Chapter 1
If Rebecca Linwood knew of a spell to turn a man into a mule, she would have used it on Gabriel Stone and then kicked his braying behind all the way around Hanover Square.
A gentleman was supposed to come to the aid of a damsel in distress, not slam the door in her face or threaten to drown her in the Thames.
Well, she was not going to give up so easily.
With a clenched fist, she hammered on the front door again.
When the loud thud failed to rouse his butler, Rebecca decided she would have to find another way to get Mr. Stone’s attention. So, with a curtsy and a friendly wave to the ogling groups of morning strollers, she plonked herself down on his front steps and contemplated her next move.
Perhaps she could scream at the top of her voice or dance an Irish jig; that would certainly attract attention. Perhaps she could accost the milkmaid and sneak in through the servants’ quarters or mug a footman. His livery and powdered wig would provide an excellent disguise.
What would it take to get the gentleman to notice her?
What would it take to drag the grumpy old bear out of his cave?
Nothing apparently.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement in the front window and turned to find her gaze locked with the gentleman in question.
He was much younger than she imagined. A scholar of the ancient world should surely have tufts of white hair sprouting out of every orifice, not the silky black locks of a Greek god. A scholar who spends most of his time huddled over his books should have pasty white skin, not the bronzed glow of an Italian Lothario. His eyes should be beady and black from hours spent reading in the dark, not wide and soulful, not the sort of warm brown that reminded her of horse chestnuts.
Of course, she expected him to be thin and scrawny as it was common knowledge scholars were often so engrossed in their studies they forgot to eat for days.
Whereas, this man’s bulging shoulders filled the width of the window.
In fact, if Gabriel Stone wasn’t so rude and ungentlemanly, she might have gone as far as to say he was handsome, in a classically rugged sort of way. In a way that may have appealed to her, had he possessed good manners.
Well, at least she had his attention.
The thought caused her chest to fill with pride, as not everyone had her level of purpose and determination. That was until he gave her a disapproving glare and, with what she imagined was a loud swish, promptly closed the drapes.
With a disgruntled huff, she folded her arms across her chest. It was better to feel affronted than to let the tears fall.
But she could not bear another night like last night.
Her teeth began to chatter at the thought.
The noises started an hour after she had gone to bed, forcing her to sit up, her terrified gaze flitting around the room, looking for the source of the mysterious sound. When she saw the shadow of a figure forming, she knew her mind was playing its tricks — as the key to the door still hung on its black ribbon around her neck, the metal pressed flat against her skin as a comforting reminder.
The thought had not stopped her heart from racing, as this thing she feared was not bound by the usual laws of nature. A curse was not a physical being; it was not something that could be touched or reasoned with. It was nothing more than a whisper carried on a gentle breeze. A warning to those foolish enough to question its power and doubt its credibility.
Even with all her knowledge and experience, she had been foolish. She had read from the ancient Egyptian scroll as though reciting an ode while lounging in her bathtub, and now she was paying the price.
Gabriel Stone was the only person with the knowledge needed to break the evil curse. All she needed were a few mystical words of wisdom to revoke the incantation. It was not as though she wanted him to spill blood, or to dance under the moonlight wearing nothing more than a pair of deer antlers.
The sound of the front door opening interrupted her reverie, and she shot to her feet, relief coursing through her veins. Perhaps he wasn’t so cold-hearted after all.
But as Rebecca swung around she was met with the butler’s solemn face. “I have been told to remind you that the maid will be washing the steps. That if you do not move, you will find yourself swimming in a river of suds all the way down to the Thames.”