It made her stomach flip over itself.

And Celia found it annoying she should recognize the man’s voice at all.

She supposed she should be grateful for his quick action in saving her again. That is if he managed pulling this off. A hysterical giggle almost escaped her at the thought of Robert squaring off against the other brawny, well-muscled man. And if Gabriel’s own size and personal countenance did not give one reason to pause, the influential friends he carried in his pockets certainly would. It was madness crossing a man so well connected with both the upper echelons of society and the criminals in the darkest corners of England.

Celia’s palms grew damp. Gabriel Rose was truly fearsome. The man was built like a mountain. Darkly brooding, but with a surprising twinkle in his eye when amused. And the scar slicing like a lightning bolt through his left eyebrow only enhanced his mysteriousness. With a ruthless reputation backing up the frightening appearance, he was not someone a sane person would dare trifle with.

Celia vividly recalled the night he rescued her from that dimly lit garden path just three months before. She remembered how he stared at her. Furious and with a glint of helpless attraction in his darkly golden brown eyes. He helped her escape Robert’s drunken pursuit by taking her arm and navigating the path’s twists and turns. Returned her to the safety of Lady Sutter’s ballroom without a single word.

Then he’d disappeared into the shadows along the crowd’s fringes before she could stutter out her gratitude.

Gabriel came to her aid then and he did the same now. Like an angel swooping down. Wings spread wide in a muscled shield of protection.

The voices drew closer. Despite the fear of discovery, Celia pressed her ear against the wall, straining to hear the conversation. She must see what was happening. Perhaps if she squinted hard enough with one eye while looking through the tiny crack in the wood…

She could see the divan in the pool of lamplight, but nothing else.

“When I entered, I saw no one. Only this broken candlestick and a bottle of brandy. And it is nearly empty, as you can see,” Gabriel said in the calmest of manners. He moved into Celia’s line of vision.

Her heart gave an odd little jump of exhilaration.

“How do you explain my injury, sir?” Robert bit out.

Gabriel chuckled in a tone so melodic and soothing that even Celia believed his assertion. “I imagine, Lord Harvey, you tumbled from the divan and landed on the candlestick. It is rather late, after all. A bit too much brandy, and well, accidents are likely. I say, you might want to have that wound seen to. Speaking as someone with experience, you could end up with a scar.”

“He’s right, Harvey. It is rather nasty,” another voice piped up. Celia squinted harder to identify it, but the gentleman remained on the periphery.

“Lady Celia could not have slipped past me. There is nowhere else she could be other than this room,” Robert insisted. Ducking down, he searched under the piece of furniture.