadows with you."

Gabriel bristled at the request. Desire to appease his wife's needs warred with his own determination to shield her from his mistakes. He could not lose her the way he lost his father.

"I'm done with the spy world, Sera," he grumbled. "But I need a countess to help me make Mirabella a home again. It's been a tomb for too long. It needs to be filled with a noisy, loving brood like your family." His hands swept protectively over her stomach. "You could teach our children so many dreams," he encouraged in a wistful tone.

"And when the nightmares come?" she challenged.

"No more nightmares, love," he vowed. "No more regrets. Believe in me again, Sera. Trust me."

Sera's frown uncurled into a puzzled line. She searched her husband's gaze, pondering the emotions raging in his emerald shadows.

"I miss you," he confessed. "I miss you lying beside me, waking in my arms with a smile meant only for me."

"Passion is just another deception," she argued.

"Not between us." He stroked the curve of her pouting lip as if daring her to deny the enticing sensation she felt.

Before she could twist away, he lifted her into his arms. Calliope scampered out of her hands abandoning her to Gabriel's coaxing embrace. The sultry darkness of the bathhouse enveloped them taunting Sera to accept the familiar heat coiling within her.

"Desire forced us into this marriage," she rebelled. "You wanted revenge, not a wife."

"I want you, Sera." He beckoned against her lips, "I need you. Love me."

The request struck Sera speechless. She had never seen such raw emotion in Gabriel's eyes. The shadows disappeared with sparkling emerald clarity. Understanding and desire glimmered in his gaze. Even if just for that moment, he needed her, wanted her, loved her as much as she loved him.

Tentatively, Sera raised her lips to his. The faint brush of silken skin enticed and inflamed. With a hungry, appreciative groan, Gabriel deepened the caress.

The kiss seemed to wash away the past, replacing doubt and betrayal with hope and desire. Sera was being swept away. Forgetting her lingering fears. Forgetting the pain that forced her to deny this incredible desire. Forgetting all but the passion they shared.

The world spun as they reached for each other. Sera's grasp was wild and wanton; Gabriel's touch held the charm of an artist caressing his relocated treasure. Somehow, they found their way to a bed of pillows concealed in a corner of the bathhouse. The air was cool, the indulgence forbidden, but Sera knew only joy and pleasure in her husband's protective embrace.

Gabriel cherished her with his words, seduced her with his kiss and pushed her near the brink of passionate sanity with his touch.

She cried out when he suckled and savored her with his lips. Her fingers haphazardly pulled at his clothes, shedding the garments until she felt only the warmth of his skin.

"Burn for me," he whispered as he stroked the softest part of her. As he'd done many times before, he readied her, testing her desire with his inquisitive touch.

When she lay beneath him, her body ready and wanting to lose herself in him, with him, Gabriel paused.

Lovingly, he caressed the length of her. His smile cherished her.

"I love you, Sera," he vowed in a voice that willed her to believe.

The blanket emotion in his eyes shone with a forgotten honesty that sent ripples of awareness through her. Her defenses crumbled at the sight.

"I know," she answered as she wrapped her arms around him urging him to complete their reunion with a long, intrusive kiss.

Their love dance took over. Each led its comfortable confusing rhythm. It was difficult for Gabriel to bow to his wife's will and equally difficult for Sera not to disturb his planned seduction.

She taunted him with her sighs, teased him with her touch. Passionate fire consumed them in an ever-replenishing flame.

The bathhouse echoed with their passion until the aftermath brought a lingering peace. Replacing the distance and betrayal, hope burned brightly between the Blackstones. It seemed as if nothing could ever come between them again.

Nothing except the demon wolves that hunt the shadows of their sleep.

Chapter Forty

AMIDST THE shadows of a nightmare, Gabriel found himself in Mirabella's Study.

His father sat at the desk, a phantom image pouring over the records left behind. Chillingworth's shipping contacts fascinated Lord Julius. When he looked up, his familial emerald eyes glowed with recognition and dark premonition.

Gabriel opened his mouth to ask for an explanation. A soft wail screamed down the hallway striking an instinctual chord of protective fear in him.

"Sera!" he called out as his father's illusion vanished. The terrified cry grew louder.

Out of the Study Gabriel flew. He ran down the empty halls of his home. His footfalls pounded across the echoing floors: through the darkened Music Room; past the tiled fountain hall; up the winding staircase and to his bedchamber where Sera's plea originated.

The door rocked on its hinges. Startled doe-brown eyes beckoned him to the bed.

"Gabriel, don't leave me," Sera called in a dreamy voice. She reached for him, soothing him with her touch.

Gabriel held her, kissed her, cherished her. Her pleading cry became a sultry whimper of passion. His fear abated with desire and contentment.

Then the shadows came.

Gabriel's lusty moan of pleasure echoed with sweet abandon, but out of the pleasure came unexpected pain.

Sera gasped. The brandy fire in her eyes flickered with shock and horror. She was falling, slipping through his hands.

She landed on the bed beside him. Lying amidst white sheets stained with crimson blood, she stared into the distance. Enveloping her was a haunting silence. Her doe-brown eyes mirrored the last gaze Gabriel's mother ever bestowed on him.

"No!" The protest rumbled hollowly in his ear. Blinding recognition paralyzed him. Sera's tender body lay broken and lifeless. She was gone. In his protective arms and yet gone. Just like his mother had been stolen from his father.

Something glinted in the pale moonlight. Amidst the sheets, he glimpsed a long silver dagger with a triple-crossed hilt. The blade with Sera's still warm blood testified to betrayal.

The shadows echoed with menacing laughter turning Gabriel's attention.

A figure emerged from the drapes. One with demonic wolf eyes. Guilt and wicked triumph gleamed in the Frenchman's eyes. "Touché, mon ami."

Gabriel roared with outrage. The blade slipping into his hands as he charged the shadows seeking revenge. Elusively, the phantom disappeared leaving him alone to face the pale reminder of his latest and greatest failure.

* * *

"THIS MASQUERADE will be the talk of the ton!"

Lady Beryl's exuberant pronouncement chimed through Mirabella's Drawing Room. Summer showers blanketed the landscape in shadows, but crackling firelight illuminated Sera and her sister-in-law.

"Mirabella will dazzle with your ideas, Beryl," Sera complimented as she refilled her teacup. "Thank you for helping me."

"I'm just so pleased you finally embraced the idea. Your home is too beautiful to close off to the world, Sera. Society will be clamoring for an invite. Especially if Lady Pennington's circle attends."

"The Countess sounded enthused in her note to me," Sera remembered. "She said her friends adore the explorers theme."

"Lady Athelridge and Lady Sutton will be spitting jealous." Beryl gleamed over the prospect. "You make the most amazing friends, Sera. I envy you."

"The Countess and Lady Greystone were Gabriel's friends first, but I look forward to knowing them better. The Season was too distracting to really get to know people."

Like her husband, Sera thought. Coming home to Mirabella had been a much needed change for their marriage. During the last weeks in East Chatham, Sera learned and understood more about Gabriel than in the months since she met him. Their midnight confession a fortnight ago was followed by at least a dozen more.

She was enchanted with images of her husband playing pirate with his grandfather on the balconies. Gabriel's childhood sounded much like Sera's—a happy one until his mother's death. Then he too lived alone in a shadowy hell of fear and guilt. But unlike Sera, Gabriel never had the luxury of seeking a moment's respite in the light and warmth of a rambunctious family.

Gabriel called her his candle in the window, a beacon to him from the world of cold deceptions. Yet for all the love and hope they shared, Sera feared the shadows still hunted them. Demons of the past do not give up so easily.

"It's good to see the Notorious Blackstones settle down," Beryl interjected conversationally. "Mirabella will do you both good, Sera." Idly, she caressed her rounded belly. "Especially now."

"Now?" Sera blinked in confusion.

"You'll find you won't be able to run about so well once you start expanding. Babies with Montgomerie blood are headstrong enough. Mixed with St. Clair extravagance, I don't envy you Sera."

Understanding rippled awkwardly. "You think I'm having a baby?"

"Aren't you?"

Sera's hand instinctually fell to her flattened stomach as if seeking an answer. When she first married Gabriel, she dreamt of carrying his babe inside her. Like all her dreams, it had been shattered in light of his deceptions. So much had happened in their short marriage, Sera felt as if she was just finding the real Gabriel.

"It's too soon," she finally answered. "Gabriel and I have only been married a few months."

"Sera, you needn't be married anymore than a night," Beryl tartly replied. "Didn't your mother explain?"

"Mama died before she could get around to answering those questions." Sad memories chilled Sera. "Magnus's wife Julia explained a lot of what my brothers wouldn't dare discuss with me. She wanted to give Magnus a son so much. She would have been a good mother too if things had gone as she hoped. The fever hit her so quickly she barely had time to hold Julias."

"Tragedy is usually quick."

Sera noticed her sister-in-law pale as she caressed the babe sheltering inside her.

"I'm so sorry, Beryl. I shouldn't have brought up that distressing tale."

"It's all right." Her sister-in-law smiled diplomatically. "I've thought of it myself lately. Now that it's almost time for me to deliver this babe, I think about a lot of possible things. I wish my mother was still here to reassure me as I'm sure you wish yours was."

Sera grasped Beryl's hand. "I'll be right beside you when the time comes. I won't let you worry or be scared."

Her sister-in-law's smile turned whimsical. "But who will look after your brother? I'm not as frightened for me as I am he'll drive his brothers to kill him while he waits. Adrian's become very overprotective of me lately. It's almost comical at times."

"He's worried about the baby?"

Beryl nodded. "He doesn't say of course, because he doesn't want to upset me, but I know he dreams about it—Julia's funeral." She explained, "I think he looks at me sometimes as if he fears I'll be like her. Here today and gone the next."

Like a loving phantom slipping through his fingers unexpectedly. Sera's thought reminded her of Gabriel. Despite their new happiness, she caught him looking at her like that every time he awoke in a pre-dawn fright. He dismissed his nightmares as fancy preferred abandoned to their lovemaking, but she knew the old fears still bothered him.

He said it was his sacred duty to protect the people of Blackstone Isle. Never again would they loose a master or a mistress to the treachery of another. Sera admired his intention; she only wished he'd let her share the burdens he carried.

"Does it bother you Adrian doesn't share his concern with you?" Sera echoed her private disturbance.

Beryl dismissed the notion with a gentle smile. "I think he's sweet not wanting to worry me unnecessarily. No sense borrowing trouble."

The Drawing Room door opened on her words. A dark-haired footman entered with a tray of missives.

"Mrs. O'Reilly said you waited on the daily post, Lady Sera?"

"Yes, Patrick, thank you." She smiled as she cleared a spot on the table. "Is my husband still working in his Study?"

"I believe so. Did you need him?"

"No." Sera frowned as she looked at the mantel clock. Gabriel had been ensconced in his Study since early morning for the fifth day in a row. "Where is Dunstan?"

"Assisting Molly at the moment." Patrick smiled with secret amusement. "That kitten you gave her has a curious streak in it."

"Don't tell me Athena's on the loose again?"

Patrick nodded. "We had to fish her out of the fountain a while ago. She was chasing the goldfish you had us put in there. Molly tried to give her a bath to clean her up and she took off again. Dunstan's worried she'll have her brothers climbing the walls."

"My menagerie had to stay inside because of the rain," Sera explained to her sister-in-law. "On hindsight that may have been a bad decision. Is Ulysses behaving himself?"

Patrick nodded. "He's eating scraps down in the kitchens. Your nephew's kittens are the potential troublemakers. Kathleen had them contained in the buttery, but their sister showed them a way out. At the moment, Sean Douglas and Mr. Dunstan are searching the rafters for them."

"Tell them to try my bedchamber," Sera advised. "They'll probably go looking for their mother. And if they need any help, call me. I can't have miscreant cats tearing up Mirabella."

"Yes, ma'am." Dutifully, the footman bowed and backed out the room. Behind him was heard the faint sound of a meow followed by scattering human feet. Something heavy crashed on the floor in the wake of a disgruntled oath.

"Oh dear!" Sera cringed.

Beryl laughed. "Your home will always be adventurous in some way. Montgomeries must love living in a state of madness."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Sera drawled as she picked up the mail.

"I married into your family, so I must not think it too odd." Beryl's grin turned to a pointed frown. "Something interesting in the post?"

Something troubling, more likely, Sera thought. In her hands, she scanned the contents of a missive. Lady Delia's elegant script trembled in a hurried scrawl.

Dearest Sera,

Forgive me for leaving England before saying a proper good-bye. You were always a true friend to me, Sera. My heart breaks to know the pain Edward caused you and your husband. Love makes us all fools.

Beware my dear. I fear my husband's associates are brutally angry about his discovery. I hoped to make a clean break of things and begin my life anew in the Colonies, but attempts to retrieve some of my things from our country estate brought the vilest men to my door. If it weren't for Lord Greystone's help, I fear I would not have escaped to my cousin's.

I pray Lord Blackstone can keep you safe from this wretched Triad. They will stop at nothing in their revenge. And as for me, I ask that you say a little prayer to my guardian angel.

Doing as she was bid, Sera authored a special plea for her friend. Then she tucked Lady Delia's missive in her pocket with a silent reminder to share the message with her husband later. At the moment, there was no need to alarm her sister-in-law.

"It's just some news from an old friend," Sera dismissed as she returned to sifting the post.

"Bad news?"

"I wanted her to come to my masquerade, but I think she'll be detained abroad longer than expected."

"Oh." Beryl sipped her tea. "That reminds me, I have a few more suggestions for the invitations."

"Just write down the names and I'll ask Dunstan to send the invitations along."

The Drawing Room door flung open on the secretary's name. Dunstan's lack of formality was softened by the comical state of his eschewed attire. One sleeve wet, the other rolled up and his shirttail untucked, he looked as if he'd been in a battle for his life.

"Lass, you gotta do something about these damn cats!" he demanded as playful feline wails echoed behind him.

"You haven't caught them yet?"

"Catch them?" Dunstan balked. "Those cats are faster and more elusive than the Frenchies I've chased. Molly's got hers and the screaming one cornered in the upstairs gallery, but your nephew's troublemakers are playing cat-and-mouse throughout the house."

In the background, footsteps skidded to a halt with a resounding crash that rattled the Drawing Room wall. Patrick's frustrated groan accompanied his cousin's roar of outrage as a kitten squealed away.

Beryl laughed. "You better go, Sera, before your housekeeper threatens to quit."

"Mrs. O'Reilly would never quit," Sera retorted as she stood up. "No matter how adventurous my menagerie makes Mirabella."

"Anymore misadventures like this and I may quit, Lady Sera," Dunstan chided. "Molly's bright one already had me tripping in that fountain."

"I heard." Sera grinned as she passed him at the door. "Is Miss Cleopatra still in my bedchamber?"

"Nellie has her locked inside."

"Tell her to let her out."

Dunstan gazed at her if she was mad. "We have four cats roaming this place already, lass."

"And all of them have one mother," Sera pointed out. "They will only listen to her. If Kathleen puts out some cream for her, she'll call her kittens to dinner."

He scowled. "You really think that will work?"

Sera shrugged. "It's worth a try. At least it'll keep you and everyone else from knocking over the furniture."

* * *

HALF AN HOUR later, Sera victoriously sat by the fountain with Calliope cuddled in her arms. On the floor beside her, Miss Cleopatra eagerly lapped up the remnants of a bowl filled with warm cream while her kittens purred contentedly at their mama's paws. Overlooking the happy scene from their seats against the wall, four servants languished in defeat.

"Grandma said the room's made up as you wanted, Lady Sera," Molly announced as she approached from the kitchens. "It's not near the dumbwaiter this time."

"Good. We don't need anymore jailbreaks. Be careful, Molly," Sera warned when the child reached for Athena. "We don't want to wake them up again. I think your cousins and Dunstan have had enough chasing around for one day."

In unison the footmen, her maid and husband's secretary nodded from their chairs.

Nellie wearily got to her feet. "Do ye want me to take Miss Cleopatra and Calliope back to yer bedchamber, milady?"

"No, I think mama cat should mind her children today so they don't get in anymore trouble."

Inquisitively, Sera's cat looked up from her bowl and mewled at her mistress's frown.

"We'll help Molly with the kittens, Lady Sera," offered Patrick and his cousin.

"Do you mind watching the door for me, Mr. Dunstan?" asked Sean Douglas.

"Isn't it Patrick's duty today?"

"It was," the fair-haired footman agreed as he picked up a sleeping kitten.

"It stopped raining and the sun's coming out," explained his dark-haired cousin. "But it's gonna rain later."

"No, it's not," Sean Douglas gritted. "You had the job all morning. You know the rules. When it's sunny I get to wait on the door and when it's cloudy, you get to cousin."

"You just don't want to help Mrs. O'Reilly in the attic anymore," Patrick quipped as they lead the procession downstairs.

"Of course not," Sean Douglas roared. "That woman's a backbreaker."

"What's a backbreaker?" echoed Molly as she rounded the corner behind them.

"Yer grandmother," Nellie grumbled as she followed. "I expect she'll be boxing our ears a bit too o'er this. Next time, Mol, don't encourage yer kitten to go fishing in the house."

Sitting by the fountain, Sera giggled in amusement. The sound chimed off the walls and brought a smile to Dunstan's weary face.

"It's good to see you smile again, lass," he commented. "I was afraid you'd never forgive Blackstone's stubborn hide. You bring warmth to this place. It missed that. Always reminded me of a marble statue. Beautiful but lifeless."

"There was always a life here," Sera insisted. "I just added an unpredictability to it."

"Something it never had," he countered. "The Blackstones have always been extremely predictable. Like quiet plotters. Lord Julius especially. He was absolutely persnickety about everything. Including what he ate and drank. He never consumed what Kathleen didn't make or he didn't contain in his private cellar."

Sera frowned over the comment. Something tugged at the back of her mind. Conspiratorially, she approached her husband's secretary. "Dunstan, there's something I was wondering. Why is my husband ensconcing himself in his father's Study? What are those papers he's working on?"

"He hasn't told you?"

"He said they belonged to Chillingworth," Sera explained. "But Gabriel told me it was just follow-up work he was doing. I know something more is concerning him than Edward Chillingworth's smuggling business. Something to do with Mirabella."

"His father was poisoned here," Dunstan explained. "And there was a break-in the night of his funeral. Some things were stolen from his Study."

"So Gabriel thinks someone found their way into Mirabella?" she gathered. "To kill his father and steal for the Triad. He's worried they may come back?"

"You shouldn't worry, lass," Dunstan assured. "It's just a possibility. At the moment, they are too busy avoiding the War Department to be much threat. And the staff is loyal and protective here. They were devastated after Lord Julius's death and vowed to never let it happen again."

The missive in Sera's pocket seemed to burn for attention. The ominous warning stole through her thoughts. But before she could voice them, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, Sera, thank God you're here!" Cleo wailed the moment Dunstan opened the door. Rain and mud mired her frazzled golden-hair and usually pristine walking dress.

"Good heavens, what's wrong?" Sera wondered as her best friend flew into her arms.

In answer, Cleo began to weep. "I couldn't stay there anymore. He's gone mad!"

"Who?" Dunstan prodded over her tears.

Sera searched her friend's troubled gaze. "Chilton?"

Mutely, Cleo nodded. "He kept shouting and drinking. Then he shoved me and grabbed his walking stick." Terror flashed briefly in her riled blue eyes. "He'll do it this time, Sera. He's almost inhuman in his rage at me. His eyes are horrifying. I know I shouldn't have come, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Nonsense, lass," Dunstan assured. "You did the right thing coming here. Perhaps it's time I had a few words with that brother of yours."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang again. The aggressive pounding of fists on the gilded frame serenaded an ominous bellow.

"Cleo Athelstan, come out here this minute!"

Cleo jumped half a foot. "Oh God, he's found me." Panicked eyes stared hopelessly at the front door.

"I know you're in there, dammit!" hollered her brother in a drunken slur. "Come out you damn chit, or I'll bloody well carry you out!"

"We'll just see about that," Dunstan gritted in a warpath for the door.

"I think you should get Gabriel," Sera interrupted. "Chilton can wait while I get Cleo upstairs." When she noticed the violent look in Dunstan's eyes, she added, "I'd like to avoid bloodshed in my home."

The front door rocketed with a loud, obnoxious kick. "Open this damn door before I break your scrawny little neck bitch!"

"That tears it," Dunstan hissed. Swiftly, he yanked open the front door. His fist landed soundly on Chilton's pointy nose.

"We're not accepting anymore visitors today," Dunstan announced as the viscount whirled backward in pain and outrage. "Good day, milord." With that, he slammed the door on Chilton's face.

In the entrance hall, Cleo and Sera gawked in shock and amusement. The amusement fled the moment Chilton regained his composure. Again, he pounded on the front door.

"God damn bastard, open this door!" The door hinges rattled under the incessant battering. "You can't keep my sister. She's my ward!" He threatened, "I'll have you dragged back in chains, girl!"

Cleo shuddered and turned her tremulous face on Sera.

"You're not going out that door so just forget it," Sera commanded.

"I'm not letting anyone else in or out, Miss Athelstan," Dunstan declared as he leaned against the door. "You'll just have to stay here for a while. At least until your brother sobers up."

Cleo looked from Sera to Dunstan as if debating their support. Then her brother kicked the door again. "But he won't go away without me," she argued. "Chilton can't let it go this time. Things have changed!"

"It'll be alright," Sera insisted as she wrapped a reassuring arm around her friend. "Dunstan and I can handle Chilton. Go upstairs and I'll have my maid draw you a bath. You need to get out of these wet things."

Before Sera could steer her friend more than two feet to the stairs, something hard and ear piercing hit the front door.

Dunstan stumbled forward with the vibration. "It shouldn't take me more than two minutes to kill the bastard," he growled.

"God damn you Blackstone!" Chilton roared. "Open this door!"

"What the devil is going on?" demanded an indignant voice from the Music Room door.

Gabriel took in the absurd scene at a glance. His smiling wife held her jittery friend while his secretary seemed intent on homicide as he lazily leaned against a trembling front door.

"Oh Gabriel, there you are," Sera casually chimed. "Finished with your work already?"

He frowned at her attempt to distract him. "Dunstan, who is trying to knock down my front door?"

"My brother," cried Cleo. "I'm so sorry, Lord Blacktone. I know I shouldn't have come."

"Blackstone Isle is the perfect haven to escape to, lass," retorted Dunstan. "We won't let anything happen to you."

"I'll have the magistrate on you Blackstone!" bellowed Chilton. "Give me back my sister!"

Gabriel's confused eyes fell on his wife.

"Cleo can't go back to Chilton," she explained. "He's been drinking, Gabriel. And when he drinks, he's violent."

"Especially now," Cleo warned. She clung to Sera. "I heard him planning. I can't go back. I know what he'd do to me this time. What am I going to do?!"

Her plaintiff wail and his wife's pleading gaze invoked swift command from Gabriel's guardian demeanor. "Sera, take your friend upstairs. Dunstan and I will get Chilton to stop breaking down our door."

"I don't want any bloodshed, Gabriel." Sera nodded toward his secretary. "Dunstan's already hit him."

"I always defend ladies." He smiled proudly. "Besides, your husband wouldn't like you hearing those vile names anyway, Lady Sera."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You may trust that I'll see Chilton leaves here in one piece. I have no intention of killing my neighbor on my doorstep. Please love, take your friend upstairs before she faints in fear."

Gabriel waited until Sera and her friend disappeared from the upstairs landing before opening the door on his neighbor. Blood trickled from Chilton's nose as his obviously inebriated mind tried to concentrate on his opponent's words.

"Don't give me that, Blackstone," Chilton snarled with bloodshot eyes. "I know Cleo's here. I heard her whimper. Have her brought down to me now."

"I don't believe you understood me, Chilton," Gabriel retorted in precise tones. "Miss Athelstan is a guest of my wife's. As long as she chooses to stay here, she is under my protection. You need not worry for her safety."

"Your protection?" the viscount balked. "Haven't you seduced enough country innocents? Making that damn harem of yours, I see. Well you can't have Cleo. She belongs to me."

"You can't own a person," Dunstan hissed. "If you weren't so sotted, you'd know that."

"You!" Chilton glared at the secretary through blurry eyes. "You're the bastard wot hit me! I'll break your neck."

With the grace of a striking panther, Gabriel gripped his secretary and his neighbor by the shoulders. His fingers dug cruelly into their nerves forcing both to halt in their threats of violence. "My wife distinctly requested no bloodshed. If the two of you would like to kill each other at a latter point in time, then so be it. For now, Chilton, go home. Lay off the port for a while and your sister may want to come home again."

With a disgruntled groan, the viscount stumbled out the door. His eyes gleamed with feral fury as he glanced back at the earl. "I'll be back Blackstone. With the magistrate. You can't keep Cleo from me. It's kidnapping and theft. She's mine!"

Gabriel slammed the door on Chilton's ugly rage.

"You should have let me kill the bastard," Dunstan growled, flexing his hands as if wanting to strangle the object of his fury.

"Why now?" Gabriel pondered aloud.

"Because the bastard terrified her, that's why!"

"No, why is Chilton so determined to break down my door and his sister so determined to seek shelter here now?"

The question sent familiar ripples of unease through the Guardian and his partner.

"Is something up?" Dunstan prodded.

"Just a thought," Gabriel explained. "Chillingworth and Chilton were friends." He instructed, "See that he leaves the isle, but don't engage him, Dunstan. I want to talk to Cleo Athelstan when she's finished changing. I'll be in my Study."

Chapter Forty-One

AN HOUR later, Gabriel entered his wife's sitting room as Sera settled her friend on the settee.

"It will be all right, Cleo," Sera comforted as she handed her a cup of tea. "Gabriel and I will look after you. You don't have to go back to Chilton Manor if you don't want to."

"But the magistrate?"

"Don't worry about that, lass," Dunstan insisted from the fireplace. "No one in their right mind would condemn you to live with that beast."

"Oh, Lord Blackstone, I'm so sorry to bring this trouble to your doorstep." Cleo beamed teary eyes at Gabriel. "I was so used to coming to Sera whenever my brother became unreasonable. I didn't think about what her husband might think."

"Cleo, Gabriel is a protector by nature," Sera insisted. "He will help you if you tell him what this is all about."

Tentative eyes gleamed at the earl. He adopted a gentle and reassuring demeanor as he settled in a chair beside the settee. "It would make it easier if I understood your exact situation."

"I've already told Gabriel of Chilton's financial hold over you," Sera encouraged. "But you've always managed to live an uneasy balance with him. What has you so frightened of him Cleo?"

Her wary blue eyes focused on Gabriel and crumbled with fresh tears. The teacup splattered in her hands. "My brother is a beast, a cruel and wicked person like his mother. She was our father's first wife. Chilton got my father's title and I was left his money. My brother never lets me forget that. From the first day I was sent to live with him, he's been cruel and demeaning towards me. When he drinks, he becomes insane with jealousy. He used to play horrible games on me that made me think he'd have no qualms about killing me."

"The day I found you in the woods?" Sera asked.

Cleo shuddered at the memory. "He said he was going to hunt me down like the foxes."

"The bastard," Dunstan condemned.

"I was so frightened, I hid until Sera found me. I thought he was mad," Cleo confessed. "Fortunately, he tired of terrorizing me and absorbed himself in his gaming habits. He financed himself with my trust fund. When that extended itself, he turned to his other dodgy deals."

"What deals?" Gabriel prodded sharply.

Cleo bristled and shrank from his penetrating gaze. "I don't know exactly. Something illegal probably. Whatever it was, something's changed of late. Since he came home last week, he's been moody and frustrated. Chilton's been drinking for days on end. His business has taken a turn for the worse, I think. He doesn't have enough to cover his debts. Even with my trust fund, it's not enough. He'll end up in debtor's prison unless..."

Warily, she drifted off into teary silence. The terror in her blank expression tore at Gabriel's heart and aroused his suspicion. She seemed like a fragile piece of cracked crystal. Battered, beaten and wary of the ultimate destruction.

"Unless what?" Sera prompted for him. "What exactly did Chilton say to make you run today, Cleo?"

"He's selling me off," she gasped in horror. "I saw the papers, Sera. The betrothal agreements. He's selling me to the gambling friend who owns his debts. He's a cruel and vile man. He'll make me his broodmare to satisfy his lust for an heir. Oh God, Sera, I just can't go through with it. I'll die first!"

Cleo collapsed into hysterical tears. Sera wrapped her arms around her in a motherly touch. "You don't have to marry anyone you don't want to, Cleo. The law says that."

"But he threatened to beat me black and blue if I refused," Cleo wailed. "I dodged his walking stick, but he'll come after me, Sera. Chilton's mad. Like his mother was before she went to the insane asylum. They could both do horrible things. You just don't know."

Dunstan knelt beside her and spoke in a reassuring tone. "Lass, don't be so frightened. Lady Sera is right. We won't let your brother harm a hair on your head. He'll have to come through me first. I wouldn't mind breaking more than his nose for you."

Gabriel watched as Cleo's teary frown turned to a tentative grin for his secretary. "Thank you, Mr. Dunstan."

Bashfully, she looked towards Gabriel. "I'm sorry, I'm so much trouble for you." Before he could answer, her attention shifted to his wife. "You must be busy planning your masquerade, Sera. Was that your sister-in-law I saw leaving a while ago?"

"The masquerade can wait Cleo. Your situation is more troubling." Sera turned toward her husband, "Is it not, Gabriel?"

He steepled his fingers in thought. His impassive face gave no hints as he studied his wife's friend. Every word, every whimper was measured behind a mask of shrewd speculation.

In the next breath, Gabriel smiled sympathetically. "My wife's correct, Miss Athelstan. It wouldn't be neighborly of me to turn you away in your time of need. We will just have to straighten out your predicament before we tend anything else."

"What are you planning?" Sera wondered as if she'd sensed the cunning workings of his mind.

"Just a means of preventing Chilton from bringing a magistrate to our door, love," Gabriel answered with reservation. "The laws of guardianship are strict. They're meant to protect not subject one to slavery. I have some friends in London who may be sympathetic to Miss Athelstan's cause." He turned to Cleo, "Until I can make proper arrangements, I think it best you stay here with Sera."

Cleo nodded. "I can't thank you enough, my lord."

"You are my wife's friend and therefore mine, Miss Athelstan." Gabriel smiled. "And I see my secretary has taken to you as well. No doubt, they'd twist my arms to assist you. Besides, I can't have my neighbors banging down my door whenever they have a mind to."

"When are you leaving?" Dunstan interjected as stood up.

"Tonight." Gabriel's curt reply aroused his wife's surprised glare. "I have some business to attend to anyway. I'm leaving you in charge, Dunstan. See there are no further incidents like today. Get the groomsmen to patrol the gateway so Chilton or anyone else doesn't wander this far in again."

Obediently, the secretary nodded. "No one in or out, except Lady Sera's family, of course."

"Good. I shouldn't be long, a day or two at the most," Gabriel informed. "I'll leave you to rest Miss Athelstan. There's a few things I must take care of before dinner."

At the door, Gabriel paused. His expression warm and sympathetic as he studied the two familiar women on the settee. Only Sera noticed the subtle promise in his words. "Don't worry, Cleo. You're safe here."

* * *

AT SUNSET, Gabriel still lingered over Chillingworth's papers. He'd studied them meticulously since his horrifying dreams of premonition began.

The visions replayed in his head as he paced the Study. His father was trying to tell him something. To warn him of an enemy he had overlooked in Chillingworth's smuggling records.

He was unable to discern more than a few initials until today. The smuggling business was abandoned and the Triad was on the prowl for loose ends. Whoever aided Chillingworth in East Chatham would be desperate. Undoubtedly, he'd be willing to do the most unconscionable to save his slimy hide.

A wicked grin of satisfaction crossed Gabriel's lips. It seemed fate had again delivered the answer to the mystery into his lap through his cherub wife. Sera was a magnet for secrets and serendipitous discoveries. Grimly, he thought, it was about time for this one.

Gabriel glanced at the hastily scrawled missive atop his desk. Caesar warned caution. The Triad bastards were making their moves, exacting bloody revenge. This time Gabriel intended to be ready for them.

Rather than his enemies' possessing Mirabella's weak link, Gabriel had theirs.

A familiar knock sounded at the door. Disturbed from his reverie, Gabriel hastily repacked his documents to their folders. The door opened while he was in the middle of his task.

"Still studying those things?" Sera asked. "I would think they'd bore you by now. Unless you learned something?"

Gabriel smiled at his wife's shrewd inquisition. "Close the door, will you love? I don't want Molly overhearing us."

Dutifully, Sera did as she was bid. Her glare was speculative and determined as she approached him. "You're leaving tonight?"

"I expected that would get you down here," he rumbled. "Before I explain, how is your friend?"

"Napping." Sera settled on the edge of the desk. "She's scared and grateful. Cleo's relationship with Chilton has always been turbulent, but I don't think he's ever been this outwardly aggressive toward her." She added knowingly, "He's in big trouble, I gather?"

"Perhaps."

"Is that why you're going to your meeting?" she prodded. "You're going to see Lord Greystone, aren't you? I thought you retired, Gabriel."

One look into his wife's troubled gaze and Gabriel's aloof pretense faltered. He knew he was best explaining his secrets than leaving her to wander in lonely suspicion. He pulled her into his lap and kissed aside her frantic accusation.

"I won't be gone more than a day, love," he reassured. "Something came to my attention in the post and I have to confer with my sources." He pinned her with a look. "I'm not going back to work for the War Department."

"Does Rene Dumond know that?" Sera prodded. "I know he's been on your mind. You call his name in your dreams."

Gabriel hugged his wife close to him, chasing away the nightmare visions with her warmth and life.

"He haunts me like your wolves," he admitted.

"Because he's angry you discovered Chillingworth?"

"His rage is older. I betrayed his family and he won't rest until he betrays mine." Gabriel vowed, "But I won't ever let him hurt you, love. I won't let him or anyone take you from me. I love you, Sera."

"I love you, too, Gabriel," she murmured with a touch of unease. "But I feel like you're determined to face this wolf alone. You can't possibly protect everyone by yourself."

"I have no intention of doing so." He stroked the defensive lines of her cheek. "I'm not shutting you out, Sera. Mirabella needs a protector while I'm gone. Dunstan will see to the details, but you are its mistress. When I return, I expect to have several associates and friends with me. I think I can set a trap for our shared enemy and ensure several people's peaceful retirement. My meeting is to negotiate that. After the troubling news I received today, it has become necessary."

"What news?"

Gabriel debated withholding the grim details of Caesar's missive. "You'd be angry with me if I didn't tell you," he decided. "Lord Greystone is concerned about one of your friends."

"Lady Delia?" Sera's eyes widened in alarm or memory.

"She's disappeared. Greystone's men last saw her in Cherbourg with her cousin. There was a bit of trouble with her luggage in Calais."

"I know." Sera retrieved a missive from her pocket. "She sent me this in the post today."

Gabriel's surprise at its discovery turned to bitter acknowledgment of the contents. "Damn," he muttered. "She should have accepted my help instead of feeling guilty for Chillingworth's misdeeds."

"You offered her protection?" Sera discerned.

"I would have hidden her away like Charlotte," Gabriel explained. "It didn't have to come to this. The Continent was the last place she should've gone."

"She and her cousin could have gone to the Colonies." Sera suggested optimistically. "Lord Greystone could've lost them if they changed their names and started over."

Gabriel hesitated dashing her hope. "It's a possibility."

"But you don't believe that, do you?" Sera guessed with a frown. "Tell me the truth, Gabriel. What happened to Lady Delia?"

His sigh was fraught with dread. He hated telling these details to his wife, but he had no alternative. She would pester him and hate him for keeping it from her otherwise. "I think the bastards found her."

Sera shuddered. "The Triad?"

"Dumond specifically," Gabriel hissed. "It sounds like his work." Reassuring Sera with his touch, he confided, "They found her cousin with her neck slashed. There were signs of a struggle in the inn room assigned to Lady Delia."

"But no body?"

"Not yet."

Sera paled in realization. If her friend wasn't killed outright, then she could have been abducted to satisfy the Frenchman's lecherous habits before she died.

Tenderly, Gabriel stroked his wife's ashen cheeks. "Love, don't think about it. Dumond will pay for every evil thing he's done. In this life and in an eternity of hell."

"He'll never quit, will he?" Sera asked ominously. "Not until we're dead. That's what Charlotte said."

"I won't let him harm you. He almost took you from me once, but I'll never let him so close again. Even if I have to kill Dumond to protect you."

An ominous feeling curled in the pit of Sera's stomach. She wrapped her arms around her husband, almost as if she was trying to pull herself inside him. "Let me go with you to London."

"No, love." Gabriel breathed a tender kiss across her forehead. "It's quicker if I go alone. Look after your friend. She needs you."

"You need me, husband!" Sera railed. "Don't leave me here alone."

Gabriel reassured her with a lingering kiss. "Yes, I need you," whispered after. "I need you to wait for me here, Sera. Where you're safe." His eyes gleamed with haunted desperation. "Love, I don't want to lose you like I did my father. I don't want to return to Mirabella and find you're just one more of its ghosts. Promise me you'll stay put until I return," he demanded.

The ominous feeling inside Sera churned with compelling intensity. "I don't want to lose you either, Gabriel. Not when I feel like I've just found you."

"Then wait for me," he beckoned against her lips. "Wait for me like a candle in the window. I will come home to you love, I promise."

Ominous dread warred with Sera's hope. He had given her a task. Not the one she had chosen for herself, but an important one nonetheless. She was her husband's beacon. A reminder of the life he had to return to. The way out of the shadows.

Resignation came slowly to Sera. She said a little prayer to her saintly parents hoping she was doing the right thing. "One day, Gabriel, no more. I trust you to do what you must, but don't leave me in the dark."

"Agreed, love." Gabriel sealed the bargain with a long, appreciative kiss. By the time he raised his head to gaze at his wife again, her eyes were filled with familiar brandy sparkles. Lovingly, he stroked her cheek. The touch was subtly seductive. A passionate rumble echoed in his chest.

"Now," he began in an affectionately distracting voice. "Do you want to tell me about the masquerade plans you made with your sister-in-law today? Mrs. O'Reilly tells me, I have to recreate the seven seas in my Drawing Room."

"We didn't plan much of anything," Sera dismissed preferring the feel of her husband's enticing embrace. "Dunstan interrupted us. He had a domestic problem."

"Ah," Gabriel murmured whimsically against her cheek. "That reminds me. Mrs. O'Reilly is threatening to quit. Something about finding cat hairs in her drapes?"

"It's not important." Sera bristled. "I'd rather not discuss my menagerie right now."

"And what would you like to discuss?"

"Nothing," came her blunt reply. "I'd rather you kissed me again, husband."

Obediently, he did. The familiar indulgence turned from carefree to an almost insatiable need to be close.

They made love on the settee as the sun turned from a contented, cloudy red to cold twilight shadows. And after their passion was sated, they lay in one another's embrace before the haunting glow of the fireplace. Neither said a word. Neither needed to. Their hearts echoed with the same hope and fear. Hope that the happiness they shared would last them a lifetime; and fear that the shadows waited to destroy it before it barely began.

Chapter Forty-Two

GABRIEL RESTLESSLY drummed his fingertips as Greystone's clock extolled the waning hours. He'd come to report his suspicions and suggestions to his superior's top agents, but Caesar's secretive meeting dragged on without any clear resolution.

"Time is running out, gentleman," he interrupted. "I know the Frenchman's zeal for Triad justice from experience."

"Are you certain about Chilton's connection?" challenged Greystone's replacement. "I haven't found his name on the Scrolls." Sir Cainwood Sinclair arched his brows in suspicion. "Something just isn't right about that thing. Are you sure you translated it correctly, Blackstone?"

"I gave you my father's code, Cain," Gabriel impatiently reminded. "It should be simple if you follow it. I already translated the first half of the list for you."

"The translation is not the problem," Cain grumbled. "The people the damn thing turns up are already meeting their makers. I can't interrogate the dead."

"Then concentrate on the living, Nemesis," Darrington chided over his glass of port. "Blackstone's right about East Chatham. That's where the Frenchman will strike first." He turned his deceptively shrewd blue eyes on Gabriel. "Are you certain your man can handle things while you're here? You left your lady back there."

"Dunstan knows what he's doing. He won't let Chilton anywhere near them. Or Cleo near her brother for that matter."

"I still don't like it," Cain grumbled. "If Chilton worked with Chillingworth why would he let his sister seek refuge in your house? Maybe Miss Athelstan is part of the game."

Gabriel shook his head. "She's too terrified of her brother to be part of his conspiracies."

"Yet, she was engaged to Dunne. She could have betrayed him."

The accusation rumbled through Gabriel. His brandy sip caught in his throat as he warily remembered the Angel's little angel remained a mystery. Perhaps one that safely disguised herself in his home.

"I doubt Miss Athelstan's role is anything more than periphery, but the sooner we move the better," Gabriel insisted.

"Agreed," Greystone concurred. The steel-eyed commander seemed agitated and weary in his seat. "Since we got word of the Frenchman's moves in France, Virginia and Glorianna have been on pins and needles. I wonder what Chillingworth's wife drudged up from their estate to incur the bastard's wrath?"

"We'll probably never know," Darrington bemoaned. "I told you we shouldn't have let her go back there."

"What's done is done," Gabriel interjected. "Lady Delia's mistake was in trusting the wrong man. Chillingworth failed to eliminate me before we found the treasure so his wife paid Dumond's form of justice. As will we all unless we set the trap first."

"You're certain he'll come after you?" Cain challenged.

"Rene Dumond has a special score to settle with me. He'll try to breach Mirabella on the guise of going after Chilton's sister, perhaps dig up a sympathetic magistrate to do his bidding. It would please the bastard to see my name humiliated in the process."

"The emancipation papers should abort that plan." Darrington advised, "I'll have Miss Athelstan's freedom arranged by tomorrow."

"It will take me that long to have the men assembled," added Cain.

"Once the decree is signed," Greystone declared, "we will all meet at Mirabella."

The command charged the room and brought a long awaited smile to Gabriel's grim face. "Then I'll await you there, gentlemen," he said as he rose to his feet and hastily reached for his cloak.

"You're heading back now?" Darrington chimed.

"If I ride through the night, I can be at Mirabella by morning. I'd feel more comfortable if I was there to keep an eye on things."

"Yes, of course," Greystone spoke for the group. "I'm sorry our meeting took so long. Your wife needs you at home." His chiseled frown blossomed into a mirthful grin. "She's probably driving you insane with these masquerade plans. Virginia's talked of little else since she got Sera's note."

"Mirabella is alive with enthusiasm these days," Gabriel admitted with a surge of pride and longing. "My wife is determined to bring to life every one of my grandfather's fanciful travels. I hope you'll be able to stand it."

Greystone declared, "When this is said and done, we'll all be in the mood to celebrate."

Gabriel nodded with silent praise and headed for the door. He was just gripping the cold, gleaming doorknob when Cain's cynical voice called out.

"Take care, Blackstone. The Frenchman is anything but predictable."

The ominous proclamation cloaked Gabriel as he left Greystone House for the bustling shadows of Marsham Street. Trotter's Court crowned the corner, but Lady Pennington's salons were purportedly closed due to an unexpected illness. It was an ailment gripping much of that corner of Mayfair. Agents were in hiding, each thankful that the Triad's lethal duo were limited to one.

At least the Angel of Death is cold in his grave.

The thought brought little comfort to Gabriel as he plodded down the sidewalk. The assassin who killed his father had shown him a dangerous truth. Mirabella could be breached despite all his father's meticulous precautions.

Ruthless enemies seek your weakness.

Gabriel quickened his pace, but the stormy night sky seemed to argue with his desire for home. He remembered one good downpour could wash out the bridge to East Chatham. Mirabella and its charges would be left vulnerable to his unpredictable enemies.

Sera needs me.

His mind reeled as he blindly turned the corner toward Lighting Street and stumbled into a small, bearded man occupied with his snuff. The noxious powder spilled out into a cloud that momentarily consumed Gabriel's senses.

"Watch where ye're going, mister!" the man shouted as he strode off.

"Sorry," Gabriel apologized between coughs. "I didn't see you."

Sera had that effect on him, he figured as he continued down the sidewalk. She blinded him to his worries and made him need the comfort of her embrace more everyday. If he'd allowed it, she would have dropped everything to come on this midnight rendezvous with him.

Bitterness swelled in his throat as he remembered Sera's first midnight rendezvous chasing spies. Her need for a guardian was used against her exactly as his mother's compassion for peasants was used to destroy her. Gabriel thought he could protect them, but he'd nearly destroyed them both. The nightmares haunting him of late refused to let him forget that.

Cold, distant eyes seemed to study him from the misty air. Gabriel blinked away the reminder determined he would not give in to restless sleep until he held Sera in his arms again. He glimpsed his townhouse a short distance through the fog, but he seemed to walk forever down the sidewalk.

Carriage wheels rumbled over distant cobblestones. The sound, like his footfalls, had a curious hollow echo.

The fog swirled around him in a sudden gust of wind that burned his eyes. He tried to blink the sensation away, but his senses seemed ablaze. Something screeched to the sidewalk beside him as an ominous wave of dizziness overwhelmed him.

He saw the hackney stop the moment he recognized the noxious powder scorching a path down his throat. Gabriel tried to protect himself, but his limbs felt leaden. The carriage doors opened and seemed to swallow him inside.

The wheels rumbled into motion again a moment later. Gabriel struggling past the dizziness and nausea welling inside him to focus on the dark figure awaiting him.

A swelled pointy nose sharpened ominously before his eyes. In his hands, Cleo's brother pointed a lethal pistol.

"Going to shoot me, Chilton?" Gabriel coaxed in a gruff whisper. "Or just watch me die slowly from poison?"

The viscount sneered. "Relax, Blackstone. You won't die, yet. That snuff is just to keep you tame until we get where we're going."

Gabriel struggled to keep his eyes open. Already the numbness had claimed his arms and legs. "Which is where?"

"Home, Blackstone," Chilton taunted with a haughty laugh. "You have a date with the angel of death."

The deadly pronouncement reverberated through Gabriel's mind as he slipped into the shadows of a nightmare.

Chapter Forty-Three

MORNING RAIN cloaked Mirabella as Sera stoked the dimming fire warming her Sitting Room. Despite the comforting heat, she felt cold. The gnawing sensation had plagued her since Gabriel left the previous day. He said he would return in a day, but after a sleepless night her fear of impending doom only increased.

Sera stomped down the bitterness lingering in the back of her throat since last night's storm began. She would not give in to the weakness of her fears when there were others in need of her strength.

"There," she pronounced as the fire roared with new life. "That should be warm enough for you."

On the nearby settee, her friend huddled in a borrowed dress as blue as her mood. Cleo's eyes gleamed red from a night's worth of tears. "You must be tired of me by now. I only bring you problems."

"Actually, I'm grateful to your brother," Sera quipped in an attempt to lighten her friend's mood. "His chasing you here affords me the perfect opportunity to capture your full attention. Beryl suggested a floral garden in the bathhouse for my masquerade and I wanted your expert opinion. Which is more fashionable, roses or tulips?"

Cleo bristled. "Sera, you can't possibly be thinking of a social right now."

Sera heaved a frustrated sigh and sat beside her friend. "You must stop worrying," she advised as much to herself as to Cleo. "Gabriel will be home soon to handle Chilton for you."

Cleo's eyes clouded with fresh tears as the Sitting Room door opened.

Sera glanced at Dunstan's practiced expression and knew the wary protector had a grim announcement for his charges. The burning sensation seared deep in her throat. "What's wrong?"

Dunstan hesitated briefly when he gazed at Cleo on the settee. "Chilton's gone."

Cleo looked up in surprise and fear. "What do you mean gone? He was here again?"

"No, he's not in your manor anymore," he explained. "He left East Chatham sometime last night."

"He's done it!" Cleo burst into terrified tears. "He's gone for the magistrate. He'll have the authorities brought here to take me away and accuse Lord Blackstone of kidnapping."

Dunstan's shielded expression crumbled with concern. In two short strides, he usurped the seat beside Cleo and wiped away her tears. "Stop fretting, lass. Your brother can't bring armed men to drag you out of this house."

"You don't know him," she protested. "Chilton is a mean and spiteful person. He would do anything to get his way. Lie, cheat, even steal." She turned her panic on Sera. "I shouldn't have come here. I've put you all at great risk."

"Mirabella's been through worse than this," Sera reassured.

"Blackstone Isle protects its own, lass."

Cleo faced her caretakers with a heartbreaking glance. "But I don't belong here. My brother's right."

"You mustn't credit whatever that scoundrel said, lass," Dunstan rumbled reassuringly. "It's just his lying attempts to bully you."

"No, I don't deserve your protection, Mr. Dunstan." She recoiled with a haunted gaze of fear and recrimination. "Oh Sera, I can't keep up this charade. I've lied all my life, but I fear you'll hate me when you know the truth."

"What truth?"

Cleo held her silence a long hesitating moment. When she finally spoke, she kept her eyes focused downward as if awaiting censure. "Chilton's mother was living in an asylum when I was born. My father was never legally married to my mother."

"So you're a bastard," Sera stated matter-of-factly.

Cleo blinked in surprise. "You're not horrified?"

"Why would she be?" Dunstan interjected.

"My brother said the truth would horrify respectable, God-fearing people."

"Which side of the blanket you were born on won't matter to people who truly care for you," Sera insisted. "Tell her, Dunstan."

"Some of the most respectable people I know in Society are born bastards, lass," he dutifully advised. "The stigma is only professed by the smaller minded of the ton. You can't be blamed for what your parents did before you were even born."

"You don't understand," she wailed. "My father abhorred his first wife and son. They carried the same madness in their blood, he said. So he had Chilton's mother committed and told everyone she died. Then he married the first servant to carry his babe. He wanted a son to replace my brother in line for the title."

Years of brutal fighting finally made sense to Sera. "Chilton holds that against you?"

Cleo nodded. "My father tried to protect me with the trust fund, but my brother finagled guardianship. He's as insane as his mother. He threatened to do all sorts of horrible things to me if I told anyone the secrets he kept."

Ice coiled in the pit of Sera's stomach. "What secrets?"

Ominous silence befell Cleo. She wrung her hands together. "Chilton's a thief, and a blackmailer."

Sera reeled with realization. The phantom she chased for weeks had been her own next door neighbor. "You knew all along your brother was employing Ethan Bixby and you didn't tell me?" The accusation dangled ominously in the air between the two old trusted friends.

Cleo cringed as fresh tears flowed down her cheeks. "I didn't want to get you involved. Chilton would have killed Bixby if he knew he was stealing from him. I thought if I paid the blackmail, I could replace the egg before my brother ever knew I was rummaging through his secret stash. He'd kill me if he knew I found that room."

"What room?" Sera prodded.

"Behind the curio cabinet in his Study is an old priest hole," she revealed. "Chilton keeps his things there. Mostly, it's filled with stuff he's stolen, or smuggled for his associates."

The ice in Sera's stomach rippled warily. "Percy's egg was concealed in that room?"

Cleo nodded. "There was a dozen of them with different designs and gems. Some were copies. More fakes my brother devised to sell to his unsuspecting customers. The one Percy sent me was off to the side. It blinded me as I entered the room. The rubies were so bright."

"You knew the gems were real?"

"Percy thought he needed to produce a fortune to be worthy of me." Cleo sobbed remorsefully. "I never dreamt he'd resort to smuggling with Lord Chillingworth."

"Percy wasn't a smuggler," Sera reminded grimly.

"I know." Cleo shuttered. "I had a feeling something was terribly wrong about that room and the treasure. When you were so determined to go after it, I had to stop you. I found my brother's spare key to the curio cabinet and filled it with the fakes I found. Then I told you it had been returned."

"I wish you had told me this before." Sera tried to keep the disappointment from her gaze, but her glare mirrored the turmoil she felt building inside her. Every word, every whisper of warning Percy had given her came back. He warned her not to speak of his midnight rendezvous at Chilton Manor. The walls had ears, he said. Ears that dabbled in smuggling, stealing and secret rooms.

Cleo shivered in ashen anguish. "I know I should have told Lord Blackstone this yesterday, but I was so frightened. After I caught my brother meeting with his friends, he was so furious."

"What friends?" Dunstan's sharp question sent ripples of alarm through the room.

"Who was meeting with Chilton before he sent you running here?" Sera echoed warily.

"I didn't see them clearly," Cleo flustered at the pointed questions. "They were near the entrance to the secret room. Two men, I think. One sounded Cockney and the other spoke French."

"What did they say?" Dunstan interrogated.

"Just that some ship arrived," Cleo recalled. "I supposed it was about my brother's smuggling. His associates said something about a final payment. When Chilton saw me, he threatened to put me on the ship with the other fallen angels. It was the only payment he'd get for me, he said. I thought he'd kill me, Sera. The venom in his eyes was like madness. He taunted me to come here and tell what I knew. He said no one would believe me. I was nothing but a whore's bastard and he was the Viscount Chilton."

The story horrified Sera. Fallen angels, final payments and Frenchmen lurking in East Chatham brought chilling clarity to Sera's senses. Bile filled her throat in warning as she shot to her feet. "Dunstan, when was Gabriel supposed to return?"

"Not soon enough," he gritted ominously.

Silent understanding passed between Sera and Dunstan. The scent of a trap seemed to close in around them. Chilton was in league with Chillingworth's Triad and had been the contact Percy was pursuing all along. More alarming, it was his thief and his private stash of smuggled goods that linked the Guardian's search for the Angel and his Frenchman. And now the remaining partners were back for a final payment. Perhaps the end game was already in the works and Mirabella sat vulnerable without its Guardian's presence. Any weakness was an open target for the Triad traitors.

"Should I send for my family?" Sera asked.

"That might be a good idea," Dunstan replied. "I'll get a note on to London to see what's keeping Blackstone."

"The two of you sound as if you're preparing for war," Cleo proclaimed. A worried frown crossed her reddened face.

"Don't worry about it, lass," Dunstan crooned in a tone heartbreakingly familiar to Sera. In the deceptive gentleness, she saw her own husband's attempts to ease her confused fears.

A husband who would ease her bitter dread just by walking through the door, she thought.

* * *

SERA PACED the floor of her husband's Study as cold rain obscured the sunset. In the distance, Mirabella's halls rang out with the cacophony of her boisterous family.

The summons to present themselves post haste to Blackstone Isle had been met with initial opposition, but the mention of Rene Dumond turned automatic opposition to immediate obedience. Gabriel's rival was no one to be ignored, her brothers professed.

Dunstan still had no positive word on the whereabouts of Chilton or his dubious smuggling associates. He had sent men far and wide to check for the Frenchman's ship, but turned up nothing so far. Word was probably just getting to London that they'd called in the troops for a standoff.

Cleo had been right, Sera thought. It was like preparing for war. Blackstone Isle was sealed to protect its valued charges. Lookouts were posted on every available entranceway. If the Triad attempted to storm Mirabella, they would be outnumbered before they approached the front gates.

Dunstan failed to produce only one thing to Sera's satisfaction. Mirabella was still without its lord.

Gabriel promised he would return in a day. When they held each other by the fireplace, Sera felt assured she possessed her husband from the shadows. He would not lie to her again. He would not go off on his own to track down Chilton's friends without telling her.

She tried to convince herself that his details in London took longer than expected. Surely, that was why he didn't come racing home to her last night, when she stayed awake haunted by the feeling that she would never see him emerge from the shadows again.

He knew she would be terrified with each passing moment he stayed away. He couldn't put her through another anxious night. He loved her too much for that.

So why wasn't he here? Why hadn't he at least sent a note telling her of his progress? Why did he have to insist on going alone to London?

A familiar two beat knock turned Sera's attention to the door. Dunstan entered bearing a dour face.

"Still no word from London?" she guessed.

The secretary shut the door behind him. "The roads are almost flooded, lass. It's been raining hard today and slowed down all the traffic."

"Why does that make you smile?" Sera noticed.

"Because it would explain why Blackstone isn't here yet," Dunstan pointed out. "He may be having trouble with the same bridge that ended up forcing your elopement. He'll be here soon."

"I hope so," Sera mumbled as she resettled at her husband's desk. Chillingworth's papers laid strewn on the desktop exactly as she'd left it. Absorbing Gabriel's obsessions helped her feel closer to what he may be thinking, or planning.

Dunstan pointed at the shipping records with an amused grin. "Figure out what Blackstone did yet?"

The initial code defied her except for two ominous initials. RA, for Raymond Athelstan, the Viscount Chilton's Christian name. The indicator of guilt for Cleo's brother displayed in every column where the seller of smuggled goods was logged. Sera realized her husband must have come to the same conclusion before he set off to report to his superiors.

"I suppose he told you about this before he left?" Sera assumed.

"Initials can mean anything, lass. As of yesterday, it was a suspicion of his. With your friend's tale, I'd bet my life it's evidence."

"I wish Gabriel had been here to hear Cleo's story," Sera gritted as she shot to her feet and paced again. The knee ached in the rain, but it was nothing compared to the oppressive bitterness in her chest. The weight refused to lighten no matter what she did. It was as if the world were closing in around her. The perilous trap left her to drown in worry and fear. "Why did he have to go alone?"

"Relax, lass," Dunstan reassured. His eyes whizzed back and forth following her riled path. "Blackstone knows what he's doing. He went to Caesar to assemble reinforcements. They'll probably be here by nightfall and then we'll end this waiting game."

"To get a look at that secret room of Chilton's?" Sera suggested.

"Among other things," he agreed. "Greystone probably has a better idea of where Dumond's ship is located. Once we find that, we can arrest them all for piracy. It will be over soon."

"I hope so," Sera repeated as she took another turn before the fireplace.

With each anxious step, the bitterness curled inside her. A wave of nausea and dizziness threatened to dislodge her course. Spinning toward Dunstan, she reached out to balance herself on the mantelpiece.

"Easy lass," Dunstan advised when the knick-knacks jangled atop the mantelpiece. "Gabriel wouldn't like to see you so upset. Why don't you go spend some time with your family? Lady Beryl and Mrs. Bunpenny are mapping out the seven seas ballroom with Mrs. O'Reilly. And Cleo would appreciate your company, I'm sure."

"Cleo?" Sera smiled at the familiar pronunciation.

Embarrassment and subtle pride glimmered on the secretary's face. "Miss Athelstan has given me permission to use her Christian name." Dunstan's smile beamed with affection. "The lass is sweet."

"My husband says you have a soft spot for Cleo," Sera teased. "Is he in danger of losing a good secretary when this is said and done?"

"I'm charged to protect you and all those in Blackstone's home," he defied introspection. "Your friend is just one of my concerns."

"Well, if you were to develop a tendré for Cleo, I believe Percy would approve," she encouraged. "He never wanted her to spend her life alone." Sera frowned in thought. "No one should have to live their life alone."

Again, she felt the need to pace. The moment Sera yanked her hand from the mantle, a tiny porcelain statue began to topple. She caught it deftly between her fingers until the haunted cherub face gleamed up at her.

It was yet another angel figurine of Gabriel's mother. A living memorial his father obsessively created to remember his beloved wife. Not as a warm, living companion but as a cold, pristine angel. That's what became of a person who was forced to live their life alone. They lived in a world of shadows and nightmares.

Something nagged at Sera. Something deep and incessant inside her. She felt her stomach lurch with another burst of nausea. Valiantly, she suppressed a second wave of dizziness. Bitterness rose in her throat with alarming alacrity.

Something was wrong. Something was dreadfully wrong.

"You're going to burn a hole in that rug if you keep pacing like that, lass," Dunstan teased. "Sit down before you make me dizzy."

"I can't," she grumbled. "I'm missing something."

"Gabriel will be here soon."

"No," Sera denied with an almost instinctual force. "I mean, Mirabella's greatest weakness. That's what Dumond and the Angel and the Triad were always after. Lord Julius thought it was its lady, but it's not."

"You read his last missive to his son?" Dunstan blinked in surprise.

Sera shrugged. "I found it in Gabriel's papers. I take it that's how my husband jumped to the conclusion I brought poisoned tea to his father?"

The secretary cringed. "He was a different person then, lass. Gabriel lived his whole life in the shadows. He didn't trust a soul. He was cold and cynical especially after his father died like that. One day, he was sending him a birthday present and the next he received that wretched note. Lord Julius wasn't descriptive either, I fear."

Brief mentions of keys and Angel's little angels were not much detailed description, Sera supposed. Of course, allowances had to be made for a man who was obviously in pain and confusion. Broad sweeping clues were probably the most he could manage as the poison slowly claimed his life. If his son had known the contents of Sera's conversation with his father, he would have seen what was obvious to her. But then maybe Gabriel never would have gotten it into his head to pursue her.

Sera beamed an appreciative smile on her belated father-in-law's canvas. His cleverness had only just begun to sink in when the bitterness welled again inside her throat.

"Mirabella's greatest weakness is its lord," Sera pronounced ominously. "We're not in danger. Gabriel is."

"Now lass," Dunstan chided affectionately. "As your papa says, don't go borrowing trouble. We don't know anything for certain."

"I know," Sera echoed nervously. "I just can't get rid of this feeling. I never should have let him go alone."

"Gabriel's been taking care of himself a long time."

"That's not his fault," Sera shot back. "If his father hadn't been so stubborn or taught him the same..."

"Stubbornness runs in Blackstone blood, Lady Sera. Just like your Montgomerie brood. Which, by the way, are probably getting restless without you. Why don't you go entertain those brothers of yours for a while? I think I saw them starting up a tournament in the billiards room. A little competition might do you some good about now."

"I'm not in the mood for my family," Sera dismissed.

"All right. I'll leave you here," Dunstan conceded. "I have a few things to take care of at the docks, but promise me you won't stay in here brooding all night, lass. Angels shouldn't frown."

"I promise," Sera vowed with a forced smile.

Deafening silence enveloped the Study behind Dunstan's exit. Somberly, Sera paused to gaze into the roaring fireplace. Her stare seemed to beckon the flames for answers. Scorching shadows taunted her instead.

The minutes passed as the sun retreated into the horizon. Obscured by stormy clouds, the sky was a mixture of gray shadows. They were exceptionally vile tonight. As if an evil fog was descending over Blackstone Isle to claim another innocent victim.

The Angel of Death of biblical fame probably came on a night like this. Cold, dark and filled with confusing shadows, it was a night of newly born phantoms. A night when the dead could walk and the shadows would strike a deadly blow.

The wolves liked nights like that. They came out of the darkness of the mountains, crawling from their cracks and caves to hunt the vulnerable victims of chance. There was no mercy, no second chance, nothing beyond the simple task of survival.

Absentmindedly, Sera caressed the weakness in her knee. The painful reminder gave her empty solace. She had survived the nightmare of her parents' crash, but the cost had been to spend her days wallowing alone in her shadows of the past. Until Gabriel came into her life and it seemed there was another soul as lost as her.

Leaning on the mantelpiece, the familiar angel figurine caught Sera's eye. It was a lovely sculpture. One made with the skill of an artist in love with his work. Lord Julius must have adored his Lady Marianna. The guilt over her death in his absence tortured him for twenty years. And it left his son distant and vulnerable.

An eerie darkness seemed to envelop the Study. The flames leapt wildly in a turbulent draft. Before Sera's befuddled vision, the portrait of Lord Julius seemed to come alive. The old earl's visage loomed ominously above her. His misty green eyes imploring her to understand an unspoken message.

An unexpected surge of palpable fear nearly brought Sera to her knees. She gripped the mantelpiece with two hands. The world seemed dull and gray around her for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat as if the passageway was narrowing. Slowly, determinedly, she forced air into her lungs. Pain rippled through her limbs in crippling intensity. Maddeningly, she wondered if she was suddenly having a seizure, like Gabriel's father the day he died.

Panic filled Sera. A strange unnatural fear seemed to pass from father to son to daughter-in-law. The danger was so evident, so overpowering, Sera feared her skirts were going up in flames from the hearth. Frantically, she pushed herself away from the ledge. In her struggle, the angel figurine of Gabriel's mother shattered to the floor.

Gleaming white porcelain glistened in the glow of the fire. Instinctually, Sera knelt to pick up the pieces. Recrimination flooded her for her clumsiness and stupidity. The angel figurines were a comfort to Gabriel and his father. The one link they had to a time when life was full of love and dreams.

"Ouch!" Sera yelped as she cut herself on an unexpectedly sharp piece. She placed her wounded finger in her mouth to ease the injury. An acrid taste of blood renewed the bitterness welling in her throat.

Porcelain gleamed with similar droplets. The crimson angel tear fascinated Sera. Then the shadows of the fire leapt forward.

Whispers paralyzed her. Murmurs of the past flashed before her wide eyes. She was in that very Study less than a year ago. She saw Lord Julius smile in one-handed greeting. There was a box. A shipment from his son. A birthday present, he said. Something special his son knew he favored.

Scenes changed. There was a blur of white. A deceptive blur with sharp unexpected claws. Then there was a face. An obscured dark face she had seen before. One which adored the shadows. One with dazzling peacock eyes.

The last mental image was the most painful. It was the smiling face of her husband. Gabriel was so gentle, so determined and protective. He was her guardian angel. He emerged from the shadows to rescue her the night they met. He faced challenge after challenge to save her from social ruin to murderous seduction. And now his face was cloaked in darkness.

With horror, Sera watched her husband's image fade. The shadows were claiming him. She could feel it deep inside her, where the bitterness and dread knotted conspicuously.

He would've come home to her the previous night if he could have. Gabriel wouldn't leave her waiting in isolation. He knew how painful that was for her. Not knowing, not understanding, not doing more than just survive.

Survival.

The word hung in the air like an oath or a challenge. Mirabella's survival weighed in the balance. The night shadows encroaching Blackstone Isle were the death knell to the mystical estate. Its lord was not home. Sera grimly realized they could not wait for his safe return.

Her mind whirling with shrewd speculation, Sera made a dashing and daring plan of her own. The Guardian was unable to challenge the shadows alone whether he knew it or not. It was his greatest weakness that his enemies conspired to use against him. Until now, they had been successful. But in this final battle, Sera vowed her husband would have the advantage of his greatest strength as well.

Armed with determination and a healthy dose of terror, Sera penned a hasty note and disappeared into the shadows of the night.

Chapter Forty-Four

GABRIEL AWOKE with a start. Numbness still clouded his senses robbing him of all awareness beyond a sensation of impending doom. With great effort, he forced open his slumbering eyes.

Gray darkness turned to the sparkling shadows of candlelight. Twin candelabras illuminated a cluttered room. From the musty odor and crates lining the walls, Gabriel assumed he was among the cargo waiting for a ship.

He tried to sit up, but his arms and legs refused to cooperate. Belatedly, he noticed the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. He'd been trussed up like a wild beast. Not that it was necessary given the overwhelming weakness the poison still invoked in his muscles.

He was lucky to be alive. He'd been a fool to let his guard drop for even a moment. Dumond was an unpredictable foe. Obviously, he had picked up Chillingworth's talents for deadly concoctions. His bearded lackey was a new twist to the Angel's deceptive tricks to eliminate troublesome rivals.

Two muffled male voices echoed in the distance. Following the sound, Gabriel noticed light glinting under a door hidden between crates. His captors stood just outside discussing moving the cargo. Then the voices disappeared with retreating footsteps.

There wasn't much time left, he concluded in their absence. Gabriel again struggled to move. Sheer will got him to sit up despite the ropes burning his wrists and ankles. He tried to loosen them. Bumping the crate by his shoulder, Gabriel heard the familiar clash of steel.

Excitement chased the weakness in his limbs away. He pushed himself to his knees and peered inside the box. Silver blades each with the deadly Triad crest gleamed ominously inside.

Gabriel was just reaching for one when the door opened behind him. Instinctively, he crumpled back to the floor, but his deception was not lost on the familiar intruder.

"Inspecting some of our toys, I see Blackstone?" taunted Viscount Chilton.

Cleo's brother had a feral look in his eye. He gleamed with morbid distaste as he aimed a pistol directly at his captive's heart. "Perhaps you need another dose of snuff to keep you behaved."

"And deny me the luxury of biding my time in ropes?" Gabriel quipped in his aloof tone. There was no sense provoking his enemy until he had a decent chance to fight. "I can do no harm to you like this, Chilton. I was merely curious about where you so obligingly decided to transport me. In a warehouse near your master's ship, I presume?"

Chilton smiled as if he found the question amusing. "You might say that." As if rewarding himself for his answer, he retrieved a bottle from a nearby crate. "This room has been used often as a warehouse of sorts."

"In your smuggling for your Triad friends?" Gabriel guessed.

"It was a living."

"It's treason!"

Chilton's feral eyes glared with bitter denial. As if he'd done it many times before, he turned to his procured bottle for comfort. "I'm no bloody traitor, dammit!" he railed after a swig of port. "I just make money transporting difficult and valuable goods for discreet clients. I don't ask questions."

"Then you're a fool," Gabriel denounced. "You've taken blood money to feed your gaming habits, Chilton. Triad members kill to protect their secrets. I wonder how long before your transportation services are deemed expendable?" He glanced at the imported liquor in his captor's hands with ominous premonition. "If I were you, I wouldn't be accepting any gifts from Dumond or his friends. They can have a deadly aftertaste."

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about your own predicament, Blackstone," Chilton warned. "Dumond is furious with you. Something about accusing a man of piracy makes him crazy. He's mad to come back here, but he wants you."

"Enough to arrange my hasty trip here?" Gabriel reminded, "Where is here, by the way. You never did give me a straight answer."

"It doesn't matter," the viscount dismissed. "You wouldn't have been here at all if your War Department friends hadn't been crawling over Chillingworth's hall. The sooner we get you out of East Chatham the better. I despise turning my house into a dock for the Frenchman. As of this deal, I am out of the smuggling trade with him. He can find his own private quay to berth his ship."

"I see," Gabriel murmured as he quickly processed the rambling admission. Confirming his suspicion, he glimpsed a familiar mahogany cabinet outside the door. The bow-shaped top looked exactly like the curio cabinet he had once picked. "Isn't it dangerous to hold me in Chilton Manor? I would think I'd be smuggled to Dumond's ship by now."

"I don't make the decisions," the viscount grunted. "He wants you held here until nightfall."

"Why?"

"The Frenchman and his protégé have in mind a clever plan to outwit that thickheaded secretary of yours. He's got Mirabella locked up tighter than a drum, but Dumond will ferret her out."

Alarm coursed through Gabriel. "Dumond is going after my wife?"

Chilton smiled as if enjoying his captive's angst. "He said she was a special passenger. One he couldn't part England without." He paused to celebrate with a gulp of port. "Cheer up, Blackstone. At least you will be able to see her one last time. Not that you'd ever want to see her again after Dumond finishes with her. That man has a lustful appetite for the flesh."

Terrifying images poured through Gabriel's mind. Sera lying helpless on a brothel bed, whips and manacles around her, burning tears streaming down her shocked and pained face as a beast indulges his evil desires on top her. His mind screamed in protest.

"There's no way he can get to Sera," Gabriel proclaimed. "She's safe at Mirabella."

Chilton chuckled with morbid glee. "You're the fool, Blackstone. Dumond has no intention of snatching your wife from your home. While your friends are otherwise detained, she'll assist in her own kidnapping just as she did the night at the Ruins. Her reckless curiosity will condemn her."

Gabriel's insides coiled in impotent fear. In the past, he'd always been free to save Sera from disaster. The situation seemed ominously reversed this time.

"It shouldn't be much longer now," Chilton taunted. "Your lady will show herself and then we'll haul you both to the ship. You can say your good-byes there."

Gabriel glared with fierce command. "Let me go or so help me God I'll kill you myself, Chilton!"

"There's no sense railing at me," he sneered. "I don't make the decisions. I just deliver the packages." With heartless arrogance, Chilton retrieved a second bottle of port and turned to leave. He paused on the threshold to offer a pointed reminder to his angry captive. "And just in case you were wondering, I wouldn't touch those blades. They came from Chillingworth's Study and I understand they have a deadly bite."

The door closed on the taunt leaving Gabriel to rage in isolation.

He forced himself to regain composure. He was letting his anger and fear control him. Arguing with Dumond's lackey was pointless and ineffective. He needed to think.

Greystone was coming. Mirabella would be protected by Blackstone's loyal staff as well as Caesar's able men. Dumond would never get as far as the front gates before he was arrested for piracy. Sera would be safe.

Unless the Frenchman uses Mirabella's weakness to lure her away.

Gabriel suppressed the troubling thought and forced himself to concentrate on his own situation. Footsteps paced outside the door. By the stumbling pattern, he assumed his jailor was indulging in his favorite habit. Chilton made a poor guard.

That fact inspired a confident plan in Gabriel. He need only wriggle out of his bonds and disable his sotted keeper before Dumond returned.

A loud incessant bark tore through the distance. The mammoth growl seemed to permeate the air around Chilton Manor.

In the distance, a frightened man's cry rang out with a sudden gunshot. The creature yeowled in outrage and renewed vigor.

Chilton shouted a name like an oath as his footsteps pounded into the distance. A moment later, the door creaked open.

Astonishment turned to horror when Gabriel recognized the cherub face tentatively edging her way inside the hidden room.

"Sera! What in the hell are you doing here?"

Her eyes shone with relief as she rushed to his side. "I'm rescuing you for a change," she chimed as she untied his feet. "We haven't much time. Minotaur can keep Chilton and his men busy for only so long."

The distant rumble of men versus a vicious dog came ominously closer. Gabriel's senses filled with maddening confusion. Warily, he gazed at the open door. The sounds of a dog chase echoed outside, but any minute someone could walk in and find Sera.

"I told you to stay home!" he railed. "You're not safe here."

"I know, but I had to come no matter what Cleo said today," she insisted as she struggled to free his hands. The bonds refused to loosen. "Hold on, I have an idea." She reached for the crate of blades.

"Don't touch them!" Gabriel pushed her away from the poisoned box. "They came from Chillingworth's. The Angel of Death preferred other methods of carrying his deadly potions than imported brews, it seems," he gritted.

Comprehension seemed to dawn slowly in Sera's eyes. Hesitation filled her grim words. "Gabriel, about that. There's something I need to tell you. Something about how the Angel killed your father. If I had realized before, I probably could have saved a few lives and you a great deal of anxiety. I'm sorry for my blind ignorance, husband. Sometimes I am far too trusting for my own good."

"Nevermind that now, love," Gabriel implored. "Leave my hands and get to your brother's before Dumond returns."

"You called, mon ami?"

The lecherous taunt echoed from the hidden door. The Frenchman casually leaned against the curio cabinet looking at his captives with amusement. Beside him, the bearded man Gabriel recognized from the street aimed a deadly pistol. He seemed a youthful figure beneath his facial hair. His blue eyes gleamed with the same wicked intensity as his master.

"I must compliment you, mon cherie," Dumond cooed seductively toward Sera. "My men didn't even know you left your husband's home until you freed that mad dog from the kennels here. A most ingenious distraction."

Sera's ashen gaze studied the face of her husband's nightmare. The Frenchman had probably been a handsome man at one point. Before his soul turned cruel and sadistic.

"You won't hurt us," she boldly defied. "I told my husband's secretary where I was going. My family knows, too, by now. They'll be coming here. Dunstan and my brothers will be furious if anything happens to Gabriel or I before they arrive."

Uproarious laughter erupted from the Frenchman. Gleefully, he taunted his prey. "Mon ami, your wife is as fiercely defiant as you. What a pity both of you are about to take your last journey. I would enjoy such entertaining company. But then I'll have to be certain to make this voyage a memorable one for you both."

Gabriel snarled at the leer the Frenchman gave Sera. "I'll see you burn in hell first, Dumond, along with that bastard assassin of yours!"

"Of mine?" The question seemed to fill the Frenchman with merriment. He ignored his gun-toting lackey's impatient nudge and beamed a smug smile. The bastard wanted to gloat.

"Chillingworth was your invention, I take it?" Gabriel prodded to buy time. He rubbed the ropes binding his wrists against the crate edge behind him. "Tell me, what happened to make you lose faith in him. Did he disagree with your failed attempt to murder Marie? Or were you just afraid he'd reveal too many of your associations once we deciphered his name from the Scrolls?"

"You could say that Chillingworth served his purpose," Dumond crooned with evil. "My associates found his services no longer necessary after the treasure found its way into your hands."

"The Triad without a master assassin?" Gabriel mocked. "That leaves a rather large gap in your den of wolves, or have you simply usurped the Angel's position? I heard about Lady Delia and her cousin. Your work, I imagine."

Gabriel felt Sera bristle beside him. He assumed from her pale expression that the memory of her friend filled her with horror.

"I can't take credit for all of that, I fear." Dumond boasted, "My associate here is an able student with a brilliant mind for improvisation."

"That's how you deceived Lord Julius, isn't it?" Sera demanded of the bearded man aiming a pistol at her heart. Her words filled with familiar bitterness and betrayal. "That day I was there to visit, you knew he was expecting a package. You knew what it meant to him when you delivered it. You used his weakness against him."

Confusion mired Gabriel at his wife's accusation. Something drifted back to him from a few frantic minutes before. "That's what you wanted to tell me about the Angel?" he asked. "Dumond's lackey is the Angel's little angel."

"No." Sera condemned the object of her loathing, "She is the Angel. The real Angel of Death."

A familiar feminine cackle emerged beneath a mask of dark bristles. In revealing horror, the hat slipped off with the false beard allowing a river of long, sultry raven hair to tumble about a stunningly beautiful face. One that glistened with deceptive peacock blue eyes.

"Lady Delia!" Gabriel declared in stunned fascination.

"She's no lady," Sera jeered. Her gaze sharpened in awareness. "You deceived me. You deceived everyone, didn't you Delia?"

"My cousin is a clever actress," Dumond revealed. "And an able student. She was the first of my fallen angels."

"You give yourself too much credit, Rene," the Angel chided. "I was more your tutor than your student. Men have the irritating habit of trying to run our lives for us, don't they Sera dear?" The familiar endearment rang cruelly.

"Is that why you learned to poison them?" Sera shot back. "You use their weaknesses to torture them to death."

"I use an advantage they so blatantly overlook," Delia retorted. "My cleverness. A woman is easily underestimated in this world. It's easier for strong men to believe their women weak and needier than them."

"That's the hold you had over Chillingworth?" Sera pursued. "You were his adoring hostess until you had your lover kill him. You fed me lies to make my husband and his friends feel sorry for you while you were quietly plotting revenge."

"With all the fools trying to protect you dear, you'd think one of them would credit your intelligence," Delia cooed. "You are not nearly as naive as that simpering friend of yours. I suppose you also figured out my little surprise for your belated father-in-law?"

Sera nodded grimly at the Angel's challenge. "I should have realized that day in your garden. The day you slipped that note into my pocket luring me to the Ruins."

"You should thank me," Delia taunted with a wicked grin. "I gave you what you most desired and found myself being replaced among the fancy of the ton. Blackstone's Angel had a captivating effect on the whimsical minds of Society."

"So you sought me out and worked your way into my home, into my husband's good graces in order to spy for Dumond? You manipulated us!"

Gabriel's insides ran cold at the revelation. He beamed a hard assessing glare at his deceptive enemy. A lady he had invited into his home, encouraged his wife to befriend and even offered his protection. Anger coiled inside him.

"So it seems the Angel isn't a bastard but a bitch," he hissed. "I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate you didn't poison the tea. What a pity, you couldn't control your husband's arrogance. His threats were loud enough to attract the Regent's attention. Was he afraid your activities were interfering with his smuggling or did he know you meant to betray him if the treasure was found?"

"If the treasure was found?" Dumond echoed sarcastically. Mocking laughter filled his voice. "Mon ami, you still think like an Englishman. So prim and proper. So predictably logical."

"I'm not insane like you, Dumond."

"Ah, but you do share the same desire for revenge," Delia pointed out. "Desire is a funny thing. It can easily be turned against someone at the will of a cunning adversary." Her peacock eyes gleamed with a pride the Frenchman shared.

"My cousin has a gift for discovering our enemies' greatest desires," Dumond complimented. "Take your stoutly loyal superior for instance. Greystone desired his traitors so much he refused to quit hunting until he'd found a list of their names."

"So we arranged to give him what he most desired," Delia revealed. "With the Guardian's assistance, of course, and a masterful plan of subterfuge. Our only difficulty was in seeing you assembled the treasure when we desired. You never did question how easily the box fell into your hands. The Triad pieces were never lost. They were merely given to you, with the unwitting help of your wife's skittish friend."

Sera filled with horror. "You let Cleo find Percy's egg?"

Delia's smile grew smug. "Your husband is a logical man. Once he heard of Miss Athelstan's engagement, he'd investigate any gifts her fiancée might have sent before he died." The Angel scowled at Sera. "I didn't know you had a penchant for interrupting plans almost as bad as that loathsome little thief!"

Tainted peacock eyes glared at Gabriel. "I suppose it still hasn't dawned on you, Blackstone?"

The question taunted him with grim reminder. A complaint issued from his superior's replacement echoed through his thoughts. Something wasn't right about the list. "The names on the Scrolls," he concluded with a bitter gulp of defeat, "you changed them?"

His archenemy roared with laughter. "Thanks to you, mon ami, the War Department now has a completely worthless list of traitors."

"My father died for that list!" Gabriel raged.

"No mon ami." The amusement in Dumond's eyes died with old hatred. "Your father's death was sealed a long time ago. My only regret is that no one will know about his son's invaluable service to his enemies once you and your charming wife end your journey with me."

The sound of barking echoed in the distance. Men shouted and fired pistols randomly. Delia twisted around to gaze at the scene behind her. "That stupid mutt will bring half the village on us. It's time we get them to the ship, Rene."

Dumond nodded and stalked forward with his menacing dagger. He flipped open the lock on a large traveling trunk and flung aside the lid. "A little uncomfortable, mon ami, but you'll survive long enough to meet the sharks. I trust your bride won't mind sharing my company until then."

"I'd rather die," Sera spewed.

"You will, dear." With a menacing shake of her pistol, Delia warned, "Momentarily if you don't move aside from your husband."

Sera bristled at the taunt but refused to leave her protective position beside him. Gabriel's gaze drifted from the pistol trained at his wife's heart to the gleaming dagger tailing toward her. One false move and his enemies' would make his nightmares come true.

"Your Angel sounds impatient, Rene," Gabriel mocked to deflect attention. "Will she demand my death while I'm still bound like an animal? That's hardly a sporting end to our rivalry."

"Oh, we'll have ample time to measure each other's dueling skills on the ship, mon ami," the Frenchman cooed with menacing promise. "I'm looking forward to teaching you the lessons you turned your back on."

"Then what are we waiting for, or are you only doing as your master Angel bids?"

Delia ordered, "Stop letting him bait you and get Blackstone into the trunk."

"Don't try my patience, cousin," Dumond hissed back. "You may be clever, but I still know how to make you bleed."

Irritation flamed in the Angel's peacock eyes. She produced a silver snuffbox from her cloak. "Either you prepare him for transport or I will."

In a burst of angry motion, Gabriel lunged for the dagger in his enemy's startled hands. The blade clattered to the floor. Before Dumond could reach it, Gabriel kneed the man's crouch. Only then did he glimpse the motion by the door.

"Sera, get down!"

She ducked a moment before the pistol shot whizzed by her head. Sera glimpsed her husband reaching for the discarded blade. His enemy was upon him before Gabriel had a chance to register the trouble brewing behind his back.

Delia growled in frustration and charged forward with her box of poison. Before she could murder Gabriel like his father, Sera pounced.

Delia's pistol dropped to the floor. The box of snuff erupted into a cloud of noxious fumes between them. Sera held her nose, while her adversary collapsed into a violent coughing fit.

Delia stumbled and toppled one of the lighted candelabras. Hot wax and flames licked the edges of a bolt of French silk.

Fire sprang to life out of the corner of Gabriel's eye. He glimpsed his wife trying to beat the flames as he threw off his opponent and rolled to his feet. Dumond quickly followed blocking the path to escape with a second dagger.

"It's over Dumond," Gabriel taunted, circling his rival like a posturing wolf. "You'll have to kill me to take Sera with you."

"So be it, mon ami," his rival sneered. The bitter hatred coating Dumond's bile transcended his usual taunts. "That has always been my intention. Even when you once called me friend, I longed for the day I slit your throat and watched you bleed to death as you watched your mother."

"Frustrated that you couldn't convert me like you did your other minions?" Gabriel jeered. "Not everyone is filled with the same twisted selfishness as your family, Rene. I thought you were different. So did my father."

"Your father was a lying bastard," Dumond hissed. "And a murderer, as well. Did he ever tell you where he was when your poor sainted mother died in your keeping? Did he ever confess the sins he blamed on you, mon ami?"

"If you mean did he tell me what he was doing in France, then, yes," Gabriel gritted back. "And it wasn't murder, Rene. It was justice. Your bastard father tortured many innocents to death. Not just my mother's family, but yours as well. Marquis de Sade was tame compared to the Count d'Mortrend."

"As it was father for father, I suppose there is some poetic justice, mon ami." Dumond grinned sadistically. "You never asked your wife how your father was poisoned. We never would have done it without your assistance. Lord Julius always did have a weakness for his rebellious son. The merest trinket from you was enough to make him ease his caution. Your birthday gift to him was a timely arrival."

Gabriel froze in horror. "You used my name to betray my father?"

"It is what you desired all those nights in St. Sebastian's when you laid awake hating him for exiling you without a word of explanation," Dumond prodded, "You forget I was your confessor. If you hadn't betrayed my uncle, I would've made you my brother in the Society as well. Instead, I'll content myself with seeing an end to your blackhearted line."

Dumond lunged forward. His dagger grazed the edge of Gabriel's sleeve. In retaliation, Gabriel savagely twisted his rival's arm. The two men stumbled against the crates with violent intensity. A second candelabra toppled over onto silk.

Flames shot up the walls in perilous intensity. Sera was losing her battle against the fire. The bolts of silk she used to beat the flames caught the blaze instead of quelling it.

She looked to Gabriel to shout a warning. He seemed oblivious to everything but his lethal battle. Even the faint sound of swishing steel didn't attract his attention.

That's when she saw the glint of silver from out of the same corner where the Angel had stumbled in confusion. Ominous premonition gripped Sera when she returned her gaze to Delia. She saw crazed dark eyes glaring at Gabriel's unprotected back. A poisoned Triad dagger aimed menacingly in the assassin's hands.

"No!" Sera screamed as she threw the bolt of silk in her hands. It hit Delia before either realized the silk was afire. In horror, Sera watched her former friend ignite in flames.

His wife's horrified cry tore Gabriel from his battle. Sera's doe-brown eyes seemed paralyzed in fear. Then his vision filled with the fiery light of the Angel of Death. An inhuman cry of pain on her blackening lips, she stumbled perilously close to Sera.

Gabriel struggled toward her, but Dumond refused to release him. "Love, get out of here!" Gabriel commanded. "Sera, run past her. For the door. Go now!"

Sera moved with instinctive motion. Delia crumbled to the ground at her feet, the flames turning her once beautiful features to a distorted charcoal color. Sera quelled a burst of nausea at the sight and headed for the door.

She paused on the threshold as if she had just realized she was alone. The smell of death permeated the hidden room. Through the billowing smoke and fire, Sera searched for her husband.

Gabriel grunted as his rival pinned him to the floor. Pain splintered through his shoulder. In retaliation, he slashed Dumond's back.

The Frenchman roared in outrage and morbid pleasure. "You should have stayed for the initiation instead of running off with Marie, mon ami," he hissed. "The Society needs notorious blackguards like you."

"That's your mistake," Gabriel gritted with his hands around his rival's neck. "I never was a blackguard. Like my father, I am a guardian angel to the innocents you condemn."

"You're my guardian angel!" Sera pleaded through the smoke. Her cough echoed from the direction of the door. "Gabriel, leave him. The manor is on fire. We have to escape."

"Then go, Sera!" Gabriel roared.

"I'm not leaving here without you!" she shouted back as the ceiling started to crumble. "Death awaits in the shadows, husband. I need you too much to let either of us linger alone." Terrified anger filled Sera's command. "I'll drag you out if I have to, Gabriel. Stop playing with your friend and come to me now!"

The absurd demand almost made Gabriel laugh as his enemy's blade dug into his arm. Flames and smoke draped the room in morbid shadows. Dumond's eyes preyed upon him with a rage so deep it seemed to consume his soul. It was a need for revenge that had once filled Gabriel's purpose as well. And then the need had changed to one of fierce protection. Protection for the doe-eyed innocent that reminded him so much of the life he had once abandoned in his own heart. Fiercely, she was demanding he take it back. To abandon his old life of isolation and death for a chance at survival.

Gabriel smashed his rival's jaw with his elbow. Dumond reeled back against the traveling trunk. Before his foe could recover, Gabriel rolled to his feet.

Black smoke clouded his eyes. Blinding flames lurched all around him. In a few steps, he was disorientated.

"Here, Gabriel," beckoned Sera. "Take my hand."

Reaching out into the shadows, he gripped familiar fingers. The smoke cleared as he stumbled past the curio cabinet and into her arms. Behind him, Dumond howled in outrage as the flames consumed the hidden room.

Gabriel didn't look back. His wife wouldn't let him. With a protective squeeze of his hand, she led him through the flames to the safety of the garden.

Chapter Forty-Five

A FORTNIGHT later, laughter chimed through Mirabella's sultry bathhouse. Masquerade costumes lay abandoned on the sultan's bed. In the steps of the pool, warm water lapped against Sera's chemise-clad thighs. At her side, her attentive husband caressed her tired knee.

The old ache was gone. Sera felt alive and enthused with a joy that couldn't be suppressed. Even a fortnight of lectures could not daunt the secret happiness filling her soul. "My brothers are still furious with me for running off to Chilton's without them," she admitted.

"As they should be, love," Gabriel rumbled. "You had no business charging after me regardless of what premonition you had."

"You wouldn't have left me, husband," she insisted for the dozenth time in a week. "Besides Dunstan got my note, so it didn't make much difference in hindsight. Greystone's men were there by the time the manor went up in flames."

"It was still reckless," Gabriel chided. "At the very least, that mad dog could have mauled you to death like it did Chilton."

"Minotaur wasn't born to be mean," Sera protested. Sadness filled her with memory. "Chilton abused him just like he abused poor Cleo. He wouldn't have hurt me."

Gabriel caressed her cheek. "You couldn't have saved him, love. Dunstan had to shoot Minotaur once he tasted blood."

"I know," Sera resigned. "I guess Cleo's brother got what he deserved. Chilton cared nothing for the people his contacts condemned, did he?"

"No," Gabriel gritted in memory. "Cleo's fortunate they merely used her flight for refuge to force me into leaving Mirabella. If Chilton had turned her over to Dumond as she feared, he could've done much worse to her."

"As could have Delia," Sera shuddered coldly. Betrayal and self-recrimination flared in her. "She was a vile woman. I can't believe I ever considered her a friend."

"She deceived us all, love," Gabriel reminded ruefully. "The Angel was a cruel manipulator of hearts. She used weaknesses to condemn her victims."

"Like your father," Sera remembered. "He wouldn't question a gift from his son, no matter who managed to deliver it. Dunstan said it was your first attempt at carving your mother's visage?"

Gabriel nodded grimly. "I knew my father would appreciate the gesture. I wanted him to know I hadn't forgotten her either and that I intended to come home and settle things between us."

"He knew," Sera consoled with a knowing smile. "Your father was a clever man, even in death. If I hadn't knocked over that angel statue in the Study, I wouldn't have cut myself on the broken wing and realized how easily Delia could make your father poison himself."

"Put it out of your mind, love," Gabriel encouraged. "The Angel met a fitting end and Dumond consumed himself in his vengeance. With those two gone, I doubt the Triad will do more than hide."

"Do you think the Scrolls are as worthless as they said?"

"It's Cain's problem now," Gabriel proclaimed. "He can scour Dumond's ship all he likes for clues. I'm retired."

Sera beamed a content smile. "Retirement suits you, husband. I think you smiled more than Lord Greystone at the masquerade tonight."

Gabriel rumbled with affection. "I had an able dance partner." His hands caressed her knee in silent sympathy. "Are the knots in your leg still bothering you? I should be ashamed for dancing with you all night."

Sera grasped his hand. "Nonsense, you and I have a certain reputation to uphold. We are the Notorious Blackstones known to scandalize the world in each other's arms."

As if to affirm her declaration, Sera wrapped herself around her husband and pushed them both deeper into the sultry pool.

After a long, enticing kiss, she murmured against his neck, "It's decadent to be in here now. What if one of our guests wanders in?"

Emerald passion danced provocatively in Gabriel's eyes. "You wanted your masquerade to be adventurous," he teased. "Blackstone's Angel has a reputation for beguiling her lord. Virginia tells me half the guests came tonight just to see how you enticed me to open my home to the world."

"Mirabella is more beautiful when it's shared," Sera professed.

"Does that mean I can expect more members of your menagerie filling my home?"

Gabriel's question rumbled with subdued speculation. Sera glimpsed the shrewd emerald sparkles glimmer to life in his eyes. The Guardian may be retired, but his curiosity still sought out mysteries.

"Actually, we may be losing one," she announced just to distract him.

He returned her playful challenge in kind. "Finally decided to part with one of those reckless kittens, love? Mrs. O'Reilly is convinced they're possessed. Once more fishing them out of the fountain and she'll have me sending for one of her priests to exorcize the demons."

Sera giggled over the lazy rumble. It tickled the sensitive skin above her heart just before he kissed her. "I was referring to our latest resident. I've never seen Cleo smile so much as she has lately."

"She's glad to be free of her brother."

"That too," Sera agreed. "But Cleo's eyes sparkle like they did when Percy was in her life. And Dunstan's sparkle too, if he ever admits it."

"He will. He just needs a few telling reminders from his old friend." Gabriel's eyes gleamed with playful anticipation. "I have a few sage words of advice to give him in return for the constant scoldings he used to give me over you."

"You should have known you couldn't keep secrets from me," she teased.

"We're well matched," Gabriel pronounced with a cherishing kiss. When he finally lifted his head, he hesitated sensually above her lips. His voice was soft and coaxing. "Speaking of secrets, love, are you ever going to tell me yours?"

"What secret?" Sera denied knowingly. "I've told you everything about me, husband."

"Not the one thing that's keeping you up nights, lately," he hinted.

"Do you mean Miss Cleopatra caterwauling the other night?" Sera deliberately misunderstood. "If we're not careful, she'll be expecting another litter of possessed kittens soon."

"Sera," Gabriel rumbled.

"Assuming she isn't already," she continued obliviously. "Of course, if she was then I suppose everyone else would know it before her." Sera frowned. "That's quite disconcerting, you know. I never even heard of a special glow until Lord Greystone mentioned it and Molly had him explain it to the entire room."

"You've had a lot on your mind since our marriage, love," he defended. "And until you tell me, it's still just an unsubstantiated suspicion."

"Then I suppose it's time I tell you my secret, husband."

Sera curled suggestively against him. His encouraging groan rumbled across the top of her head.

"I'm listening, love."

"Tell me something first," she abruptly hesitated. "How many times did you read your father's last missive to you?"

"More times than I could count," he admitted. "What does that have to do with your secret, love?"

"The night I was in your Study, I read it myself," Sera mentioned. "I could see why you misunderstood his warning about me. He was concerned about you, and clever." A knowing glint came to her eye. "Did you figure out his clues yet?"

Gabriel's brow furrowed in question. "He told me to protect you. To watch out for you."

"And to avenge him," she reminded.

"I have," Gabriel grimly declared. "Thanks in part to you. The Angel suffered at the hand of her own evil concoctions. She's in God's hands now, with Dumond."

"No, husband." Sera frowned. "Lord Julius was speaking to you as your father, not your superior. He was trying to say the things you never gave him a chance to. He loved you," she explained. "He wanted you to learn from his mistakes. He didn't want you to do with your family what he had done to his."

Remembering the hateful revelations his archenemy bequeathed him, Gabriel nodded. "My father encouraged Dumond vengeance when he fell in love with my mother. She had already run afoul of the Count d'Mortrend when she visited her uncle in France."

"That's why she made this place a haven for the unwanted," Sera concluded. "Your father was its protector and your mother its patron saint. Your parents were running from the evil they saw. They spent their lives in shadows and they died apart and alone. That's what he meant when he asked you to avenge him. Not his death, but his life. He wanted you to build the family he couldn't. In love and understanding, not duty and deception."

Silently, Gabriel pondered his wife's words. There had been so much in his father's death message. A wealth of things he had wished to say for years, but never had the courage. Lord Julius was a beaten man living in a world of specters and secrets. He refused to share his burdens in life, just as Gabriel had done. Until he met the doe-eyed cherub in his arms.

A sentence drifted back to Gabriel. It once had been a premonition of doom to the skeptical Guardian. But his cynicism was gone. Banished by the love he felt in his beating whimsical heart. Just then, Gabriel realized how cunning his father had truly been. He knew his son would react with an insatiable desire to track down his killer. Gabriel's cynicism was his weakness. One that first demanded he seek out the innocent who dared to visit his reclusive father. The innocent who dared reach into the shadows and the fire to show Blackstone the path to light. His cunning father had only to give him his final request in life.

Watch out for Lady Sera Montgomerie. She holds the key.

Not to a case but to a life. A life of love, trust and whimsical joy.

Passionately, he whispered against her lips, "You are my life, Sera."

"And you are my love," she returned. "Our strength is in each other. Like my parents, together we must be beacons for our children until fate decrees we leave them. Then when they think of us, they will smile and not be sad."

Understanding blossomed slowly in Gabriel. Then a subtle smile turned the corners of his mouth as he caressed her abdomen in expectation. "So when exactly does this beacon need to begin to burn?"

The question invoked a whimsical smile in Sera. "By my count, about the time the tulips are blooming again."

"I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"I know," she returned. "You couldn't leave me in the flames anymore than I could leave you."

"Never love," he vowed with a sultry kiss. "You're my notorious angel."

Jennifer Kokoski

Jennifer Kokoski was born and raised in the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland some thirty years ago the youngest of a happy, boisterous brood. After battling arthritis in childhood and perhaps because of it, she learned the magic that can only be found in a good book. As an adult, she pursued a degree in psychology in hopes of understanding people but found her true vocation lay in writing good stories of her own.

Whether for publication or as a web designer, she uses her artistic skills to teach, inform and entertain. She continues to make her home in Maryland amidst her ever-growing family including three nieces, four nephews and two godsons - the next generation of Kokoskis.