The footman bowed and withdrew, leaving Gabriel alone in the bedchamber. He stepped to the room’s north-facing windowand looked down. The northern gardens stretched to where two large oaks marked the end of the property gardens and the beginning of the woods.
He turned back around and tossed his satchel and hat on top of the bed, then removed his portfolio with his notes. Using the water in a pitcher near the basin, he washed his face, combed water through his hair, and changed from his traveling clothes into dinner attire.
He paused in front of a small looking glass on the chest.
Every so often, he’d see his father in his reflection, and today was one of those instances. They shared so many physical attributes—light brown, almost hazel eyes fringed with thick black lashes and a straight nose with a slight aquiline shape.
It pained him that he could not think of his father fondly. As a boy he’d idolized his father. As a man he despised him.
If Gabriel was honest, his father was even more responsible for his decision to study law than Mary was. Gabriel would never understand how his father had remained silent while Mary endured such cruelty at the hands of her husband. His sister’s agony combined with the shock of his father’s inaction was what spurred Gabriel to fight for those who could not fight for themselves. His passion bordered on obsession, as if he could atone for past offenses by bringing those who wished to harm others to justice.
He reached for the cloth and dried his face.
He had to put thoughts of the past out of his mind, for he had a task to accomplish. He’d convinced Miss Wilde to allow him to attend. She had as much, if not more, to lose than he did if he failed.
Furthermore, another battle raged—one even more incessant than the other.
Gabriel had not stopped thinking about Miss Wilde since their meeting in his office. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her spirit and zest were attractive to him—her passion for something bigger than herself matched his own. He related to it in a way that he hadn’t related to anything in a very long time. It was a rare trait, and one that, if he was not careful, could make him forget his purpose for being here.
Gabriel tied the cravat around his neck and checked it in the looking glass.
Everything he had been investigating regarding Thomas Bauer was about to come to pass, and he had a very small window to find the truth. He owed it to himself and to Miss Wilde to accomplish the one thing he was here to do: protect them from Mr. Bauer.
After leaving a still-distraught Phoebe in Miss Sutton’s consoling company and dressing for the evening, Ella descended the broad, intricately carved east staircase. She trailed her fingertips along the timeworn wooden railing, drawing energy and courage from the house itself.
Despite Ella’s reservations about the symposium, the polite chatter and happy laughter resounding from the rooms below infused her with energy. The dinner hour was quickly approaching, and as Keatley Hall’s hostess she would be expected to greet and entertain the three ladies who had accompanied their husbands: Mrs. Parker, Mrs. Norton, and Mrs. Shiveley.
In truth there was only one person she was seeking.
Taking advantage of the extra height of the steps, she looked over the top of the crowd gathered in the great hall and the corridor.Almost immediately she spied Mr. Abernathy across the chamber, near the tall leaded windows at the front of the great hall, speaking with two other gentlemen. In the two days since their dinner, he’d barely spoken with her. She’d hoped that in time she would start to feel some sort of softening toward him, or at least find some commonalities with him, but she felt nothing when she looked at him. Not attraction. Not infatuation or intrigue. If anything, melancholy stole over her.
Ella shifted, but instead of seeing Mr. Rowe, as she’d hoped, she noticed Thomas Bauer talking with her father.
A double-breasted tailcoat of finely textured black superfine broadcloth hugged his full shoulders, and a sizable sapphire pin held his silk cravat firmly in place. His meticulously groomed silver-streaked jet hair and side-whiskers framed his angular face, but it was the intense—almost mesmerizing—shade of his dark eyes and how they contrasted with his fair skin that demanded attention.
He glanced toward her and stopped talking. Her father pivoted at Mr. Bauer’s obvious distraction, and upon noticing her, he motioned for her to join them.
“Ah, Miss Wilde,” Mr. Bauer declared as she drew closer. “We meet again.”
“Good evening, sir. And welcome, at last, to Keatley Hall.”
“A true honor.” His bow was ostentatiously low, and if possible his grin was even broader when he straightened once again.
She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “You’ve been to Keatley Hall before, if I am not mistaken.”
“I have been, but not since I was a very young man. Your grandfather invited me to visit before my first journey to Austria. It was he who initially piqued my interest in phrenology.”
“That must have been before my time here,” her father added, offering his arm to Ella and patting her hand as she took it. “I daresay it hasn’t changed much.”
Mr. Bauer lifted his eyes to the beamed ceiling and then around the chamber. “It was so long ago, but my most vivid memory of the entire visit was a conservatory. Am I mistaken? Is there one here?”
The mention of her precious conservatory on Mr. Bauer’s lips irked her. “You are correct. It was a wedding gift from my grandfather to my grandmother.”
“Well then.” He smiled and rocked on his toes. “I do hope you will do me the honor of showing it to me again at some point in my stay here.”
“Of course.”
The crowd around them was ever shifting as the guests ambled around the space, and from the corner of her eye, movement distracted her.
