Triana ignored the small jab at her expense and gave her brother a tolerant smile before standing and making her way about the room, thinking it would be easier to express her misgivings when she didn’t have to confront her brother’s intent gaze head on. She trailed a finger across one of the bookshelves, as if absorbed with what she saw there, and replied absently, “I couldn’t sleep. And you’re right, I don’t normally engage in any sort of rumors, but I daresay in this instance, I’m… intrigued. London is buzzing about the man, so why should I be any different?”
Travell tapped a finger. “I wasn’t aware you had become acquainted with the duke.”
She pretended to have a sudden, avid fascination in a particular title by Voltaire. As she flipped through the pages, she said, “We were… introduced this evening.” She decided it best to omit the circumstances of how that came about. “I must say I found something rather… different about him.” With a thoughtful frown, she returned the book to its original place on the shelf. “But then, I guess that’s the reason for my visit.”
The distinct pause that followed caused Triana to glance over her shoulder. The scrutinizing look her brother wore made him appear slightly ill. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.” His expression suddenly turning dark, he added, “Unless he’s done something unseemly…”
“No, no, no. It’s nothing like that.” With a wave of her hand, Triana scrunched her face, attempting to affect an expression of deep concentration as she put her hands on her hips. “I’m not sure how to put this, except to say I think he might be a fraud.” Travell’s brows lifted to his hairline in obvious surprise, but before he could reply, she began to pace, adding, “I mean, what do we really know about this man? Up until a few weeks ago, he hadn’t even bothered to rub elbows with society, and now he just appears…” She threw her hands in the air for effect. “How do we know he’s even the rightful heir? He could just be some fortune hunter who decided to assume the true duke’s identity.” Crossing her arms, Triana concluded, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t trust him.”
Travell slowly leaned forward to lay his elbows on top of the desk. Seeming to weigh his words carefully, he made his hands into steeples and said, “I can see you’ve given this a great deal of thought, Tri, and you make a good argument, but I can’t say that I agree. In any case,youdon’t have to trust him. The simple fact is that he is the Duke of Chiltern, and that’s all you, or anyone else, needs to know.”
***
Gabriel had to work to smooth away his frown — and not the first one of the evening. One would have thought, standing in the middle of the Vandergild’s elegant ballroom, being fawned over by half of the impressionabletonthat he would be pleased, or maybe even delighted that his guise as the elegant and poised duke was going so well. He’d escorted Lady Worthington to the festivities, ensuring that everything was falling into place, the pieces of this game being laid out ever so carefully — so why did he feel so damned agitated?
Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that.
While he had eavesdropped on any number of conversations in the past (he was a spy, after all), the one he’d overheard earlier that morning in Curdiff’s study had been the most disturbing. He’d learned long ago that it was best to know exactly what weapons were on the field before going in blindly for an attack, and it was apparent that Triana was too damned smart for her own good. The fact that she had been able to see through him so effortlessly was not setting well. At all, if there was one thing Gabriel prided himself on, it was his ability to adapt to his environment with ease, but if some spinster who didn’t even know his secrets could ferret him out, then who else might be able to do so?
Naturally, he’d expressed his opinion regarding the lady, but while Travell had been careful to plot and scheme over the years to protect his sister from learning about his own secret association with the Crown, he’d shrugged off Gabriel’s concerns, confident that Triana’s curiosity about him would fade with time.
But Gabriel wasn’t so sure — especially when he’d caught her looking in his direction more than once that evening.
As if her constant scrutiny wasn’t enough of a distraction, the woman stood speaking with a group of other ladies, and had worn a gown meant to hug every delicious curve. A pale yellow silk that would have been a contrast to most complexions, it only heightened Triana’s pale features. Her sable hair just shimmered in the candlelight, making her take on the appearance of some sort of mystical fairy sent to plague him from across the room. He might have well enjoyed the view — if he wasn’t so preoccupied with her ulterior motives.
It was this incessant woolgathering that caused Gabriel to apologize to the Earl of Westerville and ask him to repeat the question he’d haphazardly missed, one that had the other three men in their circle chuckling. Obviously he’d ignored something of import by the considering look Cordelia wore.Damn.He’d better snap to attention. And fast.
“I say, Your Grace, I haven’t yet seen your bet placed in the books at White’s.”
Gabriel lifted a lazy brow. “Oh? And what should I be wagering for?” Irritated by these stuffy dandies, he had to be mindful of even the most idle chitchat, as a major clue could be unknowingly unearthed at any given moment.
Westerville raised his quizzing glass and eyed the duke mirthfully. “Why, the spinsters, my good chap! We’re betting on who will be the first to give up fashionable, city life for a more refined — and permanent — life of solitude in the country!”
Another round of boisterous laughter rippled through the group, and while Gabriel laughed and played along, his body coursed with a different sort of emotion, but then, the others didn’t know that they were treading on very dangerous ground.
Smoothly, he interjected, “Well, surely you will give me a fighting chance to win the pot by disclosing who is currently in the lead? I am new to town, after all.”
It was Baron Everhart who decided to volunteer this information, as it was a common joke among the peerage and gladly shared. “At the moment it seems to be that of Lady Triana Abernathy. Why, even with her brother’s recently declared dowry, she still carries through her fourth season without a single conquest!”
A round of low murmurs went around the small group, as if her failure to snare a husband was the most terrible occurrence to happen since the bubonic plague. Gabriel felt his jaw begin to twitch, although he kept his expression completely impassive. If this was the lot she had to choose from, then it was no wonder she remained unattached.
Gabriel kept silent as the other men continued to converse. “Ah, Everhart, I do believe you forget Eastbury’s claim to the gel.” This came from the Marquess of Beckingham as he took his snuffbox out of his pocket and inhaled a hearty pinch.
“Mmm, yes. You do have a point there.” Westerville agreed with a brief bob of his head. “The old codger has been rather persistent, though, as it were, I think he’s barking up the wrong tree.”
The marquess suddenly encountered something of import as he glanced past Westerville’s shoulder. “Indeed, sir, although I do believe Eastbury is trying to catch his bone at this very moment.”
Instantly, all eyes were drawn to Triana and the man walking briskly toward her — however, in Gabriel’s mind, it seemed like more of a rushed waddle.
He had to firmly tamp down a sudden urge to stalk across the room, grab the earl by the collar and fling him aside like a rag doll. He was able to refrain from doing so, although he did politely excuse himself.
As he calmly walked across the ballroom, he had to wonder about his sanity, but he attempted to rationalize what he was about to do by saying he was only considering the security of the mission.
But then, that would be nothing more than a barefaced lie.
***
While Triana thought she’d done a rather good job at covertly keeping an eye on Gabriel, for he seemed to take no notice of her silent observation, she finally turned her back to him when Lady Worthington gently laid her hand on his arm in a rather familiar and intimate gesture. A beauty during her debutante days, Cordelia was still considered by most to be the reigning belle of society, not only because of her eye-catching sense of fashion, but because she was pitifully wealthy — courtesy of her late husband. An invitation from the marchioness was as coveted as a voucher from Almack’s, even though her galas were rumored to be somewhat risqué.
