be named.’
Gabriel stood, preferring to face Mr Donaldson at eye level. ‘She had nothing to do with the attempt on Prince George’s life.’
‘She bloody well did! Your wife’s information was used to determine where he would be the day he was shot at.’
‘My wife gossiped to an artist while he was painting her portrait to pass the time. She had no notion he would take that information and give it to someone intending to harm our sovereign. You heard him.’
‘And how can you be so sure? Surely you do not expect me to believe that she discussed this with you over the breakfast table? The two of you barely speak to one another.’
The state of his marriage was common knowledge. While veiled comments in the past had annoyed Gabriel, more because he considered his private life his business and no one else’s, this time he battled with himself to keep his right fist from crashing into Donaldson’s jaw.
Just as he was about to inform the man that he could go to hell, Andrew stepped up to his side. ‘I am certain he was telling the truth. In fact, the Duchess of Winterbourne told me about her conversation with the artist,’ he said, not even glancing at Gabriel.
‘Why would she have told you?’
‘Because I asked her.’
‘You expect me to believe this?’
Andrew raised his chin and moved his hands behind his back. ‘You have my word as a gentleman.’
Gabriel glanced up, expecting lighting to strike Andrew through the roof of the house.
‘You have had no time to question her since he was apprehended,’ Mr Donaldson said, eyeing Andrew sceptically.
‘We discussed her portrait session recently over dinner. I enquired how she could sit for someone for days and not grow bored. She said their conversations helped to pass the time and she gave me examples of what they discuss.’
‘She still may have been aware this information would be passed on.’
As far as Gabriel knew, Mr Donaldson had never spoken to Olivia. He knew nothing of who she was and yet he thought nothing of questioning her character. His stomach turned as he realised he’d had the same thoughts about her less than an hour ago.
Gabriel never used his height and muscular form to intimidate men. He had never needed to. His title had been enough—until now. Now, he would use whatever means to deter Mr Donaldson from pursuing any suspicions about Olivia. ‘My wife is the embodiment of all that is good. I will not have you besmirch her character. If I thought she was involved in any of this, do you honestly believe I would have you here to question that man?’
It appeared Mr Donaldson was suddenly at a loss for words.
Gabriel needed to return home and sort out his jumbled thoughts. He knew he had been right to pay attention to the facts that pointed to Olivia. However, he now began to realise she was probably the last person in London who would want to harm the King or Regent. And it hadn’t escaped his notice he had been more worried for her facing the gallows than himself. He had much to consider—but there was one thing he needed to do first.
Hanover Square was nearly deserted at this late hour of the evening—or rather early morning if one was to be exact. However, one building stood like a beacon with the glow of candlelight in one of the upper windows. Thankfully for Gabriel it was not the building he needed to break into.
As Andrew stood guard, Gabriel crouched before the front door. Squinting in the dim light, he pressed two metal pins into the lock and jiggled them.
‘Are you certain you do not wish to have me give it a go?’ Andrew asked over his shoulder.
‘I almost have it.’
‘Do you even recall how it’s done? I cannot imagine you’ve had a need to do that for quite some time.’
How he wished he could go back to a time when he was not the kind of man who would pick the locks of his wife’s possessions—to a time when he had no idea of the horrors of betrayal. What would his life be like now if he had never gone to his uncle for advice?
A satisfying click broke the silence. Slowly he turned the handle of the door to the building that housed Manning’s studio. Hopefully the man’s landlord was a heavy sleeper. The last thing he needed was to have to explain his presence in the house.
He pulled Andrew inside the darkened hallway by the sleeve. Faint streaks of moonlight from the transom over the door lit their way to the staircase. They took the steps gingerly, hoping to avoid potential squeaks. When they finally reached the third floor, both Gabriel and Andrew took a deep breath.
With all the practice he’d had recently, this time it only took Gabriel two tries to pick the lock. Moonlight flooded into the studio from the large windows, making it easy to navigate the large room.
‘What exactly is it you believe we will find?’ Andrew whispered.
Gabriel’s gaze landed on the easel, draped with a white cloth. That was what he had been hoping to find. ‘We are looking for anything that might prove he was blackmailed.’
‘But we agreed he was telling the truth. Why are you questioning it now?’
‘It’s prudent to be certain.’
Andrew studied him carefully. ‘How do you propose we divide and conquer?’
‘I’ll search out here. There is another room behind that screen. See what you can find.’
Gabriel waited until Andrew was in the next room before he removed the knife from his boot and uncovered the painting of Olivia. Most people would never know it was the Duchess of Winterbourne reclining on the divan—but he would. He would not leave it here unattended. Should Manning be executed or transported, who knew what would become of this painting? He needed to bring it home. He needed to protect her reputation. It was the least he could do after today.
With a resolved breath he sliced the canvas from the frame, rolled it up and secured it with a strip of black ribbon.
‘What are you doing?’ Andrew asked from the doorway.
‘It’s of no concern of yours. Did you find anything?’
‘Amazingly, I did not. Have you even begun your search or have you spent all this time taking Olivia’s portrait?’
‘What do you know of her portrait?’
Andrew walked closer to him. ‘I know she was sitting for the man. Was he able to complete it?’
Gabriel shook his head.
‘Pity. I’m sure it would have made a nice addition to the gallery.’
Thank God this painting would never see the light of day in any gallery, but Andrew did not need to know that.
‘Yes,
