Rogues Gallery Read online

  Gabriel tossed the horse's reins to Gilbey, waiting nearby. "At least Gilbey is cheered by my return."

  The lad flashed a cheeky grin, patting the stallion's neck. "So you will not be a case at the next assizes?"

  "Only because stealing kisses is not yet a criminal act," Gabriel laughed.

  Several of the band of outlaws ambled toward the fire to greet their leader. They were a ragtag bunch, to be sure.

  One of his favorites, the soft-spoken Davy, wore a purple striped waistcoat purloined during a recent heist, along with grey woolen breeches that had seen more than a few winters come and go. Andrew, a gangly young man, had claimed a beaver top hat that had flown off another victim during a hasty escape.

  Gabriel could see from their expressions they were genuinely curious to hear what had transpired since his departure. He knew they had no fears about being excluded from anything profitable. In truth, he and Jamie ensured the dozen or so misfits were clothed and well-fed, providing them with a secure existence when no one else did.

  In return, they would follow him through every layer of hell, and see to it he was protected from all manner of harm. Edmund had become their sworn enemy merely by being Gabriel's, little though Edmund would ever know of it.

  Gabriel raised his gloved hand in salute. "Your efforts have paid off quite handsomely, lads. A celebration is in order, and Jamie has generously offered to fund the festivities from his portion of tonight's proceeds."

  Jamie rolled his eyes heavenward, but he could not contain his humor this time. There was a rumble of laughter from the surrounding rogues, as well as a chorus of hoots and good-natured catcalls.

  Eclipse snorted, tugging impatiently at the reins in Gilbey's hands.

  "Aye, you did a good job as well," Gilbey cooed as he led the horse away. "You shall celebrate with your ration of oats."

  The other bandits followed, returning to their activities, leaving Gabriel and Jamie to discuss matters of business.

  "Come, lad. Sit.” Jamie motioned with the chicken leg he had been nibbling. "Do ye need food? Or did ye have your fill with a buxom tavern wench?" His eyes narrowed. "Or is there something else ye need to be confessin', after dashing off into the night without a word to anyone?"

  Gabriel sat down on a rock near Jamie, warmed by the flames shooting into the black sky, and comforted by the concern underlying the barrage of questions.

  "Be still, Jamie, and I'll fill your ears with all that has passed since I saw you last."

  Jamie's bushy eyebrows raised in polite inquiry.

  "Especially the parts with the wench that I'm sure you've long forgotten, old man."

  Gabriel ducked just in time to hear the chicken bone whistle past his ear.

  "And who taught ye everything he knew about the fairer sex?" Jamie protested.

  "You did, of course. I merely meant to offer you some refinements I discovered during the advanced stages of my education."

  Jamie snorted, but his expression was an indulgent one Gabriel had seen many times over the years. Jamie shifted his position, biting back a wince, which Gabriel pretended not to see. He worried about his mentor, more so since he had been thrown from his horse a few months ago. Jamie had not suffered any broken bones, but his gait was a mite slower, and his movements a little more careful. Gabriel and the other lads did their best to ignore the changes, though it meant Gabriel assumed more of the leader's role each day.

  One of the rogues approached with a wooden plate piled high with bread and cold meats. Gabriel waved it aside, grabbing the proffered wine instead. He took a long pull from the wineskin and sighed with contentment.

  He yearned for the return of his rightful home, even more so after seeing his bedchamber for the first time since he was a child. Yet he could still appreciate the comforts of this unconventional abode: the fragrant wood smoke swirling through the cool night air; the sounds of the men cheating each other at cards and vociferously protesting their innocence when called on it; the horses nickering at the perimeter of the camp.

  They had made the abandoned abbey theirs, and not only because of its crumbled buildings and decrepit appearance. The local citizenry shunned the ruins, believing the place to be haunted. The occasional brave soul who ventured nearby was rousted by the resident "spirits" in such a way to warn away both the curious and the adventurous.

  More importantly, the abbey provided a clear, but distant, view of Westbrook Hall.

  "Come, lad, get on with your story," Jamie warned. "I mean to see me bed before dawn."

  Gabriel reached into his boot. He extracted the jewel case and handed it over, without uttering a word.

  Jamie opened the case, and his eyebrows shot heavenward. He blinked, several times.

  "Och! Sweet Jesus. Are they—"

  Gabriel nodded.

  Jamie put a hand to his chest. "Ye are like to hasten my death, lad. How did ye come by these?"

  Gabriel couldn't help but laugh. "We robbed Lord Westbrook's coach tonight."

  "With Lord Westbrook inside?"

  "No, he was not present, alas. In truth, I did not know it was his carriage until much later. But I did learn something rather intriguing."

  Gabriel tilted his head back as he took a long drink from the wineskin. He closed his eyes, letting the wine warm him from the inside while he contemplated the beguiling miss who had heated him in quite a different fashion.

  "Well?" Jamie prompted. "Out with it!"

  Gabriel wiped away his mirth as he dabbed at the last drops of wine on his lips. "His lordship is to be wed."

  "Och! By all the saints above!" Jamie clutched at his chest once more. "And his last wife in the ground but a year." He muttered a few prayers and imprecations that Gabriel had not heard in a long while. "Who might the poor unfortunate lass be?"

  Gabriel's body reacted in a predictable fashion as he remembered the spirited beauty who had hidden him in her bed, kissed him with an innocent passion, and provided him a new reason to return to Westbrook Hall.

  "A veritable angel," he answered, his heart thundering.

  "Och, laddie, ye had best tell me what ye have in mind." Jamie's eyes narrowed again. "Much as I dread the hearing of it."

  "Edmund wanted my title and estates so badly." Gabriel rubbed his throat, never quite able to evade the memory of his uncle's hands gripping his neck, squeezing the life out of his young body. "Yet with no heir to succeed him, his villainy has been for naught."

  Jamie nodded. "He is most likely looking over his shoulder, afraid the rightful heir will return from the dead to reclaim it all."

  "Especially since there was no body for him to bury. Perhaps he has begun to believe the tales that I still live."

  "They are credible," Jamie said, "even if the murdered man himself is planting the stories."

  Gabriel could not contain his pleasure. "I have always been fond of the one that the young Gabriel had stowed away on a ship to Boston. But," he added, "perhaps Edmund prefers to believe I died of exposure before being eaten by predators. It would also explain why there is no trace of me."

  Gabriel dug into his waistcoat, removing the ring Jamie had given him when he had reached the age of twenty-one. He studied the miniature oval portrait, still intrigued by the details captured by watercolor and gouache on ivory.

  "I remember thinking I'd lost this," Gabriel said, rubbing his thumb over the crystal covering the picture of him and his father, "in the melee of the accident. I had taken it from my mother just moments before, and tucked it away in my pocket, hoping she had not noticed my little act of larceny."

  "It is proof of who ye are," Jamie replied. "I took it from ye so I could keep it safe."

  "I think you kept it so I could not ride off after Edmund."

  "I had to have some way to ensure you stayed hidden—"

  "Not always willingly," Gabriel reminded him.

  Jamie's bearded face split into a grin. "Never willingly, ye rascal. I've spent the better part of these long years holding ye b
ack by the scruff of your neck." He displayed his roughened hands, knotted with age. "And now I've scarce enough strength to do so anymore."

  Gabriel joined in the merriment. Still, the memories of Jamie protecting him from his reckless nature, as well as the man's unspoken affection over the years, tugged at Gabriel's heart. He could not have asked for a better, or more devoted, guardian.

  Jamie stroked his beard as he gazed off into the darkness. "I wish ye could just re-appear," he finally said, "and let the world know of Edmund's treachery."

  Gabriel had heard the lament before, and he responded the same as he had on previous occasions. "And who would believe it of him? He is a trusted adviser to the Prince Regent, a highly respected peer of the realm. It is why I will never see justice in a court of law."

  "Aye," Jamie grumbled. "But I still cannae believe the sight of him, choking your wee self." He shivered, pulling his rough woolen coat closer to his body. "Ye were a mere lad, and his nephew! I did not even consider my actions. I just ran toward him, grabbing a nearby rock and smashing it against his head. When he fell, I took ye up in my arms and fled."

  Jamie reached for the wineskin with trembling hands. Gabriel handed it to him without hesitation.

  "I count myself fortunate you came on the scene when you did."

  Jamie made the sign of the cross. "If only I'd come sooner." He lifted his hope-filled eyes. "I could still tell the authorities I saw Edmund with his hands around your throat."

  "You're a wanted man too, Jamie," Gabriel reminded him. "As soon as Edmund accused you of poisoning his horses."

  Jamie growled his disgust. "All those years as head groomsman, caring for the stables, he knows I would never do such a thing. He is planting his own tales, to ensure neither one of us has any recourse."

  "But who is to believe us?" Gabriel repeated. "The magistrate is firmly wedged in Edmund's pocket, thanks to years of Westbrook patronage. And he is not likely to risk losing that status merely because two criminals accuse Lord Westbrook of unspeakable deeds."

  "But it is because of Edmund that we have become criminals! I should have just killed the blackguard when I found him trying to strangle ye."

  "Or you should have let me do it," Gabriel answered, "once I was old enough."

  Jamie frowned. "And have ye hanged as a murderer, because of his villainous acts? Nay, lad. Ye did not deserve that fate. And it would not be right for the Westbrook line to end in that fashion."

  "I shall see to it that the Westbrook line does not end," Gabriel said.

  Jamie pierced Gabriel with his gaze. "Do ye plan to personally congratulate Lord Westbrook on his upcoming nuptials?"

  "Ye are not far wrong in your thinking," Gabriel said, mimicking Jamie's brogue again.

  His spine tingled with excitement at the memory of hearing his uncle's voice for the first time in almost two decades—all while concealed in the bed of Edmund's bride-to-be. Edmund had robbed Gabriel of so much: his home, his parents, and a life meant to be filled with privilege and entitlement. Yet Edmund had seen to it that Gabriel was unable to reclaim any of it. All Gabriel could do was ensure Edmund paid a steep price, leaving him with nothing but misery for the rest of his days.

  "Och, what dangerous game do ye play now?"

  It was a perfect plan, one that compensated them for their grievous losses, and made Edmund atone for his multitude of sins. For Gabriel it would also prove a most enjoyable scheme.

  "I mean to seduce his betrothed."

  Jamie blinked, but to Gabriel's surprise, he did not applaud Gabriel for his cleverness. Indeed, Jamie did not speak for several long moments.

  "Tell me I am not hearing ye aright, lad. Do ye mean for harm to befall this innocent lass, in order to ruin Edmund?"

  Gabriel faltered a moment, startled by the unexpected anger blazing in his guardian's eyes. "I am determined to see Edmund does not have what he wants, however it must be accomplished."

  The revenge would be doubly pleasurable, for the young miss was more than delectable. His loins tightened at the memory of her standing in front of him, sheathed in a maddeningly sheer nightrail, her gossamer blonde hair spilling about her shoulders. He had been tempted to commence the seduction in that instant, especially when she returned his kiss with such passion.

  Jamie muttered something to himself, shaking his head at the same time.

  "Jamie, just imagine that moment when Edmund discovers his intended bride is no longer pure. His horror will be complete when he learns the seduction has been accomplished in Westbrook Hall, right under his very unsuspecting nose."

  The young woman's saucy request to take her from Westbrook Hall had been utterly delicious, because it signaled her trust in him. He would need her trust if he was to be successful at this scheme. Her bravery was only surpassed by her ardent response in his embrace.

  "And what if the lass ends up carrying your child?"

  "Then my heir will inherit what I cannot," Gabriel said in the teasing tone that usually tempered Jamie's anger.

  "Nay, lad, I'll have none of it." Jamie stood up, jabbing a finger in Gabriel's direction. "Though I know 'tis next to impossible to stop ye when ye've set your stubborn mind to something."

  "Jamie—"

  "I tell ye right now, if ye mean to ruin the lass, in any fashion, ye shall answer to me."

  Gabriel gaped, startled by the vehemence of Jamie's refusal. "But it only makes sense."

  "Nay, lad. Give up the notion."

  He pinned Gabriel with his gaze, but Gabriel was not about to relent.

  "You have always told me we can make this right," Gabriel said in a soft voice meant to persuade his mentor. "We have waited fifteen years for this moment."

  "I also told ye to be very certain about the plot ye decided upon, lad. For once ye have set foot down that path, there is no returning. Ye are responsible for the consequences."

  "I understand. But revenge is my right. My privilege. It is also my duty." His impassioned words did not appear to move Jamie from his rigid stance, so Gabriel tried another tack. "You desire revenge as well, Jamie, and for more than being accused of destroying the Westbrook stables. But you have never told me your reasons."

  Gabriel's request was met with an impenetrable silence, as it had been numerous times in the past. It was as if Jamie's sense of hearing disappeared once the query was made. Yet Gabriel saw his friend's lips tighten until they were white, as if it took all his strength not to divulge the secret that kept him drawing breath each day.

  "'Tis enough what he did to ye, lad," Jamie finally answered, with his more customary gentleness.

  "Then you cannot deny me this," Gabriel said. "I have proof of my birthright." He nodded to the Westbrook rubies still in Jamie's hand. "But I have acquired them through a robbery, and Edmund will see me transported, or hanged, for possessing them."

  Jamie stared at Gabriel. "Lad, it is not what ye seek."

  Gabriel returned the stare, certain Jamie would yield once he realized the depth of his resolve. "I have evidence of my parentage, but if I re-appear, we know Edmund will exert himself to murder me for certain this time. I shall never know peace once he learns I am alive."

  "There must be some other possibility," Jamie said, his shoulders sagging. "It is justice ye want, lad. Not revenge."

  "But I will never have justice. And I cannot regain my former life. Revenge is all that is left to me."

  Jamie paced in front of the fire, grumbling, as though arguing with himself. He threw a few baleful glances in Gabriel's direction and then continued his stilted stride. Gabriel felt dread gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Jamie had to see the necessity of this plan. Once this opportunity was gone, there would be no other.

  Finally, Jamie halted in front of Gabriel. He let the jewel case drop from his hands, and Gabriel scrambled to catch it before it could land in the dust.

  "I will ask ye one last time," Jamie said, his bearded chin jutting out. "Give up this plot."

  "I cannot," Gabriel sai
d, unwilling to bend. "Edmund's demise must be complete."

  "Ye can only do that if you despoil his bride?"

  "I want Edmund to feel, to the depths of his blackened soul, what it is like to be robbed of everything. He wants an heir more than anything. And once he discovers another man has claimed his bride before him, he can never be certain of his heir's parentage."

  Jamie stared at Gabriel, his expression puzzled, as though he had never seen him before. Gabriel nearly squirmed under his scrutiny, feeling like the young boy he had been when Jamie had rescued him. He pushed the emotion away, unwilling to relinquish his plans to avenge that same young boy, who had had so much stolen from him, and who deserved vengeance.

  "I guess I cannot dissuade ye, lad," Jamie said, his voice defeated. "And I am too old to stop ye." He limped away, his body stiff with anger.

  "Jamie, wait," Gabriel pleaded. "If you will but listen."

  Jamie stopped, and turned back toward Gabriel. "I have listened. And what I hear is ye plan to take the lass by deception, and possibly plant your seed in her womb. Then ye will desert her, to face whatever punishment Edmund devises for being your unwitting accomplice."

  "But—"

  "So instead of trying to change my mind, which cannae happen, ask yourself, lad. Is this truly the sort of man ye want to be?"

  Gabriel jumped to his feet. In the next instant he strode to the cloister, craving solitude, as well as an easy answer to Jamie's unsettling question.

  Chapter 4

  Daphne fastened the collar of Marisa's Pomona green riding habit, and then stepped back to admire her efforts. "There, ma'am, I think that should do."

  "It will do just fine," Marisa answered, smiling at her reflection in the pier mirror.

  The ensemble was a bit too fine for anything other than a smart ride about the grounds, particularly the green beaver hat with the fanciful black ostrich feather curving around her face. Yet it was necessary to continue the deception that escape was the last thing occupying her mind. Still, she had to admit she enjoyed how the close-fitting wool jacket showed her figure to advantage, and the cuffs embroidered in black, à la militaire, were the first stare in fashion.