Page 45 of A Bride By Morning
Lydia fidgeted with her shawl. “And now?”
“I’m leaving for London directly. Callihan and the other men will watch over you while I’m gone.”
He spoke the words directly to the guard, who gave a nod. Callihan wouldn’t fail; he had a reputation almost as violent as Gabriel’s. When the guard had a charge to protect, he wielded his ruthlessness without mercy.
Lydia cast a meaningful look at Callihan. Understanding her unspoken message, the bodyguard cleared his throat and exited the room to give husband and wife some privacy. Knowing Callihan, he would be just out of earshot.
“How long will you be gone this time?” Lydia asked. Gabriel stood utterly still as she gently brushed the leaves and dirt from his jacket. He almost wished she wouldn’t; the wild state of his appearance mirrored his jumbled thoughts. It seemed appropriate, somehow, to maintain it.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
Gabriel kept his attention fixed over Lydia’s shoulder, lest he be tempted to kiss her again and take a moment of solace in her solidity. But back in the forest, he had forgotten himself. He had let her overwhelm his mind with a maelstrom of feelings, memories, and desire until he’d failed to remember that his forced indifference was to protecther.
His past would always catch up with him. Always.
Lydia set her hand over his heart, and Gabriel curled his fingers into fists. He could use his protection of ice. Let the shards of it become a weapon against her influence.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
He clenched his jaw and met her gaze. Her eyes softened, but Gabriel saw beyond her lovely, dear face. His notice snagged on the leaves and twigs that had become tangled in her coiffure. Grass stained her pretty dress, and a splatter of mud smudged one of her sleeves. Each imperfection was yet another item in a mental ledger of his failures.
Next time, the bullet might not miss.
Abruptly, Gabriel turned to the door. “I’ll see you when I return,” he said.
He left without looking back. If he did, he might be tempted to stay.
Wentworth raisedan eyebrow as Gabriel entered his study hours later.
Gabriel was aware that his appearance had made little improvement during the carriage ride to London. His boots were still splattered with mud from pursuing Medvedev’s sharpshooter, and his hair was mussed from running his hands through it.
Still, he had no wish to return to his house for a bath. His journey had given him enough time to plan how he’d confront his enemy. To vividly picture his revenge. After all, Gabriel learned brutality under Medvedev’s vigilant attentions. He understood how to deploy it without mercy.
There would be no compassion for the man who threatened Lydia’s safety.
“A second visit so soon,” Wentworth said, leaning back in his chair. “Here I assumed you might take my advice and attempt to enjoy your honeymoon. How foolish of me.”
“One of Medvedev’s men almost killed Lydia,” Gabriel said curtly. “Because you haven’t done your fucking job.”
Wentworth leaned forward, alert now. “When?”
“This morning, on the grounds just outside the house. If there’s one sharpshooter near Meadowcroft, there might be more. Tell me you have a lead on where Medvedev is hiding.”
Something flickered across Wentworth’s face.
“You know something.” Gabriel took a step forward, his entire body taut with barely contained violence. “Tell me now.”
The other man relented with a sharp breath. “Fine. There’s a bawdy house by the dockyards,” he said. “The dockworkers there tend to get chatty after fucking a woman. One of them is a man of interest for the Home Office named Rafferty; he runs a smuggling ring that might have been in contact with members of the Syndicate. I’d planned to question him tonight.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Wentworth sat back with an intent look. “If you come with me, you follow my lead. I’ve no interest in leaving this man dead at the brothel. Sex workers already have enough shit to deal with. Understand?”
Gabriel gave a nod. “Fine. But know that I intend to do whatever it fucking takes to get my answers.”
Hours later,after scouting the brothel’s entrance, Gabriel and Wentworth watched as dockworkers began to enter the establishment for their nightly amusements. Wentworth’s eyes narrowed on an older man strolling through the alleyway. He knocked on the door to the bawdy house and grinned as he was permitted inside the bricked building.
“There’s our quarry,” Wentworth murmured. “We’ll wait for him to hire a woman.”
