But Gabby wasn’t about to be left at the mercy of Huntley’s and Sebastian’s relentless interrogation. “Of course.” She locked arms with Rebecca, and they strolled in Maeve’s direction.
“What are you up to, Gabs?” Rebecca demanded in a fierce whisper. “That note was an obvious ploy for one of your notorious schemes.”
“What happened?” Gabby whispered back.
“A footman delivered the message with Sebastian standing right there. He snatched it right out of my hand and read it before I had the chance. His overbearing arrogance is quite distasteful. I say this with the utmost regret because I’m so fond of him,” she added, quickly. Her pinkened cheeks told Gabby exactly how fond Rebecca was of her husband.
Gabby thought that over for a moment. “Do you think Sebastian will obstruct our purposes of the house on Hope Street?”
“Certainly not. He may have grumbled in the beginning, but he knows how much this means to me.” She stopped and looked at Gabby. “Have you told Huntley yet?”
“No.”
“I daresay you shall have to do so sooner or later.”
Gabby winced. “I know, blast it. I think I’d rather deal with Sebastian over the matter. He is much more predictable.”
“I don’t think you know your brother as well as you think you do,” she responded dryly.
“Not in the sense you do, thank heavens.” She muttered this under her breath, her mind flying on how to retrieve the money from Vella and Thomas and learning how things had fared. If Gabby was going into the extortion business, it was imperative she find a more viable way of getting the funds she demanded.
There was also the task of owning up to Rebecca. “I fear I have something to confess.”
Rebecca stopped and faced her, then let out a long-pained sigh. “Something in your demeanor reminds me of the time you told me of your intentions in skipping classes to visit that stableboy from our days at Miss Greensley’s,” she said. “One can only hope we come out more unscathed.”
Guilt swamped Gabby for the past aggression. But They were partners in this venture. “As a matter of fact…” she started.
“Oh, Gabriella. I have been looking for you everywhere.” Maeve rushed up and clasped Gabby’s hand. “Oh, please forgive me.” Despite the powder she wore to cover a hoard of freckles, they stood out in sharp contrast to her pale skin. Her ginger hair gleamed like fire.
Alarmed, Gabby squeezed her hands. “Maeve? What on earth is wrong?”
Further alarming, she was blinking back moisture. “My mother. What she said about Stanford. You can’t imagine my mortification when Mother and I left the changing room at the modiste’s, and I saw you standing there.”
“Oh, darling, is that all? Please. Don’t concern yourself. It wasn’t you who said anything. Your mother isn’t the most soft spoken of the elder set. Besides, I was already aware of the dissention between…”—Gabby cast a quick look around and, thankfully, didn’t see Rose, but she did lower her voice— “My sister and her husband.”
“If there is anything, anything at all, I can do to make up for my mother’s horrid comments—”
“Anything?” Gabby said.
“Yes!”
“She shall think of something, Maeve,” Rebecca said with a slight curve of her lips, Gabby recognized. Oh, yes, they could use another’s assistance with their home in Hope Street. Strains of creaking violins strings rent the air. “Come, Maeve. You shall sit with Gabby and I. Let’s get this blasted night over with,” Rebecca said.
Gabby grinned at her back, following, her heart light for the first time that evening, almost—there was still the little matter in blackmailing Bentick, she needed to confess to her partner.
Just then Gabby caught sight of Bentick’s florid face. The contents of the delicate flute he held were threatened by his trembling hand. A second later, the flimsy stem snapped, and liquid spilled over pieces of glass and mingled with blood.
Nearby, Lady Ingleby screamed and keeled over in a dead faint.
~~~
James narrowed his eyes on Gabriella, the duchess, then watched as Lady Harlowe, her face pale even from this distance, rush up to grip his wife’s hands. “What are they up to?” he said more to himself.
Ryleigh snorted. “I don’t know, but it’s something. If you didn’t know your dog was ill—”
“Correction, my wife’s dog, more like a rat really.” He spoke absently, considering Lady Harlowe’s demeanor specifically. Emotional, intense, regretful.
“Good God, Huntley. What did I tell you? If you don’t put a stop to my youngest sister’s antics, you’ll soon find your home overrun—”
