She glanced about as she sat down on the upholstered bench, as if she might be reprimanded for daring to give in to the urge to do so. While there wasn’t a speck of dust to speak of on the surface, she doubted it had been played in some time, for the black and white keys beckoned in welcome, as if yearning for someone to set their fingers on them. She pressed down on one key, the sound reverberating throughout the room like the beginning of a haunting sonata.
Strangely moved, but not sure why, Triana stood, deciding that it was time to continue her solitary tour and hopefully, erase this sense of melancholy that had suddenly taken hold.
As soon as she walked over the threshold to the great hall, Triana froze. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a large portrait hanging above the massive, gray stone mantel. No fire burned in the grate, and as Triana rubbed her arms and stared at the stern image glaring down at her, she knew the sudden chill had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
There was a marked hardness to this man’s dark, calculating eyes, a firmness to his mouth that bespoke of a complex character. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Gabriel’s father. The thick, dark hair, the stubborn set of his jaw, and the arrogance in his stance, was enough to proclaim him as the prior Duke of Chiltern. With such a haughty stare, Triana tried to imagine Gabriel as a child, growing up with a father who, even now, seemed to overshadow the room like a fierce presence.
While Triana’s debutante years had been unhappy due to her father’s abrupt departure and the ensuing scandal that arose from it, Triana had enjoyed her childhood. Her mother had been different then, more carefree, while Travell was simply her annoying, older brother and not a man that felt he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Her father had been the light of her existence with an ever constant smile and a robust laugh.
The man in this portrait looked as if he’d never smiled a day in his life.
She turned, allowing her gaze to drift about the room, stopping when she saw a pair of familiar, silver eyes. It was Gabriel’s likeness in a female form, although the Duchess of Chiltern carried a certain sadness to her gaze as she looked out at the world. Young, and fragile, her skin was so pale as to be nearly transparent. She looked weary and drained of all her strength, although a slight smile still touched her delicate mouth.
“She died two weeks after that painting was completed.”
Triana quickly wiped at the sudden wetness on her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized, until that point that she’d been crying.
“My mother.” Gabriel nodded toward the painting as he walked further into the room. Hands shoved in his pockets, he stopped beside Triana, although his gaze remained on the portrait. A distant look reflected in his eyes, as if he were transported to another place and time.
“Her name was Camilla. She was born a vicar’s daughter and had suffered sickness on and off throughout her brief time on this earth. She was nineteen when she posed for this portrait, and I was told she could barely get out of bed, let alone dress and pose for hours while the artist captured her likeness on canvas. It was only at my father’s insistence that she dedicated herself to the project.” He paused and turned to her, his gaze calm and expressionless. “I was three weeks old when she died.”
Triana’s heart clenched at the knowledge that he’d never gotten the chance to know his mother. While she admitted Lady Trenton had her faults, she knew she would have mourned the loss of never being around her.
“My father only spoke of her once; although he claimed to have loved her during the short time they were married,” Gabriel went on to say. “And as cliché as love at first sight may sound, I actually like to believe it was so.” A frown marred his brow before he added more thoughtfully, “And such a theory would prove my father had been in possession of a heart at some point in his existence.”
Triana had figured out long ago that Gabriel wasn’t one to open up about his past — to anyone. The fact that he was doing so with her now — that he trusted her enough to talk about an obviously painful subject — made her throat close up with emotion. If what he said was true, then perhaps his father had also loved his only son, but as he’d never truly coped with the loss of his beloved wife, he allowed his true emotions to lay dormant under a wealth of heartbreak, unsure how to properly deal with his grief.
Triana was touched by Gabriel’s story, and she absently reached up and touched the valley between her breasts where his handkerchief lay cradled near her heart. Ever since he’d given it to her, she had kept it close, having turned it into some sort of good luck talisman, for it was after he’d given it to her that she had becomeTriana, and not just some spinster extraordinaire.
She walked over to him and rose up on her tiptoes and lightly pressed her mouth to his, yearning to show him that he wasn’t alone anymore and that someone truly cared about him.
At first, he didn’t move, but it wasn’t long before he was crushing her to him, deepening the kiss. He put one arm under her knees, and effortlessly lifted her into his arms. He carried her over to a crimson settee in a corner of the room, gently laying her down before covering her body with his. Their mouths still fused together, he quickly divested himself of his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat, while she pulled his shirt from his trousers, nearly ripping it in her haste to run her hands over that glorious chest.
He pulled down a corner of her gown and feasted on her body, eliciting her moan in anticipation of what was to come. As he lifted her skirts and began to stroke the little nub of her womanhood, she closed her eyes and allowed the pleasure to consume her. Within a matter of moments, she was exploding in a prism of ecstasy. With a growl, he undid the falls of his trousers and pushed into her wet heat in one long, hard thrust, causing them both to gasp in the glorious sensation.
She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pumped his hips in a sensual rhythm, until they were both panting, their yearning for one another spinning quickly out of control. Triana cried out his name as he gave one final jerk of his hips, and they convulsed as one.
He cradled her in the circle of his arms, as they lay side by side and fought to catch their breath in the aftermath of the passing storm. He took her lips in gentle kiss that made her heart swell in her chest. “I must say that’s a rather agreeable way to start the day.”
Triana couldn’t help herself. She giggled. Actuallygiggled. But the moment she looked back at him and caught sight of a look so tender and loving, her laughter faded away, with the words she ached to say hovering on her lips.
But the moment passed as Gabriel brushed a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry I had to leave you this morning.”
Triana smiled in understanding. “I know you have a lot to do as the master of this estate.”
He touched a finger to her cheek, and then got up to put his clothes back on. Triana also set herself to rights so that by the time he turned back to her she was presentable once again, almost as if the passionate encounter they had just shared hadn’t even happened. “I suppose it’s time I told you why I brought you here.”
To be honest, Triana hadn’t even given it a second thought after last night, but if he was willing to confide in her, she would listen.
Instead of sitting beside her, Gabriel sat in the chair opposite and leaned his elbows on his knees. He looked at her steadily, and she knew that whatever he had to say was important. “Someone was following us yesterday when we left the opera.”
Triana swallowed. She had thought she’d been prepared for the potential of danger when she’d set out to help Gabriel and her brother, but she had to admit that she hadn’t really thought it was a real issue — until now. “Do you think it’s because I met with Madame Corressa?”
“I would say that’s definitely why,” he concurred. “Travell and I wondered if she might yet be under surveillance because of her association with theEvening Swan.” With a grim expression, he added, “It appears she is.”
“Where is Travell? Does he know I’m here?”
“He’s been detained by business in London, but yes, I apprised him of the situation and he’s taking care of things in town. Your ladies’ maid, Genevieve, is visiting her family, while your mother and the rest of society believe you accompanied her to visit a sick cousin in the country. Travell is supposed to join us at Mivart’s, if not before.”
