A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

"As soon as you get back from driving us to Almacks."

A minute passed, the only sound in the room the scritch-scratch of the pen. Then Alathea blotted her missive, folded it, and scrawled Gabriel's name on the front. She dropped the pen and stood. Waving the note, she crossed the room to Folwell. "There won't be an answer."

Folwell slipped the note into his coat pocket. "I'll drop it off on the way back from King Street."

Alathea nodded. Lips compressed, she strode for the front hall where Serena, Mary, and Alice were waiting.

A minute later, she was in the carriage, rolling across the cobbles to the holy portals of the patronesses' dreary rooms. Almacks! She hadn't liked the place the first time she'd seen it, when she'd been a gawky eighteen. She sincerely doubted she'd enjoy her evening, but… her sweetly loving stepmother had turned stubborn.

She'd expected to remain home that evening and arrange some discreet rendezvous to discuss her urgent news with Gabriel. Instead, over dinner, Serena had announced that Emily Cowper had made special mention of hoping to see her that evening, having missed her in the park that afternoon. That afternoon, when she'd been off on an excursion to see just how much a twelve-year-old could pry from the otherwise impregnable Port Authority.

Jeremy's success had left her giddy. She desperately wanted to see Gabriel. She'd marshaled all her arguments against Almacks and spent the half hour after dinner laying them out, but Serena had stood firm. That happened so rarely, she'd been forced to acquiesce, which had left her little time to dress. Thankfully, Nellie was fully recovered; despite the rush, her hair was elegantly coiffed, her gloves, reticule, and shawl the correct accessories for her gown of pale green silk.

Not that she cared. Given Gabriel wouldn't be there, her evening would be a complete waste of time. Still, tomorrow morning was, logistically speaking, no different from tonight.

That conclusion rang in her mind the next morning-mockingly. Scrambling to her feet, dusting earth from her cotton gardening gloves and quickly stripping them off, she told herself it didn't matter what he thought, how much he saw.

She looked up as he reached her. "I didn't expect you this side of eleven."

His brow quirked as he calmly took possession of one of her hands. "You said as early as possible."

One long finger stroked her palm. Alathea tried to stiffen. "I thought, for you, as early as possible would be close to noon."

"Did you? Why? I didn't go out last night, remember?"

"Didn't you?"

"No." After a moment, he added, "There was nowhere I wanted to go."

Her gaze locked with his, Alathea felt unaccountably giddy. He couldn't possibly mean… Was he flirting with her? Abruptly, she cleared her throat and waved vaguely at her stepsiblings. "We like to spend a little time in the garden every morning. Exercise."

"Indeed?" His shrewd gaze swept the garden. He responded to Mary's and Alice's cheery greetings with an easy smile, to Charlie's familiar "Hoi!" with a wave. Jeremy, helping Charlie lug a branch to the bottom of the garden, bobbed his head. Gabriel grinned, his gaze moving on to Miss Helm, who colored when he bowed. Beside the little governess, Augusta sat, Rose clutched in her arms, her wide-eyed gaze riveted on Gabriel.

"I can't recall seeing Jeremy since he was a babe in arms," he murmured. "And I don't believe I've met your youngest sister at all. What's her name?"

"Augusta. She's six."

"Six?" He looked back at her. "When you were six you gave me chicken pox."

"I'd hoped you'd forgotten. You promptly gave it to Lucifer."

"We three were always good at sharing." A moment passed, then he said, "Speaking of which…"

She waved at the house. "If you'd like-"

"No need to interrupt your endeavors." He looked down. "The grass is dry." So saying, he sat beside her mat, her hand still in his. Looking up at her, he tugged. "You can tell me your news here."

Alathea only just managed not to glare. She subsided with passable grace, settling once more on her knees, tugging her gloves back on. "You know I hate gardening."

His brows rose; from the corner of her eye, she could see him recalling. "So you do. How very devoted of you, to keep your sisters company." A moment passed, men he asked, "Is that why you do it?"

"Yes. No." Her gaze on the pansies, Alathea could feel her cheeks heating. Drawing in a breath, she reminded herself that he already knew more than enough to guess the truth. "They think I love gardening, and Serena insists that they should understand the basics of borders and beds from the ground up, so to speak."

She felt his gaze sweep her face, then he looked out over the lawns. "I see. And Charlie and Jeremy are the pruning specialists?"

"More or less."

He said nothing for a moment, one long leg stretched out, the other bent, one arm draped over his raised knee. Then he turned again to her. "So what have you learned?"