Page 67 of A Bride By Morning
“Once Medvedev is gone, the Syndicate will be in disarray. I’ve heard rumors about a conflict between its factions. Its expansion beyond Russia’s borders has proven difficult. For now, Medvedev is the one tying everything together.”
“Approach a point, Wentworth.”
A ghost of a smile lifted his lips. “You have the most knowledge of the organization. Have you thought about what you’ll do after we deal with Bear?”
Gabriel went still, studying the other man carefully. “Just tell me what you’re asking.”
“You’re one of the best spies we had,” Wentworth said with a shrug. “You speak a dozen languages. And clearly, you’re ill-suited for retirement. I’m asking if you wish to go to the Continent and gather intelligence on the other factions of the Syndicate.”
Something about the idea made Gabriel’s mind riot. Flashes of Moscow rippled beneath the surface of his memories. And suddenly, abandoning Lydia again seemed like leaving behind a fundamental part of him. “I seem to recall the Home Office forcing me out of the operation because of my title.”
“And your absence made them overlook that Medvedev was still alive.” Wentworth made a soft noise and pushed his hands into his pockets. “If you wanted back in, I’d put in a word for you. Lord Montgomery will go on an extended holiday abroad.”
The clanging in Gabriel’s thoughts persisted, but he didn’t immediately turn Wentworth down. The answer stuck in his throat. After all, what would he do if he said no? He would continue to put Lydia’s life in danger. If she decided to leave him for New York, Gabriel would stay in London, resuming his performance as Lord Montgomery. Finding the occasional fight as an outlet for his violence. Experiencing nightmares of Moscow every night without Lydia there to ease them.
What purpose would he serve in that life? None. At least this way, his brokenness had some functional aim.
A dry laugh escaped him, evidence of his fractured soul. “Pardon my hesitancy. This seems a strange request on what’s supposed to be my honeymoon.”
Wentworth’s eyes met his. “Here I thought your marriage wasn’t real. If you’ve changed your mind about it, you need only tell me, and I’ll offer the position to Callihan.”
Gabriel almost accepted. The affirmative lurked beneath the surface of Gabriel’s memories, but he squashed it down before it came fully formed and left his lips. No, he couldn’t do that again. Could he?
And yet . . .
He could not be the husband Lydia needed, either. Taking her to Moscow one night wasn’t the same as a lifetime of nightmares. That was a burden she had not asked for when she married him. She’d declared him a good husband—and all he could think of was that last night, he might not have heard her if she’d saidEngland.
Perhaps one day in the future, shewouldsay that word, and he would neglect her pain in the confusion of his memories.
Unforgivable.
Gabriel preoccupied himself with rolling up the map of Langdon Manor’s grounds. “I’ll consider your offer.” He set the cartograph on his desk and headed for the door. “Please excuse me. I need to check on Lydia and Lady Derby.”
The two women had just exited the drawing room as he came down the hall, and Gabriel watched them embrace. When Lydia eased away from her aunt, Gabriel noticed the ruddiness to her cheeks. Had she been crying? What had Lady Derby said to her?
Gabriel shoved aside his worry and addressed the countess. “Lady Derby, have you decided whether you’d like me to choose a room for you?”
To his relief, she said, “Not this evening.” Her regard toward him was less wary but maintained a quiet reserve. “My friend Mrs. Dunmore lives nearby and asked that I visit her. I shall leave you two on your honeymoon and prevail upon her for a room. Would you accompany me to my carriage, Lord Montgomery? Lydia, if you could give us a moment?”
“Of course,” Lydia demurred. “I’ll go see if Mr. Wentworth requires anything.”
She hurried off, leaving him alone with her aunt. Gabriel dutifully took the woman’s arm and led her outside. “I hope you’ve been well, Lady Derby,” Gabriel said, forcing a polite smile. “And that you’ll revisit us for an extended stay.”
“I intend to. I worry about Lydia when she isn’t with me.” They strolled down the manor’s front steps, and Gabriel sensed that her slow pace was deliberate. She was stalling for time. “I only want what’s best for her.”
“Of course,” Gabriel murmured. “We’re in agreement.”
“Good.” Lady Derby’s hand tightened on his arm. “Then I only have to tell you this once: if you hurt my niece again, I will hunt you down wherever you are and cheerfully murder you.”
A surprised sound left Gabriel; it was almost enough to have him drop his Lord Montgomery performance. “I admire your protective instincts, Lady Derby. I’m pleased that my wife has someone who cares for her so passionately.” He passed her a smile. “Other than me, of course.”
But Lady Derby didn’t seem pacified. If anything, her expression hardened. “I’m uninterested in your deceptions, Lord Montgomery. When it comes to Lydia’s happiness, my threats are not idle.”
Gabriel had dropped his role around so few people that it took a moment to erase the charming smile from his face. He had fallen into his performance as Lord Montgomery so easily, the man he might have been were it not for the events of Kabul that would eventually lead him to Moscow.
When his smile was gone, he saw a sort of acknowledgment cross the dowager countess’ features. A silent message of:there you are.
“I understand your concern, Lady Derby,” he said. “And I share it.”
