Читать книгу The Historical Collection - Stephanie Laurens - Страница 25

It wasn’t the most lucrative of Gabe’s investments, but there were times when owning one of the largest hotels in London came in useful. This was one of those times. For one thing, he kept spare clothing in his private suite, and thus was able to shed that ridiculous suit of armor.

For another, it offered a uniquely impressive location for a private dinner overlooking the fireworks display.

“Careful.” He led her by the hand, helping her up the last few rungs of a ladder and guiding her onto the rooftop verandah. “We’ll be able to view the fireworks from here.”

“Yes. I should think we will.” The awed hush in her voice thrilled him, as did the way she clutched his arm. “I feel like I’m floating in one of those hot-air balloons.”

“I have the servants coming up with dinner soon.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed close to his side. “This is so much better than that silly masquerade.”

She walked to the verandah’s wrought-iron fencing and propped her forearms on the rail, gazing out over the London sprawl. The breeze plucked at her hair, teasing a few golden locks from their pins.

Gabe joined her. “I still can’t believe the nerve of those sisters.”

“Pity their parents,” she said. “One Miss Irving would be bad enough. They had two in one go.”

“I don’t pity them at all. If you like, I could ruin the whole family for you.”

She turned to him. “What?”

He shrugged. “It might take a few years, but I know how to be patient. It’s only a matter of discreet inquiries here and there, paying attention to patterns. Somewhere there will be debts, unpaid taxes, poor investments—with luck, blackmail payments. No matter how impressive the family estate, there’s always a loose brick somewhere. Every man has his weakness.”

“I know they do.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m still looking for yours.”

Cheeky girl. She had to know she took his breath away.

God, she was lovely in moonlight. She was lovely in sunlight, for that matter, and in the pouring rain. Gabe suspected that even in total darkness, she would be radiant. Because though her features were exquisite, and her lips the pinkish hue of rose petals, her most beautiful feature by far was her heart.

Right now, soaring through the stars above the city, miles from everything that could keep them apart … he was dangerously close to telling her so.

He was saved by a timely interruption.

“My weakness is dinner,” he said.

A parade of servants came through, bearing a table sized for two, chairs, a damask tablecloth, silver and china, candlesticks, crystal wineglasses, and trays loaded with divine-smelling food.

“My goodness.” She laughed. “Now that was quite the trick.”

“Impressed?” He held out her chair for her.

“Very.”

Gabe settled into his seat and poured her some wine before filling his own glass. “I instructed the chef to prepare you dishes without any meat. I hope they’re satisfactory.”

She uncovered a small tureen and dipped a spoon into the steaming contents. As she stirred, the scent of exotic spices wafted through the air. “Vegetable curry? It smells divine. I’m ravenous.”

Conversation was set aside by tacit agreement, as they both loaded their plates and tucked into their food.

Some minutes later, she sat back in her chair with a contented sigh, cradling her wineglass in one hand. “So tell me.”

He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Tell you what?”

She shrugged. “Everything. How did you come to be the Duke of Ruin? Where did you learn so much about finances, and how to find those loose bricks in a fortune?”

Gabe carefully swallowed his bite and set his fork aside. “The truth?”

“But of course.”

Very well, then. He’d known this would be coming eventually, and he’d been wondering how she would react. Tonight, they would both find out.

“When I was a young man, I worked for a pawnbroker. One with a reputation for discretion and a distinguished clientele. I learned how to judge the value of fine items—but more than that, I learned how to judge the fine people. Over time, you come to observe certain patterns. The lady who comes in monthly, like clockwork, letting go one more pearl from an ever-shrinking necklace? Blackmailed for a secret she can’t afford her husband to know. The younger fellow who stumbles in of a morning, reeking of brandy and willing to accept shillings on the pound for his pocket watch? Gaming debts. The ones who weep as they hand over family heirlooms? They’re poised on the brink of insolvency.”

“And you use this knowledge to your advantage. You seize on their vulnerability to take what they have left.”

“By perfectly legal means.”

“You don’t feel any sympathy for them?”

“None.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Where do you think all that money comes from? Your own family’s estate, for that matter. Parcels of land granted with the wave of a king’s hand, centuries ago. That’s the land here in Britain, of course. When that wasn’t enough, they grabbed more from every corner of the world. The aristocracy built fortunes on the backs of serfs, peasants, tenant farmers. Slaves. I don’t suffer a moment’s shame when I take their wealth from them.”

“You realize that when you say ‘them,’ you also mean me. My family, my friends.”

“I‘m aware of that.”

She poked at a dish of sherry trifle with her spoon. “Before the pawnbroker, where were you?”

“On the streets. Thieving. How do you think I met the pawnbroker? I had to sell the pocket watches and baubles somewhere.”

“And before that?”

“The workhouse, mostly.”

“The workhouse? How dreadful.”

“Could have been worse. I was out of the cold, at least. Meager meals are better than none. They taught us to read and write, and do sums.” Gabe had also learned how to grind bones with a rock until his fingers bled, and how to survive savage beatings from a schoolmaster who took cruel joy in meting them out. But those were lessons better left unmentioned.

“What about your parents?”

“Never knew them.” The one falsehood in his tale.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“So you were raised in the workhouse—and here you are now, at the top of the world.” She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “It’s remarkable, Gabriel. You must be proud.”

Was he proud? He’d always thought so, but now he wasn’t so sure. A sense of pride implied satisfaction. By now, everything he’d amassed ought to feel like enough—but it didn’t. Satisfaction eluded him, again and again.

The hunger never went away.

He pushed back from the table. “The fireworks will be starting soon.”

He guided her over to a heap of pillows and plush, sumptuous blankets. Velvet, satin, embroidered silk. They relaxed into the jumble of luxury and stared up at the clear night sky.

“Alexandra would know the name of each and every star up there,” Penny said. “She found a comet, you know. It’s named for her.”

“That’s impressive.”

“I have remarkably accomplished friends. Alex is our astronomer. Emma’s a magician with needle and thread, and Nicola … well, Nicola has a dozen brilliant ideas a day. Only half of them are new biscuit recipes.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m the one who invites them over for tea and kittens. And horrid sandwiches.” She nudged him in the ribs. “I don’t have any remarkable talents. I just try to make my friends feel at home.”

“That is a remarkable talent. A damned rare one, too.”

She laughed in self-deprecating fashion.

“No, truly. Ask any hotelier. People with welcoming dispositions are in short supply.”

“That’s good to know. A spinster never knows when she might need respectable employment.”

They lapsed into silence, staring into the vast, starry night. He’d stared into darkness many times in his life. Nothing ever made a man feel so alone.

He inched his hand to the side until his little finger brushed against hers. Just that feathery touch made his breath catch. They clasped hands, interlacing their fingers and holding tight. His heart was beating in his throat.

A rocket whistled into the air, exploding above them with a shock of sound and a burst of golden sparks.

“Make love to me,” she said quietly.

His thudding heart stopped.

She rolled onto her side, facing him. Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, and she slipped them loose. One by one by one. Her hand stole under the fabric, caressing his chest.

Her lips brushed his. The sweetness of her kiss made his whole body ache.

“No, no, no.” With heroic effort, he pulled away. “Your first time should be special.”

“Gabriel. We’re currently on a rooftop, lying atop a mountain of satin pillows, staring up at a sky bursting with fireworks. I should think this meets the ‘special’ requirement.”

A burst of shimmering red bloomed amid the stars, conspiring with her against him.

“Your first time should be with someone special,” he said.

“There’s absolutely nothing ordinary about you. Once again, you can cross that requirement off the list.”

“I meant your husband.”

She flopped back on the pillows and groaned. “You’re supposed to be dangerous and passionate. Not principled.”

“I’ve made a career of ruining fortunes, but I’ve never ruined a woman. I damned well won’t start with you.”

“I despise that word. Ruined. As if passion is an unforgivable transgression, and virginity is the only measure of a woman’s worth.” She looked at him. “Is that what you believe? That making love tonight would make me worthless tomorrow?”

“Of course not.”

“But it might make your property worthless tomorrow. Is that it?”

“No. I’m not thinking of that at all.”

In fact, he’d forgotten it completely. His financial interests weren’t the reason for their bargain anymore. At some point, he’d stopped caring about the damned house, and he’d—

He’d started caring about Penny instead.

“Nothing could make you less valuable tomorrow. But this might make you less marriageable tomorrow. If word got about.”

“After the masquerade, word may already be about.”

He cursed. “Don’t remind me.”

“What does it matter?” She propped herself on her elbow. “Perhaps I’ll never marry. Perhaps my brother will cut off my funds. I have a bit of money stashed away. I have friends. Why should I care about my dwindling marriage prospects? I’d rather seize control of my life, be free to do anything I wish.” She teased her fingertips through the hair on his chest. “And making love with you is the first item on my list.”

“Don’t tell me this nonsense about having no prospects. You could have all the prospects in the world, if you wished them. And something tells me you will wish them. Someday. In your heart, you must want to have a family. Children to love, to make feel at home. That talent shouldn’t go unused.” He touched her cheek. “Don’t foreclose the possibility. You deserve good things. Promises. Tenderness. Love. Everything you’ve ever dreamed.”

“Lately, all my dreams are of you.” She kissed her way down his neck, nuzzling against his skin.

Desire and conscience warred within him, and there was no doubt which side was losing the battle. He slid his hand around her rib cage, feeling for the closures of her frock. “There could be consequences,” he murmured against her ear. “I’d be a blackguard to ignore that.”

“I’m fully aware of the risks to my reputation. As well as the risks to my body and my heart.”

Good God, her heart?

Her heart.

“I want you, Gabriel.”

Such a simple phrase, and yet it summed up the yearning of a lifetime. All these years of anger and striving, and he’d longed for nothing more than this: to be wanted.

Desire kindled in his chest with a ferocity that stunned him. Scared him.

As he wrestled to conquer it, he caught a flicker of doubt in her eyes. It was the final blow. Honor waved a white flag of surrender. He would never let her feel a moment’s doubt. Not if he could help it.

“That is, of course …” She bit her lip. “If you want me.”