Robin Schone by Gabriel's Woman (10 ebook reader TXT) 📕

you again.”

Chapter

23

“Mr. Delaney is not at home,” the frozen-faced butler informed Gabriel.

“But Mrs. Thornton told me he was here.” Gabriel smiled disarmingly; behind his charm he plotted how

to best disarm the butler. He was a few years older than Gabriel and slightly shorter, but he was heavier

and larger boned. Behind the butler Gabriel could see that a staircase adjoined the foyer; a polished wooden

banister and a narrow green carpet climbed upward out of sight. There was no one on the stairs or in the

gas-lit hallway dissecting the town house. “I’m certain he would want to see me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” There was no regret in the butler’s voice. “Mr. Delaney is not at home.”

He could be telling the truth. Or he could be lying.

His face was severely marked from smallpox. Many households would not hire a man with a face such

as his.

A butler such as he would tolerate many idiosyncrasies in an employer. Perhaps he even benefited from

Delaney’s hobby of preying on destitute governesses.

There were women, even whores, who would not bed a man who was disfigured.

Perhaps Delaney provided the butler with his castoff governesses.

Yellow fog wafted through the open door.

“This is a matter of urgency,” Gabriel said pleasantly. Leaning on his cane to hold it upright, he

unscrewed the silver knob by slowly rotating the palm of his left hand. “If you will tell me where I may find

Mr. Delaney, much unpleasantness can be avoided.”

It was the only warning Gabriel would give.

“I do not know where Mr. Delaney is.” The butler was impervious to danger. “If you will leave your

card, I will give it to him.”

Gabriel’s smile did not alter. Reaching up with his right hand as if to pick off a piece of lint from his wool

coat, he grabbed instead the butler’s throat. At the same time the short sword and the hollow cane

separated.

He shoved the butler back inside the foyer.

Delaney could be upstairs, or he could be downstairs.

Or he could be out, as the butler claimed.

Gabriel would soon find out.

The butler was no Peter Thornton. The butler struck out.

Gabriel could not block the first hit; it impacted his jaw. He slammed the butler against a wall of family

photos.

Glass cracked, splattered; a silver-framed picture fell to the floor. Glass crunched underneath the butler’

s foot.

Gabriel dug the tip of the short sword into the butler’s throat just above his bobbing Adam’s apple; below

the sword point, Gabriel squeezed his throat between black leather encased fingers.

Three nights ago he would not have touched the man; now he would touch anyone, do anything, to keep

Victoria safe.

Pupils dilating with fear, the butler stilled. Heavy breathing superimposed the echo of shattered lives.

“As I said,” Gabriel purred, “Much unpleasantness can be avoided.”

Muffled footsteps sped down the carpeted stairs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Gabriel froze.

The voice coming from above him was neither servile nor masculine.

Gabriel did not take his gaze off of the butler.

“Ring for help, Mrs. Collins!” Sweat poured off the butler’s forehead; blood beaded on Gabriel’s black

leather glove. “Please!”

The butler would not beg an accomplice to ring for the police; he would plead for more immediate

assistance.

Gabriel could hold the butler or he could stop the woman. He could not do both at the same time.

He gambled.

“Mrs. Collins, if you move, I will pierce this man’s windpipe,” Gabriel swiftly rejoined. “It will be many

minutes before he dies, but I assure you, he will die. You can prevent his death.”

And her own, he did not need to add.

Gabriel could feel the woman’s indecision. She wanted to help the butler; pulsing just as strongly through

her veins was the instinct to survive.

The woman neither aided the butler nor ran, immobilized by her fear.

It was obvious she had never before encountered violence or death.

Gabriel played on her innocence. “If you help me, Mrs. Collins, no one need die.”

“I... what...” Her voice shook. “What do you want? My jewels are... I am a guest. This is my brother’s

home. I only have my pearls and—”

“Where is Mitchell Delaney, Mrs. Collins?” Gabriel interrupted.

The butler’s muscles bunched.

Gabriel’s fingers tightened around his throat, at the same time he pressed the tip of the sword into his

throat with deadly intent.

“Make no mistake, I will kill you,” he murmured brutally. And then more loudly, voice kinder, gentler. “I

don’t want your jewels, Mrs. Collins. I simply want to speak to your brother.”

And then he wanted to kill him.

“Mitch ... my brother is not at home.”

Mrs. Collins’s voice held the ring of truth.

The butler wheezed for air.

“Who are you?” Mrs. Collins ordered, imperiousness winning over fear. “I demand that you release

Keanon.”

Gabriel did not want to have to hurt the woman. But he would.

“Do you have a governess, Mrs. Collins?” he asked, intently watching the butler.

The pockmarks stood out on his livid face.

Keanon was afraid. He knew about Mitchell Delaney’s collection of governesses.

“Yes, of course, but I hardly see what that has to do with—”

“Your brother likes governesses.” Gabriel pressed the sword tip more deeply into Keanon’s throat, blood

spurted; at the same time he loosened his fingers from around the butler’s windpipe. “Tell her how Delaney

likes governesses, Keanon.”

The butler read his death inside Gabriel’s gaze.

“He ...” Keanon croaked; blood dripped down his throat. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, Mrs.

Collins.”

Not good enough.

“Tell Mrs. Collins exactly what it is that you didn’t have anything to do with,”