Triana's Spring Seduction Read online

  “I say we continue combing the cliffs in Kent.” Travell paused, waiting for the duke to concur. “This would allow the thieves time to transport their cargo quickly to Dunkirk or Gravelines in France without fear of running into the morning patrol.” He shuffled a few papers around. “Ridge has taken over your position in the Dials, awaiting his opportunity to board the Clara Belle, and Logan is still assisting the Runners in their search efforts. Have you still not found anything of import at Worthington house?”

  Gabriel’s eyes carried that familiar, determined glint of steel — the fervor radiating through his body almost palpable. “Not as yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

  As tired as Travell was, he couldn’t help but allow an amused smile. He’d certainly heard that tone before. Thinking back, he tried to recall how long he’d known Gabriel. Fifteen years? They had attended Cambridge together, but at the time they’d tended to frequent different circles. Gabriel had been relentless in his pursuit of mischief, whereas Travell had chosen a raucous lifestyle temporarily.

  But the future duke had soon found that such debauchery was not without its consequences and eventually fell out of favor with his father because of his recklessness. As an only child and heir, he hadn’t been disinherited; although the relationship between the former Duke of Chiltern and his son grew so strained that Gabriel had left England for a time. Travell still didn’t know where the duke had gone following the estrangement, although he figured it wasn’t his place to pry.

  Four years ago, Travell had received a startling missive from the Home Office declaring that Gabriel had joined their ranks as a spy and was doing some undercover work in India. Travell had been dealing with his own family issues at the time, so he was thankful to have an ally, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t held some reservations at first. He wasn’t sure what kind of man Gabriel had turned out to be, although he quickly realized he had no need to be concerned about his character. The duke had proven his indispensability time and again. He was an asset to England, and Travell could honestly say there were fewer men he respected — or trusted, more.

  That’s why he knew Chiltern wouldn’t rest until these criminals were taken down. For one, he took those necessary risks that others hesitated to take. He didn’t allow human emotion to factor into his judgment, regardless of whom or what the danger involved. While this alienation from human connection concerned Travell at times, he knew there was nothing he could do to change Gabriel’s outlook on life, and until the duke faced some of the demons of his past, he would never allow himself to be any different.

  A muffled noise on the other side of the study door instantly put an abrupt halt to Travell’s musings. Gabriel, having also heard the disturbance, quickly concealed himself from view as Travell took a deep breath and strode across the room.

  He opened the door, expecting to see one of the servants hovering about, but ran a hand through his hair in irritation when he spied his younger sister in the hallway, a white handkerchief held over her dainty nose.

  “Triana?” He thundered once he’d recovered from the shock of seeing her there. “What the hell are you doing sneaking about in the middle of the night?”

  Chapter Four

  Abashed, Triana couldn’t help but wince at her brother’s obvious frustration. If it hadn’t been for that infernal sneeze (but she supposed that was what she got for walking around barefoot on cold, hard wood floors), she might have been able to make out who had been on the other side of that door. Although, as she peered past him and found the room to be empty, she wondered if she hadn’t just been hearing things, for he was most certainly alone.

  She glanced back at Travell, who was still staring her down with that steady glare and waiting for an answer. “I wasn’t sneaking, as you so eloquently put it,” she corrected with a harmless shrug. “I was just checking to see if you were up. I need to talk to you.”

  “Tri, I’m really not...” Travell’s voice trailed off as she sailed into the study and took a seat on the opposite side of his large, mahogany desk. “Won’t you come in?” he finished dryly.

  With an exasperated sigh, he must have realized he had no choice but to hear her out, so he returned to his chair and sank down. He rubbed at his temples and asked, “What’s this all about, Tri? Is Mother at it again?”

  “As always,” Triana replied evenly, nonplused by his blasé attitude. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then by all means, enlighten me.” Travell leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his firm stomach, regarding her much like a tolerant father who was at the end of his patience.

  Picking at an invisible piece of lint on her dressing gown, Triana took a deep breath before blurting out, “What do you know about the Duke of Chiltern?”

  Travell’s blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Tri, really. I never thought of you as the type to pay any heed to ton gossip.” After a staid glance at his pocket watch, he added, “And at four in the morning, no less?”

  Triana ignored the small jab at her expense and gave her brother a tolerant smile before standing and making her way about the room, thinking it would be easier to express her misgivings when she didn’t have to confront her brother’s intent gaze head on. She trailed a finger across one of the bookshelves, as if absorbed with what she saw there, and replied absently, “I couldn’t sleep. And you’re right, I don’t normally engage in any sort of rumors, but I daresay in this instance, I’m… intrigued. London is buzzing about the man, so why should I be any different?”

  Travell tapped a finger. “I wasn’t aware you had become acquainted with the duke.”

  She pretended to have a sudden, avid fascination in a particular title by Voltaire. As she flipped through the pages, she said, “We were… introduced this evening.” She decided it best to omit the circumstances of how that came about. “I must say I found something rather… different about him.” With a thoughtful frown, she returned the book to its original place on the shelf. “But then, I guess that’s the reason for my visit.”

  The distinct pause that followed caused Triana to glance over her shoulder. The scrutinizing look her brother wore made him appear slightly ill. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.” His expression suddenly turning dark, he added, “Unless he’s done something unseemly…”

  “No, no, no. It’s nothing like that.” With a wave of her hand, Triana scrunched her face, attempting to affect an expression of deep concentration as she put her hands on her hips. “I’m not sure how to put this, except to say I think he might be a fraud.” Travell’s brows lifted to his hairline in obvious surprise, but before he could reply, she began to pace, adding, “I mean, what do we really know about this man? Up until a few weeks ago, he hadn’t even bothered to rub elbows with society, and now he just appears…” She threw her hands in the air for effect. “How do we know he’s even the rightful heir? He could just be some fortune hunter who decided to assume the true duke’s identity.” Crossing her arms, Triana concluded, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t trust him.”

  Travell slowly leaned forward to lay his elbows on top of the desk. Seeming to weigh his words carefully, he made his hands into steeples and said, “I can see you’ve given this a great deal of thought, Tri, and you make a good argument, but I can’t say that I agree. In any case, you don’t have to trust him. The simple fact is that he is the Duke of Chiltern, and that’s all you, or anyone else, needs to know.”

  ***

  Gabriel had to work to smooth away his frown — and not the first one of the evening. One would have thought, standing in the middle of the Vandergild’s elegant ballroom, being fawned over by half of the impressionable ton that he would be pleased, or maybe even delighted that his guise as the elegant and poised duke was going so well. He’d escorted Lady Worthington to the festivities, ensuring that everything was falling into place, the pieces of this game being laid out ever so carefully — so why did he feel so damned agitated?

&n
bsp; Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that.

  While he had eavesdropped on any number of conversations in the past (he was a spy, after all), the one he’d overheard earlier that morning in Curdiff’s study had been the most disturbing. He’d learned long ago that it was best to know exactly what weapons were on the field before going in blindly for an attack, and it was apparent that Triana was too damned smart for her own good. The fact that she had been able to see through him so effortlessly was not setting well. At all, if there was one thing Gabriel prided himself on, it was his ability to adapt to his environment with ease, but if some spinster who didn’t even know his secrets could ferret him out, then who else might be able to do so?

  Naturally, he’d expressed his opinion regarding the lady, but while Travell had been careful to plot and scheme over the years to protect his sister from learning about his own secret association with the Crown, he’d shrugged off Gabriel’s concerns, confident that Triana’s curiosity about him would fade with time.

  But Gabriel wasn’t so sure — especially when he’d caught her looking in his direction more than once that evening.

  As if her constant scrutiny wasn’t enough of a distraction, the woman stood speaking with a group of other ladies, and had worn a gown meant to hug every delicious curve. A pale yellow silk that would have been a contrast to most complexions, it only heightened Triana’s pale features. Her sable hair just shimmered in the candlelight, making her take on the appearance of some sort of mystical fairy sent to plague him from across the room. He might have well enjoyed the view — if he wasn’t so preoccupied with her ulterior motives.

  It was this incessant woolgathering that caused Gabriel to apologize to the Earl of Westerville and ask him to repeat the question he’d haphazardly missed, one that had the other three men in their circle chuckling. Obviously he’d ignored something of import by the considering look Cordelia wore. Damn. He’d better snap to attention. And fast.

  “I say, Your Grace, I haven’t yet seen your bet placed in the books at White’s.”

  Gabriel lifted a lazy brow. “Oh? And what should I be wagering for?” Irritated by these stuffy dandies, he had to be mindful of even the most idle chitchat, as a major clue could be unknowingly unearthed at any given moment.

  Westerville raised his quizzing glass and eyed the duke mirthfully. “Why, the spinsters, my good chap! We’re betting on who will be the first to give up fashionable, city life for a more refined — and permanent — life of solitude in the country!”

  Another round of boisterous laughter rippled through the group, and while Gabriel laughed and played along, his body coursed with a different sort of emotion, but then, the others didn’t know that they were treading on very dangerous ground.

  Smoothly, he interjected, “Well, surely you will give me a fighting chance to win the pot by disclosing who is currently in the lead? I am new to town, after all.”

  It was Baron Everhart who decided to volunteer this information, as it was a common joke among the peerage and gladly shared. “At the moment it seems to be that of Lady Triana Abernathy. Why, even with her brother’s recently declared dowry, she still carries through her fourth season without a single conquest!”

  A round of low murmurs went around the small group, as if her failure to snare a husband was the most terrible occurrence to happen since the bubonic plague. Gabriel felt his jaw begin to twitch, although he kept his expression completely impassive. If this was the lot she had to choose from, then it was no wonder she remained unattached.

  Gabriel kept silent as the other men continued to converse. “Ah, Everhart, I do believe you forget Eastbury’s claim to the gel.” This came from the Marquess of Beckingham as he took his snuffbox out of his pocket and inhaled a hearty pinch.

  “Mmm, yes. You do have a point there.” Westerville agreed with a brief bob of his head. “The old codger has been rather persistent, though, as it were, I think he’s barking up the wrong tree.”

  The marquess suddenly encountered something of import as he glanced past Westerville’s shoulder. “Indeed, sir, although I do believe Eastbury is trying to catch his bone at this very moment.”

  Instantly, all eyes were drawn to Triana and the man walking briskly toward her — however, in Gabriel’s mind, it seemed like more of a rushed waddle.

  He had to firmly tamp down a sudden urge to stalk across the room, grab the earl by the collar and fling him aside like a rag doll. He was able to refrain from doing so, although he did politely excuse himself.

  As he calmly walked across the ballroom, he had to wonder about his sanity, but he attempted to rationalize what he was about to do by saying he was only considering the security of the mission.

  But then, that would be nothing more than a barefaced lie.

  ***

  While Triana thought she’d done a rather good job at covertly keeping an eye on Gabriel, for he seemed to take no notice of her silent observation, she finally turned her back to him when Lady Worthington gently laid her hand on his arm in a rather familiar and intimate gesture. A beauty during her debutante days, Cordelia was still considered by most to be the reigning belle of society, not only because of her eye-catching sense of fashion, but because she was pitifully wealthy — courtesy of her late husband. An invitation from the marchioness was as coveted as a voucher from Almack’s, even though her galas were rumored to be somewhat risqué.

  Triana couldn’t claim to know for certain about either, for both were feats that she’d been unable to hurdle and likely never would. And although there was something about the woman that had never set right with Triana, she had never been able to pinpoint what it was. Now she knew.

  The lovely widow had her sights set on Gabriel.

  “What a dour expression!”

  “Indeed, she does look particularly… annoyed. I daresay I’m intrigued.”

  Triana turned at the sound of two of her dearest friends. Lady Alyssa Breyton’s dark brows were raised in teasing reproof, her sparkling, green eyes alive with joviality. Her companion, Lady Rowena Freeham, wore a similar expression; her brown eyes alight with mischief.

  “Finally, I am rescued!” Triana embraced each of them. “I was just about to expire out of sheer boredom.” Hoping to change the subject of her demeanor, she asked, “So how was the Rothchild musicale last night? Was it truly worth missing the Kensington ball?”

  Rowena made a point of examining her glove, and replied somewhat sheepishly, “Aly and I were actually able to make our excuses and leave earlier than planned.”

  Alyssa rolled her eyes before moving in closer to Triana to explain in further detail. “Ro pleaded a headache while I complained about my courses.” Then, giving a conspiratorial wink, she added, “Although, I can only suspect too much time around Lady Gracien’s awful piano playing can result in a true malady! Truly, the only enjoyment must have been had by the hard of hearing.”

  Triana quickly covered her laughter with her gloved palm. “Aly, for shame! You really are terrible!”

  The other girl merely shrugged her shoulders, as if such behavior was of no consequence to her. “What can I say if not for the truth? My aunt raised me not to tell a lie.”

  Rowena snorted disdainfully. “Among other things, but I don’t recall you listening to any of them either.” All three of them giggled at this, for it was meant in good humor and not as a snide comment.

  Once the merriment had subsided, Alyssa flipped out her fan with a practiced flick of her wrist, in the process hiding a stuck-out tongue toward two elderly matrons who walked by without so much as a glance in their direction, their noses held high in the air.

  Alyssa batted her green eyes innocently. “So, is anything exciting happening tonight, other than the usual snubs we’ve grown to expect? I swear I haven’t heard any worthy gossip to mull over since I went to that dreadful opera last week.” Shaking her head in mock remorse, she added, “Truly, the best part of that off kilter mess was the juicy tidbits I received during interm
ission.”

  Rowena clasped her hands in front of her and announced, in her most demure and poised voice, “You know, a true member of the peerage can only benefit from such somber entertainment. It broadens the mind to more appealing subjects and proves, even further, that a lady should keep an open mind.”

  Triana’s mouth fell open in mock horror while Alyssa dropped her fan to her side, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Good lord, Ro. Anymore I think you actually believe that rubbish you spout off.”

  Knowing that her statement was going to get a rise out of Alyssa, Rowena collapsed into giggles, her blond curls dancing. “I swear, the more I do that, I sound just like my mother!”

  “I thought I overheard someone having fun over here.” The trio turned to see Korina advancing on them, Isabella trailing in her wake. “Don’t you know that kind of behavior is taboo for the likes of us? Spinsters are supposed to be boring simpletons.”

  “I vow that this season will be different,” Triana noted firmly. And suddenly, an idea began to take root. “I say we make a pact.”

  “A pact?” Alyssa echoed. “Now this sounds interesting. Go on.”

  Triana began. “Each of us have already been out in society for at least four years, except Korina, although I don’t expect her to remain in London for long.”

  Korina nodded. “It’s true. English civility bores me to tears.” She gestured in the direction of several couples who had just lined up for a quadrille. “Besides, it’s not as if that is true enjoyment. I like my toes just as they are, not mangled by some Lord Whoever’s two left feet. Rest assured, as soon as I convince my mother that I can find a proper husband in America, I shall be sailing back across the Atlantic with all due haste.”