A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

The carriage slowed, then halted. "Ma'am?"

"Brook Street, please-you know where."

"Aye, ma'am."

Taking advantage of her uptilted head, Gabriel pressed his lips to her throat. She fought to stifle a giggle, then sighed.

Then her breath caught. A moment later, she asked, slightly dazed, "Again?"

"I'm hungry."

So was she. They devoured each other at speed, reckless and driven, reaching the bright pinnacle before the carriage even left the park.

It wasn't, unfortunately, all that far to Brook Street. Wrapping her in her cloak, Gabriel shifted her to the seat beside him. He righted his clothes, then leaned over her to press a long kiss to her swollen lips.

The carriage halted; he drew back. From over his shoulder a street flare shone in, laying a narrow swath of light across her face. She was exhausted, her eyes shut-he could just see the edge of a crescent of dark lashes lying on one pale cheek. The strip of light illuminated only that cheek, her earlobe framed by a strand of soft brown hair, the edge of her jaw and the corner of her lips.

Not enough to identify her.

Gabriel hesitated, then he shifted and his shoulder cut off the light. "Sweet dreams, my dear."

Her murmured "Good-bye" was soft and low, a lover's farewell.

Descending to the street, Gabriel watched her carriage roll away; it was all he could do not to call it back. Turning, he climbed his steps, frowning as he reached for his latchkey.

He'd seen her face before. The line of her jaw was familiar.

She was one of his circle.

Who?

Letting himself in, he went up to bed.

Sniff.

Alathea battled to lift her heavy lids, and lost.

Sniff.

Stifling a sigh, she tried again and managed to see through a slit. "Nellie?"

Sniff. "Yes, m'lady," came in dolorous tones. Sniff.

Alathea struggled onto her back and raised her head. And saw Nellie, red-nosed with watering red eyes, shaking out her cloak. Alathea dragged in a breath. "Nellie Macarthur! You go straight back to bed. I do not want to see you, or hear of you being about on your feet, not until you're bet

ter." Fixing her old maid with a pointed glare, Alathea summoned strength enough to deliver the words "Do you hear?" in appropriately intimidating tones.

Nellie sniffed again. "But who'll see to you? You've got to go to all these balls and parties, and your stepmama rightly says-"

"The tweeny will do for me for the nonce-I'm not entirely helpless."

"But-"

"Doing my hair in a simpler style for a few nights will be a relief. No one will think anything of it." Alathea glared again. "Now go! And don't you dare sneak about downstairs-I'll be speaking with Figgs immediately I get up."

"All right," Nellie grumbled, but Alathea could see from her lethargic movements that she was seriously under the weather.

"I'll tell Figgs to make you some of her broth." Alathea watched Nellie open the door. "Oh-and don't bother to send up the tweeny. I'll ring for her when I'm ready."