A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

With no "Good-bye," he moved off, waving to the others, stopping to exchange a polite word with Miss Helm. Alathea hesitated, then gave in to the urge to turn her head and watch him as he strode away.

Twelve hours later, Alathea stood by the side of Lady Hendricks's overcrowded music room, enraptured by the composition faultlessly rendered by the capital's most sought-after string quartet. The first segment of the performance was drawing to a close when long fingers curled around her wrist, then slid down to tangle with hers.

Her head whipped around. Her eyes widened. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Gabriel looked at her, an incipient frown in his eyes. "I wanted to see you."

He eased in beside her; she was forced to make room. The last thing she wanted was to draw more eyes their way. "How did you know I was here?" They both spoke in whispers.

"Folwell told me where you were headed."

"Fol-? Oh." She caught his eye. "You know about Folwell."

"Hmm. Has he mentioned my new man?"

"Chance?"

Gabriel nodded. "His tongue runs on wheels, out of my presence or in it. I knew Folwell was haunting my kitchen from the first. I didn't, however, connect his presence with you. I thought he was there to see Dodswell. I know better now, but Folwell does have his uses."

With a sniff, Alathea returned her gaze to the musicians. "I can't believe Lady Hendricks sent you a card for this-not even she could be that naively hopeful."

"She didn't." Gabriel settled close beside her. "I simply walked in, secure in the knowledge she won't show me the door." He studied Alathea's profile, watching it soften as the music drew her back. The line of her jaw fascinated him, a subtle melding of feminine strength and vulnerability. She had always struck him that way-as much a partner as one to be protected. He'd recognized that quality in the countess; he'd known it in Alathea all his life.

Following her gaze to the players, he waited until they concluded their piece on an uplifting crescendo before murmuring, "The captain is presently uncontactable."

The outburst of applause distracted the crowd so none but he saw her disappointment. It filled her eyes as well as her expression. He moved across her, lifting her hand to his sleeve. "Come to the window-we can speak more freely there."

The narrow windows were open, a balcony, barely a ledge, beyond them. A cool breeze wafted the filmy curtains. Pressing them aside, they stood on the threshold, facing each other, hardly private but sufficiently apart from other guests to talk without being overheard.

Alathea leaned back against the window frame. "What did you learn?"

"Aloysius Struthers is our man-the clerks at the shipping line confirmed the description, and also that he's something of an expert on East Africa, having sailed those coasts for the last decade and more. Unfortunately, the captain is presently away visiting friends-the company has no idea where. He has no family and no fixed abode in this country. However, he does call in now and then to check there's no change in his sailing schedule. He's not due to sail again for a month. I left a message guaranteed to bring him to Brook Street the instant he reads it, but he may not get it for a week or more."

Alathea grimaced.

Gabriel hesitated, then continued, "There's also the possibility that he might not be willing to help. The clerks painted a picture of an irascible old gent more concerned with his ships and Africa than anything else. I gather he doesn't have much time for nonsailors."

"Do we have enough proof to mount a case without his testimony?"

Gabriel paused, then said, "Montague's figures are strongly suggestive of deliberate fraud, but are not conclusive. A good barrister could argue his way around them. What else we have on the three towns-Fangak, Lodwar and Kingi-relies on the reports of explorers who are not themselves available to vouch for the details. As for information from the African authorities, my contacts in Whitehall are finding it exceedingly difficult to get any straight answers, which in itself is highly suspicious. For any serious investor, what we have would be more than enough to pass judgment on Crowley's scheme. For a court of law, we need more."

"How much more?"

"I'll keep pressing Whitehall. Without more definitive proof, lodging a petition at this stage would be unwise."

"Essentially, we need the captain."

"Yes, but at the moment, there's nothing more we can do on that front."

"And even if we do find him, he may not help."

Gabriel made no reply. A moment later, the musicians laid bow to string. They both turned toward the dais as the crowd resettled for the next piece. A lilting air, it filled the room with a hauntingly sweet melody. Alathea watched the musicians, letting their art sweep her away, temporarily soothing her fears. Gabriel watched her. The short piece ended; applause rolled through the room. Alathea contributed her share, then sighed and turned to him.

"I'd forgotten you like music."

Her expression turned wry. "To my mind, it's one of the few charms of the capital-to be able to hear the most talented musicians."

Gabriel merely nodded. His gaze went past her, and abruptly sharpened. "Damn! That harpy's actually going to throw her daughter at me."