Page 33 of A Bride By Morning
Gabriel plucked open the buttons of his coat and deposited his new weapon into the inner pocket. “Can’t be the first time a gentleman has found himself lost in the East End.”
“Probably not,” Wentworth admitted. “But most don’t traipse around greeting everyone they pass like a fucking dupe. You playing the idiot to instigate a brawl is a ruse I’m familiar with. So I let Thorne know I was acquainted with the fuckwit in question and to let me deal with him.”
“I wasn’t aware that you and the King of the East End were on such friendly terms.”
If anything, Wentworth’s countenance darkened. “We’re not. I watch his establishment for the intel, andnowI have the King of thefuckingEast End’s attention. And he’ll be curious about the idiot lord who overpowered two criminals with such ease. You might wish to rethink making an enemy worse than Medvedev.”
Gabriel slid the second criminal’s knife into his boot and straightened. “I thought he married the Earl of Kent’s sister and went soft.”
Wentworth let out a dry laugh. “Soft for her? Yes. Soft for anyone else? Fuck no. And Lady Alexandra is terrifying, clever, inquisitive, and will probably know your entire history by morning.”
“Then she’s welcome to it. I don’t give a damn.”
Wentworth’s expression didn’t change. “Why are you picking fights in the worst streets of London instead of protecting your new wife in Surrey, Monty?” he asked softly.
The mention of Lydia only further flared Gabriel’s temper. “I’m not interested in an interrogation.” He turned on his heel and headed down the lane away from Wentworth.
The other man caught up with him. “You’re in a mood.”
Gabriel kept walking. “I’m always in a mood.”
“Except that when you get likethis, you become destructive.”
“And if I had been another gentleman, your men at the Metropolitan Police would presently be inspecting my corpse. Those criminals seemed all too eager to provide you with the work.”
Wentworth made a faint noise. “And you seemed all too eager to leave me two of them.”
Gabriel’s look was sharp. “I left them alive.”
“How fortunate for the criminals. I couldn’t say the same for the last time you got like this.”
Gabriel stopped abruptly. Three youths watched them with interest at the end of the lane, but whatever they saw in Gabriel’s features made them slink away. “The Home Office required an assassin, and I gave them one. Your offices never seemed to mind the corpses as long as there’s bureaucracy involved before I kill them.”
Something flickered in Wentworth’s features, gone in a second. “Then you insisted on retirement, and I agreed. Since then, you get in one of your moods, and you find a woman to bed. You’ve got a wife now, so go home and fuck her. But don’t prowl Nick Thorne’s streets looking for reasons to hurt someone.”
Mention of bedding Lydia did little to improve Gabriel’s disposition. He couldn’t go to her like this—he was too unpredictable. Violent. A savage. Brutal. He couldn’t return to Meadowcroft until his emotions were tightly in his grip once more.
Gabriel clenched his jaw and looked away. “I told you. It isn’t a real marriage.”
“It’s a legal marriage. That makes it real. Ask your wife if she’s willing.”
“I don’t want your marital advice, Mattias.” He was impatient now. He needed to return to Mayfair and clean himself up before the servants woke. “Tell me about Medvedev. Any news since your last telegram?”
Wentworth let out a frustrated breath. “He’s hiding from my best men. So far, we’ve found nothing.” Wentworth’s face was somber in the darkness. “I won’t offer you marital advice, but I will say this: stay with your wife, Monty. By now, Medvedev will know where you both are. He might even have scouts that know you’ve left her. Comprehend me?”
Gabriel’s chest tightened with fear as he recalled Lydia’s restless wander through the garden. He hoped she’d heeded his advice. “I comprehend.”
“Good. Then go home.”
At Wentworth’s advice, he left the dark streets of London.
14
Athump from the adjoining room woke Lydia.
A peek at the curtains revealed that it was near dawn, the muted glow of morning light spilling through the gaps of thick textile. Lydia stirred, and the thick book she had been reading slid off her chest. The previous night, she had paced the long halls of Meadowcroft, wondering how Gabriel fared. Desperate for a distraction, she’d taken a novel from the library and finally managed to exhaust herself enough to sleep.
Rising from the bed, she set the tome aside and approached the connecting door. She stared at the paneling, dithering over whether to interrupt Gabriel. But then another thump sounded from his room.
