Dancing with a Rogue Read Free Page A

could open any door with a picklock. He played at opening locks constantly, as well as practicing sleight of hand.
    Riley, an Irishman who now owned his own disreputable tavern on the Boston waterfront, had taught him the finer points of being a gentleman thief, including disguises and opening safes. He’d also taught him to climb the walls of buildings, something that came easily to a sailor.
    Gabriel watched as the anchor dropped, and a boat was lowered to take the captain into London. Once the formalities were through, he planned to visit the solicitor who had contacted him. He would find out from him how to insinuate himself into the ton.
    And whether an American, even with a British title, would be welcome.
    But he already knew he would be received where he wanted most to be received. He knew the arrogance of his opponents. He had engaged a solicitor before the war to work with a counterpart in London to obtain information. The London solicitor had given him a very lengthy report on the three men who interested him.
    They were all on the fringes of the ton. Not quite accepted, yet tolerated because of their titles and pedigree. And power. No one knew the exact source of their power or their wealth. The solicitor added that any queries into their business were squelched and that those who openly spoke against them recanted or disappeared. Their fellow peers feared them. No one dared touch them.
    Only one was currently married. Another—the Earl of Stanhope—was a widower twice over, and rumor had it that he’d killed at least one wife.
    Gabriel would feel no hesitation in bringing these men down.
    His title would admit him to many homes. Others wouldn’t resist the temptation to host an American barbarian. At the very least, he would prove a curiosity to the jaded members of society.
    They had no idea of how much of a barbarian he was.
    Paul Lynch, the manager of the London theater group that had lured Monique there, had been waiting on the dock as she disembarked from one of the smaller ships. Others, she noticed, anchored along the river, dependent on longboats to take crew and passengers ashore.
    Dani followed her with a hatbox. A seaman easily carried her heavy trunk.
    She turned back to the sea. A ship under an American flag was anchoring not far from them. Her gaze swept over the deck, skimming past a man at the rail, then returning to him.
    His hands were clasped behind him, a stance she associated with captains and officers, yet he wore no uniform. Not even a coat despite the cold wind sweeping the harbor.
    Instead, he was clad in only a shirt that billowed out in the wind. His dark blond hair was short and windblown, his stance tall and straight with confidence. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from where she stood but for some reason she thought they would be green.
    Ridiculous thought. She wasn’t even sure why he’d captured her attention. Yet even as she turned to her escort, the figure remained in her mind.
    Lynch offered her his arm. “Mademoiselle, you will not regret making this decision.”
    He was a pompous man with an unctuous air. Yet he operated one of the most successful theaters in London, second only, she’d heard, to the famous Drury Lane Theater.
    She gave him a smile. “ Merci .”
    â€œWe will begin rehearsals on a new play tomorrow,” he said. “We have been waiting for you.”
    â€œI look forward to returning to work,” she said in the unaccented English she’d perfected.
    He looked pleased. “I will have the carriage at your residence at noon tomorrow. Perhaps you would have a late supper with me this evening?” he added hopefully.
    â€œ Merci ,” she said. “But I am very tired.” She saw the disappointment in his eyes. “But tomorrow, oui .” She inwardly winced at the sudden gleam in his eyes. She didn’t want an admirer in the manager of the theater. He was her employer. She