Mary Blayney by Traitors Kiss; Lovers Kiss Page A

would be relentless in pursuit of the goal.
    Her plans were in disarray but not compromised, thank God. The only option she could see was combining the two aspects of her mission. For it was imperative that they leave Le Havre as soon as possible. Lord Gabriel would understand that.
    It would be easy to let him believe that he was the sole reason for this elaborate game. It could work. It had to work. Please God, let this not be her third mistake.

9

    G ABRIEL STARED OUT THE WINDOW while he waited for Charlotte to dress. How long would it be before he was comfortable with a locked door, in a dark room? Exhaustion had overridden the fear last night. Now all he wanted was to be outside, breathing the less-than-pristine air of the city. Is that what his life would be reduced to: moments of panic, the urge to escape his self-made prison? Dr. Borgos would turn in his grave at such a waste of a life.
    The floor creaked as Charlotte moved from the bed to the dressing area.
    Had she done it out of pity?
If so, it would be the only time that ever happened. It made him feel like a pathetic excuse for a man.
    Jess had taught him that he should be sure to ask the wallflowers to dance. It was, he’d said, a gentleman’s responsibility to ensure the comfort of all the women in his circle.
    Gabe was sure that his brother had done it just to see them smile. If he was brutally honest, Gabe had done it out of pity.
    Was Charlotte truly a whore? Did bedding a man mean no more than a single turn on the dance floor had meant to him?
    How dearly he hoped that his occasional dance partners had never construed his gesture as pity. No moment of pleasure was worth the embarrassment, the mortification, the anger that came with the realization.
    “Are you ready, my lord?”
    Gabriel turned to face the woman who had spoken to him. “Where is Charlotte Parnell?” he asked, not entirely joking. There had been no sound of the door opening, so he knew who this woman must be, even if the evidence before him argued against it.
    “There could not be an uglier dress.” He reached out and pinched a piece of the wool to see if it felt as uncomfortable as it looked. He stepped back. “Where is your red hair? I liked that wig, as did every other man in Le Havre.” He shook his head at the overall effect. “Well, at least your bonnet is bearable. Are you a governess?”
    “With you by my side, I am a dowdy wife.” She did not react at all to his critique, only handed him a pair of spectacles. “Put these on.”
    He did as she ordered but asked, “Why is this necessary?”
    “Because the act continues. Last night your supposed mother hired me. And I am expensive, my lord. If you are cured of your grief, which we implied by our night together, then we would not be walking the streets together again this evening. We would be in bed. That is supposing you could afford a second night.” She stepped back and considered him as though he were a work of art. “Very good.”
    “Did you plan this or do you keep clothes here to cover all possibilities?”
    “A little of both,” she answered absently as she walked around him. “A stick would be too much. Stoop a little so people will believe we are a couple.”
    “They believed we were a couple before.”
    “Yes, but only because I painted you as a man desperately in need of my services.”
    “A virgin. A man made impotent by grief.” He nodded. “And what am I to be now?”
    “A man of science, of course.”
    “A man of science with a mouse of a wife.”
    “You learn quickly.”
    She went to the door, picked up the key from the table and opened it.
    They made their way down the back way, using the servants’ stairs. The passageway that ran the length of the basement was not well lit. Noise came from the kitchen, where everyone was busy preparing dinner.
    Gabriel and Charlotte blended into the shadows. Moving down the hall at a confident pace, they left through the back door. Charlotte led him