Could it be possible that her mother got it wrong?
It seemed highly unlikely. Her mother noticed everything. About everyone. Eye color certainly would not be something she would mistake.
But what did it mean? Her mind mapped the possible outcomes.
Was it possible that Mr. Bauer was not who he claimed to be? Surely not, for he was a phrenological expert. There weren’t many people who understood the art.
The discovery did not make sense and left her with more questions than answers, but even so, a fresh fervor surged through her. Ella did not know what would come of this newfound revelation, but she knew exactly who she needed to talk to.
Chapter 28
A NEW ENERGYradiated through Gabriel as he woke up on his third morning at Keatley Hall.
He swung his legs over the side of the high bed to stand, stretched his arms over the top of his head to shake off the effects of sleep, and moved to the window. After pulling back the curtain, he determined the hour was much earlier than he’d thought. Gray light backlit the low-hanging clouds and cast the faintest bit of morning light on the north garden, where he and Ella had walked the previous afternoon. A neutral gray covered all, giving the trees and ground a sense of darkness and foreshadowing the impending autumn.
His sights fell on the oak tree that he and Ella had visited the previous day, and his thoughts turned to her.
Beautiful Ella.
Getting to know her was opening his eyes to what might be possible for his future. How in such a short time had she captured his every thought? Gabriel’s logical side wanted to fight the idea that two souls could be predestined to find each other. Poets wrote of it, but it had always been an abstract idea to him. It certainly wasnot practical. Whatever this feeling was—this sensation that his life would never be complete unless she was in it—was new, exciting, and intoxicating. Could he, with all his faults, be fortunate enough to earn her favor? Maybe even her love?
For years now, bringing criminals to justice had been his singular goal, as if by doing so he could undo the wrongs done by others—as if he could atone for their own father’s cruelty toward his sister. It was gratifying work, but now it seemed Ella was exposing another purpose for him—a part that he had kept guarded away.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable with lingering on his emotions for too long, he refocused on the task at hand: Thomas Bauer. Ella had been softening toward Gabriel, but when the full scope of what needed to be done came to light, would she still feel the same way?
He retrieved the satchel where he’d been storing his evidence. He reread the slips of paper he’d found in Gutt’s chamber, and he browsed the notes he’d written about Bauer’s activities in London. The more he observed Bauer, the more he was confident the man was not as he seemed. What was he missing?
Determined to get on with the day, Gabriel pulled on his trousers, tucked in his linen shirt, tied his cravat, and donned his maroon silk waistcoat and then his cobalt wool coat. He brushed his fingers through his hair and smoothed it across his forehead, and once he was completely dressed, he quit his room and made his way to the breakfast chamber.
He always strove to be the first person present, hoping for a moment to investigate, and today he planned to speak with Gutt. The man knew details, Gabriel was sure of it—and today he would find out what they were.
A few of the older men had already gathered in the east-facing breakfast room, and two footmen stood on either side of a long table laden with meats, cheeses, and breads. He set his eye on the coffee at the end of the table, but Mrs. Chatterly entered behind him and motioned to him.
A bit surprised, Gabriel turned toward her and bowed. He’d always liked Mrs. Chatterly, but she’d not been overly friendly with him since his arrival.
She cast a glance toward the other men present before refocusing her dark eyes on him and extending a note. “I’ve a message for you.”
He thanked her, and after she exited, he flipped open the note.
Please meet me in the conservatory.—E
The notion of breakfast completely abandoned, Gabriel grabbed a roll, popped it in his mouth, and made his way back toward the staircase. He followed the mazelike path toward the ground-floor drawing room, and when he turned from the drawing room into the conservatory, the sight of her struck him.
She was beautiful.
Ella was clipping blooms from a large plant. The early morning light emphasized her willowy form’s femininity. The hue of her pale peach gown accentuated her skin’s alluring softness, and her brows, slightly darker than her hair, framed her face so elegantly.
His footsteps echoed on the stone floor, and she turned from the plant she was trimming. Her blue eyes brightened, and she lowered the scissors in her hand. “You got my note.”
“I did.” He lifted it between his fingers and, knowing it could be incriminating and make someone question her character if it was ever discovered, extended it to her.
She accepted it, tucked it in the pocket of the apron that was protecting her gown, and retrieved a journal sitting next to the potted plant. “I need to show you something.”
“Is that one of the journals?”
“It is. It was written nearly two full years before my mother died. And look what I found in it.” She flipped through the pages and then stopped. With a slender, elegant finger she pointed out the text. “Read here.”
He learned closer, squinted to make out the tiny, sharply angled handwriting, and read silently.
