Chapter Fourteen
Gabriel knew not to underestimate Miss Devereux, but he was shocked to find her in an alleyway over in Cheapside.
He’d come on his own business with a friend and had been passing by when he noticed two young ladies duck into the alley in a panic. He’d moved to help them at once, if help was needed. To find out one of the young ladies was Miss Devereux had both startled and, strangely, thrilled him. She was never where she was supposed to be.
He found that rather exhilarating.
“Where are you going?” he asked as he stepped into the girls’ path.
To Gabriel’s shock, Miss Devereux squealed, threw a reticule in his face, and then stamped on his foot in the rush to get by him. Gabriel winced but wasn’t thrown in the slightest. He caught her by the waist and spun her about while the little maid put her hands to her face and recited “oh dear oh dear oh dear” over and over again.
“I’m not C.D. Winthrop! You can’t prove anything! Let me pass!” Miss Devereux cried.
“It’s I, Miss Devereux. Lord Rockford. Gabriel. Ow!”
She tried getting past him once again, this time delivering an accidental yet still impressive wallop to his midsection. If she ever wished to learn how to fight, he could happily instruct her. She’d the willpower if nothing else. At long last, her furious exertions slowed.
“My lord?” She gaped at him. “Why…why should you follow me into an alleyway!”
“I didn’t follow. I noticed two ladies in seeming distress and stepped in to be of help.” Gabriel smirked; he was still holding the blond hellion against himself, and the faintest press of her body upon his reminded him of all the considerable attributes she kept hidden away beneath her frock. Caroline’s bosoms rose and fell with her heavy breathing, another delight. Slowly, he released her and she stepped back. “If I may ask, Miss Devereux, what are you doing here? And whom are you hiding from?”
“I was just seeing my publisher,” she answered breathlessly. “I had questions about the revisions he wanted for Masquerade at Seville . Phyllis, do calm down! Are you ill?” Caroline turned to the maid, who was hyperventilating.
“S-sorry, Miss. I-I’ll try not t-to faint.” The poor girl slumped over as Caroline steadied her.
“We were running from a creditor,” Caroline grumbled. “At least, we think that’s what he is. He’s the fellow that’s been snooping about trying to discover Mr. Winthrop’s secret identity and address.” She looked weary but also relieved; the thought he might make her feel safer gave Gabriel a sudden thrill.
“Why didn’t you simply write to your publisher if you wanted information?” he asked.
“Because some things are better hashed out in person.”
Well. He agreed with that.
“Is your maid going to be all right?” Gabriel frowned as the servant girl’s cheeks began to go pale. “Here. Give her to me.”
He picked the girl up quite easily. Caroline looked him up and down once, and he wondered if there mightn’t be a small spark of jealousy in her gaze. The thought made Gabriel almost wild with pleasure.
“I’m afraid I didn’t bring my carriage so I can’t simply drive you home,” he said. “But if you’ll accompany me to my destination, I’ll see she’s well taken care of.”
“Yes. What are you doing in Cheapside anyway?” Caroline asked with a challenging air, as usual.
“Perhaps I’m looking for a publisher of my own.” He grinned when she narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “I’m visiting an old friend. He’s a problem he needs my help with.”
“I assume this place is a bad destination for ladies?” Caroline crossed her arms primly.
“Everywhere in this world is a bad destination for ladies to hear certain people tell it.” He set Phyllis down on her feet when she seemed to come to, though he let her lean upon him for balance. “I promise, though, that this is not nearly as scandalous a place as our outing to the Wolf’s Den. And it’s broad daylight. Your virtue is quite safe with me, Miss Devereux.”
“I’m not certain that will ever be true, my lord, but I’ll trust you today.” She lifted her chin. “Purely for Phyllis’s sake, of course.”
“Of course.”
They were lucky that Niccolson’s, a pub with a backroom for fights, was close by, only down another street and to the left.
The three of them slipped quite neatly into the crowd, a rush of anonymity that made Gabriel feel better than he had in a while.
Today was a brief stop to revisit the scenes of his past. How fortuitous that Miss Devereux should be sharing it with him.
Since that moment of revelation in the Weatherford garden when he’d realized he was falling in love with her, he’d wanted to share everything with her. Good and bad, bitter and sweet, he wanted to show her himself as she had put her own inner being on display for him.
Gabriel swung open the door and helped the ladies down the stairs into the rather cramped cellar room.
There was a bar to one end with kegs of ale lining the walls behind, spigots wedged into certain barrels and ready to dispense of their wares. Stools lined the bar, and a few tables were thrown about the place. A dirty pair of windows let in some smeared, watery light from the street. It was always dim in this place, and the air was permanently suffused with the smell of beer.
Gabriel had enjoyed his days here, drinking his weight in ale, fighting off the drunkenness, then doing it all over again. As he led the girls into the room, Niccolson looked up from behind the bar. The man was in his fifties now, on the short side with a plain but honest face and deep lines bracketing the sides of his mouth. He smiled.
“Gabe! There you are.”
To be called Gabe again and not milord or Your Lordship was a tonic to Gabriel’s nerves. He brought Miss Devereux and the maid to the bar. To his delight, Miss Devereux hopped right up onto a barstool without a thought for propriety.
“Who’s this, then?” Niccolson asked.
“Caroline Devereux,” she replied at once, delighting Gabriel with her boldness.
“Beg pardon, Miss, but you don’t look the sort who usually frequents my establishment.”
“I daresay His Lordship falls into the same category,” she promptly replied.
The man grinned, and Gabriel stiffened when he caught Niccolson eyeing Caroline with too much admiration. The fellow meant nothing by it, but Gabriel was increasingly jealous of any who looked too long at Miss Devereux.
“Gabe, I’m glad you brought these young ladies. Ale, my dears? On the house.”
“I’ll pay for the drinks,” Gabriel grumbled as he counted out a few coins and slammed them onto the bar. “Just don’t go entertaining fancy ideas while I’m training your new meal ticket.”
“I promise, there’s nothin’ fancy about me at all, Gabe. You know that.” Niccolson winked at him, and both men laughed.
“How long have you two known each other?” Caroline seemed genuinely surprised.
“For years, since I was two-and-twenty,” he replied. “You mustn’t be shocked, Miss Devereux. You know I’ve long been accustomed to rougher company than this.”
“He has indeed.” Niccolson whistled as he poured the ale from a spigoted cask.
“I suppose I meant to ask how you became acquainted.” She grinned cheekily at Gabriel. “Or do you know every tavern keeper in London on sight and by name?”
“Nearly.” Gabriel laughed as he took a draught of his ale. Nothing had ever tasted crisper or better to him, probably because he was sharing a mug with Caroline. He’d never expected to take a young lady of the ton to such an establishment as this. He was delighted that she wasn’t put off by it.
“After you’re done with that, my lord, the boy should be in the back.” Niccolson gave a sharp whistle and shouted toward the other room. “Oi, Barry! Come in when you’ve a second, your trainer’s here.”
“Trainer?” Caroline appeared surprised. “For what are you training him?”
“For the ring,” Gabriel replied. “If Niccolson’s right about how good he is, though, which I doubt.” He chuckled. “Niccolson’s a terrible liar.”
“Only lies I’m guilty of are telling you your jokes are funny.” Niccolson winked and whistled again. “Barry! Get in here!”
Gabriel watched as an unusually scrawny lad entered from the back room carrying a crate. Within it, bottles clinked and liquor sloshed about. Barry set the crate down upon the floor next to the bar and stood tall.
“You called, Mister?” The boy had an Irish lilt to his voice and could not have been more than nineteen.
Tall, yes, but skinny and long-limbed with jug ears, a weak chin, and a thatch of reddish-brown hair. Gabriel frowned. Niccolson had told him about his “big find,” a kid with the speed of a hare in heat and the strength of a bull. This didn’t seem like such a physical specimen.
“You sure this is the one, Niccolson?” Gabriel asked. “I’m not here to train a boy just to get slaughtered in the first round of his first match.”
Barry squared his admittedly unimpressive jaw.
“Mister, if you like you can give us a go-round and see how you fare by the end.”
“I should like to see this.” Caroline’s eyes were alight with mischief. But more than that, she seemed to look at Gabriel as if she were seeing him anew. He wanted to hold her attention.
“Okay if the women watch, Niccolson?”
“In here, women are as free as men.” The barkeep shrugged. “For a price, that is. Barry’s going to make me a wealthy man.”
“Myself as well,” the kid said, sounding a little too boastful.
“Start charging for tickets when there’s a real fight on. Come on, boy. Let’s see how you do in the ring.” Gabriel extended his hand for Caroline’s. “Have you seen a fight before?”
“I used to box Edmund’s ears when he took the last biscuit. Otherwise, I’m unschooled in such things.” But she seemed eager to watch, and that meant Gabriel was eager to impress her. All her fears from earlier, her terror of the supposed creditor, had vanished as though they’d never been.
“This way, then.”
“M-may I stay here, Miss?” Phyllis asked. Caroline agreed to the girl’s relief.
Gabriel led her through to the next room, where men fought for a little prize money on a Saturday night.
Niccolson’s room was no professional venue. It boasted a dirt floor and ropes tied to a few posts, creating an area in the center for the fighters. Men stood all around the sides of the place, laid bets, drank, and generally grew unruly the longer a match went on.
Gabriel had truly cut his teeth in this place. Niccolson’s was one of the few spots where he’d ever been knocked flat on his back.
He watched as Caroline took her place against the wall, looking rather amusing in a sordid, plain sort of place. She was a golden presence in such a dingy underworld.
“Mr. Niccolson says you’re tops.” Barry took his place in the ring, looking at Gabriel with disbelief. “Sure now he must be havin’ me on. How’s a toff like you supposed to have gone rounds against some of the best this city’s ever seen?”
“I did it by being one of the best,” Gabriel replied. He removed his coat and cravat and rolled up his sleeves. He prowled around Barry, assessing the boy’s possible strengths and weaknesses. “There’s no law that says a toff can’t learn how to fight.”
“But there’s laws that say a poor Irishman can’t make his fortune in London,” Barry replied.
Gabriel frowned. “There’s no law against that, either.”
“Maybe not on paper.” Barry turned with Gabriel, knees crouched, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “But you know well as I do they’ll keep us down anyway they can.”
So swift Gabriel almost didn’t see, Barry took a swing right for his face. It was only Gabriel’s fast ducking that saved him from a broken nose.
He walked carefully around the bobbing, lanky young man and realized he had underestimated the lad. He’d been so fixated upon his youth and the slightness of his build that he’d forgotten speed. Not only that, the lankiness gave Barry an advantage; he could reach farther to an opponent, take a longer stride to get away.
He’s not the only one here who understands being underestimated. Gabriel thought of Caroline, of course, but there was also his own history. His parents had both barely cared about him; they’d often told Gabriel he was the strong one. The unspoken addendum was “and Phillip is the smart one.”
But just because Gabriel had never been overly interested in books didn’t mean he had no cunning in him. Quite the contrary. It took him less time to learn than most other boys in the schoolroom. He absorbed information like a sponge, which had made him grow bored in class after having inhaled the lesson. His wayward attention had been called “obstinacy” and sometimes “thickheadedness.”
Gabriel had underestimated young Barry, and for that he likely did deserve to get a broken nose.
“That’s good.” He could already tell where they’d have to work; the young Irishman was following Gabriel by turning his body first, his feet slow to move. “Come for me again.”
The young fellow took a wide step to the side and threw a punch. This time, Gabriel deflected it easily and, making sure not to hit too hard, grazed Barry across the jaw. The young man went stumbling backward, laid against the ropes. He rubbed his chin in surprise.
“Sure you must be a magician of sorts, Yer Lordship. I should’ve seen that coming and yet here I am.”
“It’s simple. I keep my motions as tightly concealed as I can, only showing them in the instant before impact. You signal everything from a mile away. It’s a small flaw, but it’ll cost you dearly in the ring.”
Barry nodded and ambled back toward Gabriel.
“Thought you were good for a toff, but I gather you’re a fair obstacle for any man breathin’.” Barry looked impressed.
“People often underestimate others for all sorts of reasons.” Gabriel stepped forward and clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Take my advice, and you’ll end up the Irishman with all of London in your pocket before too long.”
“Niccolson takes half me earnings.” The boy looked wary. “How much’ll you be after to teach me?”
“None. That’s the beauty of coming into a title. You do things for love, not money. If you’re smart, that is.”
Gabriel felt Caroline’s eyes shining upon him as he stepped back. He had been uncovering new layers of her personality these past weeks, but being the secretive creature he was, he hadn’t let her get too close. Until just now. And she seemed to like him. Not just like him well enough for a man she was to marry. Liked him.
He locked eyes with her, took in the radiant happiness of her smile, the faint flush of her cheeks. Then her pleasure disappeared and her mouth formed into a little O of shock.
Gabriel’s vision juddered as Barry walloped him across the face. He staggered and kept his feet.
“Sorry, milord! Thought I told you I was going again.” The boy looked nervous. Gabriel shook his head and laughed.
“No harm done. Now.” He got back into fighting stance. “This time, I’ll have no distraction.”
Though where Caroline was concerned, there was no such thing as “no distraction.”
“It was good of you to help coach that boy,” Caroline said as the three emerged back into the Cheapside streets. “Very kind to help someone in his situation.”
“He’s a brave lad, leaving his home and his country to struggle for a living in London. Of course I’d do whatever I could.” Gabriel did walk a little taller, though, with such a compliment from her.
“Still. When I thought of you traveling the world and fighting in pubs before, I imagined a surly, cursed mongrel of a creature.” She gave him a teasing smile. “I never imagined you’d be so friendly to anyone.”
“Not to anyone. There’s plenty of toffs I hate, and they know it.” Gabriel looked at her meaningfully. “But I try to be good to those I like.”
In her case, more than like. Every second that passed in her presence he became surer and surer of his love. Caroline had turned almost shy now. He wanted to see her in totality…and he knew the way to do it.
“Miss Devereux, can one purchase Mr. Winthrop’s pamphlets in any bookshop?”
“Oh!” Her cheeks flamed. “Um, I should think so. Though several are likely hard to find.”
“Leave that to me.” He could write to that publisher and demand copies if need be. He’d pay a handsome sum. “I’ve decided to take up a new hobby. Reading. I’ll start with C.D. Winthrop and see what I think.”
“I’m sure you won’t like them.” She was blushing scarlet by now.
“The books come from your brain.” Gabriel smiled as he continued to escort Caroline along the way home. “If I like the source, I daresay I’ll like the stories themselves.”