His father separated from him as they reached the drive. “I will make inquiries into these two.”
“I will see you back here later.”
Gabriel strode into the Middlesex house. He wondered if Jeremy and John had finished their tasks. His steps echoed in the empty house, up the empty stairs. Empty of Marietta, who was somewhere else, somewhere his murdering self was not. Every one of his repressed emotions tripped over themselves, racing to the surface. Anger, pain, betrayal, longing, fear. He viciously tugged his cravat. He should have gone back to his Mayfair house and his valet. Why had he come here?
If she hadn’t hated him before, she surely did now. Daggered comments. Cruel remarks. He’d taken his pain and rage and twisted it against her. And even though she had done the same, it still made him feel ill. Unforgivable.
Why had he come here?
He ripped the cravat from his neck and tossed it on the side table in his room, then worked on the buttons of his shirt. He opened the linen press to grab a change of clothing and froze as he looked into the mirror above the table.
“Marietta.”
Chapter 19
Gabriel slowly closed the linen press and turned around. She was sitting in a chair in the corner—her legs pressed together and to the side, her hands folded in her lap—the calm presence of a lady but for the nervous twitch in her right foot.
“Gabriel.”
He leaned against the press and fiddled with his cuffs, not looking away from her. “I thought you would be well away from here.”
“I did leave—to help Jeremy and Alcroft with their task.”
He watched her, unsure what was happening or where he stood. His freed emotions tore the foundations of the cage he had constructed for them. Perhaps for good.
“I returned,” she said.
“I see.” He carefully placed a link on the side table, like a hunter not wanting to frighten the hunted away with any sudden movements.
“Do you?”
He touched his other cuff, for once completely unsure of himself and how to answer. He shook his head without taking his gaze away.
“I know you didn’t murder those women, Gabriel.”
“That is good to know.” He carefully removed the other link and set it down too, his eyes still on hers. “When did you figure this out?”
“I knew by the end of the conversation in the kitchen this morning.” The wordconversationwas a bit off as a description. “And then I heard you speaking in the other room.”
“Eavesdropping?”
Her right foot stilled. “Yes.”
He nodded. “That doesn’t explain why you are still here. I gathered that you wished yourself far from this house.”
“And I gathered that you wished me far from here.”
“Double the reasons for you not to appear. Why are you here, Marietta?”
Hewantedher here. But he couldn’t let things go. Couldn’t let things stand. He expected, feared, that she’d walk from the room at his question.
“I came to apologize. For what I said to you at the end. About—About them. And for thinking you the murderer.”
He undid the last button on his expensive shirt and shrugged it off, pulling one sleeve down at a time. “I was in a rather dubious position, as it was.” He kept his voice even and calm, deliberately evading the first part of her apology and answering the last. “I shouldn’t have expected you to trust me.”
“You don’t think highly of me, I know.” Her head was high and she continued to meet his eyes.
“On the contrary, I think you quite extraordinary.” He looked down and took hold of his undershirt.
