Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

“Gabriel,” Antoinette whispered, her voice tight with emotion.

It wasn’t until she felt his fingers tight around hers that she knew she’d reached out to him, and he’d responded. He gave her a little shake, a reminder that they had a long way to go yet, before they were out of danger.

The man was watching her, his wizened face suspicious. “Who’d you say this lady was?”

“Mrs. Miller’s sister,” Gabriel replied evenly. “She has agreed to take your patient home with her.”

He shook his head so vigorously his nightcap wobbled. “No, Doctor, I can’t let you do that. His Lordship wouldn’t like it.”

“It was His Lordship who sent me. Now, release her,” Gabriel commanded. “You know it’ll be the worse for you if you don’t.”

Antoinette moved closer to the bed, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder. She could feel the bones beneath her skin. “I’ve come to take you home, sister,” she said, staring into those frightened, watchful eyes, and silently begging her not to give away the lie.

“Home?” she said, and Antoinette tried not to gasp. Out of that thin, mistreated body had come the most melodious voice she had ever heard—the voice of an educated and refined lady. “I have no home,” Lady Appleby declared bleakly.

“Hush, sister. Have you forgotten?” Antoinette insisted. She leaned closer and whispered the name of the Applebys’ housekeeper.

Lady Appleby’s eyes darkened and closed briefly, and then she nodded. “Now,” she said, “I do remember.”

“Doctor, can we go?” Antoinette glanced urgently at Gabriel.

Lady Appleby turned her attention to her jailer. “These straps are far too tight, Horace. And I’m cold. I want to leave.”

But Horace wasn’t happy, and he looked as if he was regretting letting them into his domain.

“Come, come, man,” Gabriel spoke impatiently. “I’m sure His Lordship will be pleased to hear you are cautious when it comes to releasing your patients, but you know he won’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

The mention of His Lordship seemed to do the trick, and Horace scuttled forward and released the straps. Lady Appleby sat up and rubbed her wrists, shivering in her thin chemise. After Antoinette helped her to her feet, Gabriel pulled the cover from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She snuggled into it, making a face.

“Your blankets are too thin, Horace. The blankets at Misfortunate Women were of a far better quality. Surely you can afford some new ones; my husband must pay you enough. Lord Appleby is very rich, you know.”

Horace’s eyes swiveled in their sockets. “Shhh! You know you’re not s’posed to say his name.”

“Lord Appleby, Lord Appleby, Lord Appleby,” she said loudly and precisely, and gave a broad smile.

Antoinette shot Gabriel an anxious look, and they began to hurry their patient toward the door.

“You’re a wicked woman,” Horace hissed. “I don’t know why I’ve put up with you for so long.”

“Well, now you won’t have to, will you? I’m leaving. Your service leaves a lot to be desired. I won’t be recommending you to my friends, you may be sure of that.”

Gabriel groaned softly as they reached the top of the stairs. Horace was padding along behind them in his slippers, agitated and angry. Lady Appleby, who had managed very well until now, was clearly in considerable pain as she lowered herself down each step. Her face was even more gaunt, her lips pressed together in a white line, but she didn’t make a sound.

Antoinette was impressed by her courage. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, and to her shame she’d probably seen Lady Appleby as a means to an end and a fate to avoid, rather than a living, breathing person. Now this formidable woman who, after ten years of imprisonment, was still too proud to show her pain, brought tears to her eyes.

They reached the door and Horace opened it.

“Good night, Horace,” Lady Appleby said grandly. “And good-bye.”

“Good riddance,” Horace muttered behind them, and the door closed with a solid thunk, followed by the resetting of the locks and bolts.

The hackney was waiting, and after Gabriel helped Lady Appleby inside, he turned to Antoinette. “All right, sparrow?”

She met his watchful gaze. “I can’t help thinking that I might have ended up just like—like…” she stammered.

He leaned closer, his size and warmth giving her a welcome sense of protection. “You’re safe, Antoinette, never doubt it.”

Before she could answer he stepped back, ushering her into the cab. Lady Appleby was trembling beside her, and Antoinette removed her cloak, placing it around the older woman, and drawing the hood over her cropped fair hair.