Chapter Twenty-Three
Sophie faced the men with her chin held high, her spine stiff as a washerwoman’s board. It wouldn’t do to reveal that her nerves had nearly gotten the better of her. The accusation in Henry’s eyes had set her pulse racing, until he’d spoken the name she used as a byline. It was bad enough he’d learned she was a reporter. Thank heavens he had not gained knowledge of her mission, of her role within the Colton Agency.
Suspicion darkened Gavin’s gaze. He hadn’t trusted her from the start. Indeed, he’d seen through her charade from the moment she’d first looked into his eyes. Peculiar that he appeared shocked by the revelation. Surely, he did not prefer to believe she was merely a charlatan out to line her own pockets through others’ grief.
Of course, she’d deceived him into believing just that. Even his offer of protection was intended to shelter a woman who’d employed parlor tricks and blatant lies to put a roof over her head, a woman who lacked the means to escape the threat on her own. How it must set him back on his heels to realize she’d fooled him with her act.
And now, she needed to continue her performance. She could not reveal the true purpose of her investigation—she could not confide her service to the Crown.
If only the falsehoods and half-truths did not taste so bitter on her tongue. She longed to know Gavin, to learn his secrets and what drove his quests. Without honesty, she could never truly know the man behind the confident explorations.
She could never truly know him.
Deep within, her heart ached with a cruel reality. She’d tasted his passion. She’d drunk in his scent and luxuriated in the pleasure of his touch. But she’d never have more than that. Her duty would not allow it.
She’d never have him. It simply wasn’t meant to be.
He pinned her with his gaze. “You are a reporter— All of this…has been an act?”
Was that pain in his voice? Did he think she’d reveled in his touch as a mere ploy, inducing him to confide in her for the benefit of a blasted story?
“I write for the Herald.” She held her voice steady and proud. “Does that truly surprise you?”
He didn’t answer her question. “You’re a better actress than I’d credited you.”
“I wished to investigate a psychic’s dealings. Séances and the like make for good copy.”
“And your time spent as Trask’s assistant…that was all a ruse?”
“How better to learn the man’s ways?”
His eyes narrowed, piercing her with cold disgust. “You made fools of those people. Does that trouble you?”
“Yes,” she said. “But there was nothing to be done about it. I told them what they wanted to hear.”
“And a bastard like Adam McNaughton…did you consider you were playing a dangerous game with a man like him? He’s a criminal, a ruffian of the worst sort.”
She lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. “He came to Trask seeking what they all do, solace for a wounded soul.”
“If your charade induced him to loosen his tongue, he might well have second thoughts about letting you go about carrying tales.”
Sophie hiked her chin another notch. “A certain element of danger factors into most of my investigations. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
She nervously smoothed her skirts, even as the younger man’s gaze bore into her, piercing as a lance.
Gavin rubbed the back of his neck. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
The question cut through her, unleashing a sudden, unexpected pain. Had she even considered he would learn the truth of her identity? Now, a portion of her secret life had been revealed. It was imperative that he not discover the whole of the matter. If she were exposed as an agent of the Crown, the entire mission would be irreparably compromised.
“I had not planned to tell you.” She shot Henry a pointed glance. “Truth be told, the revelation is rather unfortunate. I’d looked forward to alerting my readers to the perils of Trask’s lucrative enterprise.”
Gavin glanced away for the briefest of moments. Clearly, she’d wounded him. Again.
Blast it, she hadn’t intended to hurt him. He’d gone to such lengths to prove himself a hedonistic cad, interested only in the delight two willing souls might find in each other’s arms. She’d wanted a taste of that pleasure, a delicious memory. It wasn’t as if they’d spoken words of love. There’d been no hint of anything of the sort. No vows. No promises. Nothing beyond the sweetness of those heady, stolen moments when all that had mattered was the flavor of his kiss.
“I must commend you on the caliber of your performance.” A subtle bitterness marked his tone. “You certainly had me going.”
She swallowed hard against the implication in his words. Surely he could not believe what had happened between them was part of her act.
“I did not wish to hurt anyone.” Why did her throat burn with unshed emotion? The truth seemed nearly as difficult to speak as the lies.
It was his turn to shrug. “Only a fool would be wounded by your performance. As you said, you told them what they wanted to hear. All for the greater good, I suppose.”
“I intended to expose Trask as a fraud.”
“Indeed.” His eyes flashed. “I had not taken you for such a skilled liar. You truly went above and beyond the call of duty.”
His cutting words sliced through her. She shook off the emotion that plagued her and met his suddenly cold eyes. “I was rather convincing, if I say so myself.”
Gavin leaned back on his heels and folded his arms, taking her in. “Perhaps not as convincing as you thought. If Trask knows the truth…he will try to silence you.”
An image of the news clipping flashed in her mind’s eye. By now, Trask had likely discovered the picture and the accompanying letters were gone. He would suspect her. And perhaps, he would seek her out.
But she would be in hiding, safe behind luxurious, well-guarded doors.
Her stomach knotted at the thought of leaving Gavin behind to face the threat on his own.
“I have considered that possibility,” she said, stripping her voice of emotion. “It seems you and I have both put our necks on the line for something we believe in. You still have not confided your reasons to me.”
He studied her, the casualness of his pose at odds with his penetrating focus. “What is there to tell? Trask’s manipulations led a good man to his death. I will see him face justice.”
“You cannot go through with this.” The passion in Sophie’s voice surprised even herself. “Leave London now. While you can.”
“You think I would walk away?”
“That is my hope.”
“And what of you, Sophie?”
She drew in a breath and released it. If only she could tell him the truth. Allowing him to care for her had been a grave mistake. As long as he fancied himself her protector, he would be in danger.
“What happens to me is none of your concern.” Amazing, how cool the words sounded as they dripped from her tongue.
His eyes darkened, stormy as the sea at Cornwall. “We both know that is no longer the case.”
She brushed past him, skirts swishing about her ankles as she marched to the door. She had to leave this place now, before she revealed too much, before she allowed her feelings to make her weak.
She paused before his assistant, offering a crisp nod. “Mr. MacIntyre, I regret I cannot say making your acquaintance has been a pleasure. Perhaps another time.”
“Sophie, you do not need to leave,” Gavin said, his voice rough with feeling. “Together, we can see this through.”
She stopped in her tracks. If the Crown Prince had come to call, she would have been less surprised.
If Gavin had spewed angry recriminations, facing her duty would have been infinitely easier. When he looked at her like that, with decency and concern and an emotion she could not entirely fathom, her heart felt as if it might splinter in two.
Reaching for the door, she paused, turning to meet his dark gaze.
“Thank you for a most memorable experience. I must be on my way.”
“Sophie, what can I tell you that will persuade you to stay?”
Emotion scalded her throat. She swallowed against it as she opened the door.
“We’ve both said too much.” She threw a glance over her shoulder as she marched to the entry door. “Good-bye, Gavin.”
…
Gavin’s gaze followed Sophie as she turned her back to him and made short work of the distance along the corridor to the front entry.
Go after her!
By hellfire, he would do no such thing. He brushed aside the rebellious notion. He was neither a needy pup nor a lovestruck lad. He’d be damned if he’d chase after a woman—any woman, even if she happened to be Sophie Devereaux.
He should have suspected the truth. All along, he’d known there was more to Sophie than a charlatan’s accomplice. The way she’d regarded Trask, contempt she couldn’t entirely hide gleaming in those chocolate brown eyes of hers, had betrayed her. Damn shame he’d let her sway him off course every time she batted her thick, dark lashes.
If she’d landed an uppercut on his chin, she might not have stunned him so. He’d been a bloody fool.
Mrs. Edson bustled into the room. “Is something wrong? I could not help but observe Miss Sophie heading out the door. She informed me she would hire a hack to transport her home.”
Gavin cocked a brow. “Miss Sophie, is it?”
“She insisted I use her given name. Unpretentious as they come, she is.” Mrs. Edson gave an indignant sniff. “Unlike some of those gilded lilies you’ve brought under this roof.”
“Miss Devereaux wished to leave. She is a woman, not a girl. It is not my place to stop her.”
The housekeeper planted her hands on her hips and shot Henry a glance that might well have set milk to curdling. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, barging in here like the town crier. The lass saved the professor’s life last night…risked herself to bring him to safety. Stayed up near till the cock’s crow, she did, until she felt sure he’d recover. And what thanks does the lass get?”
Henry’s face drained of color. “By God, I did not know. I thought…I thought she’d brought trouble to his doorstep.”
“He’s bound and determined to do that on his own.” Mrs. Edson heaved a weary sigh, just as she’d done when Gavin was a lad who’d wandered into a patch of poison oak while exploring a thicket of woods. Like a second mother, the housekeeper had shown her devotion over the years. How many times had she whipped up a batch of shortbread or offered a sympathetic shoulder during those times when his mother and father had been at odds? He’d been pushed to the side as a consequence of his parents’ own misery. But Mrs. Edson had always been there, constant as the flow of the tides.
Still, it wasn’t like Mrs. Edson to meddle so boldly in his affairs. For years, she’d stood by as he squired women about who’d caught his eye but could make no claim on his heart. Her interference then had been confined to a pinched-lipped shake of her head and the occasional under-her-breath commentary regarding the paint on his companion’s face or the scandalous cut of a particularly generous bodice.
Peculiar, really, how she’d taken to Sophie. What had she seen in her eyes during those dark hours when the chemical had dragged him between unconsciousness and a distorted, nightmarish reality?
“You’re right.” Gavin met Mrs. Edson’s careworn countenance. “I shouldn’t have let her go.” He dragged in a breath. “Without an escort, that is.”
“You were right the first time.” A wan smile pulled at the matron’s mouth. “Go after her.”
Gavin stood alone on the front steps, surveying the surroundings. Sophie was gone. Damn it.
A covered carriage pulled by a single horse clopped along the street. Had she hired that conveyance to take her away?
Hell and damnation, he’d been a fool. He’d allowed his pain-driven anger to get the better of him. He had no guarantee the brazen bastards would not come after her in the light of day. And yet, he’d watched Sophie head off on her own. He should have forbidden her to leave. At the very least, if she could no longer tolerate his presence after he’d treated her so callously, he should have arranged a trusted driver to see her safely home.
Henry rushed to his side. “I should have escorted her to her residence.”
Gavin shook his head. “This was not your doing. If anyone bears responsibility, it’s me.”
“I’ll go after her.” Henry motioned to his sleek carriage. “If she’s in that coach, my phaeton will have no trouble closing the distance.”
“That won’t be necessary. I think I know where she’s gone. I’ll find her.”
“Where do you think she’s headed?”
“Trask’s studio. She likely intends to search for additional evidence against the blighter and his ugly business.”
Henry’s expression went grim. “I do not believe Trask still poses a threat.”
“What in blazes are you talking about?”
“I’d intended to pass along this bit of intelligence earlier. Like a blazing fool, I became sidetracked when I spotted Miss Devereaux,” Henry said. “I took breakfast in a café this morning, not far from the Strand. Word on the street is that Trask has gone missing.”
“Missing?” The word reverberated in Gavin’s thoughts.
“Trask was scheduled to conduct a midnight gathering. Several patrons arrived at his salon to find the preparations had been made for the séance. Candles had been lit, and the place reeked of incense. But Trask did not join the group. He is nowhere to be found.”