A Secret Love (53 page)

“The wedding,” Gabriel informed him, “will be as soon as we can arrange it, certainly before we or the Morwellans, or indeed, the rest of the ton, desert the capital.”

“Hmm,” Lucifer returned.

“You will be there, won't you?”

At Alathea's pointed look, Lucifer summoned a smile. “Of course.”

He'd be there to see his brother, the last of his confreres still free, take up the shackles of matrimony. After that, he'd leave.

He was going to disappear.

London—indeed, the ton in its broadest sense—was far too dangerous for the last unmarried member of the Bar Cynster.

The Season ended as it always did, with a rash of tonnish weddings, but this year, amid the many, one stood out, very definitely “the wedding of the Season.” The tale of how Lady Alathea Morwellan had turned her back on her own prospects to help her family in the country, only to return eleven years later to tame the most distantly aloof member of the Bar Cynster, fired the romantic imagination of the ton.

St. Georges Church off Hanover Square was filled to bursting on the day Lady Alathea took her vows. The crowd outside the church was just as dense, those not invited to the festivities finding reason to be passing at the time. Everyone craned to catch a glimpse of the bride, regally radiant in ivory and gold, three unusual flowers anchoring her long veil. As she appeared at the top of the church steps on the arm of her proud husband, flanked by a troop of imposing Cynster males and a bevy of beautiful Cynster wives, the crowd let out a communal sigh.

It was just the sort of fairytale romance the ton and all of London delighted in.

At three o'clock, long after the crowds had retreated to savor all they'd seen, to recount the details and embellish their memories, Gabriel was still giving thanks that they'd managed to fight clear of the crowd of well-wishers before the church and repair to Mount Street for the wedding breakfast.

Standing by a window in the drawing room of Morwellan House, he peered through the fine curtains, reconnoitering the street. There was a small crowd waiting to watch them leave, but it was manageable.

“Almost free?”

Gabriel turned as Demon strolled up. His cousin looked disgustingly pleased with himself; Gabriel reasoned that Demon was yet too newly wed for his expression to ease into the deeply content expressions Devil and Vane now habitually wore. Richard was harder to read, but the glow in his eyes when they rested on Catriona was equally revealing. Gabriel knew a vain hope that
he
would not be quite so easy to read. “Almost.” He turned back to the window. “Add the guests inside and it'll still be a goodly crowd, but hopefully we'll make it away in reasonable time.”

“Where are you headed? Or is it a secret?”

“Only from Alathea.” Briefly, Gabriel outlined his plans to whisk Alathea off on a quick tour of the shires, visiting cities like Liverpool and Sheffield that she'd never visited before but that featured prominently in his business dealings.

“We'll end by going directly to Somersham for this summer celebration our mamas have planned.”

“Miss that at the risk of your life—or worse.”

Gabriel grinned. “Richard's obviously taking no chances.” He nodded to where his cousin's black head was bent over his wife's fiery locks.

“Not on any count,” Demon agreed. “He says they'll be on the road north the day after the celebrations. He's not at all sanguine about having Catriona traveling in the condition she'll be in then.”

“I'm sure Catriona will have everything precisely planned. Even if she hasn't, she'll just pass a decree and matters will fall out as she wishes—comes of being Lady of the Vale.”

“Hmm. Still, I can understand Richard's feelings.”

Gabriel glanced at Demon, wondering if that meant . . .

Before he could form a suitable question, Alathea appeared.

She swept into the room, and his heart stopped. She'd changed into a traveling gown of watered mulberry silk, the high upstanding collar a frame for her hair, rich and lustrous in the afternoon light. Her mother's pearls were coiled about her throat, the matching drops in her ears. She wore no other decoration, acquiescing to his anathema toward anything covering the glory of her hair. No other decoration except for the three white blooms fixed in a spray trailing over one breast, a filigree gold ribbon looped between.

They were the flowers from her veil, the flowers he'd sent her that morning, with another note even simpler than his last.

I love you.

That was all he'd wanted to say, but he knew as only a Cynster could that he'd be looking for ways to tell her that for the rest of his life.

She scanned the room, saw him, and immediately smiled. Her fine eyes bright, she glided to his side.

Gabriel raised a brow as she slid her hand onto his arm. “Ready?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “We have to give Augusta and Jeremy a few more minutes.”

Not even that news could dim his anticipation; he knew his wife well enough to know the younger Morwellans would not have stepped over the line. All he wanted to do was to leave, and have her to himself again.

Flick, Demon's young wife, joined them in a froth of blue skirts, face animated, her eyes lit with an inner glow—an inner glow, Gabriel suddenly realized, now he'd grown accustomed to the sight in Alathea's eyes, that all the Cynster brides shared.

Interesting.

“Come on!” Flick claimed Demon's arm. “It's almost time for them to leave.”

“Why are you so afire?” Demon asked. “It's not as if you need to catch any bouquets.”

“I want to see who
does
.” Flick tugged. “The steps are filling up.”

Demon gave a little ground, looking back at Gabriel. “Where's Lucifer?” His demonic grin surfaced. “Thought I'd give him a little advice.”

Gabriel scanned the crowd, then lifted a brow at Demon. “I suspect he's already fled.”

Demon snorted. “Fool!” He cocked a brow at Gabriel. “Care to wager it'll do him no good?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Some things are meant to be.”

Demon acknowledged the comment with a swift smile and a nod, then surrendered to Flick's impatience.

Gabriel turned his gaze on Alathea, and simply smiled. After a moment, she looked up at him. “Ready?” he asked.

She held his gaze. “Yes.”

“At last.” He covered her hand where it lay on his sleeve.

They walked out of the room, out of the house, and set out on a journey to last the rest of their lives.

Romances set against the backdrop of Regency England were the first STEPHANIE LAURENS ever read, and they continue to exert a special attraction. On escaping from the dry world of professional science to carve out a career as a writer, Stephanie published eight Regency romances, then turned to longer historical romances set in the Regency period. Her first was
Captain Jack's Woman
, published by Avon Books in 1997. Subsequent books have told the tales of the Bar Cynster—a group of masterful, arrogant cousins of the ducal Cynster dynasty.
Devil's Bride, A Rake's Vow, Scandal's Bride, A Rogues' Proposal, A Secret Love,
and
All About Love
have documented the inevitable surrender to love of the devastatingly handsome Cynsters.
All About Passion
extends the series.

Residing in a leafy bayside suburb of Melbourne, Australia, Stephanie divides her free time between her husband, two teenage daughters and two cats, Shakespeare and Marlowe. Stephanie loves to hear from readers. Letters can be sent c/o The Publicity Department, Avon Books, HarperCollins Publishers, 10 E 53
^rd
Street, New York, NY 10022-5299, or via email to [email protected], or via Stephanie's website at www.stephanielaurens.com. Updates on the continuing Cynstar series can be found on the website.

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Stephanie Laurens

C
APTAIN
J
ACK
'
S
W
OMAN

D
EVIL
'
S
B
RIDE
A R
AKE
'
S
V
OW

A R
OGUE
'
S
P
ROPOSAL

S
CANDAL
'
S
B
RIDE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

A SECRET LOVE
. Copyright © 2000 by Savdek Management Propriety Ltd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub © Edition NOVEMBER 2001 ISBN: 9780061753770

Print edition first published in 2001 by HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

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