Page 41 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

Take aback by this statement, Phoebe stared. Gabriel had taken a child with him? Cecilia might not see herself as a child, nor look like one, but even to nineteen-year-old Phoebe, fifteen was still a child. Although, in a way this was somewhat reassuring. She could only assume that St Giles was not as bad as Gabriel had painted if he’d felt happy to take his younger sister there. He would surely not have done so had it meant exposing her to danger.

However, the possibility that St Giles might still be nothing but a den of dangerous thieves persisted. He had indeed made it sound terrible. She took another peep at him. Did he not have a certain wild recklessness about him that might totally disregard danger both to himself and everyone else associated with him? A wild recklessness that was undeniably attractive. After all, he was the Mayfair Highwayman, which in itself required a high level of daring. For if he was ever caught he would be hanged or transported for life.

She returned her gaze to Cecilia, who, apart from what she’d just said about it changing her outlook on life, didn’t appear to be unduly bothered by having made such a visit. “How do you intend to help?”

Gabriel picked a single camelia and stood twirling it in his long fingers. “Why, if you forge a friendship with my sister, then you have carte blanche to come here to visit her. And from here I can easily take you with me. My stepmother pays her children very little attention, still less now she’s expecting a fifth, so won’t even notice yours and Cecilia’s absence. And your aunt will merely think you’ve found a more than suitable friend in the daughter of a duke and wish you to spend time with her.”

Phoebe had to admit, it did sound like an admirable idea. “Aunt Fanny will be most impressed,” she said, for a moment envisioning her aunt’s delighted expression. “But what about the disguise you mentioned? What do I have to disguise myself in?” From the look of the poor people she’d been keenly observing from her aunt’s parlor window she didn’t much fancy donning their clothing. And she would surely have to in order not to look out of place amongst them.

Cecilia beamed. “Obviously you can’t leave here dressed in the sort of clothes poor people wear. That would be ridiculous.”

Phoebe wasn’t so silly as to not have realized this, but she forbore from saying so in case Cecilia took offense.

Gabriel nodded. “No. I’ll make sure we have our disguises waiting for us in a room I keep in Three Kings Yard, which this garden backs onto. It’s where the mews is. I won’t point now, but in the far corner there’s a door the servants use to go back and forth between the house and the stables.”

Phoebe let her eyes slide sideways toward where he’d inclined his head. Wisteria grew on the back wall, and sure enough, right in the corner, partly concealed by the trailing branches, was a small, unobtrusive door. Was that a narrow, sunken path leading along the side of the garden, well-hidden by the bushes?

She gave a small nod.

He handed her the camelia with a flourish. “When you come to call on Cecilia, after a certain amount of time you’ll go into the garden with her and she’ll lead you out through that door. It’s hidden from view because no duchess wants to look into her garden and see the servants and delivery men walking up and down in it.”

“Especially not Mama,” Cecilia put in, with a wrinkle of her nose.

Gabriel nodded again. “Exactly. So no one will see you leave. And I’ll be waiting for you. Cecilia will wait in Three Kings Yard for you to return and then take you back into the house.” His brows knit. “But only if you’re happy with doing this.”

Was he a little anxious to make certain she wasn’t being pushed into it?

Phoebe looked from one to the other of them. They might not be true brother and sister but they seemed nevertheless very similar in character. Both had the same light of adventure in their eyes. Perhaps her own might even be reflecting that. Imbued with a flush of kindred spirit, she stood up that little bit taller. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

*

Aunt Fanny left Wentworth House in a state of euphoria that both her charges couldn’t help but notice. Not only, to the amusement of Mattie, had she herself received an offer of a drive in the park from the widowed Duke of Hexham, who had perhaps decided that a sensible matron might be a better bet than a flighty debutante, but both girls had received invitations too. Mattie had been invited for another walk in the park with Mr. Wade on the morrow, and Phoebe had made firm friends with the duchess’s eldest daughter to the extent that she’d been invited back to spend most of the following day with young Lady Cecilia.

“I think the only thing that could have made Mama happier would have been if your Lord Gabriel were the duke’s son and heir,” Mattie whispered to Phoebe once they were home and out of her mother’s earshot. “She’d be planning the wedding already.” She paused. “On second thoughts, you can bet she’s doing that right now anyway, and for me and Mr. Wade, who is undeniably handsome, but not quite the sort I intend to marry, being so short. He’ll do for now though, as it’s always nice to have a gentleman pay one attention.”

Phoebe kept silent on that, but found it strange that Mattie, almost overnight, had become an expert on courtship and gentlemen. Not that she thought she was herself. No, not by any means, but surely she knew as much as Mattie did, having already been escorted to the park by Gabriel. Of course, she couldn’t disclose that she would be going somewhere a lot further than the park with just him, and with no maid in attendance, despite the temptation to hint at having more experience than her cousin.

Luckily, both Mattie’s and Phoebe’s invitations were for the same day, so Aunt Fanny was unable to suggest that Mattie should accompany Phoebe to Wentworth House, a fact that clearly irked her. She probably thought a friendship with a duke’s daughter of more consequence than a walk with a viscount’s son. As a result, with only Atkins as an escort, Phoebe walked the short distance to Grosvenor Square at eleven in the morning and was rushed upstairs by an over-excited Cecilia to a somewhat-faded parlor. It was luckily empty of any member of her new friend’s family.

“No one ever comes in here,” Cecilia informed her visitor. “Mama wants it redecorated. It was the old duchess’s favorite room so of course Mama doesn’t like it. I come in here whenever I don’t wish to be disturbed. It works like a dream. Not even the servants poke their noses in.”

It was a beautiful room, although a little devoid of furniture as though some of it had been purloined and taken off to be used in other rooms. The walls were a pale green which set off well the few portraits that remained on the walls. The one above the fireplace was of a beautiful woman in a rather old-fashioned cream gown. The waist was much lower than Phoebe was used to seeing, the sleeves were long, and she had a silk shawl crossed over it and presumably tied behind her back. Her hair, which might of course have been a wig as Phoebe knew they’d once been the fashion for men and women alike, was abundant, curly and powdered, and on top of it she wore a flamboyant decorated hat.

“The previous duchess,” Cecilia said. “Ambrose and Gabriel’s mother. I always think she has such a kind face, and from what Gabriel’s told me, it matched her personality. My papa misses her still, I know, and it irks my mother terribly, but there’s nothing she can do. I believe he only remarried to get himself more children. I don’t think he likes my mother much. I can only assume he didn’t consider two sons enough to secure the dukedom.” She pulled a skeptical face. “My mother is quite convinced that by eating a particular diet and doing all sorts of other very odd things she can make sure this new baby will be a boy. I shall laugh like a…like a…” She hesitated, probably scanning her brain for something that laughed a lot. “Aha. Just like one of those monkeys at the Exeter ’change.” Her expression became wary. “Only please never tell Mama I’ve been there. She would be furious. Gabriel took me, of course. Honoria is so jealous, but she’s only eleven and too young to gad about Town.”

Phoebe, discovering herself to have an inner prudish streak, was of the opinion that gadding about town without her mother’s knowledge was not a good thing for a fifteen-year-old. Gabriel seemed to be a bad influence on his sister, what with taking her places without her mother’s knowledge.

“Gabriel’s mother was very lovely,” Phoebe said, feeling a little awkward and suddenly very old.

Cecilia, who’d clearly now forgotten the portrait, skipped over to the window. “This parlor’s also useful as it overlooks the gardens.”

Phoebe followed her over. The sky was gray still, but was that the hint of winter sunshine trying to break through? At least it wasn’t raining. But that was probably all that could be said about the day.

“We have to wait here for a short while,” Cecilia said. “Then we shall let ourselves into the garden and examine the camelias again, as a ruse. I love practicing subterfuge, don’t you? It’s a shame there aren’t any other flowers out, apart, of course, from the rather common daffodils, but at least the bushes beside the servants’ path are large, if mainly leafless. I believe the old duchess was very fond of the garden, which I suspect is why Mama never goes into it. She’ll be lying down now though, with her feet up. She’s not very far along with this baby, my sister Charlotte’s nursemaid told me, but she has dreadfully swollen ankles already.” She paused. “I do find the servants such a good source of gossip. No doubt our servants will be putting your maid to the inquisition while we’re away. A good thing she doesn’t know what we’re up to.”

“Atkins is very trustworthy and doesn’t like to gossip.” Hopefully she wouldn’t bow under pressure. Not that she knew anything she could give away.

Cecilia pouted. “As if any servant is totally trustworthy. Gossip is their currency. I know my brother Ambrose swears that the latest news is always known in the servants’ halls of every house in London before it gets to the parlors.”