Gabriel chuckled as naturally as if they were discussing the weather. “Anytime you are ready to give this all up, you can come work for me.”
“Where to now?” Clancy asked eagerly. “Liverpool?”
“Maybe, but not yet. First I’m going to stop by the docks forthe passenger list. Gutt says Liverpool, but it never hurts to double-check those here in London. And, of course, I must see Miss Wilde back to Hawthorne House. I’m sure her friend is wondering where she is.”
“I’ll go with you.” Clancy reached for his black beaver hat. “We can take my carriage. You don’t mind, do you, Miss Wilde? We can drive by the docks, Gabriel can visit the docks, and then we can deliver you safe and sound to Hawthorne House.”
Mr. Clancy’s eagerness reminded her of that of a child. The whole conversation had taken an odd turn—a turn in which she no longer felt as if she was part of the plan.
Gabriel looked toward her. “Is that all right with you?”
No, it was not all right with her, but she was in no position to protest. She’d already shared that she did not agree with the way things were handled, but the decision was already made . . . regardless of her input.
The carriage drive from the assembly rooms to the docks was relatively short. There were so many things Ella wanted to say to Gabriel—that she wanted to ask him. Admittedly, she did not understand his reasoning. And it frustrated her.
Gabriel had been right about one thing. The docks were not a safe place. The buildings around her reminded her of the street where Mr. Grenshaw’s boardinghouse had been located.
The carriage pulled to a stop beneath a flickering gas lamp that spilled just enough light to illuminate the wet cobblestone walkway beneath it. To the carriage’s left, another road stretched forth, lined with smaller buildings and houses. A heavy fog hung in theair, and it caught the lantern and gas light, resulting in an unsettling glow. Shouting and bouts of raucous voices echoed from the brick buildings, making it seem as if the sounds completely surrounded them. Two scantily clad women leaned against a wall not far from the carriage, and a body—either sleeping or intoxicated—sprawled not far from where the carriage had stopped.
Gabriel touched her hand and refocused her attention on him. “I’m going down to the building at the end of this dock. I won’t be long. You’ll be safe here with Clancy. Just don’t get out of the carriage, all right?”
She nodded wordlessly.
Gabriel exited the carriage, and the gusty wind caught the folds of his tailcoat and billowed them behind him. She watched as the heavy fog enveloped him.
Once the door was closed and Gabriel was walking down the street, Mr. Clancy said, “I take it you’ve never graced the London docks before, have you, Miss Wilde?”
She turned her attention back to Mr. Clancy. “I have not, sir.”
“It’s a different world here among the rabble.” He laughed and rested his thick hand on his knee. “I hope you’re not offended. I doubt you ever have reason to encounter such environments at Keatley Hall.”
Unsure of how to respond to the disparaging comment, she remained silent.
Mr. Clancy continued, “Does it surprise you to know that I have friends here in these buildings and on this very street? Ah yes! I see in your expression that you don’t believe me, but just ask Mr. Rowe. Ask nearly anyone in London. I interact with people from all walks of life. It is my gift.”
The unusual pitch of his voice and the subtle narrowing ofhis eyes cautioned her. He was clearly awaiting a response, so she swallowed her discomfort and said, “I only knew you as the master of ceremonies at the assembly rooms. I had no idea you were so connected.”
“It is an art. In order to be able to speak with anyone, I must be able to understand them while maintaining an appearance of gaiety and nonchalance.” He tilted his head to the side. “I have another gift. Can you guess what it is?”
Ella shifted and glanced again out the window, hoping to see Gabriel approaching, but was met with darkness. Shouting outside the carriage intensified, grating on Ella’s already raw nerves. “I cannot guess.”
A crooked, portentous smile curved his lips. “I have a very, very long memory. I remember the details that others forget. I keep careful account of every credit and every debit, and like a bookkeeper, I keep a tally of them in my mind.”
She squirmed uncomfortably. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the contrived words that came out of his mouth felt almost like a masked warning. She told herself it was her imagination—an irrational fear brought to life by their ominous surroundings.
He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees so his face was not far from hers, denying her the option of looking away. “In fact, are you aware that I knew your mother?”
The air fled her lungs, and in that moment she could only stare.
“Yes. I knew her,” he repeated slowly, “only I knew her as Miss Leonora Keatley, before she married your father. Such an impressive woman. Fiercely outspoken, as I recall.”
Normally the news that someone had known her mother would excite her, but the darkness shifted around her. Gabriel had indicated that danger lurked outside the carriage, but something inMr. Clancy’s tone and his unnerving constant directness suggested the danger might be closer.
She searched for words. “Were you interested in natural philosophies, then?”
He laughed easily. “Oh no, no, my dear. I am far more interested in the social aspects of life—why people behave the way they do. Why they say what they say.”
She racked her brain, trying to think of any other topic she could introduce to shift the conversation, but her thoughts seemed to be stuck.
