Reckless

Chapter 18

The damage was minimal. Gabriel's fury was not.

An hour after the fire was safely out and the staff had returned to their beds, he was still inwardly raging against the near disaster. He sprawled in his chair, brandy glass in his hand, and stared broodingly at Phoebe. She was sitting on top of his bed, her feet curled under her. She had a thoughtful expression on her face as she sipped the brandy he had given her.

He had nearly lost her this time, too. The knowledge sent a shudder through Gabriel's soul.

All he could think about was what a near thing it had been. If Phoebe had been asleep, she might not have awakened in time to save herself. He might not have smelled the smoke here in his own room until it was too late.

Thank God she had been awake.

"I am not going to let you out of my sight again," Gabriel said, half under his breath. He downed the last of his brandy.

"What was that, Gabriel?" Phoebe glanced at him.

"It must have been that crazed housemaid who took you down into the catacombs at Devil's Mist."

"You mean Alice?"

Gabriel turned the brandy glass around in his hands. "That madwoman must have followed us to London. For some reason she wants to frighten you. Perhaps harm you. It makes no sense."

"Madness seldom does make sense. If it did, we would not call it madness."

"But why has she focused her madness on you? You don't even know the woman."

"The person who threw that lantern through the window might not have been Alice," Phoebe said slowly. "It could have been anyone. Perhaps a gang of villains were out on the town tonight, looking for trouble. You know how it is when the mob is in full cry. They throw rocks through windows, start fires, and cause all manner of destruction."

"For God's sake, Phoebe, there was no mob outside your window. We heard no noise."

"That's true," she admitted. She chewed reflectively on her lip. "I've been thinking about something."

"What's that?" Gabriel got to his feet and paced impatiently to the window. He had been examining the street below every few minutes in hopes of seeing someone or something that might give him a clue.

"This business with the fire tonight."

"What about it?"

"Well," Phoebe said slowly, "it bears a rather striking resemblance to the incident in which I escaped the catacombs by swimming out through the cavern."

Gabriel scowled over his shoulder. "In what way?"

"Don't you see? It's another of the curses spelled out at the end of The Lady in the Tower."

"Bloody hell. That's impossible. I refuse to drag the supernatural element into this on top of everything else. Damnation, Phoebe, I don't even use the supernatural in my own writing."

"Yes, I know. But remember how the colophon goes?" Phoebe jumped up off the bed and disappeared into her own room. She returned a moment later with The Lady in the Tower.

"Phoebe, this is ridiculous."

"Listen to this." Phoebe settled herself on the bed again and opened the old book to the last page. "A curse on he who would steal this book. May he drown beneath the waves. May he be consumed by flames. May he spend an eternal night in hell."

"Devil take it, Phoebe. That's nonsense." Gabriel paused. "Unless, of course, Alice knows about the curse and in her madness is attempting to make it come true."

"How would she know about it?" Phoebe closed the book carefully.

"The Lady in the Tower has been in my possession for the entire time I've been back in England. It's possible someone on my staff has taken the liberty of going through the contents of my library. He or she might have told Alice about it."

Phoebe's brows drew together. "Even if that were so, the curse is written in Old French. What are the odds that a member of your staff could read it?"

"A good question." Gabriel studied the dark street again. "And who the hell is Alice?"

"I do not know, Gabriel. I have wracked my brain and I am absolutely certain I have never met her."

"She didn't work in your parents' household at some point in the past?"

"No."

"There has got to be a connection."

"Gabriel?"

"Yes?" He did not turn around; his mind was whirling with conjectures and possibilities. A connection. There had to be a connection between the book and Alice and the incidents.

"I hesitate to mention this because I know you are already biased in your opinion of Neil, but—"

A cold chill sliced through Gabriel. He spun around and advanced toward the bed. "What the devil does Baxter have to do with all this?"

"Nothing." Phoebe straightened in alarm as he bore down on the bed. "At least, I do not think he has anything to do with it. No, I am certain he doesn't."

"But?"

Phoebe swallowed. "But he told me that night he danced with me that he wanted The Lady in the Tower back. He said he felt it was rightfully his and that as it was all he would ever have of me, the least I could do was give it to him."

"Goddamn his bloody soul."

"Gabriel, you must not jump to any conclusions. Only think, my lord, the first incident happened at Devil's Mist, before we even knew Neil was still alive. And it was Alice who took me down into those catacombs, not Neil."

"Then there is some connection between Alice and Baxter," Gabriel said with savage satisfaction. "All I have to do is find it."

"My lord, I really do not think we should assume there is a connection at this stage," Phoebe said quickly. "Neil's interest in the book is sentimental in nature."

"Baxter has all the tender sensibilities of a shark."

Phoebe's mouth tightened. "Whatever you may think of him, the fact is he would have no.reason to harm me."

"He has a reason to harm me and he is smart enough to know he can use you to do it."

"You cannot prove anything, Gabriel."

"I shall find the connection between Alice and Baxter. When I have that, I shall have my proof."

"Gabriel, you are obsessed with casting Neil in the role of the villain. You frighten me."

Gabriel chained his anger and sense of unease. "Forgive me, my dear. I don't mean to alarm you." He reached down and scooped her up in his arms. He set her on her feet beside the bed and turned back the quilt. "Let us get some sleep. In the morning I shall set Stinton to investigating the mysterious Alice."

"What about me?" Phoebe asked as she obediently scrambled into bed. "I thought you intended to have Stinton follow me around."

"He cannot be in two places at once."

Phoebe's eyes brightened. "Does this mean you have decided to trust me, after all? You no longer believe you need someone to keep an eye on me?"

"It means," Gabriel said as he blew out the candle and got in beside her, "that you will not need anyone to follow you about tomorrow because you are not going anywhere."

She stilled, eyes widening in the shadows. "You cannot mean that, my lord. I have engagements tomorrow. I am going to visit my sister."

"Your sister can come here to visit you." Gabriel reached for her. "You are not going anywhere until this matter is settled."

"Anywhere at all? Gabriel, you simply cannot do this."

"I can and I will. I realize the concept of obedience to anyone, let alone your poor husband, is quite foreign to you. But in this matter I intend to be obeyed." Gabriel felt her whole body stiffen in reaction. He tried to soften his tone, willing her to understand. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I cannot take any chances. You must stay here in the house unless I am free to escort you or unless Stinton is available."

Phoebe struggled to sit up. "My lord, I refuse to be kept a prisoner in my own home."

Gabriel pressed her down into the bedding and came down on top of her. She wriggled angrily until he threw a heavy leg over her thighs and captured her defiant face in his hands.

"Be still, Phoebe," he said gently. "This is not another exciting adventure you are having. This is a very dangerous situation. You will be guided by me."

"Why should I be guided by you?"

"Because I am your husband. And because I know a great deal more about this kind of thing than you do."

She glared defiantly up at him, searching his eyes, testing his strength of will. He stayed silent, praying she would submit.

The struggle for the upper hand lasted only a moment or two and then it was over. Phoebe relaxed beneath him and Gabriel knew he had won. For now, at least. His sense of relief was almost overwhelming.

"There are times, my lord, when I find this business of marriage extremely irritating," Phoebe said.

"I know you do," Gabriel whispered.

She was not happy with her own acquiescence, Gabriel realized. Moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the resentment in her eyes.

He was suddenly reminded of the first time he had seen her features revealed by moonlight. That night on the lonely lane in Sussex he had lifted her veil, taken one look at her shocked, defiant face, and he had known he wanted her. Something in him had known that he would stop at nothing to make her his own.

Kudeo. I dare.

Now she was his. But she was so very vulnerable and so very impulsive. He had to protect her because he could not trust her to protect herself.

"My God, Phoebe," he said against her mouth.

"You do not know what you do to me. I swear I do not comprehend it myself. But I do know that you are mine and I will do whatever I must to keep you safe." He crushed her lips beneath his own, drinking in the essence of her, trying to capture her soul as well as her sweet body. After a moment Phoebe made a soft little sound and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What the devil is going on?" Anthony grabbed the bottle of claret off the end table and poured himself a glass. He glowered at Gabriel as he dropped into a chair across from him.

"Keep your voice down." Gabriel flicked a meaningful glance around the club room. It was still early in the afternoon and the club was only sparsely populated as of yet, but one or two of the members were standing close enough to overhear a loud conversation. "I do not particularly wish to announce my affairs to the world."

Anthony subsided in annoyance. "Very well," he said, lowering his voice, "tell me what this is all about. Why the urgent summons?"

"Someone is trying to hurt or, at the very least, terrify Phoebe." Someone might even be trying to kill her, Gabriel added silently. But he could not bring himself to say the words aloud.

"Good God." Anthony stared, thunderstruck. "Are you certain?"

"As certain as I can be."

"Who is it? I'll kill him."

"I'm afraid you must wait your turn. I have first claim on that pleasure. As it happens, I believe the person directly responsible is a woman named Alice. She is either mad or a member of the criminal class who has some acting talent. She was able to pass herself off to Phoebe as a housemaid. I believe there is a strong possibility that Neil Baxter is involved." He briefly summarized events.

Anthony listened in fulminating silence. When Gabriel finished, he nearly exploded. "Goddamn it, man, Baxter is supposed to be dead. You assured us he was."

"Believe me, I am vastly more disappointed than you are that he is not."

"What the devil are you going to do about him?"

"Get rid of him again," Gabriel said. "But this time I intend to make certain he stays out of my way in future."

Anthony's eyes narrowed. "He truly is a cutthroat?"

"I was told by some of the survivors on my ship that he even seemed to enjoy the business of cutting throats."

"Why the attacks on Phoebe?"

"I believe they are Baxter's way of taunting me."

"Why is he using this Alice person?" Anthony persisted.

"Perhaps so that there will be no proof that he is behind the attacks." Gabriel frowned, thinking it through. "If anyone is caught, it will be her. If she is truly mad, she will not be able to point the finger of blame at Baxter. If she is a professional villain and chooses to confess, her word will not mean much against Baxter's."

"Perhaps she does not even know Baxter's identity," Anthony said slowly. "He might have hired her to do his dirty work without letting her know who he was."

Gabriel nodded. "Possible. But I am going to try to find out if there is a connection between the two."

"How will you do that?"

Gabriel leaned forward and lowered his voice even further. "I am having a Runner look into it. I have instructed him to find out if Baxter has a mistress or some connection to the criminal class."

Anthony studied him for a moment. "If you cannot prove Baxter is behind these acts of violence against Phoebe, what will you do?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I would prefer to be able to prove that Baxter is causing the trouble, if only to convince Phoebe that he is not the Sir Lancelot she believes him to be. But one way or another, I shall have to get rid of Baxter. In the end I may be obliged to do it without being able to prove what I know to be true."

"Phoebe will want proof. She does not turn on old friends easily. She is very loyal."

"I know." Gabriel kept his face expressionless with effort. "But Baxter is potentially too dangerous to be allowed to hang around her much longer. He is fully capable of charming an innocent such as Phoebe. Out in the islands he seduced more than one wife into telling him her husband's business secrets. And more than one mistress into betraying her lover's plans."

Anthony arched a brow. "Your mistress, perhaps?"

"Not exactly. She was the woman to whom I was engaged," Gabriel said quietly. "She was the daughter of one of my partners. Her name was Honora. Ironic, is it not? If ever a woman had less sense of honor than Honora Ralston, I have not had the misfortune to meet her."

"She gave information to Baxter?"

"He made himself her lover. Convinced her I was a dangerous pirate masquerading as a legitimate businessman. He said he was trying to trap me."

"I see." Anthony hesitated. "You eventually realized what was going on?"

"Yes."

Anthony stared at him. "What did you do?"

Gabriel shrugged. "The obvious. I tricked Honora into giving Baxter false information and then I set a trap for him."

"I hesitate to ask this, but what, exactly, happened to Honora?"

"When her father found out she had given herself to Baxter and nearly ruined the company in which he had shares in the process, he married her off very quietly."

"To whom?" Anthony asked curiously.

"An aging partner in the shipping venture."

Anthony narrowed his gaze. "Any chance she's the mysterious Alice? Out for revenge?"

"Not likely. The last I heard, she was pregnant with her second child and still living out in the islands. The elderly partner has apparently decided to found himself a shipping dynasty."

"So that leaves us with the mysterious Alice and a possible connection to Neil Baxter." Anthony reflected on that for a moment. "What about Phoebe?"

Gabriel reluctantly pulled himself away from his thoughts. "What about her?"

"You are quite certain she is safe while you go about the business of trying to find Alice?"

"Yes, of course. Did you think I would leave her unprotected?"

"No," Anthony said. "But I thought that by now you would have realized it is rather difficult to protect Phoebe if she is not inclined to be cooperative. Where is she?"

"At home. The staff has been alerted not to allow any strangers into the house under any pretext."

Anthony scowled. "Phoebe's agreed to stay in the house all day?"

"She will stay there as long as it is necessary. I have given her instructions not to leave unless I accompany her or unless Stinton is free to keep an eye on her."

Anthony's jaw dropped. "You've confined Phoebe to the house?"

"Yes."

"Indefinitely?"

"Yes."

"She's agreed to this?" Anthony demanded warily.

Gabriel drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Phoebe will do as she is told."

"Devil take it, man. Are you mad? This is Phoebe we're talking about. She does exactly as she wishes. What makes you think she'll obey you?"

"She's my wife," Gabriel said.

"What difference does that make? She never went out of her way to obey her father or me, her older brother. Phoebe has always been guided by her impulsive nature. My God, she could be riding merrily off into danger at this very moment. She's probably convinced herself she's on another quest to find the mysterious Alice."

Gabriel got to his feet, unwilling to reveal how uneasy Anthony was making him. "I gave her strict orders to stay at home today. She knows better than to flaunt those orders."

"Brave words," Anthony growled. "But this is my sister we're talking about. She ran away from you once before, if you will recall."

Gabriel winced. "That was a different matter entirely."

"So you say. I'm going to call on her at once. I want to be certain she is at home."

"She will be there."

Anthony shot him a derisive look as he headed toward the door. "Ten pounds says she's not. I know Phoebe. She is too headstrong by far to take orders from a husband."

"I'll accompany you on this call you intend to pay on my wife," Gabriel said. "And make no mistake, I fully intend to collect my ten pounds."

"And if she is not at home? What will you do then?" Anthony challenged.

"Find her and lock her in her bedchamber," Gabriel vowed.

"Phoebe's very good at knotting bedsheets together," Anthony reminded him.

Meredith and Lydia arrived at the town house within half an hour after Phoebe sent her messages to them. They hastened into the drawing room, expressions of grave alarm on their faces.

"What is this about Wylde confining you to the house?" Lydia demanded as she pulled her spectacles out of her reticule and ran a worried eye over Phoebe. "What has happened? Has he beaten you? I vow, your Papa will not stand for that. And neither will I. We agreed to allow him to marry you because we thought he could deal with you, but he goes too far, by heaven."

Meredith gave Phoebe an anxious look as she untied her bonnet strings. "Has he hurt you, Phoebe? I warned you he was not a patient man. Nevertheless, rest assured we will not let him get away with abusing you."

Phoebe smiled serenely and reached for the teapot. "Please be seated. It is a very exciting story. And as I am longing to tell someone the tale, I decided to send for you and Mama."

Lydia eyed her warily as she seated herself. "Phoebe, this is not some sort of jest, is it? When I got your note, I was extremely worried. Are you or are you not confined to the house?"

"I have been forbidden to leave unless Wylde escorts me." Phoebe wrinkled her nose. "Or unless a certain Mr. Stinton is available to follow me about. It is most annoying, I assure you."

"Then it's true? You have been confined against your will?" Meredith searched her face as she accepted her cup of tea.

"It certainly was not my choice," Phoebe said.

"Then why, might one ask, are you staying put?" Lydia asked bluntly.

"Because Wylde is extremely worried about my safety." Phoebe sipped her tea. "Actually, I take it as a rather hopeful sign, if you must know the truth. I think he is worried because he loves me. Not that he will admit it, of course."

Meredith exchanged glances with Lydia and then turned back to Phoebe. "Perhaps you had better start from the beginning."

"Perhaps I should," Phoebe agreed. She ran through the tale quickly. "The thing is, we do not know who, precisely, this Alice is. Nor do we know how she came to learn of the curse in the back of The Lady in the Tower. Gabriel suspects Neil Baxter is involved somehow."

"Good grief," Lydia said. "Will we never be free of that abominable man?"

Phoebe pursed her lips. "I am not at all certain Neil has anything to do — with this. I feel it's quite possible that Wylde is leaping to conclusions simply because he does not have any liking for Neil and because he may be just a tiny bit jealous."

"Ah, that would explain his reaction, wouldn't it?" Meredith murmured.

"I like to think so," Phoebe agreed cheerfully. "However, the fact remains that Wylde has forbidden me to even communicate with Neil, so I cannot talk to him to get his side of the story."

"Just as well, if you ask me," Lydia said. "Well, then, what are Meredith and I to do? Entertain you during the course of your imprisonment?"

"Mother, really." Meredith frowned at her. "She is hardly a prisoner."

"Yes, I am," Phoebe said.

"Yes, she is," Lydia agreed.

Meredith scowled at both of them. "Wylde is quite right to keep you safely tucked up here until he can determine what is going on, Phoebe. I do not blame him in the least."

"I'm sure he means well," Phoebe said. "Wylde generally does mean well. It is just that he tends to go about things in a rather heavy-handed fashion. But I expect I shall be able to correct that bad habit in time."

"Excellent attitude." Lydia smiled with maternal approval. "Always knew you'd make a clever wife, Phoebe."

Meredith's lovely brow creased in another gentle frown. "You should not be plotting to correct your husband's habits, Phoebe. You should be grateful that he is able to guide you."

"I suggest we change the subject," Phoebe said determinedly. "Now, then, I asked both of you to come here today for a reason. I have every intention of getting myself out of prison as quickly as possible."

Lydia's brows rose. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

Phoebe smiled. "With your help, of course."

Meredith gasped. "You surely cannot mean you want Mama and me to help you sneak out of the house. Phoebe, it would not be right to go against your husband like that. Not when all he is trying to do is protect you. And Wylde would be furious if we did get you out."

"I do not intend to defy Wylde in this," Phoebe said.

"Thank heaven." Meredith sagged with relief.

"What I intend to do," Phoebe continued smoothly, "is help Wylde solve the puzzle of who is behind these strange occurrences."

"Oh, my God," Meredith murmured.

Lydia gazed intently at Phoebe. "Just how do you plan to solve this puzzle?"

"First," Phoebe said as she poured more tea, "we must discover the truth about Neil. I wish to know for certain if he is truly a villain or merely the victim of unfortunate misunderstandings and circumstances."

"How do you propose to learn the truth?" Lydia's eyes were alight with curiosity behind the lenses of her spectacles.

"I believe you are in a very good position to help, Mama." Phoebe smiled. "I want you to question your card-playing friends very carefully and with great subtlety. They are always a wonderful source of gossip. Let us see if they know anything about Neil and a woman named Alice."

"That," Lydia exclaimed, "is not a bad notion."

"I suppose there would be no harm done," Meredith agreed slowly.

"And as for you, Meredith," Phoebe said, "1 believe you are in a position to make inquiries, also."

Meredith's eyes widened. "You mean because of the amount of entertaining I do?"

"Precisely. And because people talk to you freely. When they look at you, they see only a demure paragon of womanhood."

"You needn't go into details," Meredith said. "I am well aware that most people do not believe I have a brain in my head. And I will admit that perception is useful at times. 1 have had some experience picking up bits and pieces of information that Trowbridgc has found helpful in his business affairs."

"You know very well your husband relies on you as an equal partner in his business affairs because of your skills. Will you help me?"

"Of course," Meredith said.

Lydia beamed with pleasure. "I really did a rather fine job of raising you two, if I do say so."

The drawing room door crashed open at that moment and everyone turned in surprise as Anthony and Gabriel stalked into the room.

Gabriel's eyes went first to Phoebe. She saw intense relief mingled with a great deal of masculine satisfaction reflected there. She arched one brow in a silent question.

"Told you she'd be here," Gabriel said to Anthony.

"Well, I'll be damned." Anthony chuckled. "So she is. My compliments, Wylde. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Good afternoon, ladies."

"Good afternoon, my lords," Phoebe said politely. "We were not expecting you. Would you care for tea?"

Gabriel grinned as he went toward her. "That sounds delightful, my dear. I see you have summoned some visitors to keep you company while you pine away here in prison."

"Yes, Mama and Meredith were kind enough to visit today." Phoebe handed him his cup of tea. She was about to explain her brilliant plan when she heard a familiar footstep in the hall. It was accompanied by an equally familiar voice.

"Where the hell is my daughter?"

"That will be Clarington," Lydia murmured. "It's about time he got here."

Gabriel frowned. "What the devil does he want?"

The door burst open again and Clarington stomped into the room. He gave Phoebe a quick assessing glance and then rounded on Gabriel.

"I understand you have been beating my daughter, sir."

"Not yet," Gabriel said dryly. "I admit the temptation has been there on a couple of occasions, but thus far I have resisted."

"Damnation, what is this about, locking her up inside her own house, then?" Clarington demanded.

"Phoebe has become extremely interested in domestic matters of late and has developed a preference for home and hearth," Gabriel said. He gave Phoebe a challenging smile. "Is that not right, my dear?"

"That is certainly one way of putting it," Phoebe said demurely. "Will you have a cup of tea, Papa?"

"No, thank you. On my way to a meeting of the Analytical Society." Clarington shot a sharp, questioning glance at each of the members of his family. "Everything all right, then?"

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

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

"I intend to," Gabriel said.

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

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

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

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