Adam’s eyes opened. The intensity of his dark stare was diluted by the fact that it was out of focus. He blinked up at her…then smiled lazily.
“’Ello there, my beauty,” he said in slurred tones.
“Hello.” Flummoxed, she asked, “Um, what are you doing?”
“Drinking. Brandy,” he clarified. “Join me?”
He gestured grandly at the decanter, knocking it over and scattering the few remaining drops across the Aubusson.
She hastened to pick up the bottle, placing it safely out of his reach. Standing by the side of the sofa, she looked down at her husband. His face was flushed, his expression languid. A strand of inky hair had escaped its restrained style to curl upon his brow. She recognized that unruly forelock for he’d passed it on to their son.
Kneeling, she tenderly smoothed aside the stray hair. “How much have you had to drink, darling?”
“Dunno.” His wide shoulders hitched against the cushions. “Not enough?”
He sounded so hopeful that she had to fight a smile. “A decanter of brandy is definitely enough. What has gotten into you, Adam? You’re not one to overindulge.”
In fact, she’d never seen her husband foxed. He might enjoy a glass of wine with supper and a postprandial spirit with a cigar but, unlike many gentlemen, he stopped there. He approached drinking like he did everything else: with absolute control.
“Ain’t overindulging. Can ’old my alcohol.” His garbled accents undermined the credibility of his claim. “Back in the day, I could drink anyone under the table. Everyone thought I ’ad a ’ollow leg. Won more than one drinking contest in my time—that’s ’ow I began to build up my stake, y’know.”
Shedidn’tknow. Aside from his proposal, when he’d told her that he’d been part of a gang in his youth, Adam rarely referenced his past. Any questions she’d asked him had received curt replies. The number of facts she knew about her husband’s history could be counted on one hand. She’d always been curious to know more about his past, however, and now he was volunteering information about himself. What harm could it do to find out more about the man she loved?
“What did you need stakes for?” she asked.
“To start my own business, o’ course. Weren’t going to stay under another man’s thumb even if ’e saved my life. Ne’er could convince ol’ Garrity that petty thievery and scavenging weren’t no way to get rich,” he muttered.
“Garrity?” Surprise percolated through her. “But I thought you didn’t have any living relations whilst you were growing up.”
“’E weren’t my relation. Thought ’e was a father to us all, though. Thought that since we was all ’is children, we ought to act like brother an’ sister.” He shook his head drunkenly. “But we wasn’t siblings, was we?”
Gabby’s nape tingled. “Who are you referring to? You…and who else?”
Adam stared at her, his gaze hooded. The firelight licked lovingly over his features, deepening the hollows beneath his slanting cheekbones and the fathomless pools of his eyes. The scruff of his night beard added to his air of virile wickedness.
“It doesn’t matter.” He righted his accent the way a gentleman might a slipping hat, clamping it back in place. “The past is irrelevant.”
Gabby could not agree. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of discovery. As if she were suddenly looking down into a dark abyss where the unknown lay in wait. Perhaps she’d always sensed its existence. In the sunlit contentment of her marriage, it was easy enough to ignore; but at night, when all was still and dark, it slithered through her dreams, sending tremors through the foundation of her happiness.
Secrets, secrets, secrets,it whispered.
She’d never gathered the courage to peer into the darkness. Yet now the danger was staring her in the face; she couldn’t ignore it.
“It does matter. To me.” She forced herself to stand her ground, not easy when her husband was eyeing her with an odd glint in his eyes. “Adam, who was she? This woman, who wasn’t like a sister to you?”
Why haven’t you mentioned her before? Did you care for her? Did you…love her?
Gabby’s heart trembled; with bated breath, she awaited her husband’s answer.
“You’re the prettiest piece I’ve ever laid eyes on, you know that?” He gave her a leering grin. “Did well for myself, I did.”
Although flustered, she persisted, “Who is she? Is she…is she why you’re in this state?”
Was this mysterious woman the cause of her husband’s inexplicable behavior?
A spasm hit Gabby’s chest.
“No,” he said solemnly. “In this state on account of you, love.”
