A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

Alathea yanked out a clump of grass. "I've learned that being twelve years old can open the register at the Port Authority."

His gaze switched to Jeremy. "It can?"

"I took Jeremy on an excursion to learn about how ships are managed in and out of the Pool of London. The harbor master was extremely accommodating-he has a young boy of his own. Of course, being the son and daughter of a belted earl helped."

"I dare say. But all we had was the captain's description. How on earth did you manage to learn more discreetly? I take it you have."

"Indeed! I primed Jeremy-he has an excellent memory. I described the captain as Papa had seen him, and explained what we needed to find out. We decided it would be best to ask about the information in the log and register, and then ask what it might be useful for. That allowed us to suggest that it could be used to find out which shipping lines carried goods to different parts of the world. At that point, I suitably vaguely remembered a friend of ours, a Mr. Higgenbotham, who-"

"Wait! Who's Higgenbotham? Does he exist?"

"No." Alathea frowned. "He's just part of our tale." She yanked up another weed. "Where was I? Oh, yes-this Mr. Higgenbotham had dropped by with a friend of his, a captain whose ship recently docked from Central East Africa. That, of course, was Jeremy's cue to challenge the harbor master to see if his log and register would tell us who the captain sailed for."

"And the harbor master obliged?"

"Of course! Men always like to demonstrate their abilities before an appreciative audience, especially one composed of a female and a youthful pup. It took him twenty minutes-there were quite a few ships to cross-check-but we think the captain must be one Aloysius Struthers who sails for Bentinck and Company. Their office is in East Smithfield Street. The harbor master recognized the description and is certain Struthers is our man."

Gabriel resisted the urge to shake his head. "Amazing."

"Jeremy," Alathea decreed, plonking another weed onto her pile, "was simply magnificent. Even had you been the harbor master, you would have happily searched the log for him. He played his hand just right."

Gabriel raised a brow. "He's obviously like you-he must have inherited the same thespian tendencies."

He waited, but Alathea pointedly ignored the comment, reaching instead for another weed. After a moment, she asked, "So what's next?"

Gabriel looked across the lawns to where her stepbrothers were wrestling with a thick branch. "I'll visit Bentinck and Company this afternoon."

Alathea frowned at him. "I thought you said any open inquiry was too dangerous?"

Completing his scan of the garden, Gabriel returned his gaze to her face. "Surely you don't think you're the only one who can assume a disguise?"

Her lips twitched. "What will you be? A merchant from Hull looking for a fast ship to carry his whitebait to Africa?"

"Hull? Good God, no. I'll be an importer of wooden artifacts looking for a reliable line to transport my wares, bought throughout Africa, to St. Katherine's Docks."

"And?"

"And I'll have received a recommendation for Struthers and the line for which he sails but, being an exceedingly fussy client, I'll insist on speaking directly to Struthers before making any decision. That should encourage the company to give me Struthers's direction with all possible dispatch."

Alathea nodded approvingly. "Very good. We'll make a thespian of you yet."

&n

bsp; She looked up, expecting some light retort-he was studying her, his hazel gaze steady and keen. He held her trapped, searching, considering… the sounds of the others, their chatter, their laughter, the bright calls of the birds and the distant rumble of carriage wheels, faded away, leaving just the two of them on the grass in the sunshine.

Then his gaze shifted, dropping to her lips, briefly sweeping lower before returning to her eyes. "The trick," he murmured, his voice very low, "is not in assuming the role, but in knowing when the charade ends and reality starts."

In his eyes, so like hers, lay living reminders of all they'd shared-the childhood triumphs, the youthful adventures, their recent intimacy. Deep in their gaze, Alathea simply existed. Reaching out, he caught a wayward lock of her hair lying loose along her cheek. Taming it, he tucked it back behind her ear. As he withdrew his hand, with the backs of his fingers he caressed the whorl of her ear, then lightly traced the line of her jaw.

His hand dropped.

Their gazes held, then Alathea drew a shaky breath and looked down. He looked away. "I'll see what I can learn."

Gathering his long limbs, he rose. Alathea kept her gaze on her pansies.

"I'll let you know if I'm successful."

She inclined her head. "Yes. Do."