Free Seduced by a Stranger by Silver Eve Page B

ignominy, but appearances must be maintained. A gentleman would not fail a friend in need, especially not one who was so clearly foxed.
    Of course, Gabriel was no true gentleman. No chivalrous heart beat at his core. But no one knew the man obscured by the veneer he cultivated, and he preferred to keep it that way.
    “Careful,” he warned as Newton blinked at him blearily.
    “Who’s that?” Newton demanded, peering up into Gabriel’s face. “Ah, St. Aubyn. Impeccable timing. Impeccable.” He caught hold of Gabriel’s forearm just long enough to steady himself and then straightened and let go, weaving slightly where he stood. “Saw your cousin earlier this evening. Didn’t know he was back on English soil.”
    An interesting tidbit of news.
    “Neither did I.” Gabriel could feel the eyes of those in the bow window, and he suppressed a smile. He could not have wished for a more perfect circumstance. His presence on the steps would be noticed by all and sundry, but the auspicious timing of Newton and Pratt had saved him the bother of going inside the club. He could wander off with them and all would assume they had gone together to sample a fine brandy or to find a game of chance. Perhaps he would indulge in exactly that for an hour or two, before returning to his other, more interesting pursuits.
    Pratt stared at him a moment and then blurted sheepishly, “I must confess…I wagered against you, old man.”
    “Did you?” Gabriel murmured, but asked nothing more. Clearly, he had not escaped the betting book. His name was part of some wager or other, but he could not summon enough interest to inquire what it was. On his last visit to White’s, the odds were for Miss L. wearing blue to the Featherstone ball, and against Lord F. marrying Lady B.
    “I did. Wagered a nice sum.” Pratt bobbed his head up and down. “But I hope I am wrong. ’Twould be a sad thing for her to burn Cairncroft to the ground.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Gabriel asked, suddenly interested despite himself. “Burn Cairncroft?”
    “Surprised you dared leave her there unsupervised.” Newton slurred his observation enough that it took Gabriel an instant to understand the words.
    He narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze to Pratt, the less inebriated of the two. “Explain.” Both men appeared startled by his tone. “If you please,” he added, an afterthought.
    “Miss Weston. Baron’s daughter, though which one”—he pressed his lips together and squinted his eyes as he tried to recall—“Ah, it was the Lord Sunderley,” Pratt said. “Word is, she’s visiting Cairncroft. I heard it from my sister, who heard it from Mrs. Foxx, who heard it from Mrs. Northrop herself.”
    “So she is there, and you are here. In London,” Newton supplied helpfully. “Which means there’s no one there watching her.”
    Gabriel studied the two, his patience stretched taut. What game were they about? Their words circled around to nothing. “Sunderley died unmarried and without issue. In a fire, as I recall,” he said.
    “Yes, exactly.” Newton beamed up at him, as though he had offered some unique and brilliant insight.
    “Terrible thing.” Pratt shook his head. “But he was not Miss Weston’s father. The Right Honorable Lord Sunderley, Aubrey Weston, was. He and his wife died in a carriage accident some years back. His daughter is Miss Weston. Miss Catherine Weston.”
    Gabriel was silent a moment, trying to understand their inebriated logic. “You imply that Miss Weston is somehow responsible for the fire that killed the most recent Baron Sunderley?”
    “Well, yes…She didn’t kill her father…or perhaps she did…can’t be certain about any of that.” Pratt frowned and muttered under his breath as though trying to work out the logistics of the relationships. His expression brightened. “But she did turn the next Sunderley into a torch.”
    “After Sunderley died, then Sunderley…er…the newer …let her stay on. There was