“It’s in all our interests to keep the streets safe,” Gabriel replied, an almost predatory look in his eyes. “And there’s a certain thrill that comes with engaging in dangerous pursuits. My crest bears a dragon for a reason.”
It sounded like a veiled warning.
Perhaps he’d noticed the same curious object on the desk, and had begun to doubt Sir Randall’s sincerity. Either way, she felt compelled to offer a similar caution.
“Ridding London of scoundrels is to be our new pastime.” She slipped her fingers around Gabriel’s arm, feeling the solid strength beneath the fine cloth. “Someone must make a stand, and we cannot leave it to politicians.”
Sir Randall hesitated, shifting his weight before saying, “True enough. Useless lot, and nae a backbone between them.”
Her gaze drifted to the desk, to the marble heart resting atop a stack of papers, its polished surface faintly veined with grey. “What a beautiful paperweight.”
Sir Randall smiled. “Aye. Martha had a fondness for the thing, and I cannae bear to part with it. Her late husband gave it to her on their wedding day, said it was a symbol that love is timeless.”
“What a romantic thought.”
He gave a small shrug. “Sentimental nonsense, but she always kept it close.”
Gabriel exhaled. “Some men know how to touch awoman’s heart. The rest of us are left wandering blindly in the dark.”
Sir Randall laughed. “Ye’ve done something right, my lord. It’s nae every day a man’s wife takes his arm while merely standing in a study.”
She felt the muscle in Gabriel’s arm tense beneath her fingers, and he covered her hand with his own. “Perhaps strength in a marriage lies not in gifts, but in finding someone you can depend on.”
The baronet chortled. “’Tis easier on the purse, too.”
Keen to leave, Gabriel thanked the man for his time.
She waited until they were settled inside the carriage before sharing her observations. “Do you know why I asked about the heart?”
“Because it’s a line in your father’s poem.”
“My secret slumbers in this marble heart,” she quoted. “It’s likely just a coincidence. A symbolic reference.”
“A coincidence?” Gabriel raised a brow. “That its owner died the same time as your father? That Mrs Hodge owns a cottage beside the mausoleum, and you have the only key? That I’ve never seen a marble heart before, and her former employer just happens to possess one?”
“You’re right. It does sound odd.”
She expected they’d drive to World’s End to question Mrs Hodge, but Gabriel gave the order for home.
“Home? You don’t think we should question Mrs Hodge about the man she found dead in her cottage?”
“Not today. Whoever orchestrated the attack on you could have a man watching Sir Randall’s house. I’d rather not risk it.”
“You’re being cautious, my lord. Almost as if you can’t bear to lose me.” A teasing smile touched her lips, though theimage of his body shielding hers as shots rang out stirred a thrill she ought not to feel.
“Lose the best thing that’s happened to me in years?” He almost smiled, and she suspected the confession had cost him dearly. “As a husband, I may stumble in the dark, but even I know the value of a gift.”
Chapter Twelve
Something was off, and it wasn’t the sole meunière. The clink of silver on Sèvres porcelain grated, as did the blank stares of the liveried footmen and the incessant ticking of the mantel clock. Though she sat beside Gabriel at the head of the table, his mood had cooled since his confession in the carriage.
His sighs deepened with each mouthful of sautéed green beans. Twice, she caught him studying her over the rim of his wine glass, his gaze travelling over her as if she wore a silk chemise rather than a simple grey dress.
She scoured her mind, replaying her reply.
Then I hope you never tire of your gift.
Was he wondering how they might live together when kissing lost its charm? Or which one of them would feel regret first? Was that what troubled him now?
