Bride for a Night(162)

“We at least made certain that the bastards will be unable to continue to hide in the shadows betraying their country,” he said, resigned that he had done everything possible to keep the traitors from causing further harm. “Even if they never come to justice.”

“Yes.” Hugo polished off the brandy and set the empty glass on a rosewood table inlaid with brass. “Do you suppose they will be able to fool the traitors into offering Napoleon false information?”

“There are one or two within the Home Office who possess the skills and the intelligence to turn the situation to our advantage. It all depends on whether they can prevent the others from interfering.”

Hugo looked far from impressed, but he readily turned the conversation to more important matters.

“Well, at least you have accomplished your mission.”

“Yes.” A grim smile touched Gabriel’s lips. Whether right or wrong, he had made certain that his brother’s guilt would be hidden along with the other traitors. “Harry is protected.”

“Let us hope that he has learned his lesson.”

“Agreed,” Gabriel breathed, feeling a pang of regret at the thought of his brother.

For all of their troubled relationship, Harry was still family, and until he returned to England, Gabriel would mourn his loss.

There was a short pause as they both silently pondered the end of their dangerous adventure. Then, with a faint shake of his head, Hugo leaned against the windowsill, the fading sunlight exposing the lines of weariness etched on his face and the shadows beneath his golden eyes.

Something was keeping Lord Rothwell awake at night, and Gabriel did not for a moment believe that it had anything to do with French spies and overly stubborn Englishmen.

“When do you intend to return to Carrick Park?” Hugo demanded.

“Directly after dinner.”

Hugo arched a startled brow. “You will travel at night?”

Gabriel smiled in anticipation. He would travel through the brimstone of hell if it meant getting back to Talia.

“As much as I enjoy your companionship, old friend, I far prefer that of my wife.”

Hugo chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest. “I am wounded.”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “And what of you?”

“Me?”

“When do you plan to return to your estates?”

Rothwell stiffened, his expression becoming wary as he turned his attention to the far wall.

“I have not yet made firm plans.”

“No?” Gabriel pretended surprise.

“I have duties to attend to.”

“What duties?”

“Does it matter?”

“I would think you would be anxious to leave London.” Gabriel deliberately hesitated. “Unless, of course, there is a compelling reason for you to linger?”

Hugo made a sound of impatience, his head turning to meet Gabriel’s searching gaze.

“Why the sudden interest in my travel plans?”

“You did leave Devonshire rather abruptly in the company of Miss Lansing.”

Hugo’s expression hardened, but he could not disguise the revealing color that stained his cheeks.

“You requested to be rid of her.”

“True,” Gabriel agreed, “but I meant for you to send her on her way, not to personally escort her all the way back to London.”

With a sharp motion, Hugo was on his feet, restlessly pacing through the narrow space between the glass cases.

“I could have turned the stubborn minx away a dozen times and she would only have returned,” he growled. “She was determined to speak with Talia. The simplest solution was to make certain she left the neighborhood altogether.”