face was the red-purple shade of beets, and his dark hair stood up at wild angles. In the darkness, he looked every bit as wild and dangerous as he’d just professed to be.
Penny took his face in her hands and gave him a firm kiss on the lips. “Thank you. That was magnificent.”
“It was stupid. If rumors reach your aunt—or worse, the society column …”
She helped him remove his gauntlet. “We can’t do anything about that tonight.”
“I knew this was a mistake. I can’t abide this society shite.”
“The Irving twins have always been obnoxious.”
“It’s not only them. It’s all of it.” He stared at the scene of torches and merriment. “This is why I despise the aristocracy. The only way they survive is by holding themselves above the rest of the world. And it’s not enough for them to sneer at the poor, or to abuse the working class. They have to turn on their own, as well. They’d mock you just because you don’t like to waltz and you keep a pet hedgehog.”
“You laughed at the hedgehog,” she reminded him. “Understandably so. It’s amusing.”
“It’s an amusing story. It’s not who you are.” He unbuckled a shin plate and shunted it to the ground with such force it bounced off the turf. “You’re worth a thousand of any lady there.”
“Let’s leave, get you into some proper attire, and find ourselves some dinner.” She stroked her fingertips over his brow. “I can tell from the pulsing vein in your forehead, you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry.”
“My only regret is that we’ll miss the fireworks.”
“You want fireworks?” He cocked his eyebrow. “I can give you fireworks.”
Well, then. Penny could scarcely wait.
It wasn’t the most lucrative of Gabe’s investments, but there were times when owning one of the largest hotels in London came in useful. This was one of those times. For one thing, he kept spare clothing in his private suite, and thus was able to shed that ridiculous suit of armor.
For another, it offered a uniquely impressive location for a private dinner overlooking the fireworks display.
“Careful.” He led her by the hand, helping her up the last few rungs of a ladder and guiding her onto the rooftop verandah. “We’ll be able to view the fireworks from here.”
“Yes. I should think we will.” The awed hush in her voice thrilled him, as did the way she clutched his arm. “I feel like I’m floating in one of those hot-air balloons.”
“I have the servants coming up with dinner soon.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed close to his side. “This is so much better than that silly masquerade.”
She walked to the verandah’s wrought-iron fencing and propped her forearms on the rail, gazing out over the London sprawl. The breeze plucked at her hair, teasing a few golden locks from their pins.
Gabe joined her. “I still can’t believe the nerve of those sisters.”
“Pity their parents,” she said. “One Miss Irving would be bad enough. They had two in one go.”
“I don’t pity them at all. If you like, I could ruin the whole family for you.”
She turned to him. “What?”
He shrugged. “It might take a few years, but I know how to be patient. It’s only a matter of discreet inquiries here and there, paying attention to patterns. Somewhere there will be debts, unpaid taxes, poor investments—with luck, blackmail payments. No matter how impressive the family estate, there’s always a loose brick somewhere. Every man has his weakness.”
“I know they do.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m still looking for yours.”
Cheeky girl. She had to know she took his breath away.
God, she was lovely in moonlight. She was lovely in sunlight, for that matter, and in the pouring rain. Gabe suspected that even in total darkness, she would be radiant. Because though her features were exquisite, and her lips the pinkish hue of rose petals, her most beautiful feature by far was her heart.
Right now, soaring through the stars above the city, miles from everything that could keep them apart … he was dangerously close to telling her so.
He was saved by a timely interruption.
“My weakness is dinner,” he said.
A parade of servants came through, bearing a table sized for two, chairs, a damask tablecloth, silver and china, candlesticks, crystal wineglasses, and trays loaded with divine-smelling food.
“My goodness.” She laughed. “Now that was quite the trick.”
“Impressed?” He held out her chair for her.
“Very.”
Gabe settled into his seat and poured her some wine before filling his own glass. “I instructed the chef to prepare you dishes without any meat. I hope they’re satisfactory.”
She uncovered a small tureen and dipped a spoon into the steaming contents. As she stirred, the scent of exotic spices wafted through the air. “Vegetable curry? It smells divine. I’m ravenous.”
Conversation was set aside by tacit agreement, as they both loaded their plates and tucked into their food.
Some minutes later, she sat back in her chair with a contented sigh, cradling her wineglass in one hand. “So tell me.”
He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Tell you what?”
She shrugged. “Everything. How did you come to be the Duke of Ruin? Where did you learn so much about finances, and how to find those loose bricks in a fortune?”
Gabe carefully swallowed his bite and set his fork aside. “The truth?”
“But of course.”
Very well, then. He’d known this would be coming eventually, and he’d been wondering how she would react. Tonight, they would both find out.
“When I was a young man, I worked for a pawnbroker. One with a reputation for discretion and a distinguished clientele. I learned how to judge the value of fine items—but more than that, I learned how to judge the fine people. Over time, you come to observe certain patterns. The lady who comes in monthly, like clockwork, letting go one more pearl from an ever-shrinking necklace? Blackmailed for a secret she can’t afford her husband to know. The younger fellow who stumbles in of a morning, reeking of brandy and willing to accept shillings on the pound for his pocket watch? Gaming debts. The ones who weep as they hand over
