Suddenly Mary smiled. Her future wasn’t ruined, after all. In fact her future was safe in her hands. If Lord Appleby was to take Miss Dupre away, then Gabriel would be hers again. So Lord Appleby must be told, and she would be the one to tell him.
Mary knew Lord Appleby lived in London—as did anyone important—but she didn’t know his exact address. She could question the Wonicots, but she didn’t want to stir their curiosity, and she didn’t want them to stop her. Perhaps she didn’t need an address? Lord Appleby must be a well-known figure in the capital, and therefore a letter would surely reach him? Just as a letter to Sir James Trevalen addressed Devon would surely find its way to his home. It made se
nse to her, and she decided it was worth the risk.
Yes, she would write to Lord Appleby and tell him what his mistress was up to. She’d not only be keeping her dreams intact, but she’d be saving Master Gabriel from the clutches of a woman who wasn’t nearly good enough for him.
Because Mary Cooper was quite certain that the only woman good enough for Gabriel was Mary Cooper.
Chapter 17
Gabriel propped his bare feet up in front of the fire and raised his glass of Lord Appleby’s expensive brandy. “To Antoinette,” he said, and smiled. What a woman! He’d never met anyone like her. One moment she was the sensual mistress, and the next a wide-eyed innocent. Just when he thought he had worked her out, she’d surprise him again. He felt permanently off kilter. And permanently aroused.
Here he was ready for her again, despite being barely able to stagger home after their encounter in the rain. If she was standing before him now, he’d pull her onto his lap and spread her legs and love her as he wanted to. His pocket Venus; he found her perfect in every way.
Except that she was Lord Appleby’s mistress.
With a frown, Gabriel took another sip of his brandy and brooded. There was also the problem of the letter that she possessed and he wanted. If he didn’t get it, then he would lose Wexmoor Manor, and Aphrodite would lose Aphrodite’s Club; Appleby would make certain of that. Gabriel had made a promise to her the night he went to see her in London, after he punched Appleby and then ran from his Mayfair house in the rain. He had to have the letter, and if he couldn’t persuade Antoinette to give it to him out of the goodness of her heart, or the power of her passion, then he would have to take it by force.
And Gabriel knew that Antoinette would hate him if he did that. He would lose her forever—always assuming he had a chance of possessing her for more than a brief while. He needed Aphrodite to advise him, he told himself with a wry smile. She was good at giving advice on matters of the heart.
He imagined the infamous courtesan sitting before him.
“Consider, Gabriel. This woman is Appleby’s mistress. She thinks with her head, not her heart, but she is still a woman. What if you woo her, seduce her, show her what she is missing? You are a man who can persuade women to do anything, Gabriel. She will melt like butter in your hands, and then you can persuade her that it is in her best interests to give up her secret to you.”
“Madame…”
“You don’t believe me? This woman may be Appleby’s mistress, but you are young and handsome, everything he is not. Of course she will be attracted to you. And then, if you accustom her to being made love to by a lusty younger man, she will very soon do whatever you want her to.”
Aphrodite had said much the same at their last meeting, but even then Gabriel had thought it an unlikely scenario. As it turned out he was right; Antoinette was not a woman easily persuaded.
He could spend a lifetime with her and never grow bored.
After he’d fled from the terrible confrontation with Lord Appleby, Gabriel had gone straight to Aphrodite’s Club and taken shelter there to lick his wounds. Aphrodite, Sir Adam’s former lover and mother to Gabriel’s half sister, Marietta, was someone he’d always known and liked. His was a strangely tangled family, but having grown up with it, Gabriel didn’t give it much thought. Although Aphrodite now had her own life, happy with her true love, Jemmy Dobson, he’d known she would welcome him.
And so she did.
“I have many friends, Gabriel, and they are happy to help me out when I need it. One of those friends has a son who just happens to be Lord Appleby’s secretary.”
“That’s very useful, Madame.”
“Extremely. I asked Jemmy to call upon him last night, to explain matters to him so he understood he would be doing me a tremendous favor. He was eager to help—I do not think he is very happy in His Lordship’s employ. So this morning he bribed one of the servants to let me into Lord Appleby’s house—with a little acting, of course.”
“Of course. Why?”
“I wanted to see for myself. I can tell you that Appleby hates me. He is revenging himself for past slights, real and imagined, and he will not stop. We are in a great deal of trouble, mon ami.”
She then told him that the secretary had told her that Lord Appleby did indeed have the letter written by Gabriel’s mother, and that he was very secretive about it. The letter had been on his desk the day before, and by evening it was gone.
“Gone where?”
“There is a woman living in Lord Appleby’s house in Mayfair. Rumor has it she is his mistress. Very shocking, oui?”
“But…I saw her!”
“So did I. And it so happens she had a letter hidden down the front of her bosom.” She placed a hand lightly against her own chest and smiled. “Appleby is clever; he will know we are seeking the letter and will do anything to get it back. What better place to hide a secret than upon your mistress’s body?”
Gabriel had laughed, he remembered, not realizing then what was to come. “What do you intend to do, Madame?”