Triana tried not to think too much about the fact he’d referred to her presence at Chiltern Hall as a “situation,” as she asked, “Have you heard from Ridge or Logan?”
Gabriel shook his head. “No, neither, but I sent a message to Logan to see if he could find out anything about our shadow.” He leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath.
Triana gave a half-hearted smile. “It’s too bad you have to be stuck here with me.”
While she had meant it as a light jest, he stared at her darkly. “I chose to protect you, Triana.” He stood. “I should probably check and see if any messages have arrived. If you wish, feel free to continue your exploration. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Triana stared after his departure with a sinking heart. She’d only meant to make light of the “situation,” and perhaps even search for a bit of reassurance that he wasn’t resenting their time together, but it seemed she’d only managed to annoy him. But then, he was a spy who had been forced into the role of professional nursemaid, however much he might claim the opposite.
And just because she had accomplished what she’d set out to do, go to her marriage bed no longer chaste, that didn’t mean anything else had changed between her and Gabriel. She was still engaged to Eastbury and he was still the unattainable duke. And even though he said that there was no understanding with Cordelia, that wasn’t to say there never would be. She still didn’t know where he stood with the lady, and she realized it was because she was too afraid to hear the answer.
Triana focused on the portrait of Gabriel’s mother. Those eyes, so much like her son’s, seemed to look back at her with a touch of regret… and perhaps even sorrow.
But then, Camilla had also fallen in love once upon a time.
***
That evening, in his father’s study — correction,hisstudy — Gabriel grabbed the brandy decanter on his desk and poured himself a stiff drink. After taking a couple scorching gulps, he tossed the remaining contents onto the fire, watching with unseeing eyes as the flames greedily devoured the last dregs of alcohol.
What did it matter? He could drink himself into oblivion and still not forgether.
He wanted Triana like an opium-eater craved the drug. The desire to sink into her welcoming warmth time and again was so tempting that he’d had to clutch the arms of his chair at dinner to keep from acting on the impulse. But while she had spoken cordially enough throughout the meal, he could tell any conversation from her was forced, if not stilted. And even though she’d tried to hide the fact she’d been crying, the evidence had been there in her swollen and red-rimmed gaze.
The injury in those blue eyes had made him feel like the lowest sort of bounder, because he knew he was the rogue responsible for her upset.
He still didn’t know what had caused his abrupt removal from her that morning, only that he had felt absolutely restless at the time and it hadn’t settled well. It was an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling. In the past, during prior investigations, Gabriel had always been in the midst of the action, so a bit of disquiet was surely to be expected, surely. And it wasn’t that he didn’twantto be in charge of Triana’s wellbeing, for he would die first before allowing anything to happen to her.
But what if feelings like these never passed?
He allowed a small frown to mar his forehead. He thought it would be difficult to adjust to his role as the Duke of Chiltern, but he hadn’t even considered the fact that he might always crave the danger that being a spy afforded him. For so long, it was the only outlet he’d had. It was all he’d known. It had been hislife.
But Triana had taken the place of all that. She was what mattered now.
So then, why had he hesitated?
***
Triana had spent a restless night alone, tossing and turning, until sleep claimed her from pure exhaustion. She had hoped that Gabriel would come to her, but she was left miserable and alone. She awoke when it was still dark, her eyes grainy and likely rimmed with shadows.
She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Five-thirty.
With a sigh, she threw off the covers and shrugged on her dressing gown.
She had intended to head to the library to find something to read, but paused when she heard the distinct sound of voices coming from the foyer. She peeked over the staircase railing and saw Hannity attired in a nightshirt and cap, talking to Gabriel who was wearing the same pair of trousers and shirt that he’d worn at dinner, giving the appearance that he had never even been to bed.
While she wasn’t sure what to think of this, only when the identity of the other two men registered did Triana fly down the stairs. Gabriel was the first to see her descent and his eyes abruptly darkened to molten silver as they met hers. Whether it was from frustration or desire, she wasn’t sure, as she quickly glanced away.
She went straight into her brother’s arms. “Travell! Thank goodness.” She glanced at Logan and offered a polite smile, to which he returned with a brief nod of his head.
Travell appeared relieved to see her, although his expression was rather grim. “I’m afraid we’re here with some rather unpleasant news. Why don’t you go upstairs and change and join us in the study when you’re ready?”
Triana’s stomach fluttered in alarm as she returned to her rooms. Without taking the time to ring for Greta, she did her best to dress in the same mint green muslin that she’d donned the day before, all while trying to ignore what had happened between her and Gabriel when she’d worn it.
She went back downstairs and entered the study to see her brother seated in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, while Logan sat on the leather chaise and Gabriel leaned against his desk, arms crossed and a pensive look on his taunt face.
Oh dear, thiswasbad.
She shut the door behind her, causing Travell to glance up. After casting her a somber look, as if trying to prepare her for what he was about to say, he said bluntly, “Our courier is dead.” He ignored her shocked gasp and continued matter of fact, “His body was found floating in the Thames sometime late last night. The authorities are ruling it a suicide. However, I find that highly unlikely.”
