view. "I shall be content as long as I get what I want."
"Well, you've got it," Nash muttered. "Take yerself off."
"There's one more thing," Gabriel murmured.
Nash glowered at him. "If ye want the lady's money back, yer too late. She paid in advance and I already sent off an order to that bookseller I told ye about."
"You're welcome to keep the money," Gabriel assured him. "What I want is the name and direction of the lady."
"Huh?" Egan stared at him. "Ye don't know her? But ye was with her."
"She is something of a mystery, I'm afraid. I was only along to protect her and the manuscript. She did not tell me her name."
"Bloody hell." Egan looked amazed.
Nash frowned. "Can't help ye. Don't know her name."
Gabriel eyed him intently. "She corresponded with you regarding the purchase of this manuscript.
And she sent you a draft on her account to pay for it. You must know who she is."
Nash shook his head. "All the correspondence was through a solicitor. He deposited the funds at my bank. I never dealt with the lady direct until she showed up here tonight."
"I see." Gabriel smiled. "The name of her solicitor will do, then."
Nash shrugged. Then he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a letter. "This is the last message I had from him. Said to expect her tonight. Man's name is Peak."
Gabriel glanced at the London address. "This will do. My thanks, sir. And now you must excuse me. I have a great deal of work ahead of me."
"Work?" Egan looked more alarmed than ever. "What work? Are ye goin' to summon the magistrate, after all?"
"No, I have a far more pressing task awaiting me." Gabriel placed the letter carefully in his pocket as he strode toward the door. "Like it or not, I appear to be involved in a quest."
Five days later Gabriel sat alone in the tower room he used for his writing. His right shoulder ached, but that was not unusual when he sat at his work for extended periods of time. The old wound sometimes reacted to damp weather and the strain of long bouts of writing.
The important thing was that the words were flowing freely this morning. His second novel, which he had titled A Reckless Venture, was taking shape nicely. His pen moved across the foolscap with easy assurance as he sent his latest hero into combat against an evil villain. At stake was a magnificent inheritance and the love of a fair maiden.
In the tales Gabriel wrote, the fair maiden always went to the noble fool who was naive enough to fight for her.
Gabriel was well aware that in real life things seldom worked out that way. A man who trusted in the promises of a fair maiden was an idiot.
He had learned long ago that money, a title, and social standing were far more important assets than a noble heart and a chivalrous nature for a man who was hoping to interest a fair or even an unfair maiden. The beautiful Meredith Layton, daughter of the brilliant, powerful Earl of Clarington, had taught him that. He had never forgotten the lesson.
The earl had punished Gabriel very thoroughly for the crime of attempting to save Meredith from an arranged marriage to the Marquess of Trowbridge. Within days after the ill-fated rescue attempt, Clarington had set about destroying Gabriel financially.
The men Gabriel had convinced to back him in a small but potentially lucrative shipping venture mysteriously reneged on their agreements after Clarington spoke to them. They demanded that the money be repaid immediately. At the same time, the loan that Gabriel had obtained to finance the purchase of some London property suddenly came due early. Clarington had advised the investor to withdraw.
The combined effect had been disastrous. Gabriel had been forced to sell off virtually everything he owned, including his beloved books, in order to repay his debts. In the end he had been left with barely enough money to purchase passage on board a ship bound for the South Seas.
Knowing that there was no future for him in England, Gabriel had sailed for the islands where a
"Well, you've got it," Nash muttered. "Take yerself off."
"There's one more thing," Gabriel murmured.
Nash glowered at him. "If ye want the lady's money back, yer too late. She paid in advance and I already sent off an order to that bookseller I told ye about."
"You're welcome to keep the money," Gabriel assured him. "What I want is the name and direction of the lady."
"Huh?" Egan stared at him. "Ye don't know her? But ye was with her."
"She is something of a mystery, I'm afraid. I was only along to protect her and the manuscript. She did not tell me her name."
"Bloody hell." Egan looked amazed.
Nash frowned. "Can't help ye. Don't know her name."
Gabriel eyed him intently. "She corresponded with you regarding the purchase of this manuscript.
And she sent you a draft on her account to pay for it. You must know who she is."
Nash shook his head. "All the correspondence was through a solicitor. He deposited the funds at my bank. I never dealt with the lady direct until she showed up here tonight."
"I see." Gabriel smiled. "The name of her solicitor will do, then."
Nash shrugged. Then he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a letter. "This is the last message I had from him. Said to expect her tonight. Man's name is Peak."
Gabriel glanced at the London address. "This will do. My thanks, sir. And now you must excuse me. I have a great deal of work ahead of me."
"Work?" Egan looked more alarmed than ever. "What work? Are ye goin' to summon the magistrate, after all?"
"No, I have a far more pressing task awaiting me." Gabriel placed the letter carefully in his pocket as he strode toward the door. "Like it or not, I appear to be involved in a quest."
Five days later Gabriel sat alone in the tower room he used for his writing. His right shoulder ached, but that was not unusual when he sat at his work for extended periods of time. The old wound sometimes reacted to damp weather and the strain of long bouts of writing.
The important thing was that the words were flowing freely this morning. His second novel, which he had titled A Reckless Venture, was taking shape nicely. His pen moved across the foolscap with easy assurance as he sent his latest hero into combat against an evil villain. At stake was a magnificent inheritance and the love of a fair maiden.
In the tales Gabriel wrote, the fair maiden always went to the noble fool who was naive enough to fight for her.
Gabriel was well aware that in real life things seldom worked out that way. A man who trusted in the promises of a fair maiden was an idiot.
He had learned long ago that money, a title, and social standing were far more important assets than a noble heart and a chivalrous nature for a man who was hoping to interest a fair or even an unfair maiden. The beautiful Meredith Layton, daughter of the brilliant, powerful Earl of Clarington, had taught him that. He had never forgotten the lesson.
The earl had punished Gabriel very thoroughly for the crime of attempting to save Meredith from an arranged marriage to the Marquess of Trowbridge. Within days after the ill-fated rescue attempt, Clarington had set about destroying Gabriel financially.
The men Gabriel had convinced to back him in a small but potentially lucrative shipping venture mysteriously reneged on their agreements after Clarington spoke to them. They demanded that the money be repaid immediately. At the same time, the loan that Gabriel had obtained to finance the purchase of some London property suddenly came due early. Clarington had advised the investor to withdraw.
The combined effect had been disastrous. Gabriel had been forced to sell off virtually everything he owned, including his beloved books, in order to repay his debts. In the end he had been left with barely enough money to purchase passage on board a ship bound for the South Seas.
Knowing that there was no future for him in England, Gabriel had sailed for the islands where a
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