She glanced at him, then gave a slight nod and lifted her head.
Approving the imperious tilt to her chin, Gabriel looked ahead. She was no mean actress-there was now not a hint of trepidation to be seen. If he had to have a female partner, he was glad it was she. She could think, pick locks, and carry off a charade-all definite positives. Despite his irritation on first finding her here, he now felt in considerable charity with her role.
He would, of course, put his foot down and ensure she engaged in no more midnight searches, but that would have to wait until after they got past the porter nodding in his box by the gate. Head up, spine straight, the countess walked past as if the porter didn't exist. The man touched his fingers respectfully to his cap, then yawned and slouched back on his stool.
They walked on. In the shadows cast by the huge trees of the Fields, a small black carriage waited, the horses' heads hanging. As they neared, the coachman glanced around, then hunched over his reins.
Halting by the carriage, Gabriel opened the door.
The countess put out her hand. "Thank you-"
"In a moment." Taking her hand, he urged her into the carriage. He felt her puzzled glance as she complied. As she settled on the seat, he glanced at her coachman. "Brook Street-just past South Molton." With that, he followed the countess into the carriage and shut the door.
She stared at him, then scooted further over as he turned and sat beside her. The carriage rocked into motion.
After an instant's fraught silence, she said, "I wasn't aware
I had offered you a ride."
Gabriel considered her veiled face. "No doubt you would have-I thought I'd save you the trouble."
He heard a small spurt of laughter, instantly suppressed. Lips curving, he faced forward. "After all, we need to consider our next move." He'd already mapped out several; all could be attempted in a closed carriage rolling through the night.
"Indeed." Her tone was equable.
"But first, a point I should have made plain at the outset. You asked for my help and I agreed to give it. You also asked for my promise not to seek out your identity."
She stiffened. "Have you?"
His lightheartedness evaporated. "I promised. So no. I haven't." Each word was clipped, each sentence definite. "But if you want me to play your game any further-if we're to continue our alliance and save your stepfamily from ruin-you'll have to promise to abide by my rules."
Her silence lasted for a good fifty yards. Then, "Your rules?"
He could feel her gaze on the side of his face; he continued to look forward.
"And what are they? These rules of yours."
"Rule number one-you must promise never again to act without my knowledge."
She stirred slightly. "Your knowledge!"
Gabriel hid a cynical smile; he'd dealt with women long enough not to label it "permission."
"If you and I act independently, especially in such a delicate affair as this, there's a good chance we'll cross tracks to disastrous effect. If that happens, and we reveal our interest to the company too early, then all you've worked for will go for nought. And you are not sufficiently au fait with how matters are dealt with in the City to appreciate all the ramifications of what we might learn, which is, after all, why you sought my help in the first place."
She had none of her sex's usual wariness of silence; again, she claimed it to calculate, to consider. As they swayed around a corner, she asked, "These rules-what are the others?"
"There are only two-I've told you one."
"And the second?"
He turned his head and looked at her. "For each piece of information we gather, I get to claim a reward."
"A reward?" Wariness had crept into her tone.
He suppressed a wolfish smile. "Reward-a customary token of gratitude given in return for services rendered."
She knew precisely what he meant, her knowledge clear in the fine tension that gripped her. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "What reward do you want?"