“Make him suffer,” was all he said as Preston was gathered up and pushed into the waiting carriage.
Gabriel watched the carriage roll away, his body finally surrendering after late nights and the lack of proper sustenance. He dropped to the pavement, staring off into the distance.
Whore of a sister.
A used woman.
He had spent his life trying to protect those he loved, and he had failed. And he had done it again.
The fury drained out of him, only to be replaced by sorrow as he realized that by trying to protect Sibyl with such single-mindedness, all he had done was lose her.
He had destroyed the only thing that mattered to him.
At Branmere Hall, Sibyl found herself with more time on her hands than she had anticipated, and her heart only ached more for it. The distance from her husband was tearing her apart, but she couldn’t bear the thought of facing him.
It was an agonizing battle, one she could not keep enduring, at least not without the distraction of her sister and her family.
Phoebe had taken to mothering Rosie, demanding to hold her, feed her, and read her bedtime stories. It had almost distracted Sibyl. It had almost made the numb emptiness in her chest give way to a smile.
Now she was sitting in the parlor, listening to Phoebe tell Hermia about her lessons that day as she embroidered. It was not something she enjoyed doing, but books made her heart weep for how Gabriel had guided her back to that love. How he had guided her back to herself, only to break her apart.
Embroidery kept her hands busy, but her thoughts remained on him.
Suddenly, the door opened, and all three of them looked up as Charles led Oscar and Isabella into the room, their faces grave.
Sibyl was on her feet immediately, worried that something had happened to their parents, but their eyes flickered to her.
Gabriel…
Her heart sped up.
“Please take the children out of the room,” Hermia said. But Sibyl scarcely heard a word, panic seizing her.
Two nursemaids ushered Rosie and a protesting Phoebe out of the room.
“What is it?” Sibyl asked, her voice cracking. “What has happened to Gabriel? I-I told him that he would put himself in harm’s way. I feared he would take the investigation too far.”
“Gabriel is fine, Sibyl,” Oscar soothed. “It is about his cousin.”
“Lord Preston?” Sibyl frowned. “What about him that would bring you out here?”
“He has been arrested in relation to your accident,” Isabella said gently. “We met him briefly when he attempted to visit you the first time, but Gabriel herded him out while you were unconscious. He seemed charming enough, demanding to have his worries eased by seeing you, so nobody thought anything bad about him. But…”
Sibyl’s stomach sank. Something had always felt off about Preston, but she had never thought him a badperson, only that he tried a little too hard to be involved in hers and Gabriel’s lives when he was clearly not welcome.
All those dinner invitations, the incessant questions about her health, the flowers he had brought…
And yet the whole time, he had been the one to cause her accident.
“He confessed that—” Isabella broke off, inhaling sharply. “He intended to cause more damage. It was an attempt on your life, Sibyl, and he will be punished severely for it.”
Sibyl collapsed back into the armchair she had been occupying, her breath coming fast as she tried to process the news.
Preston had attempted to kill her? And Gabriel… Gabriel had been in danger, hunting the culprit down, when all along it was his own cousin.
A knock on the door had them all looking up.
The butler entered, holding a note. “For Her Grace, the Duchess of Stonehelm.”
