Exasperated, Gabriel opened his mouth to tersely inform her it would take rather more than a severe blow on the head and a shallow cut on his arm to incapacitate him. Then he caught a glimpse of the arrested expression on Charlie's face, and substituted, "Of course not." He gestured to the blood darkening his sleeve. "See if you can stop the bleeding. Just be sure you don't damage that gown."

The gown was a fantasy he had every intention of peeling from her, inch by sweet inch.

"Crowley must have some linen stored here somewhere." Alathea glanced at her brother. "Charlie-look around."

By the time Charlie returned, Alathea had eased Gabriel's coat off and laid bare the wound. It was a shallow but wide cut, lifting inches of skin but nowhere deep enough to be dangerous. It had, however, bled copiously and continued to do so.

"Here." Charlie handed Alathea a pile of clean shirts. He glanced at Crowley. "He won't need them anymore."

Alathea didn't spare a single glance for Crowley as she picked up a shirt and started ripping.

Straightening from examining the body, Chillingworth stepped around it. He glanced at Gabriel's wound, and stilled. Alathea bustled to the sideboard in search of water or wine. Chillingworth watched her go, then sent a disgusted glance at Gabriel.

Who met it with a bland if not challenging stare.

Chillingworth raised his eyes to the skies. Alathea returned, a bowl of water in her hands. Chillingworth surveyed the room. "While you're having your strength restored, perhaps Charlie and I should search."

"Good idea," Gabriel concurred.

"So what are we looking for?" Chillingworth rounded the desk.

"The promissory notes?' Alathea paused in her dabbing. "Would they be here?" She looked at Gabriel.

He nodded. "I think so. Presumably, the reason Crowley is here tonight and not in Egerton Gardens is because he got the wind up when he learned of our investigations." His expression grew grim and he glanced at Alathea. "I assume Struthers's activities kicked up too much dust. Did Crowley say?"

Alathea's eyes dimmed. "He killed the captain. He said so."

Chillingworth cast a dark glance at Crowley's body. "Obviously destined for Hades."

Gabriel caught Alathea's wrist. "Are you sure the captain's dead? Crowley didn't just say it to frighten you?"

Alathea shook her head sadly. "I think he's already thrown the body in the river."

Gabriel caressed her inner wrist, then released her.

Chillingworth grimaced. "Nothing we can do for the captain now. The villain's already savored his just deserts. The best way to avenge the captain's death is to make sure Crowley's scheme dies with him." He pulled out a desk drawer. "You sure these notes will be here?"

"I expect so." Gabriel looked around. "This is not a ship of any line-it's a privateer, and a small one at that, built for speed-for fleeing. My guess is that Crowley moved his operations here, ready to depart at an instant's notice. With Alathea and Struthers removed, he would plan on calling in the notes immediately, and leaving England as soon as he had his hands on the cash."

Alathea started to bind his arm. "Crowley did say he'd call the notes in immediately."

Chillingworth continued searching the desk. Charlie drifted off, saying he'd search the other rooms.

Just as Alathea was tying off her bandage, Charlie reappeared, dragging a small seaman's chest. He brandished a document. "I think this is what we're looking for."

It was-a thick stack of promissory notes filled the chest. Alathea held the one Charlie had brought in, and started to shake. Gabriel slid an arm around her waist, drawing her closer until she rested against him. 'Take it home, show your father, then burn it."

Alathea glanced at him, then nodded. Folding the note, she handed it to Charlie with a strict injunction not to lose it.

Charlie shoved it in his pocket, then went back to reading the names on the handful of notes he'd extracted from the chest.

Chillingworth was doing the same. "He preyed on small fry, for the most part. From the addresses, some of these must be shopkeepers." He pointed to another pile he'd laid aside. "Those are the peers, but most are not the sort who usually invest in such schemes. And the amounts pledged! He'd have turned half of England insolvent."

Gabriel nodded. "Greedy and unscrupulous. That should be his epitath."

"So." Chillingworth restacked the notes. "What are we going to do? Burn these?"

"No." Alathea was frowning. "If we do that, then the people involved will never know they're free of the obligation. They might make decisions assuming they're in debt to Crowley, when that debt will never be realized."

"Are the addresses on all the notes?" Gabriel asked.

"Far as I can see," Charlie replied. Chillingworth nodded.

"Perhaps…" Gabriel stared into the distance. "Find something to wrap them in. I'll take them to Montague. He'll know how best to return them to their owners, apparently properly and legally canceled."

"Our petition, if successful, will cancel the notes." Alathea looked at Gabriel.

He shook his head. "We won't be lodging it. We won't be doing anything to link ourselves with Crowley."

"No, indeed." Chillingworth glanced at the body on the floor. "So what should we do with him? Simply leave him here?"

"Why not? He's got enemies aplenty. He doubtless gave orders to his crew to stay away from the ship tonight."

"All except the guard," Charlie put in. "But he never even saw you."

Gabriel nodded. "Two of the sailors-the ones who delivered the note-will know Alathea was lured here, but no one will know anything more. No woman could have overpowered Crowley. When his men return to the ship, they'll find him here, alone and very dead. They'll assume Alathea left, and then someone killed Crowley."

"I sincerely doubt anyone will mourn him."

"Other than perhaps Archie Douglas, although even that's uncertain."

"Crowley probably had his hooks into him, too."

"Very likely." Gabriel considered, then continued, "It's my guess that without Crowley, and without those notes, the Central East Africa Gold Company will simply cease to exist. It has no capital, and Swales, from all I've been able to glean, is not the sort to drive this type of enterprise on his own."

Chillingworth considered, too, then nodded. "It'll do. We'll simply leave and take the notes, and get your Montague to return them to their owners."

They wrapped the notes securely in a blanket and Charlie carried them off the ship. Alathea helped Gabriel. Chillingworth was their lookout. When he joined the others in the shadows by his carriage, he nodded. "All clear."

Alathea sighed with relief. "Help me get Gabriel inside."

Chillingworth stared at her, then, hauling open the carriage door, cast a narrow-eyed look at Gabriel. "I assume," he asked in a sweetly innocent tone, "I should drive directly to his house?"

"Of course!" Alathea scrambled into the carriage, then turned and reached out to help Gabriel in. "I need to tend that cut properly as soon as possible."

Gabriel shot Chillingworth a wicked grin, then bent his head and stepped into the carriage. Chillingworth slammed the door shut. "Who knows," he said, loudly enough for Alathea to hear, "it might even need stitches."

With that, he climbed to the box seat, took up the reins Charlie was holding, and set his carriage rolling back to London.

Chapter 21

Chillingworth let Gabriel and Alathea down in Brook Street.

"I'll go straight home," Alathea called to Charlie as she went up the steps beside Gabriel, her grip on his arm firm and supporting. "I don't know how long this might take. Tell your mama there's no need to wait up for me."

Gabriel grinned as he reached for his latchkey. He could just imagine Chillingworth's face. Chillingworth had somewhat curtly offered to drive Charlie back to Marlborough House. That probably entitled him to yet another quota of Cynster gratitude. Given they could never be sure just how incapacitated Crowley had been before Chillingworth shot him, tonight had seen the earl's stocks rise high indeed.

Charlie called an acknowledgment. Chillingworth's horses stamped, then the carriage rattled away. Sliding his key into the lock, Gabriel turned it. Glancing at Alathea, he twisted the knob and opened the door.

This would, after all, shortly be her home. He was simply jumping the gun a trifle. He wasn't, however, foolish enough to sweep her off her feet and carry her over the threshold.

He let her shoo him in, instead, fussing like a mother hen.

Chance appeared at the end of the hall. He was in his shirtsleeves, clearly taken aback to see his master returning so early. When he saw who his master was with, he goggled, and started to silently back away…

Alathea saw him and beckoned. "You're Chance, I take it?"

"Hmm." Chance ducked his head, warily edging closer. "That's me, mum."

Alathea shot him a sharp glance, then nodded. "Yes, well, your master has been injured. I want a bowl of warm water-not too hot-brought up to his room directly, with some clean cloths and bandages. And some salve, too-I assume you have some?" All the while she'd been progressing down the hall, towing Gabriel with her.

"Umm." Falling back before her advance, Chance looked helplessly at Gabriel.

"This is Lady Alathea, Chance."

Chance bowed. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, mum."

"Indeed." Alathea waved him away. "I want those items, and I'll need your help upstairs momentarily." When Chance stared at her blankly, she leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Now. Immediately. Sooner than soon."

Chance jumped back, all but tripping over his feet. "Oh! Right. Straight away, mum." He scurried through the baize door.

Alathea watched him go, then shook her head and tugged Gabriel on toward the stairs. "Your eccentricities never cease to amaze me." She proceeded to propel him up the stairs.

She couldn't have done it if he hadn't been willing-very willing-despite the fact that he hated being the object of any woman's fussing. Her fussing he was willing to endure given that she'd yet to make any formal statement-a clear and unequivocal acceptance of his heart.

He wanted to hear it, but she was perennially stubborn; encouraging her to let her feelings run riot, as they presently were, would make it all the harder for her to draw back, to balk at the final hurdle. So he meekly climbed the stairs, biding his time, letting her imagine he was weak. He did feel a little lightheaded, relieved that it was over, that Crowley was dead, never to darken their horizon again, and eager, buoyed with anticipation like some callow youth at the realization that she was his.

All he needed now was to hear her admit it.

"Here." He stopped by his door and leaned against the door frame, letting her turn the knob and set the door wide. Without the slightest hesitation, she urged him inside, steering him to the wide bed.

She pushed him to sit on its side. Her fingers going to the improvised bandage, she glanced frowningly at the door. "Where is that man?"

"He'll be here in a moment." Gabriel stood to ease out of his coat. She stripped it from him and promptly pushed him back down again, then busily set about unlacing his cuffs.

Gabriel twisted his lips to hide a grin. How far would she go if he let her?

"Are you in pain?"

Hurriedly straightening his lips, he shook his head. "No." He searched her face, drowned in her eyes, in the concern that filled them, the love that gave it birth. "No." He reached out and closed one hand over hers. "Thea, I'm all right."

Frowning, she shook off his hand and slapped a palm to his forehead. "I hope you don't develop a fever."

Gabriel dragged in a breath. "Thea-"

Chance rushed in, balancing a bowl of water on his wrists, a towel over one arm, cloths balanced upon it, with a pot of salve clutched in his other hand. "Is this all you wanted, mum?"

"Indeed." Alathea nodded approvingly. "Just bring that table nearer. And the lamp, too."

"Oooh! Lot of blood there." Chance moved the table closer. He glanced at Alathea. "Perhaps you'll want some brandy, mum? To clean the wound?"

"An excellent idea!" She lifted her head. "Is there any here?" Her glance fell on the decanter on the dresser.