Gabriel stared at her, clearly stunned. "Your fault? Why in God's name do you say that? The man died in the South Seas, thousands of miles away from England."

"Don't you understand?" Phoebe gave him an anguished look. "If it were not for me, Neil would never have gone off to the South Seas. He went there to seek his fortune so that he could come back and ask for my hand. I am to blame for what happened."

"Christ," Gabriel muttered. "That's an insane notion."

"It is not insane," Phoebe hissed, struggling to keep her voice low.

"It is an addle-pated, idiotic, and totally irrational conclusion."

Phoebe felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She searched Gabriel's fierce face. "I thought you of all people would understand my quest."

"It is foolishness."

Phoebe took a breath. "Does that mean you will not help me, after all?"

"No, by God," Gabriel said through his teeth. "I will help you find the owner of The Lady in the Tower. What you choose to believe about the man after you have located him will be your business."

"The man is a murderous pirate. Surely you will want to help me bring him to justice."

"Not particularly." Gabriel closed the book he had been examining. "1 told you that night in Sussex that I am no longer overly concerned with idealistic notions."

"But you have agreed to my quest," Phoebe pointed out.

"It intrigues me. I am occasionally amused by such puzzles. But do not assume that I intend to help you punish the man who killed your lover."

Phoebe wanted to argue further, but at that moment a young lady dressed in the height of fashion and accompanied by a maid walked into the shop. She went straight to the counter and waited impatiently as Mr. Hammond hurried over to serve her.

"I wish to purchase a copy of The Quest," the young lady announced in imperious tones. "All of my friends have read it, so I suppose I must read it also."

"I believe you will have to go to Lacey's Bookshop for that," Mr. Hammond murmured.

"What a nuisance." The young lady turned to Phoebe and Gabriel as Mr. Hammond disappeared into his back room. She looked at Gabriel through her lashes. "Have you read it, sir?"

Gabriel cleared his throat. He looked oddly ill at ease. "Uh, yes. Yes, I have."

"What did you think of it?" the young lady asked earnestly. "Is it really as clever as everyone says?"

"Well … " Gabriel looked helplessly at Phoebe.

Phoebe realized it was the first time she had ever seen Gabriel appear flustered. He was actually turning a dull red. She smiled at the young lady and coolly stepped into the breech.

"I am certain you will enjoy The Quest," Phoebe said. "In my opinion it represents an entirely new species of novel. It is full of adventure and incidents of chivalry and it does not rely on the supernatural element for effect."

"I see." The young lady looked dubious.

"The tone is very affecting," Phoebe continued swiftly. "The novel engages the most lofty of the sensibilities. Very inspiring treatment of the subject of love. You will be especially pleased with its hero. He is even more exciting than one of Mrs. Radcliffe's heroes."

The young lady brightened. "More exciting than one of Mrs. Radcliffe's?"

"Yes, indeed. I assure you that you will not be disappointed." Phoebe smiled and paused a second before adding the final touch. "Byron has read The Quest, you know. He recommended it to all his friends."

The young lady's eyes widened. "I shall go to Lacey's Bookshop at once."

Phoebe smiled with satisfaction. Another sale for Lacey's Bookshop. If she had not been standing in a room full of people, she would have rubbed her hands together in glee.

She might not have inherited her family's talent for mathematics and investments, but she could certainly pick successful novels out of a pile of manuscripts.

It was unfortunate that her family would not appreciate her peculiar version of the family talent.

Chapter 8

It represents an entirely new species of novel … does not rely on the supernatural element for effect … very inspiring treatment of the subject of love.

Phoebe's words were still ringing in Gabriel's head that afternoon as he strode into Lacey's Bookshop. They were very familiar words. They were, in fact, almost the exact words Lacey had used in his letter saying he wished to publish The Quest. Gabriel had read that letter several times, committing the approving phrases to memory.

Ever since leaving Phoebe at Hammond's Bookshop that morning, a suspicion had been growing in his mind. At first it had seemed too outrageous to even contemplate, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it all made a strange sort of sense.

If his suspicion was correct, it would certainly explain how Phoebe had known so much about him right from the start. It would also mean there was no limit to Phoebe's daring.

The man behind the counter inside the bookshop peered at him. "May I help you, sir?"

"Where's Lacey?" Gabriel asked bluntly. He had met Lacey once before, shortly after the beginning of their association. On that occasion Gabriel had made it clear that he expected Lacey to respect his request for anonymity.

The clerk blinked and then coughed discreetly. "I'm afraid Mr. Lacey is busy, my lord."

"You mean he's drunk as a wheelbarrow?"

"Of course not, sir. He's working."

Gabriel heard a noise from the room directly behind the front counter. "Never mind, I'll find him myself."

He walked around the counter, pushed open the door, and stepped into the room where Lacey housed his printing press.

The smell of ink and oil was thick in the air. The massive iron press stood silent. Lacey, a stout, bald man with a florid face full of overgrown whiskers, was in the corner. He was examining a bundle of paper. He wore a leather apron over his ink-stained clothes. A bottle of gin was poking out of one of the apron pockets.

"Lacey, there is something I wish to discuss with you," Gabriel said, closing the door.

"What's that?" Lacey turned his head and glared at Gabriel with rheumy eyes. "Oh, it's you, m'lord. Now, see here, if you've come to complain about not getting paid enough for your last book, you're wasting your time. I told you my partner has put all that sort of thing into the hands of a solicitor. I don't worry about the damned money anymore."

Gabriel smiled coldly. "It's not the money that concerns me, Lacey."

"Well, now, that's a relief." Lacey straightened and pulled the bottle out of his apron pocket. He scowled at Gabriel as he took a healthy swig of gin. "You wouldn't believe how many authors get difficult when it comes to money."

"What interests me is the name of your partner."

Lacey choked on his mouthful of gin. He swallowed frantically and then burst out in a fit of coughing. "Afraid I cannot discuss it, m'lord. Anonymous. Just like you."

"I want the name, Lacey."

"Now, see here, what gives you the right to pry into my private business?"

"If you don't give me the name of your partner, I shall see to it that my new manuscript, which is almost completed, is delivered to another publisher."

Lacey stared at him in horror. "You wouldn't do that, my lord. After all we've done for you?"

"I don't want to take A Reckless Venture elsewhere, but if you force me to do so, I shall."

Lacey sat down hard in a wooden chair. "You're a hard man, m'lord."

"I'm a cautious man, Lacey. I like to know who I'm dealing with when I do business."

Lacey squinted at him and wiped his nose on the back of his stained sleeve. "You won't tell her I told ye? She's real insistent on keeping her name a secret. Her family wouldn't approve of her getting involved in trade."