Page 87 of Notorious

But of course he made no such offer.

Instead he saw Samir each day and rejoiced in the opportunity to get to know the boy. He also went to his club, rode in the park with Eva and Byer—Drusilla had still not offered to join them—and even accompanied the marquess when his stepfather visited one of his newly acquired properties.

Her friendship with Eva appeared rather stilted but at least the two women were talking. As for their own interactions, Gabriel had found the few times they were alone together to be agreeable. Dinner, which they usually ate at home, had been much more pleasant and enjoyable since the evening of their “talk.” They spoke on general subjects and avoided any of those topics that had caused trouble in the past. Gabriel never asked about what transpired at her charity group meetings, and she did not ask him how he spent his days.

They lived the life of a newly married young couple, with one notable exception: Gabriel did not go to his wife’s bed.

It was not that he did not desire her—quite the contrary—nor was it because he had not forgiven her for their past disagreements. He bore no grudges and he had enjoyed their one night of lovemaking—very much—and found that she grew increasingly appealing with each day that passed.

But she was an enigma to him and he was in no hurry to make love to her and find himself slapped down the following morning. Besides, he’d decided it could not hurt to take some time and get to know her outside the bedroom.

As often as he told himself that noble reason for avoiding Drusilla’s bed, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stay away from her for ten days if he’d not been spending his evenings elsewhere.

Ever since seeing and hearing Rowland and Visel together, he’d been spending most nights after she’d gone to bed prowling around their house or the area where Visel and Rowland appeared to live. Because he couldn’t watch everywhere at once, he’d brought Byer in on his problem—not that he was sure what the problem was.

It had turned out to be a good idea to bring in his friend as Byer seemed to know everything about every member of the ton, no matter how obscure.

Gabriel had gone to meet the viscount at White’s the evening after he’d seen Rowland and Visel outside Rowland’s lodgings.

“You might as well tell me what you know about the two of them,” he told his indolent friend, who’d been waiting at the club when Gabriel arrived.

Byer’s eyebrows shot up. “The last time I tried to say anything, you told me you’d rather gargle glass than discuss Visel.”

“And I would. Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of ignorance. Back then I believed he was going to disappear from my life. Now I fear I shall never be rid of him.”

“Very well, I shall tell you what I know, which is not very much. Visel and Rowland are cousins, although I did not know they were close. But if you saw them together twice in as many nights—in such odd places as your mews and outside Rowland’s lodgings—obviously they are closer than I believed,” he mused, tilting the glass of brandy back and forth in front of the light.

“I know as little about Rowland as I do about Visel,” Byer admitted. “He is from the poorer branch of the family. I believe he was schooled at his father’s country manse—I recall his having a dozen siblings.” Byer shrugged and waved his hand as if dismissing the poorer man. “Now Visel . . .”

“Yes?” Gabriel prodded.

“Visel is older than I, of course. He was in my brother Kenneth’s form. They weren’t mates, but I recall his mentioning Visel when he went off to war.” He shot Gabriel a mocking smile. “Kenneth was mad to join up, but my father refused to cough up the dosh to buy him a pair of colors. He was destined for the Church, you know. But I am digressing. I think Visel was several rungs down the ladder when it came to inheriting his uncle’s dukedom. If I am not mistaken, Tyndale’s son and at least two of Visel’s elder brothers stood between him and the dukedom when he joined the army.” He stopped and took a sip, savoring the mouthful and clearly in no hurry to continue.

“What happened to the brothers?”

“They died. They’d gone over just before Napoleon escaped Elba. They went en masse to celebrate the end of the war and visit Visel, who’d been bedbound for months from a life-threatening injury.” Byer gave Gabriel an odd look. “Their ship was attacked on the journey over and their captain—a man who’d been in the navy—gave fight instead of trying to outrun their aggressor.”

Gabriel shook his head in disbelief. “They were attacked between here and Calais?”

“No, they didn’t take a packet. Visel was someplace smack in the heart of Spain. Apparently they deemed it faster to go through Gibraltar rather than overland.” Byer paused. For the first time in Gabriel’s memory, the talkative man did not seem interested in talking.

“Out with it, Tommy.”

“It was a corsair ship that sank theirs.” He shot Gabriel a flat look and then threw back the remains of his glass, grimacing at the burn. “Everyone on board was either killed when the ship sank or taken prisoner.”

Gabriel had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Who was onboard?”

“All of them—every single member of his immediate family decided to pull up stumps and go see him. You know how things were just after the war—people were giddy with the end of the seemingly endless conflict. The French had been vanquished—what danger could there be?”

“Who?”

He took a deep breath. “Mother, father, two brothers—one with his wife and child, and a younger sister.”

“My God. Seven people. His entire family wiped out?”

A mist of red covered Byer’s sharp cheekbones. “Not the sister or the second eldest brother. But by the time the duke sent a man with ransom money, the brother had died and the sister was nowhere to be found.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, the sense of guilt crushing. He knew it was irrational: he’d fought to end his people’s dependence on slavery. He had never dealt with slavers and had argued more than once with his father that slavery was not only immoral, but that it was the way of a bygone era.