been a mere girl when Gabriel had been forced to sell off the
contents of his father's library, the only legacy he had from his parent, in order to survive.
Right years ago. The Veiled Lady was no more than twenty-four at the most. Yes, it all fit.
"Bloody hell," Gabriel said through his teeth. He stalked across the courtyard and out through the old
stone gate. Another Clarington chit. As if he had not already had enough of Clarington women to last him
a lifetime.
She had a hell of a nerve playing her games with him, he thought. Did she assume she could follow in her
sister's footsteps? Did she believe she could safely amuse herself with him?
"Damnation."
Gabriel paced to the edge of the cliffs and stood gazing down into the churning sea. The desire that had
burned in him for the Veiled Lady was as hot as ever. He would have her, he promised himself. Yes, he
would definitely have her. But on his own terms.
How did she dare try her wiles on him after what her family had done to him? he wondered. Was she
really so reckless or so arrogant? The frustration and fury he had felt eight years ago roared back into life
as if it had all happened yesterday.
But it had not happened yesterday, he thought grimly. He was not the same idealistic, penniless fool he
had been then. Lady Phoebe's father could not protect her this time the way he had protected his other
daughter eight years ago.
The Veiled Lady was more vulnerable than she could have possibly imagined. And so was her family.
The wealth Gabriel had brought back with him from the South Seas was more than a match for the
Clarington fortune. And that wealth was now coupled to a title that was the equal of Clarington's. With
that kind of fortune and status came power. Great power.
Of course, Gabriel reminded himself suddenly, the Veiled Lady had no inkling of just how wealthy he
was. No one knew him or anything about him. He was as anonymous to the Social World as he was to
the readers of his novel.
Lady Phoebe Layton wanted his assistance on a quest. Gabriel's hand closed into a fist. Very well, she
would have it. And the price she would pay for his services would be high, indeed.
He would use her to punish Clarington for everything that had happened eight years ago.
Chapter 5
The Marchioness of Frowbridge set a delicate stitch in the hem of a little muslin dress. "You need not be
quite so cool with Lord Kilbourne, you know, Phoebe. I am certain he is going to offer for you soon.
You may give him some encouragement now without fear of anyone thinking you overbold."
Phoebe poured another cup of tea and made a face. Her sister did not notice. Meredith was too busy
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
concentrating on the flower she was embroidering onto her daughter's tiny gown.
It occurred to Phoebe, not for the first time, that anyone looking at Meredith saw a paragon of wifehood
and motherhood. It was not an illusion. Meredith was a paragon. But few people outside the immediate
circle of her family were aware of the amazing talent for business and financial matters that lay beneath
the breathtakingly perfect surface. In addition to being a devoted wife and mother, she was an active
advisor to her husband in his many investments.
An inclination for such matters was a common trait in Phoebe's family. Her father, the earl, was a
mathematician who loved to apply his principles to both his investments and his scientific experiments.
Her brother, Anthony, Viscount Oaksley, had inherited his father's abilities. He now ran the Clarington
empire, freeing the earl to concentrate on his experiments.
Phoebe's mother, Lydia, Lady Clarington, was also skilled with numbers. But unlike the others, she
preferred to apply her talents at the card tables of her friends. Most of the time she won. Occasionally,
however, she did not. In either event she was careful to keep her lord uninformed about her
contents of his father's library, the only legacy he had from his parent, in order to survive.
Right years ago. The Veiled Lady was no more than twenty-four at the most. Yes, it all fit.
"Bloody hell," Gabriel said through his teeth. He stalked across the courtyard and out through the old
stone gate. Another Clarington chit. As if he had not already had enough of Clarington women to last him
a lifetime.
She had a hell of a nerve playing her games with him, he thought. Did she assume she could follow in her
sister's footsteps? Did she believe she could safely amuse herself with him?
"Damnation."
Gabriel paced to the edge of the cliffs and stood gazing down into the churning sea. The desire that had
burned in him for the Veiled Lady was as hot as ever. He would have her, he promised himself. Yes, he
would definitely have her. But on his own terms.
How did she dare try her wiles on him after what her family had done to him? he wondered. Was she
really so reckless or so arrogant? The frustration and fury he had felt eight years ago roared back into life
as if it had all happened yesterday.
But it had not happened yesterday, he thought grimly. He was not the same idealistic, penniless fool he
had been then. Lady Phoebe's father could not protect her this time the way he had protected his other
daughter eight years ago.
The Veiled Lady was more vulnerable than she could have possibly imagined. And so was her family.
The wealth Gabriel had brought back with him from the South Seas was more than a match for the
Clarington fortune. And that wealth was now coupled to a title that was the equal of Clarington's. With
that kind of fortune and status came power. Great power.
Of course, Gabriel reminded himself suddenly, the Veiled Lady had no inkling of just how wealthy he
was. No one knew him or anything about him. He was as anonymous to the Social World as he was to
the readers of his novel.
Lady Phoebe Layton wanted his assistance on a quest. Gabriel's hand closed into a fist. Very well, she
would have it. And the price she would pay for his services would be high, indeed.
He would use her to punish Clarington for everything that had happened eight years ago.
Chapter 5
The Marchioness of Frowbridge set a delicate stitch in the hem of a little muslin dress. "You need not be
quite so cool with Lord Kilbourne, you know, Phoebe. I am certain he is going to offer for you soon.
You may give him some encouragement now without fear of anyone thinking you overbold."
Phoebe poured another cup of tea and made a face. Her sister did not notice. Meredith was too busy
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
concentrating on the flower she was embroidering onto her daughter's tiny gown.
It occurred to Phoebe, not for the first time, that anyone looking at Meredith saw a paragon of wifehood
and motherhood. It was not an illusion. Meredith was a paragon. But few people outside the immediate
circle of her family were aware of the amazing talent for business and financial matters that lay beneath
the breathtakingly perfect surface. In addition to being a devoted wife and mother, she was an active
advisor to her husband in his many investments.
An inclination for such matters was a common trait in Phoebe's family. Her father, the earl, was a
mathematician who loved to apply his principles to both his investments and his scientific experiments.
Her brother, Anthony, Viscount Oaksley, had inherited his father's abilities. He now ran the Clarington
empire, freeing the earl to concentrate on his experiments.
Phoebe's mother, Lydia, Lady Clarington, was also skilled with numbers. But unlike the others, she
preferred to apply her talents at the card tables of her friends. Most of the time she won. Occasionally,
however, she did not. In either event she was careful to keep her lord uninformed about her
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