style="font-size:15px;"> There were numerous bottles scattered across the table containing wine, champagne and brandy. Prinny appeared to be imbibing all of them. Gabriel shook his head, knowing he needed to keep his mind sharp.
Prinny resumed cutting into his pie. ‘I don’t understand why you want me to remain here. There no longer is a threat to my life. Your note said the scoundrel had been apprehended.’
‘He was. However I believe he had assistance orchestrating your demise. I’ve come from the Tower and they have not yet been able to get the gunman to admit to anything.’
Prinny dropped his fork with a clatter and reached for his glass of champagne. His hand shook as he brought it to his lips. ‘So you truly believe there is someone walking around England who still intends to murder me?’ He drained the entire glass.
‘I do and that is why it is imperative you remain here where you are under guard at all times.’
‘Very well,’ Prinny replied on a sigh, ‘but you must find this person without delay. Devonshire is hosting a ball soon, it’s reported Mrs Siddons will return to the stage to perform in Douglas at Drury Lane and I hear the new exhibition at the Royal Academy will be stunning. If I remain here too long, I shall miss all the fun.’
‘I will do my best to ensure this is handled as quickly as possible. Since the threat could have come from anywhere, I think it prudent if you limit your visitors to an approved list of people.’
‘Nonsense, no one visiting here would wish me harm.’
If only life were that predictable. ‘Tell me about the gentleman you purchased the painting from. He appeared surprised to see you.’
‘I imagine he was. He expected one of my agents to purchase it for me.’
‘It would help if you could recall mentioning our outing to anyone. The gunman was carrying a drawing of my coat of arms.’
Pouring himself more champagne, Prinny appeared to give the question serious consideration. But after a few moments, he shook his head. ‘I might have mentioned it in passing to a few people during Skeffington’s musical. Capital evening. Selections from The Marriage of Figaro. You should have been there.’
‘Opera does not appeal to me,’ Gabriel said off-handedly. ‘Who did you tell?’
Prinny shrugged and took another drink. ‘Don’t recall, don’t you know. Talked with so many people and the champagne was flowing. Astonishingly I didn’t have the devil of a headache the next day. But that was before I asked you to join me.’
To steady his exasperation, Gabriel looked up at the massive crystal chandelier and concentrated on the red and blue coloured flecks dancing in the sunlight. If only Prinny didn’t like to brag so. ‘And your household...who knew I’d be taking you in my carriage?’
‘I informed Bloomfield that morning, but he is trustworthy.’
Gabriel knew Prinny’s equerry. He appeared as loyal to Prinny as Gabriel was. Nevertheless, he would assign someone to watch the man. ‘Very well, I shall let you know the minute you are safe to leave this building.’
‘You don’t expect me to remain inside on a rare day such as this? The sun is shining. Surely I can enjoy the gardens.’
There was a tightness forming between Gabriel’s eyebrows and he pinched the bridge of his nose to transfer his attention to a new discomfort. Why did it feel like dealing with Prinny was the same as handling his young son? He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. ‘Your gardens share a wall with St James’s Park. It would be very simple for someone to reach you, if you were out there.’
Prinny let out a snort before pouring the remaining contents of the champagne bottle into his glass.
Gabriel rubbed his eyes. He needed to return home where he didn’t have to deal with anyone who was irrational. At least at home his life was predictable.
* * *
When Olivia entered the nursery that morning, she found Nicholas restless in his lessons with his new tutor. All he wanted to talk about was his ride through Hyde Park on his new pony. He told her how his father had taken them onto Rotten Row where he saw numerous well-dressed gentlemen out for their morning rides. He wanted to know when he would be old enough to wear a beaver hat of his own.
He was growing up.
For the first time, she noticed the little dimples that kissed the knuckles of his hands were disappearing. And Gabriel might be considering sending him away to school—or, worse yet, Nicholas would ask to go.
Olivia’s heart sank with the weight of how much she would miss him.
* * *
For the remainder of the morning she thought about how wonderful it felt to hold her nephew. By the afternoon she desperately wanted another child to cuddle and love.
But in order to have that child, she would have to ask her husband to come to her bed.
And she would be forced to endure his company.
Five years ago she told him she could never bear to feel his touch again. If she wanted this, she would have to lower herself to go back on her word to him.
This wasn’t something she could tell his secretary to pass on to him when he next saw Gabriel. Mr James would have an apoplexy on the spot. It also wasn’t something she could pass along to her maid. Colette would be setting out Olivia’s thinnest nightrail and placing rose petals on her bed before he would have even agreed to her request.
Perhaps she should write him a note.
After many drafts, some ridiculous and some obscene, Olivia decided to simply request a meeting. If she could focus her appeal on the need for another child they could avoid discussing how the child would get there.
And maybe that would help scrape the image of naked bodies and intimate conversations from her brain.
* * *
It was four in the afternoon when Olivia received word from Colette that Gabriel was available to see her. Standing outside the massive door to his private study, she pressed her hand against her stomach. What if Gabriel did not want another child? Or, suppose he no longer found her desirable enough to bed? She would never be able to face him again.
The answers she needed would not be found in the hall. She raised her chin, knowing she would regret it for the rest of her days if she didn’t ask him for this. Her courageous side rallied, her knock echoed off the oak panel.
The deep rumble of his voice was audible from within as he bid her to enter. Her heart began to pound and she glanced down, praying it wasn’t visible through the gauzy fichu tucked into her dress. She rubbed her sweaty palms down her skirt and turned the handle. Upon entering the impressive room, she spotted Mr James standing before Gabriel’s desk awaiting a document her husband was sealing. Once the paper was in his hand, Mr James turned to face her and bowed. He appeared nervous, but she found that whenever Mr James was in the same room with Olivia and Gabriel, he always seemed as if he couldn’t wait to leave.
‘Good day, Mr James,’ she said, smiling congenially.
He
