Page 60 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

“I shall refuse to marry anyone but you.”

“You’ll tell her that?”

She frowned. “She thinks you the son of a duke. She need never know the truth. Have you not thought of that?”

“But I would know. And so would you.”

She frowned. “But the thing is, we really don’t, do we? Neither of us know the truth.”

He shrugged. “Does that matter? I know in my heart my mother was from the gutter. She could have been from nowhere else.”

She was cross with his pessimism. “No. You don’t. She might have been a French aristo for all you know.” She put up a daring hand and touched his cheek. “You have the look of nobility about you. I’m certain.”

A grin, charming and boyish, flashed across his face. “And you would still marry me if we found out I was French?”

She nodded. “I would marry you if you were from Timbuktu or Cathay.”

And now he did grin. “I think you probably wouldn’t, as you would never have met me if I hailed from either of those remote places.”

She caught his hand. “But what we have to do, before anything, is find your real mother. That will put your mind at rest, whoever she is, or was. If she’s dead, we must find out her history and how she came to such a terrible point in her life that she had to give her child away. If she lives, she must have missed you every day of your life. We should do it for her as well as you.”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t know. I’ve tried and never found out anything. I can’t see how another search would produce anything more. I’ve already asked Abner to keep an eye out, but he’s done that before with no result. I’ve heard nothing from him, and it’s been a week now since we saw him.”

“He’s got the real description now, though.”

“But finding anyone in that warren is like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. There must be countless women who might fit the bill. I have no faith that he’ll find anything of value.”

“The difference is you now have me helping you.”

He sighed. “I suppose you might be right. Who knows, but he might discover something. I don’t think I’ll hold my breath.”

She’d been expecting such resignation on his part. Twenty-three years was a long time. If they ever found his mother, or anything about her, she’d be most surprised. But it was worth trying. “In that case, I think rather than rely upon your friend Abner, we should do what your father did all those years ago. Hire a specialist to search for your mother. Only we, like Abner, shall have the advantage of having the correct description.”

“But the disadvantage of twenty-three years having passed.”

She nodded. “Stop being such a pessimist. I’m hoping that won’t matter too much. In fact, I have a good feeling about this. Together, we’re going to find her for you, I know we will.” And she clapped her hands together as though they’d already succeeded.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Gabriel and Phoebe stood in Bow Street outside a tall and narrow building proclaiming itself as the Brown Bear hostelry. Atkins waited a little way behind them, no doubt eyeing their destination with a somewhat more jaundiced air than either of her charges. As she’d been told Lord Gabriel was taking Phoebe out driving in the park for an hour or two, this busy street near Covent Garden must have come as something of a surprise.

It had not to Phoebe. She was staring at the rather dull brick building in somewhat fevered anticipation, for a great deal rested on the success of their mission today. Her heart pounded with suppressed excitement, and she had to school herself not to rush headlong in through the inn’s front door. Did Gabriel feel the same? She couldn’t tell. Atkins just looked puzzled.

She squared her shoulders. It was within these innocuous walls, so the Sherborne House coachman, Donald Newhouse, had assured them, that they would be able to engage the services of a reliable private inquiry agent. How a coachman was familiar with this nugget of information, Gabriel had not asked, and Phoebe didn’t care. Just the thought that they were taking another step in the direction of discovering Gabriel’s origins was enough to spur her on and make her cast aside all concerns. What they would do after such a discovery had not even crossed her mind, beyond hoping that knowledge of his parentage might make him less self-deprecating where marriage was concerned. She was clinging on to the hope that it was his not knowing that encouraged his reluctance, and that once he knew for certain, all would be well.

Thanks to the ruse of going driving in the park, they had arrived in Bow Street in the carriage Gabriel had borrowed from his brother’s stables. This vehicle was a smart landau with the hood up against the February chill, drawn by a matched four of grays and complete with a driver, Lovat. As it wasn’t raining, for once, Atkins had traveled up beside the groom, which had given Gabriel and Phoebe a degree of privacy.

He’d been unduly silent though, as if he had much on his mind, and Phoebe had contented herself with taking hold of his hand to express her reassurance, even though what she would have preferred was to have been taken in his arms and kissed passionately as he’d done at the ball. She’d had to be content, however, with him tightening his fingers around hers as though he needed her support. They were, after all, creeping ever closer to the heart of his mystery.

And now they’d reached their destination and Lovat had positioned the carriage at the side of the street, much to the annoyance of those wishing to use it to actually go somewhere. With the enormous, porticoed Covent Garden Theatre at one end, and the magistrates court along the eastern side, there was a great deal of traffic about, both horse-drawn and on foot.

“This is it?” Phoebe asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “You’re sure we have the right place.” Compared with some of the other buildings the Brown Bear appeared a shabby relative.

Gabriel nodded. “Donald assured me we would find retired Runners within, all of whom have received good training in carrying out searches for not just missing belongings, but also missing people. This is the favorite haunt of thief takers. We should not make the mistake of calling them Runners to their faces. Apparently, they don’t like it.”

Might he not be a little worried that some, if not a large number of them, would have been hired to locate and apprehend the Mayfair Highwayman? Was it not a little like walking into the lion’s den? Phoebe decided that as he didn’t seem to have thought of this, it would be wise not to pass on her own fears.

They were no longer holding hands now Atkins was with them, so Phoebe slipped her hand into the crook of Gabriel’s arm. “Well, we’d best go inside then. Standing out here staring won’t get us anywhere.” Easy to be decisive when this was not about her. She looked over her shoulder at Atkins. “You may wait here with Lovat and the carriage. His Lordship and I won’t be long.”