"Thank you," Auberge said. He took Carlotta's hand in his and squeezed it hard. "We both thank you."
Denis moved another paper, unconcerned by Auberge's sentimentality. "The next issue concerns Miss Lacey-Gabriella Auberge, as you call her. As you know, Captain Lacey is, by law, her guardian. It is his decision where she goes and with whom she lives until she comes of age or marries. And then it will be his decision whom to allow her to marry."
Auberge and Carlotta flicked their gazes to me at the same time. Gabriella kept her eyes straight ahead, sitting as still as marble.
I remembered her joyous cry of "Papa!" the night I'd rescued her, how she'd pushed away from me and flown into the arms of Auberge. I remembered the knifelike pain in my heart that had cut through the joy of finding her safe.
Auberge had raised her, had watched her turn from child to youth to woman, had loved her. Gabriella loved him as much in return, trusting and admiring him as her father. I was a stranger from her past, one she did not know quite what to do with.
I wet my lips, pulling the words from deep inside me. "Gabriella should return to France with her mother and stepfather. She belongs there."
Carlotta raised her head. Gabriella's gaze met mine in stunned surprise.
"Are you certain that is what you want?" Auberge asked, his tone pleading me to say yes.
I studied Gabriella, her honey brown curls trickling from beneath her modest cap, her brown eyes so like my own. "I love you, Gabriella," I told her. "You are my daughter, and I will always love you. But I cannot rip you away from everything you have ever known."
Gabriella hesitated, then she inclined her head. Her expression was neutral, as though I'd turned down an invitation for tea, but the ringlets about her face trembled. "Thank you, sir. Might I visit you, though? I would like to come to know you, and about your family… My family."
My heart caught. "You are certain?"
"My father told me what you did to find me. He said that if not for you, all would have been lost."
That was true. Auberge could not have bullied Pomeroy, Denis, and Grenville to turn out half of London to search for Gabriella. A few patrollers might have looked, found nothing, and sent Auberge home.
"I had resources," I said.
"For which I am forever grateful," Gabriella answered, haughty as a duchess, I noted with amusement. "May I begin my visits soon?"
"In September," I said. "I will take you to Lady Aline Carrington's in Hampshire. We will have a fine time."
Gabriella relaxed her hauteur and gave me an impish grin as good as Black Nancy's. "Will there be games and country dances? I have read much in the newspapers about games and country dances at English house parties."
"Lady Aline is at the forefront of society," I assured her. "I am certain she will provide exquisite entertainment."
Gabriella clasped her hands. "I will be most happy to go, then."
I felt a sudden stab of trepidation. I wanted to know and cherish my daughter again, but I realized that I had no idea how to be a father.
Denis, who had watched the exchange with no flicker of warmth, gathered his papers. "I will leave documents for Mrs. Lacey to sign and dispatch to me." He rose, tucked the rest of the papers under his arm, took up his walking stick, and bowed coolly. "I bid you good day."
I walked him to the door of the parlor, politely opening it for him. "I meant what I said. Every ha'penny. You will see it again."
Denis gave me a wintry smile. "There are a few problems that have come to my attention about which I wish to consult with you. You will be just the man to find the answers."
"I do not work for you," I reminded him.
His look turned wise. "Wait and hear the problems first," he said. "And then decide. Good day, Captain."
He was gone, settling his hat and climbing into the elegant carriage that waited for him in the summer mist.
Auberge asked me to stay and speak with him, but Carlotta wanted to take Gabriella upstairs again, ready to hide her away once more.
"Thank you, Gabriel," Carlotta said stiffly as we parted at the foot of the stairs.
I lifted her hand, though she did not offer it, and pressed a brief kiss to it. She had been my first love; I had kissed the dainty fingers so long ago. "Be well, Carlotta."
She looked startled, then swiftly inclined her head and started up the stairs. Gabriella allowed me to kiss her cheek, although she still behaved as though I were merely a kind stranger. Tears filled my eyes as she gracefully caught up to her mother and slipped her arm about the older woman's waist.
Auberge joined me in watching them. "I cannot repay you for what you have done," he said. "You have my deepest obligation."
I remained gazing up the stairs after Carlotta and Gabriella had gone. "I don't know, Auberge. I cannot help feeling that Gabriella would not have been in danger at all if not for me."
"No, Captain. I, too, feel great guilt, but the one who should bear it is Payne. Were he not such a beast, Gabriella would have gone without incident to your rooms and been comforted by you. We might have had a merry argument, but no more."
"My reason tells me this," I said. "Still I go over it and over it, wondering what would have happened if I had said the right things or done things differently."
"Whatever we feel, I am forever in your debt for restoring her to us." He paused. "And for not taking her away again."
I met his gaze. "She loves you. You are her family."
"You have the law," he said.
"The law is not everything."
Auberge pressed his lips together and nodded, as though afraid that if he went on in this vein, he'd lose what he'd gained. "You will take care of her when she is here?"
"Oh, yes," I answered fervently. "You can be assured, I will watch her every move."
We stood awkwardly a moment, two men who were, in truth, rivals, and whose bond over a common problem had come to an end.
"Carlotta finally told me," he said after a time, "the reason she left you to stay with me in France. I asked her quite closely about it last night."
I lifted a brow. "And what did she say?"
Auberge slid into French, as though unable to keep up his halting English. "That when you were in France with her, she'd had a letter from her father. He wrote that he would dissolve her marriage to you and drag her home to marry the man to whom he'd tried to betroth her before. Her father was sore in need of money, as I said, and you had little. He convinced her, in her naivete, that he could do such a thing. Carlotta said that she had no idea until now that divorce and annulment were such difficult things to obtain. You were ready to return to England, and she feared that if she came back here, her father would force her into the marriage she'd run to India to escape."
"Good Lord. The little fool. Why did she never tell me of this?"
Auberge shrugged. "She was young, she was afraid, and as we agreed, Carlotta is not one to think things through. She simply acts. She and I had grown to know each other, and I admit, I flirted with her and quite fell in love with her. So, when she came to me in trouble, I had no compunction against taking her away. For that, I am sorry."
"Dear God." I exhaled. "Poor Carlotta. She must have been terrified. And she did not feel that she could come to me." The knowledge hurt, even now. "But you made her happy, Auberge. She fled with you into safety, and you loved her."
Auberge nodded quietly. "We have been very happy."
"And she would not have been happy with me." I knew this to be true. "Not even in the absence of her father's threats, which were empty. She would never have had what she has with you."