A Curse of the Heart

“Mr. Stone came to see you?” she asked her vision blurring. “He told you about the painting? He told you he would act as a chaperone?”

“I believe he thought we were responsible for damaging the painting and sought vengeance for the distress caused. Freddie has been avoiding me, but I am to meet with him later. Although I doubt him capable of making it up your stairs let alone anything else.” He sighed, and his gaze softened. “I understand why you feel you cannot trust me. I had to trust Stone. He is the only person who is close to you and one has to admire his commitment to your cause.”

Commitment! Had Gabriel stayed the night purely out of a sense of obligation?

“I thought you said his morbid fascination with the dead was no good for me,” she challenged, conjuring an image of an underground vault and her wounded heart trapped in a jar, withering before her eyes.

George shrugged. “I wanted to make him angry. I wanted him to rescue you from the Egyptian tomb you call a home. I wanted him to prove me wrong.”

Oh, Gabriel had certainly proved him wrong.

“Well, where has your meddling got you, my lord. I have just sat here and told you he is the only person I trust and yet you had to find a way of ruining it. I asked Gabriel not to tell you about the painting or the intruders,” she said aware she had spoken his name so intimately and without thought. “With your flippant remarks, you have shown him to be untrustworthy. You have managed to destroy the only thing that means anything to me. So ask yourself this, why would I ever trust you when you seek to hurt me at every opportunity?”

Rebecca stood and thrust her gloves on so fiercely she was in danger of fracturing a finger. “Stay away from me and stop interfering in my life,” she barked as she turned towards the door.

“Rebecca,” he called after her, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Sometimes arrogance gets the better of me. Sometimes, in a bid to prove my worth, I go about things the wrong way.” Her father’s blue eyes looked up at her, all sad and forlorn. “A week ago I would not have been able to help you. But since learning of your friendship with Mr. Stone, well — you will find his sister, Ariana, on George Street, number thirty-six.”

Chapter 22

Number thirty-six, a mid-terrace house of excellent proportions, looked clean and well maintained. While Gabriel failed to provide emotional support, he obviously had no problem when it came to his financial responsibilities.

“Do you want me to wait?” the hackney driver called out to her. “It’s four and six every half hour.”

Rebecca raised a brow at the extortionate price, the man shrugging in response as he flashed a mouth full of rotten teeth. “No, I don’t need you to wait,” she said thrusting the two-shilling fare into his greedy palm. Besides, the walk home would give her an opportunity to think; to prepare for the blazing row she knew would follow.

Although she had just as much right to be angry.

Against her wishes, Gabriel had colluded with George Wellford. He’d plotted and schemed as though caring for a child in need of coddling. It took every effort to suppress the feeling of betrayal, a feeling that threatened to poison her heart and contaminate her thoughts.

If she stepped inside his sister’s house, was she not just as guilty of deceit?

With a deep sigh, she turned to face the facade and spotted someone watching her from an upstairs window, a young girl petite and delicate of frame with hair as black as coal.

The scene reminded her of the first time she’d seen Gabriel’s handsome face, peering through his front window. She had thought him cold, heartless and downright rude. In stark contrast, this girl held up a dainty hand and waved, leaving Rebecca no choice but to wave back, no choice now but to knock on the front door.

A woman no older than twenty opened the door, her warm smile enhanced by hair the shade of wheat on a summer’s day. The loose strands poking out of the mobcap gave the impression she’d yanked it on in a hurry and wasn’t used to answering the door.

“Can I help you?”

“My name is Miss Linwood. I am acquainted with Mr. Gabriel Stone. He has asked me to call in and pay my respects to his family.” Rebecca would have to perform some sort of penance for the lies she had told today. Although lately, she seemed to have a weakness for all things sinful.

“Mr. Stone asked you to call?” the woman said with a shocked expression as though the man they were discussing had been dead for years and must have hollered to her from the grave.

“He asked me to send his regards to Ariana and to Mrs. Stone,” Rebecca said feeling the need to justify the reason for her visit to a maid. After all, there was always a chance she would close the door in her face.

The woman examined Rebecca’s attire and after giving a satisfactory nod, welcomed her into the hallway. “Please wait here while I go fetch the mistress,” she said bobbing a half-curtsy.

As Rebecca stared at the tasteful décor, the girl from the upstairs window appeared on the top stair, her gaze cautious in assessment like any other child when presented with a stranger. Curiosity got the better of her, and she took a hesitant step, her knuckles white where she gripped the handrail for support.

“You must be Ariana,” Rebecca said offering a kind smile. “I can see you have inherited your brother’s dark hair.”

Ariana’s eyes widened, and she took another step. “Do you know my brother?” she asked, the admiration in her voice reflected in her eyes.

“Yes, I know him very well. Who do you think sent me here today?”

Guilt flared as she remembered Gabriel’s words. He considered them estranged, and so kept his distance. The child’s mother could have told a tale to account for his absence, and Rebecca felt foolish for speaking without thought.

Ariana smiled. “Mama said I will see him again soon when he is not so busy with his studies. Did he send you here all the way from Egypt?”