She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He was close; because of her height, her parasol shaded them both, creating an illusion of privacy in the middle of the park. They never exchanged the routine pleasantries, touching hands, bowing, but now he held her hand, and her, too; she wondered what he meant to do.

His lips twisted, wry and taunting both. "I'll see you tonight."

He pressed her hand briefly, then released it. With a nod, he left her.

Alathea stood still, breathing evenly, and watched him stride away. Part of her mind noted that he'd left just before their ambling stroll would have brought them into view of the carriage drive, presently lined with the carriages of the ton's matrons, including those of his mother and aunt. The rest of her mind was engrossed with the burning question of what he thought he was about, what tack he intended to take with her.

The situation between them had changed, yet he still wanted her, even though he now knew who she was. He still intended to have her, to continue their illicit liaison; amazing though that seemed, that much was clear.

Very little else was.

With the countess's unmasking, all control of their interaction had passed to him. She was completely in his power, a power she knew better than to imagine he wouldn't, if provoked, wield.

The little group she was watching were drawing ahead. Straightening her parasol, she set out in their wake.

What he had in mind she couldn't begin to guess, any more than she could be sure of his motives. Given their encounters in Bond Street and Bruton Street, let alone the rest, he might well wish to punish her. His present conduct might be a facade, adopted to ease their way while they pursued the company. He was more than honorable enough to put aside his own feelings until they'd dealt with the threat. Then he might consider retribution.

Luckily, he rarely held a grudge. By the time their investigations were complete, it was possible, even likely, that his interest in her would have waned, that he would have grown bored and shifted his sights to his next conquest.

A frown in her eyes, Alathea climbed the slope to the carriage drive, and wondered why the prospect of him growing bored with her and thus abandoning any notion of retribution did not bring her any sense of ease.

Chapter 14

Lady Clare's ball was yet another unrelenting crush.

The Season was in full swing and everyone simply had to be seen at all the major events. Finally gaining Alathea's side, Gabriel cast a malevolent glance over the jostling throng. "Manic," he muttered.

Lord Montgomery, presently holding Alathea's attention, thought the jibe aimed at him. He bristled. Smiling serenely, Alathea pretended she hadn't heard. "Have your mama and sister come up to town this year?"

Faced with such unequivocal interest, his lordship's hackles subsided. With a disdainful glance at Gabriel, he intoned, "Indeed, indeed! They are, naturally, concerned as to the future of the estate. Why-"

Recently afflicted with a conviction that she would be just the wife for him, his lordship droned on. Alathea let her smile glide over the other eager faces, but did not linger long enough to encourage any to interrupt with his own tale. Completing her circuit brought her glance to Gabriel; he caught it, irritation behind his hazel eyes. He hesitated, then, to her surprise, reached out and took the hand she hadn't thought to offer him. He held it, waiting with studied patience until Lord Montgomery's monologue rolled to a close, then he bowed. As he straightened, Alathea, off-balance and mystified, saw concern color his expression.

"My dear, you're rather pale."

My dear? She nearly goggled.

Gabriel anchored her hand on his sleeve, drawing her within his protective orbit. "Perhaps a stroll outside… before you faint from the stuffiness."

She'd never fainted in her life. Her gaze trapped in his, Alathea waved a hand weakly before her face. "It is rather hot in here."

His brow quirked; one corner of his lips did, too. "The doors to the terrace are open…"

The suggestion was greeted with numerous offers to accompany them; obedient to the fingers squeezing hers, Alathea smiled wanly. "The noise…" She gestured limply. "A few moments of absolute quiet would help, and then I'll be able to return to you."

With that, they had to be content. Gabriel excised her from the circle and steered her down the room. Alathea hoped it appeared that he was dragging her off in brotherly fashion-for her own good-but the speculative frowns in too many eyes made her itch to box his ears. Next, he'd have the scandalmongers watching them avidly, and God only knew what they might see.

They gained the flagged terrace along which a number of couples were strolling. She tried to slide her hand from his sleeve to put greater distance between them. His fingers tightened; she knew better than to tug. "You'll start people talking," she hissed as, acquiescing, she continued to glide close beside him.

"No more than they're talking already of you and the aspirants to your charms. Why on earth do you surround yourself with them?"

"I assure you it's not by choice!" After a moment, she added, "I suspect Serena's been busy on my behalf, despite the fact I made it plain that this was Mary's and Alice's Season and I have no interest in attracting a husband. Well"-she gestured to her braided cap-"how much clearer can I make it? Can't they see?"

Eyeing the cap with savage dislike, Gabriel bit back the words "Probably not." Her caps offended him at some elemental level. There was, now he thought of it, one sure way of getting rid of them once and for all. Considering the prospect of never seeing another cap covering her hair, he guided her toward the shadowy end of the terrace, presently deserted. "Did Wiggs report on his meeting with the judge?"

Reaching the balustrade at the end of the flags, they surveyed the thick bushes beyond the stone barrier, then turned and leaned against it, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, in oddly companionable comfort.

"Yes. It seems we can ask for a decision declaring the note invalid through a petition directly to the bench, without evidence or deliberations being heard in open court."

"Good. That'll make things easier."

"The judge said the speed at which a decision would be given will depend on the quality of our evidence. The more detailed and complete the evidence, the quicker the judgment. If the case was cut and dried, a decision could be formalized in a matter of days."

Gabriel nodded. "When we're ready, I'll alert Devil. He'll make sure it gets immediate attention." Alathea's sudden grin caught his eye. "What?"

She glanced at him. "Just the way you operate." She waved. "Just like that-throw a duke into the equation."

He shrugged. "If one has a duke to throw…"

Her grin fading, Alathea asked, "Have your people learned anything more?"

"No grand revelations, but Montague is making headway with all those figures and projections Crowley spouted. Needless to say, they don't add up. My contacts in Whitehall are still checking the claims he made about various foreign government departments and officials, and the permissions he said the company had already received. The more things that are false, the wider the front on which the company's claims are disproved, the easier it will be to convince the court."

"But a witness-an eyewitness as it were-would be the definitive proof. Have you heard anything more about the captain?"

"Yes and no. Mostly no. There are so many shipping lines, and at too many I have no contact from whom I can discreetly inquire. We can't risk any overt search, not even for the captain. Crowley's too powerful. He may well have contacts who'll report any unusual queries in all shipping lines dealing with his present area of interest."

"Is he that omnipotent?"

"Yes. Don't underestimate him. He may not have attended any recognized school, but he knows how to play his connections well. Witness Archie Douglas." After a moment, Gabriel stated, "Whatever we do, we must never forget Crowley."

The words disturbed Alathea. Frowning, she shook them aside. "There must be some register of the ships and their captains, surely?"

"There is-it's kept by the Port Authority. There are two registers we need to look at-the log which lists all the ships as they enter the Pool of London along with their captain, and the main register of vessels, which shows which shipping line a particular ship sails for. Unfortunately, there was a scandal involving the last port registrar. Consequently, his successor is exceedingly resistant to the idea of allowing anyone access to either the log or the register."

"Exceedingly resistant?"

"Short of an order from the Admirality or the Revenue, there's no way to view those books."

"Hmm."

Gabriel glanced at Alathea. "Don't even think of breaking in."

She focused on him. "Why? Because you've already considered it?"

"Yes." His lips twisted. He looked back along the terrace, then straightened. "The office is manned around the clock. At present, searching the log and register is impossible."

Following his gaze to Lucifer, strolling through the shadows toward them, Alathea murmured, "Nothing's impossible when you're twelve years old."

Gabriel shot her a look as Lucifer, brows high, joined them.

"What are you two doing out here?"

What do you think? burned Gabriel's tongue. He hadn't yet had time to steer their interaction into the arena he'd intended.