Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention to the other Shacklefords seated at the table. A quick count informed him that the Reverend appeared to have eight children of which seven were female. He winced at the thought - his carnal urges thankfully beginning to take flight at such a prospect, but as he eyed Mrs Shackleford, he was surprised to see her tuck into her supper with an enthusiastic appetite. Clearly, she could not have born all eight children. His sympathy increased towards the Reverend who’d had to put up with seven offspring of the supposed fairer sex and possibly more than one wife. Indeed, he intimated as much to a Miss Felicity Beaumont who was seated next to him and who was evidently a good friend of the family. The lady had grinned at him before saying it was no more than the Reverend deserved, and that there were actually eight girls in all. Hope’s twin sister Faith was apparently arriving on the morrow with her husband. Oh, and there had been three wives…
By the time the younger children were finally dispatched to bed, Gabriel was more than half-sprung and in no way prepared for what might be the most crucial conversation of his life. Despite the earlier demands in the carriage, he had refused to enlighten his travelling companions further. In truth, he had been hoping the explanation for his presence would be for the Duke’s ears only, but he was disabused of that notion as soon as he entered the Earl’s sitting room and stopped dead. Fiend seize it, the information he possessed was not only sensitive, it was potentially life threatening to any who became embroiled. And here he was involving a room full of strangers. Unfortunately, it looked as though the whole deuced family was determined to know what he was doing here.
He blinked as Nicholas came forward and offered him a brandy. ‘Augustus has explained the circumstances surrounding your unexpected arrival at his door Gabriel,’ he declared, ‘as well as the alarming incident during your journey here.’ He sighed and placed a sympathetic hand on the Viscount’s shoulder before adding dryly, ‘I understand it was your desire to speak with me alone, but if I attempt to exclude my wife’s relatives from your account, I suspect at the very least I would be spending the next year sleeping on the couch. You may rest assured that whatever you have to say will not go beyond this room unless you wish it.’
He moved back to his chair by the fire and invited Gabriel to sit on the only other spare seat. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Gabriel finally acquiesced, glancing around his audience as he took a sip of the fiery liquid.
‘You undoubtedly have me at a disadvantage your grace,’ he eventually commented brusquely. ‘I have risked much to speak with you privately, yet it seems I have no choice but to share my words with your entire family. If I tell you my intelligence might well put them in danger, will you reconsider their presence here?’
‘Seems to me laddie that the lives of three members of this family have already been put at risk.’ Gabriel frowned at the speaker, a small wiry man standing by the window. After a few seconds, he jumped up. ‘Malcolm,’ he exclaimed, the delight in his voice unfeigned.
The Duke’s valet grinned and moving forward, pulled the younger man into a rough embrace. ‘We thought ye dead laddie,’ he said gruffly once he’d let Gabriel go, ‘but I’m sure I speak for both of us when I say we’re more than happy te find the reports were rudely exaggerated.’
‘This is all very well, but mayhap you could enlighten the rest of us as to how you are acquainted,’ interrupted Grace, glancing between the three men.
‘Gabriel Atwood was the best First Lieutenant I ever had,’ Nicholas clarified. ‘He had a very promising future in the Royal Navy but unfortunately was forced to resign his commission to take up the mantle of Viscount on the untimely death of his father.’ He shook his head and frowned. ‘I thought you enjoying the life of a country gentleman at Northwood Court,’ he continued, ‘until six months ago when I suddenly received news of your unexpected demise. It was mooted as some kind of accident though the details were sketchy at best.’
‘As you can see, the reports were a little premature,’ snapped Gabriel sitting down again. ‘I assume you received such tidings from my uncle, Admiral Atwood?’
The Duke nodded. ‘I believe he has been installed as the new incumbent of your title.’
Gabriel grimaced before swallowing the rest of his brandy and briefly closing his eyes, clearly furious at the turn of events that had seen his uncle installed as the new Viscount Northwood. The room was entirely silent as he struggled to master his anger and strangely, the first eyes he sought as he battled to get himself under control were Hope’s. She was regarding him steadily, the sympathy in her eyes tempered by curiosity. For some reason her level gaze helped him centre himself and letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, he spoke again.
‘Whatever sadness my uncle exhibited in the reporting of myfatal accident,’he ground out, ‘was entirely contrived. Predominantly because he was the one responsible for trying to kill me.’
One year earlier
Gabriel did not bother taking a roundabout route to the Castilla dePuntales. Henry would undoubtedly have been expecting him to meet with Captain Ortega as soon as he rose, so if anyone did spy him, they would simply report back that he was following orders. The narrow alleyways were already busy with traders and the Viscount broke his fast with a sweet pastry filled with almonds and some kind of sugary liquid. Ten minutes later after rinsing his hands in a convenient fountain, he turned a corner and suddenly found himself in the plaza fronting the imposing Castilla.
He paused before approaching the guard lounging at the entrance, obviously enjoying the early morning sun. Hopefully, whoever Ortega was, he was expecting a visit from an Englishman. However, Gabriel didn’t know whether the Captain had been informed of his visitor’s identity and determined to keep the knowledge to himself if possible.
As Gabriel approached the entrance, the guard straightened up and eyed him suspiciously. Plainly, he did not believe the stranger to be Spanish and he had almost certainlynotbeen briefed to expect a visit from an Inglés. Holding his hands open in a universally nonthreatening gesture, Gabriel smiled encouragingly and informed the guard that the Capitaine was expecting him.
The soldier at least had no interest in his identity but simply confirmed, ‘Inglés?’ Gabriel nodded and the guard directed a quick volley of rapid Spanish towards an unseen person before indicating the Viscount should wait.
Gabriel seated himself on a convenient mounting block. In truth he was surprised at the lack of military activity surrounding the Castilla and in Cadiz in general, especially given that the French were currently on the verge of marching into Andalucía. It had been a very different story in Ocaña in the north of Spain.
Mayhap the Junta in Seville did not believe Napoleon’s army would get this far south. If that was the case, he hoped they were right, but did not share such optimism.
He waited ten minutes before another guard arrived and ordered him to, ‘Sígueme.’ Understanding the Spanish forfollow me, Gabriel rose and nodded to the first guard as he passed, only receiving a suspicious glower in return.
Captain Ortega turned out to be a small olive-skinned man like so many of his compatriots. The only impressive thing about him in the Viscount’s opinion was a large bushy moustache which he twirled rapidly as he regarded the Inglés through narrowed eyes. The Captain pointed at the seat facing his enormous mahogany desk. Compensating? Quite possibly Gabriel thought with an inward chuckle as he nodded and seated himself.
The silence descended once more as the man continued to stare at him. Gabriel wondered at the distrust in his eyes. Had the Captain been expecting someone else perchance? At length, just when the quiet started to become oppressive, Captain Ortega spoke, giving weight to Gabriel’s uneasiness that he'd not been expecting a visit from an Englishman.
‘Why are you here?’ the Captain demanded without warning. They stared at each other, Gabriel searching vainly for the correct answer - if indeed there was one. Admiral Atwood had given him no clue and neither had his good for nothing cousin. Not for the first time, the Viscount felt his life could be in danger if he did not answer the question correctly. Was this whole deuced trip some kind of red herring designed to …. what? He narrowed his eyes, his outward calm giving no clue to his inner turmoil.
‘It was my belief you were expecting me,’ he said at length, making a concerted effort to keep his tone pleasant. ‘I was told to report to a Captain Ortega on my arrival in Cadiz. I believe you sir, to be that man.’ He held out his hands in an attitude of surrender. ‘I was given no more information than that. Indeed, given the lack of intelligence, I assumed I was here to collect something.’ He noted that the Captain had not asked his name and Gabriel was careful to leave out the names of his uncle and cousin at least initially. He did not know whether such name dropping would help or hinder him.
‘I not Capitaine Ortega.’ The small man’s shrugged response sent chills up Gabriel’s spine. ‘There is no Ortega. You are mistaken.’
They stared at each other for a few seconds, then the Spanish Captain grunted and tapped his head. ‘Englishestúpido?’ he commented before pointing to himself. ‘Capitaine Pérez. Non Ortega.’
Gabriel stared back at the arrogant man in front of him, his mind spinning. There was no Ortega. Was the error an accident? Every instinct he had was clamouring for him to leave. Now.
‘But you are expecting a visit from an Englishman.’ His voice when he finally managed to speak was gratifyingly impassive.
Captain shook his head, then tipping it to one side, regarded Gabriel narrowly. ‘Why you here Ingles?’ he questioned abruptly.
