“Miss Winters, I presume?”
She blinked. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Winters, but Mr. Noble is out for the evening.” He looked behind her. “I’ll have the carriage see you home.”
Disappointment, sharp and deep, hit her. “I see. Thank you.”
A different carriage from any she had ridden in previously escorted her back to her rented town house. Gabriel must be out with one of his others somewhere in the city. Seeing someone new perhaps?
The thought didn’t bear thinking.
She entered the house and greeted the butler. Their new butler. Jeanie, the only servant they had rehired, passed her in the hall, her eyes unfocused and dreamy. Marietta shook her head. Jeanie was a good worker but a mite daft sometimes.
The door to her room was shut, and she opened it and slipped inside, heading for her dressing table. Jeanie had been prompt in lighting her lamps. She peeled off her gloves and reached to her nape to unclasp the necklace there. Movement in the looking glass held her motionless as she examined the image.
That explained Jeanie’s behavior and the lamps.
She dropped the necklace to the table and walked back to the door, closing it softly and sealing them inside. She leaned against the door, her hands splayed on the wood behind her.
Gabriel was sitting on her bed, papers spread about in a terrible mess on top of it, leaning back against a pile of her pillows, looking wonderful, even with the dark creases under his eyes.
“Marietta.”
“Gabriel. This is my bedroom, you did know.”
“I confess I’ve been here before.”
A tingle shot through her, very different from the one she had experienced the last time he was in her room, the night their partnership had begun.
“How did you get in?”
“I bribed your servants.”
“Well, that will hardly do. And here I thought you had hired us some respectable ones.”
He unfolded from his position and rose slowly, hitching his hip and shoulder against one of the bed poster poles and crossing his arms. “I bribed them doubly, so they would say nothing to your brothers or anyone else, should I stay for five minutes or five hours.” Emotion flashed through his eyes, and she caught the vulnerability he tried so desperately to hide. “I suppose the poor servants are only as respectable as the man hiring them. Perhaps you should have checked his references.”
He looked delicious. Hair falling into his eyes, the ever watchful look within them. Vulnerability and strength.
“Perhaps I still should. A full,thoroughsearch.”
He smiled. A full stretch of sensual lips—palpable relief combined with a predatory upward curl.
“That would be best. Tea?” He pointed to a service on her side table. He had obviously made himself right at home.
“No.” She walked toward him, picking the pins out of her hair as she went. “I’ve had plenty of tea.”
“You were supposed to be at the Smithertons’ for at least another hour.”
She arched a brow back, a second inkling that perhaps thingswouldwork out crossing her mind. “You are keeping track of my appointments?”
“Of course.”
“You say it as if it’s obvious. Why would you keep track of such a thing?”
He arched a brow. “I value my research.”
“And what has it told you about me lately?”
