him should have made him the happiest of men. But at the moment, he wanted to drown her in the lake he rode around.
If she had been a man, she would have paid for the insults she threw at him as he left her room. Did she really think that little of him? Had she ever understood what kind of man he prided himself in being? His wife was as much a stranger to him as the girl who sold flowers at the entrance of the park.
The idea that she thought he would bed her by throwing up her nightrail and thrusting inside her, while she would have been in obvious discomfort or planning the week’s menus, was just too much to bear. Did she really believe he was such a beast? Oh, he knew she did not like him. She had made that very clear, but to think that poorly of him was infuriating. From the day he had entered his cradle, honour and duty were drilled into him. Whether she believed it or not, he was a man bound by honour. And that honour had cost him more than she knew.
Up ahead, three men on horseback cleared the trees. The sun had begun to paint the sky in pinks and yellows, and the rumble of his stomach told him a good breakfast might settle some of his anger. It was time to head home.
* * *
Gabriel was sitting in his breakfast room, tucking into his meal and reading The Times , when Bennett informed him the Earl of Hartwick was calling. Hopefully his friend was here to tell him something about the smell of the note belonging to the gunman. Glancing up, Gabriel followed Hart’s progress as he strolled into the room, his black frock coat fluttering behind him. If he had not handed over his coat to Bennett, Gabriel knew this wasn’t a social call.
Hart dropped into the chair next to him and tipped his head towards Bennett. The butler looked at Gabriel for approval before fetching a glass of his best brandy for the Earl. After taking a small sip, Hart ran his hand through his black hair, attempting to move a lock that had fallen over his bright blue eyes. ‘It’s a good thing you’re so predicable that I knew I’d find you here at this hour. I want you to know I had plans last night that I altered especially for you.’
Gabriel cut into his ham and studied Hart. ‘A bit early for brandy, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I’ve not gone to bed yet. Well, that is not exactly true...’
‘So I take it you have something to tell me.’
‘I do.’ Hart reclined back, a sly smile peaking over the rim of his glass. ‘I know who the gunman is.’
Gabriel put his fork down and leaned forward. ‘How?’
‘Do you not want to know how I reasoned it out?’
‘I fear I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?’
‘Not if you want that name. What has ruffled your feathers this morning?’
‘I’m unruffled, now talk.’
Hart studied him and took another sip of brandy. ‘It was a good thing Andrew mentioned the man’s accent when he showed me that note.’
‘His accent?’
‘Yes, he said he recognised it from his time near Manchester. Using that bit of information, I took a trip by the river to the Black Swan. Many of its patrons hail from up north. I simply asked a lively lass of my acquaintance who is a barmaid there if she would take a look at him for me. I was pleased to discover that she did indeed know the man.’ He took another slow sip, savouring his drink. ‘She also found identifying a prisoner quite exciting. So for that, I thank you.’
‘You took someone to the Tower without my consent?’ Gabriel tried to relax his fist.
Hart waved his hand casually in the air, which was all the more infuriating. ‘Apologies...deep regret...whatever it is you need to hear. But be aware I did not exactly have the opportunity to contact you at the time.’
‘And how did you explain your need to identify the man, and why he was being held in the Tower?’
‘I told her he attempted to rob me. She believed it, saying he was an unsavoury fellow who was known to annoy the patrons with talk of his disgust of the monarchy and
If she had been a man, she would have paid for the insults she threw at him as he left her room. Did she really think that little of him? Had she ever understood what kind of man he prided himself in being? His wife was as much a stranger to him as the girl who sold flowers at the entrance of the park.
The idea that she thought he would bed her by throwing up her nightrail and thrusting inside her, while she would have been in obvious discomfort or planning the week’s menus, was just too much to bear. Did she really believe he was such a beast? Oh, he knew she did not like him. She had made that very clear, but to think that poorly of him was infuriating. From the day he had entered his cradle, honour and duty were drilled into him. Whether she believed it or not, he was a man bound by honour. And that honour had cost him more than she knew.
Up ahead, three men on horseback cleared the trees. The sun had begun to paint the sky in pinks and yellows, and the rumble of his stomach told him a good breakfast might settle some of his anger. It was time to head home.
* * *
Gabriel was sitting in his breakfast room, tucking into his meal and reading The Times , when Bennett informed him the Earl of Hartwick was calling. Hopefully his friend was here to tell him something about the smell of the note belonging to the gunman. Glancing up, Gabriel followed Hart’s progress as he strolled into the room, his black frock coat fluttering behind him. If he had not handed over his coat to Bennett, Gabriel knew this wasn’t a social call.
Hart dropped into the chair next to him and tipped his head towards Bennett. The butler looked at Gabriel for approval before fetching a glass of his best brandy for the Earl. After taking a small sip, Hart ran his hand through his black hair, attempting to move a lock that had fallen over his bright blue eyes. ‘It’s a good thing you’re so predicable that I knew I’d find you here at this hour. I want you to know I had plans last night that I altered especially for you.’
Gabriel cut into his ham and studied Hart. ‘A bit early for brandy, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I’ve not gone to bed yet. Well, that is not exactly true...’
‘So I take it you have something to tell me.’
‘I do.’ Hart reclined back, a sly smile peaking over the rim of his glass. ‘I know who the gunman is.’
Gabriel put his fork down and leaned forward. ‘How?’
‘Do you not want to know how I reasoned it out?’
‘I fear I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?’
‘Not if you want that name. What has ruffled your feathers this morning?’
‘I’m unruffled, now talk.’
Hart studied him and took another sip of brandy. ‘It was a good thing Andrew mentioned the man’s accent when he showed me that note.’
‘His accent?’
‘Yes, he said he recognised it from his time near Manchester. Using that bit of information, I took a trip by the river to the Black Swan. Many of its patrons hail from up north. I simply asked a lively lass of my acquaintance who is a barmaid there if she would take a look at him for me. I was pleased to discover that she did indeed know the man.’ He took another slow sip, savouring his drink. ‘She also found identifying a prisoner quite exciting. So for that, I thank you.’
‘You took someone to the Tower without my consent?’ Gabriel tried to relax his fist.
Hart waved his hand casually in the air, which was all the more infuriating. ‘Apologies...deep regret...whatever it is you need to hear. But be aware I did not exactly have the opportunity to contact you at the time.’
‘And how did you explain your need to identify the man, and why he was being held in the Tower?’
‘I told her he attempted to rob me. She believed it, saying he was an unsavoury fellow who was known to annoy the patrons with talk of his disgust of the monarchy and