The Virgin’s Secret Read online

  “As if you were the woman I could have arrested?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Nathanial Harrington, I can’t believe you—”

  “Would resort to blackmail?” He narrowed his eyes. “One does what one must. I shall see you at home.”

  She leaned out of the window. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I have an errand to attend to.”

  “What kind of errand?” Suspicion rang in her voice.

  “Trust, Gabriella. Try to have a little faith in me. I will not fail you.” Nate signaled to the driver and the carriage rolled off. He heaved a frustrated sigh. “You have my word, Gabriella Montini.”

  He turned and started off down the street. If he had any hope of keeping his word, he needed to know her secrets. His family’s solicitor had long employed an excellent and reputable investigation agency. According to Sterling, its operatives were fast and efficient and had proved most useful in the past. Nate had never needed them before, but if ever there was a time, it was now.

  With every moment spent in her company, he discovered there was much he didn’t know about Gabriella Montini. And much he needed to discover.

  Ten

  Share the credit for discovery of the seal?” Gabriella paced the parlor of her house, noting in the back of her mind how very small it was. Obviously residing with the Harringtons had changed her perceptions. That too was annoying. “Can you imagine such a thing?”

  Florence glanced up from the work in her hand. “It seems rather sensible to me.”

  Gabriella stopped in mid-step and glared. “Sensible?”

  “Gabriella.” Florence sighed and dropped the pillow cover she’d been embroidering into her lap. “You know as well as I—as well as Mr. Harrington and Mr. Beckworth, apparently—that whoever is in possession of the seal is not necessarily the same person who stole it. Whoever has it now might well have come by it in a relatively legitimate manner. If so, he would be hard-pressed to give up recognition of the find at all, let alone share it.”

  “I am well aware of that. I simply prefer not to think about it.” Gabriella blew a long breath. “Still, to have Nathanial suggest it, well, it smacked of betrayal.”

  Florence raised a brow. “I thought you said you trusted him?”

  “I did. I do. Somewhat.” She sighed. “I can’t completely. I am trying.” She resumed pacing. “It’s not that I don’t want to trust him. I want to trust him more than anything.” The very idea of trusting Nathanial was almost irresistible. Of not having to watch every word she said. Of trusting him with her confidence, her secrets. Maybe even her heart. Although that was absurd.

  “I should think it would be a great relief for you to trust someone completely.”

  Gabriella widened her eyes. “I trust you completely.”

  “Do you?” Florence said, picking up her embroidery. “Always?”

  “Yes, of course.” Gabriella ignored the thought of her trip to Egypt. “I trust you implicitly.”

  “Implicitly?”

  “Yes.” Gabriella nodded. “Without question.”

  “Yet you did not trust me enough to tell me anything about your intended misdeeds at Mr. Harrington’s home.”

  “You would have stopped me.”

  Florence cast her a chastising look. “That is my job.”

  “And you do it well. Which is why I didn’t tell you.”

  “Hmph.” Florence paused, no doubt to compile more examples. “You didn’t tell me you have the clay impression of the seal.”

  “Yes, well…”

  Florence glanced at her sharply. “Gabriella?”

  “That is a bit of a problem,” Gabriella murmured.

  “A problem?”

  “In definition.” Gabriella shrugged. “Nothing more significant than that.”

  Florence narrowed her eyes. “An explanation, if you please.”

  “The impression is not actually in my possession at the moment.” Gabriella held her breath.

  “I see.” Florence thought for a moment. “Do you know where it might be?”

  “I am certain it is in London and probably under our very noses.”

  “London is a very big place.”

  “I’m sure it is here in the house,” Gabriella said with far more conviction than she felt.

  “But you don’t know.”

  “No, but I am fairly confident.” She sank down on the sofa beside Florence. “It doesn’t make sense for it to be anywhere else. Enrico told me he was leaving it in the one place where he knew it would be safe. Where, he said, he kept everything he valued. It has to be the house, there is nowhere else.” She smiled ruefully. “My brother, if you recall, was even less trusting than I.”

  “I could scarcely forget.” Florence paused. “But is there a chance he would have left it in a box at the bank?”

  “He had no box, as far as I can determine. I contacted the bank to confirm that.”

  “After his death.” Florence nodded. “Very sensible.”

  “Actually, before.” Heat washed up Gabriella’s face. “When his letters began to ramble, it seemed like a good idea to find the impression. I should have known better. Enrico barely trusted the bank with his money.” My money. “Did you have any idea how much money we had?”

  “Not at all.” Florence sniffed. “I certainly would have asked for an increase in my wages if I had so much as suspected I wasn’t employed by an archeologist who could barely pay his mortgage, but by a treasure hunter with an impressive fortune. He never said a word,” she added under her breath. “Your brother was a man of many secrets.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Florence paused for a long moment as if considering her words. “On those rare occasions when he was in London, he and I would frequently have long talks. Sometimes we would talk about you or occasionally about the politics inherent in dealing with museums or the Antiquities Society, but usually we talked about his life, his work. About things he had done or seen in his quest for artifacts. I think I was the only one he could talk to about such things. He had few friends, you know, and few he could confide in. Indeed, there were times when I thought of myself as his father confessor.” She drew a deep breath. “There was even a moment once, long ago, when I fancied myself in love with him.”

  Gabriella stared. “Did you?”

  Florence smiled. “As I said, it was a moment and not much more than that. I was wise enough not to lose my heart to a man like your brother.”

  Florence didn’t say it, but then it wasn’t necessary to say it aloud. Enrico had a passion for women of all sorts. Even when she was a child there was often a women in his room or his tent. They seemed as necessary to his existence as food and drink. It wasn’t until years later that she had understood his behavior in regards to women was not that of an honorable man.

  “If anything, your brother and I were friends of a sort. As he had charged me with your care, I believe he felt I was worthy of his trust, although he trusted people even less than you do. I believe it was only his excitement about the seal that led him to ignore his usual guarded nature in such matters and show the impression to the men you now suspect of involvement in its theft.”

  “I do trust you,” Gabriella said firmly. “And I need your help.”

  “Oh?”

  “A prolonged absence from the Harrington household on any given day would surely arouse suspicion. I am only here now because Nathanial, in his arrogance, put me in his carriage, ordered the driver to return me to his house, and assumed I would do so.”

  “Foolish man,” Florence murmured.

  Gabriella ignored her. “I need you to search the house. Every nook, every cranny.” She got to her feet and resumed pacing. “The impression has to be here. This is the only place it could possibly be.”

  “It’s not an especially big house, Gabriella, but I imagine there are any number of hiding places. If it is here, it might well be impossible to find. However, I shall enlist Miriam’
s help and we shall do our best.” She studied Gabriella thoughtfully. “But why on earth did you say you had it when you didn’t?”

  “I don’t know.” Gabriella sighed and brushed an errant stand of hair away from her face. “I needed a way to prove the seal, once found, was Enrico’s. The words just seemed to come out of my mouth of their own accord.”

  “That’s the problem with deceit, dear. The first lie is awkward, difficult, and often carries a great deal of guilt. The second is a bit easier, the third easier yet. And eventually…” Florence’s knowing gaze met Gabriella’s. “…deceit becomes far easier than truth.”

  Gabriella crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to disguise her unease. Indeed, the lie about possessing the impression had been remarkably easy, without thought or guilt. “I shall not let that happen.”

  Florence’s cast her a skeptical look.

  “I won’t,” Gabriella said firmly, resolving to at least try. “I have always been an honest sort, it’s just that now…well, honesty is somewhat awkward.”

  “It always is, Gabriella.” Florence shook her head. “Do remember the ends do not always justify the means.”

  “You needn’t keep saying that.”

  “Oh but I do. At least until you understand its meaning as more than just a saying embroidered on a pillow.” Florence heaved a long suffering sigh. “You come by it naturally, I’m afraid, your brother never understood it.”

  Gabriella narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Simply what I said. For your brother it was the acquisition that counted, not the method by which it was acquired.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Nor do you need to,” Florence said in a firm manner, then deftly changed the subject. “Now, will you wear your new gown to the ball?”

  The same gown she had worn to Lady Regina’s ball. “I don’t particularly wish to go.”

  “Nonetheless, Mr. Harrington is right. You have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to hide. My dear, you have gone to that ball for a good six years that I can recall, and as you will be in the company of the Harrington family, there is no reason for you not to go this year.”

  “But last year…” Last year the ball had been glorious. Enrico was excited about presenting his seal to the committee; she had been confident that she could at last convince him to take her with him, and she’d had no end of eager partners. This year…

  This year there would be Nathanial.

  “And should you need another friendly face—”

  “Which reminds me,” Gabriella interrupted. “I was not at all pleased to see Xerxes—or John, as he is now known at Harrington House. I gather that was the plan you mentioned?”

  “Not quite as deceitful as yours, but then I have not had as much practice nor do I seem to have the natural gift for it that you do.” Florence fixed her with a firm look. “I am only grateful this tendency of yours did not surface in your younger days.”

  “It does seem to be recent,” Gabriella murmured. She couldn’t very well deny it, as much as she might wish to. No, the lies and deceptions did seem to be piling up, although soon there would be no more need for them.

  The rules of the Verification Committee were both clear and unyielding. Once an artifact had been presented and ruled on unfavorably, the presenter had only until the end of the next year’s meeting to challenge that decision. Last year the committee had decided that Enrico’s claim was not legitimate; that the seal he had was not the one for which he presented evidence was considered irrelevant. Only extraordinary circumstances could prompt a reopening of a case after the time limit had passed, and Gabriella knew of few instances where that happened. The committee did not like to reverse itself or admit mistake. No, she had a sure and certain conviction, in her heart, that if the seal wasn’t recovered this year for this meeting of the Verification Committee, it never would be. Her chance to restore her brother’s good name would be lost forever.

  “How do you think Mr. Harrington will respond when he learns of your deceptions?” Florence asked.

  “He will understand the necessity of my actions,” Gabriella said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. What if he didn’t understand? What if her actions disgusted him? Her stomach lurched at the thought that she might lose him. Not that she had him or wanted him or that he mattered at all.

  Florence considered her in an assessing manner, as if she knew exactly what Gabriella was thinking. It was—it always was—most unnerving.

  Still, Gabriella should at least be honest with herself, if with no one else. In spite of Nathanial’s arrogance, the way he seemed to have taken over her life, she had to admit he was indeed beginning to matter. Quite a lot. She was not looking forward to telling him all the truths about herself, all her secrets. When he knew everything…She firmly set the thought aside. Now was not the time to dwell on what might—what would—happen then.

  “As I was saying, I shall be at the ball as well.” Florence glanced at a large bouquet of roses in a vase on a side table that Gabriella had noted but to which she’d paid no attention until now. “Mr. Dennison has invited me to join his sister and her husband’s party. They shall accompany me to the ball and I shall see him there.”

  Gabriella raised a brow. “I gather the invitation came with flowers?”

  “No. Mr. Dennison came with flowers.” Florence smiled in a decidedly smug manner. “Yesterday evening.”

  “Oh?”

  “We had a lovely chat.” A dreamy look drifted across the older woman’s face. Gabriella realized that Florence was really quite lovely. She wasn’t sure why she’d never noticed before. Florence shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of the dashing Mr. Dennison. “Now then, I will see you at the ball.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” Gabriella sighed and again sank down beside Florence. “Still, the society, those people, treated my brother like—”

  “Like a man who made claims he could not substantiate.” Florence’s voice was surprisingly hard. “Like a man who then behaved like a madman and blamed the very people he hoped to win over for his loss.”

  “He wasn’t mad,” Gabriella said quickly

  “No dear, just obsessed.” Florence studied her closely. “Much as you are with finding the seal.”

  “I’m not obsessed. It’s simply something that is left undone.” She drew a calming breath. “It seems to me when one dies, one’s loose ends should be tied up.”

  Florence shook her head. “Life is scarcely as tidy as that. Nor is death.”

  “Pity it can’t be more tidy. More certain, if you will.”

  “The only thing certain about death is that it is inevitable. As for life…” Florence smiled. “I consider its very uncertainty one of the best things about life. One never knows what might happen.”

  “For the worst, no doubt,” Gabriella said darkly.

  Florence laughed. “Or for the best. Usually when one least expects it.”

  “Are you talking about Mr. Dennison?”

  “I don’t know, Gabriella.” Again Florence’s eyes took on a far off look. “I rather hope so.” Her gaze met Gabriella’s. “But then, my dear girl, what would become of you?”

  “Of me?” Gabriella laughed. “You needn’t worry about me. I shall always have Xerxes and Miriam.”

  Regardless of her words, she couldn’t help but wonder what indeed would become of her. With Enrico’s death, any chance she had for the kind of life she’d wanted to lead had vanished. And once the seal was found, she really had no more purpose to her life.

  Would she spend the rest of her days poring over old books in the society’s library, storing knowledge that she would never put to practical use? Would she grow old in this house, alone save for those who, while more family than servant, still had each other?

  “Perhaps a husband,” Florence said under her breath.

  Gabriella smiled. “I don’t think I’m suited for marriage.”

  “We shall see. Rega
rdless, you shall always have me,” Florence said firmly. “Unless of course your Mr. Harrington—”

  “He’s not my Mr. Harrington.” A firm note sounded in Gabriella’s voice. “And he never can be.”

  She ignored the persistent voice murmuring in the back of her head.

  But oh, wouldn’t she like him to be?

  Eleven

  They were plying her for information, that’s what they were doing.

  Nate gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to wring the neck of very nearly every member of his family. Oh, they were subtle enough, if one didn’t know them. If one did, their intentions were obvious, and given the nature of their casual inquires, one might have thought they had a coordinated plan of attack. They had attempted it before, but tonight, somehow, they seemed more determined. He ignored the inconvenient fact that only this afternoon he had employed a firm to do very much the same thing, to find out more about Gabriella Montini.

  “And you have lived in London, then, for nine years now?” Sterling sipped his wine in an offhand manner.

  Gabriella nodded. “It was thought London would be best for my studies. Even though he was by birth Italian, Enrico preferred London, which was sensible given the Antiquities Society, the universities, and museums here.” She shrugged. “London had become home for him, as much as anyplace could.”

  “London is the center of all things stolen,” Quint said with a wry smile. “We have been spiriting antiquities away from their countries of origin for generations.”

  Sterling cast him a chastising look. “It has never bothered you before.”

  “And it doesn’t bother me now.” Quint lifted his glass to his brother. “In fact, I should drink most happily to the arrogance of those modern seats of civilization. And not just London, but Paris and Berlin and Vienna, as well as to all the museums and institutions and private collectors who believe the ancient treasures of any country are better off in our care than in their place of origin. And as they are all willing to pay nicely to acquire more, my dear sanctimonious brother, it doesn’t bother me in the least.”