the portrait secure, Gabriel was eager to finish searching the studio and put this day behind him.
Throughout his ride home, guilt over his suspicions about Olivia continued to plague him. She didn’t deserve his suspicions and had never done anything to indicate she could not be trusted, or that she hated the monarchy. She wasn’t Peter.
For over five years Gabriel had had to live with the fact that Matthew’s death was all his fault. He was the one who had confided his responsibilities to his uncle. When Peter asked to accompany Matthew up north to gather intelligence on the rumblings of a plot against the Crown, he should have said no. He knew Peter was a zealous supporter of Catholic emancipation. And that year Prinny was very vocal he was not. But in his wildest dreams Gabriel never thought Peter would try to prevent them from stopping an assassination attempt over it.
He would never know if Peter had intentionally killed Matthew to stop the intelligence they uncovered from reaching Gabriel. It might have been an accident. Peter took that knowledge to his grave. What Gabriel did know was that night when his uncle stood over him with cold rain pelting them both, Peter had every intention of killing him.
After that night, Gabriel vowed he would never again be responsible for anyone else’s death. He would never again share what he did or the names of those that worked for him with anyone else. But his feelings for Olivia were running deep. During Manning’s interrogation it became apparent he cared more for her life than his own. He wanted to trust her. He wanted a real marriage. Perhaps there was a way to have one.
* * *
When Olivia awoke the next morning, her suspicions about Gabriel and the mysterious package in Richmond continued to plague her. Luckily she would be spending her morning in Manning’s studio. He would be a welcome diversion and today she would make him hold an extended conversation with her, whether he wanted to or not.
* * *
When she knocked on his door after breakfast no one was home, which did nothing to improve her mood. At least he could have sent a note cancelling her sitting for the day.
There was no sense in returning home where she would be tempted to enter Gabriel’s study and probably get caught trying to pick the lock to his desk again. So she took Colette with her to Madame Devy’s to lose herself in a morning of shopping.
* * *
When she walked out of the dressmaker’s shop an hour later, she spotted Janvier standing in front of the milliner next door, deep in conversation with a willowy, dark-haired woman with fine features and a prominent brow. Olivia couldn’t recall seeing the woman before, and from the simple appearance of her dress one could assume she did not move within Olivia’s elevated circle.
Having no desire to interrupt their conversation or stand on the pavement on such a windy day, Olivia was about to walk towards her carriage when Janvier appeared startled to see her. She gave him a friendly smile and he whispered something in his companion’s ear before he left her and approached Olivia.
‘What a pleasant surprise,’ he said with a tip of his hat.
‘This is a surprise. I was just seeing about a dress for the theatre.’
‘For the opening night of Douglas?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Will you tell me the colour or will you keep me in suspense?’
‘A bit of suspense keeps life exciting.’
He flashed her a grin. ‘I agree. Well, I am certain whatever colour you have chosen, you will look lovely in it.’
It was just like Janvier to try to charm her after being seen with another woman. She held on to her bonnet as a particularly strong gust of wind blew down the street. ‘I must be off before the wind takes me. Good day, Janvier.’
He tipped his hat and helped her into the carriage, where Colette was waiting to accompany her to more shops. It would take quite of bit of funds to distract her from thinking about the enigma she had married.
* * *
Hours later the man himself emerged from his study as she stood in the entrance hall, removing her bonnet. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he leaned against the doorframe of his private sanctuary. ‘You’ve been busy,’ he remarked casually as he watched two footmen carry in boxes and wrapped packages from her carriage.
She handed her bonnet and gloves to Colette, then dismissed her with a nod. ‘I realised I was in need of new slippers and gloves, and I saw a lovely fan for the theatre.’
‘How many slippers does one woman need, I wonder?’ he asked, with a slight smile.
‘As many as she can afford.’
He nodded slowly, holding her gaze across the empty hallway. ‘There is something I need to discuss with you...when you have the time.’
‘I have a few things to attend to. Perhaps we can speak before your family arrives for dinner this evening?’
He tipped his head. ‘I shall look forward to it. Shall we say six in my study?’
She nodded her agreement, even though having a conversation with him, knowing he was hiding something from her, was the last thing she wanted to do. What if he discovered she had been in his study and taken the cryptic note he’d tried to burn? Well, so be it! She needed answers and she was not afraid to press him to get them.
* * *
The idea of sharing his secret life with Olivia terrified Gabriel. There was no other word to describe it. But after weighing his options all morning on how he could have a real marriage with Olivia while also keeping his people safe, he knew it was the only solution.
She had sat in that carriage. She had found that box. And just yesterday he’d caught her trying to pick the lock to his desk.
He’d always known she was a smart, inquisitive woman. A person like that would not stop until they had answers. If she decided to poke into his affairs she might uncover the truth anyway—along with the identity of any number of the people who worked for him. He might be able to trust her with his involvement protecting the Crown, but he could not trust her with the identity of his operatives. The scar below his ribs was a daily reminder why. He would tell her the truth—at least the part he thought she needed to know.
* * *
At precisely six o’clock Olivia arrived at the door to his study. From the determined expression on her face, it appeared she had come with a purpose. It wouldn’t surprise him if she wanted to discuss that carriage again.
‘I gather from your earlier comment about the fan you purchased, you’re planning on attending the theatre,’ he said, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. That wasn’t exactly a polite way to begin a conversation, but it was something.
She walked to the fireplace, where the ashes appeared to be more interesting than he was. ‘Yes, Douglas will be opening, and Mrs Siddons is to return to the stage. Prinny and I were recently discussing how we’ve missed her performances.’
‘He told me you brought marzipan. That’s an interesting gift to give someone with the gout.’
‘While
