Chapter Twenty-Four
Gabriel did not see Janelle for a week. She did not attend any of the parties that her aunt accepted on her behalf.
Nor did Betty administer to any of the servants in the kitchen stillroom.
Normally, Gabriel would have investigated this change in activity, but he guessed that their illicit kisses had upset her.
He understood that some women—moral woman like her—did not feel the constant state of arousal that tormented adolescent boys.
Therefore, when they experienced true attraction, it overwhelmed their systems. Some women would then withdraw as they fought a desire that they could not manage for a man they could not have.
That reasoning sounded completely plausible for five days and nights.
Days when he was abruptly busy with work left for him by Lord Benedict, things that could not be delegated to another.
And nights where he relived every moment spent with Janelle.
Every shared looked, heated exchange, or lustful action.
He stroked himself often while imagining her hands, her mouth, her body pleasuring him as he ached to do with her.
He had just finished one of his favorite fantasies when it occurred to him how ridiculous his conclusions about her were.
Their one night together showed Janelle to be a woman bold in her desires.
She was certainly inexperienced, but in every aspect, Janelle did not shy from exploration.
Indeed, if anyone hid away from uncomfortable desires, it was himself.
That was the truth of why he had not sought her out.
Certainly, he’d been working hard on Lord Benedict’s list of tasks and had been too weary to dress for an evening’s entertainment.
He’d also been leery of what he would say in her presence, of how he would hold himself apart from her, and questioned how he could maintain his honor while standing near enough to smell her scent, see her delight, and not touch her.
He feared what he might do if tempted again, so he stayed away, only belatedly discovering that she had not attended the amusements that had been on her schedule.
That wasn’t worrisome, he’d told himself.
He could visit Betty at her stillroom the next day.
But then he thought of being in an enclosed space with her, of taking off his shirt and letting her hands touch his scars.
That would be too much for his control. He was sure of it.
And the risk of discovery was too great inside her own home with the servants right there.
Indeed, he wasn’t sure how he’d kept himself apart from her the first time.
So he’d sent a subordinate who’d cut his hand to see Betty.
Better that than risk exposing how much he wanted her.
And to keep himself away, he went off on an exploration of London in the hopes of finding a new location for her to work.
It wasn’t until the next day that his subordinate informed him that Betty wasn’t seeing anyone.
That was disturbing, and he sent around a letter that very day.
He inquired after her health and asked if he could escort her about Hyde Park that afternoon.
She wrote back that she would be pleased to do such a thing, but she was otherwise occupied this day.
Perhaps he was available later in the week.
The letter was polite, the handwriting somewhat scrawled, as if she had dashed the note out in haste. Could she be working? Of course, she was!
It mattered not a whit that he had commanded Madame Florina to cease sending her midwifery messages. He’d paid the woman an exorbitant amount to remove Janelle from her thoughts until after he established a safe location for Betty to work.
How perfectly Janelle-like to find a way to subvert his orders. And how stupid that he thought he could command women to do as he wanted and not exactly as they pleased.
Unfortunately, his work at the Foreign Office required his attention and he was unable to interrogate Madame Florina until the early hours of the next morning when they were both irritable and uninterested in difficult conversations.
He tried every manner of persuasion he had at his disposal, but she would not be intimidated or coerced.
She swore she had not sent for Betty and threatened to have her bouncers cast him out. He had no choice but to leave.
He presented himself at Miss Caddick’s home the very next day.
He intended to wait until he could see her for himself.
He was forestalled by the butler and then her aunt who was anxious to settle several details about the wedding.
He could not storm her bedroom—that would be highly inappropriate.
Nor could he put off the wedding discussion with Lady Boxval.
The guest list and seating arrangements were important.
They were always important at diplomatic affairs.
And so he lost another day in fruitless speculation and endless work.
He spoke to his mother next. He hoped to gain insight into the informal network of communication that seemed to go through the whorehouse via Madame Florina.
He learned instead of a myriad of damages to the building, structural weaknesses, and roof decay.
He thought if he spent his time listening to the woman’s full list of complaints, he would find some way to bargain for information.
After all, with a simple word, he could have an army of repairmen at the Rose Garden.
But again, his mother remained completely intractable.
He didn’t understand it. If she wanted a roof repaired, then all she had to do was tell him how Betty came to work for her, and how information was passed.
And most important, where Janelle was at that very moment.
He garnered no information at all, most likely because his mother knew very little about Madame Florina’s midwifery network. She had no idea how Janelle had come to Florina’s attention and likely knew equally little about the day-to-day operations of the whorehouse.
Which left him at a complete loss. In desperation, he resorted to the one person he never expected to be lounging in his mother’s parlor: Lord Nathaniel.
The man lay sprawled negligently beneath a window. A new girl petted his chest, but he appeared less interested in her than he did the comings and goings around him. And when he caught Gabriel’s tight expression, his brow rose in query.
“I see she has forgotten your birthday again,” Lord Nate drawled.
His birthday wasn’t for another month. The only reason he knew that was because it was near to his mother’s and that was something never forgotten. He’d ceased thinking about it the day he entered the military and was finally free of her control.
“Let me buy you a drink to celebrate,” Lord Nathaniel said as he disentangled himself from the girl. “You can tell me what special treat you have in store.”
“My treats are my own,” Gabriel grumbled under his breath. It was a sour comment after a frustrating time with his mother, and he usually had better control of himself.
It would seem Lord Nathaniel agreed as his brows rose in surprise. “At least accompany me to the Barringrey ball. My lady wife is there tonight, and I am desperate to dance with her.”
Good God, the man wore his love for his wife right out in the open.
Gabriel felt a flash of envy at such a thing.
Then, when he said nothing, Nate continued, “I believe several of the government set were invited, including Miss Caddick. It must be terribly difficult for her with Lord Benedict out of town. Do the plans for their nuptials proceed apace?”
The mention of Janelle caught his attention.
The reference to her wedding cut at his already soured gut.
But since Lord Nate appeared to know more than Gabriel did about Janelle’s invitations, he slowed his steps enough for the man to accompany him out the door.
But he didn’t give much grace beyond that.
“Was she truly supposed to go to the Barringrey ball?” he demanded. “Or was that an excuse?”
“She was, but I hear she has a hideous migraine.” He shot a wry look at Gabriel. “It seems to be catching.”
His head did pound, but that always happened after he spoke with his mother. “Do you know where she is?”
“I assumed you did. Indeed, I was giving you the opportunity to increase the mirage that she is safely tucked in bed with a throbbing temple.”
Damn it. He should have realized that. Instead, he slowed his steps even further. “So you know she’s a midwife.”
“I suspected, and you have now confirmed.” Lord Nathaniel smiled. “I find it admirable.”
“I find it dangerous.”
“But surely that is manageable.” He turned so that he studied the Gabriel’s face closely. “You hate the very idea, don’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She births babies. That is to her credit. And it’s bloody hard work.”
“Then it is the wedding you object to. Surely you can see that Lord Benedict is the perfect solution for her. He approves of her actions, provided it is done safely. There is wealth enough to create an establishment for her. It is only the details that need arrangement, and you are unmatched in your ability to settle details.”
He was usually, but in this, she had stymied him.
“She runs off on her own. Has done, apparently, since she was young. She says she will allow me to manage things, but then disappears completely, no doubt delivering triplets to someone in the rookeries.” They turned the corner enough that he could gesture back at his mother’s home.
“And my blasted parent knows something but will not share it! Not even if I promise to fix her blasted roof.”
“Well as to that, your mother knows what all women know. Childbirth is the one place where a man can do nothing. He has no influence, no sway, and no female has the least interest in obliging him.”
“I am trying to help!”