Chapter Twenty-Five
Gabriel stared at the Duke and Duchess of Branmere, a handsome, formidable couple.
Hermia crossed her arms over her chest as she glared him down.
“I believe we had an understanding that if you ever hurt Sibyl, you would severely regret it,” Charles told him, his eyes narrowing into slits. “You have hurt her, Stonehelm. You have hurt herbadly.”
“And how dare you show up on our doorstep, demanding to see her!” Hermia hissed. “You hurt my sister, so I have no qualms about hurting you in return.”
“I just wish to speak to my wife.” Gabriel’s words were clipped. He had no time for this. The evening was growing darker, and he could not wait another second. “I need to—” He broke off when he heardhervoice.
“Who is at the…?” Sibyl trailed off when she saw him, even though Hermia tried to block the doorway with her husband.
Gabriel took a step closer, taking in his wife for the first time in more than three weeks. Her eyes looked tired and heavy. Rosie was bundled in her arms, and he softened at the sight of her.
“Sibyl,” he breathed.
“Gabriel, what are you—what are you doing here?” Sibyl’s voice was tight with pain, and he hated being the cause of it.
“I must speak with you,” he told her. “Please.”
He could not recall the last time he had begged.
He stepped forward. “I know you likely do not want to see me or hear anything I have to say right now, but I beg of you, hear me out. I owe you more words than?—”
“Than what you pitifully wrote in that letter?” Hermia cut in. “Yes, yes, you do.”
Sibyl was still staring at him, as if uncertain he was truly there. Eventually, she nodded. “I will hear you out.”
Gabriel looked at Hermia and waved his hand impatiently. “Well? Let me in.”
Hermia huffed and stepped aside. “You will speak with Sibyl in the drawing room, with the door open, and we will be nearby, should my sister need anything.”
“That includes removing you from the estate,” Charles warned as Hermia took Rosie from Sibyl’s arms.
“It is fine,” Sibyl insisted, walking into the drawing room. “There will be no need for that.”
Gabriel only looked back once at Hermia and Charles before walking into the drawing room. He stood near the door, while she took the farthest seat from him, her eyes downcast. Her hands fidgeted restlessly in her lap.
He had not seen her look so out of place in a long while.
You caused this. You do not deserve?—
He spoke over that self-deprecating voice, recalling his afternoon. Letitia had given him her blessing, Nicholas had told him he deserved love, and he had to trust that he could make this work.
“My Sibyl,” he began, his voice rough. “I-I came here because of you. Because I could not bear being apart from you. Because I had to speak with you properly, beyond that letter I sent.”
“That letter was the most terrible thing I have ever read, and it had nothing to do with the information in it. It had everythingto do with everything you did not say.” Sibyl’s voice was tight, her eyes hard yet wet with angry tears. “You hurt me, Gabriel. You hurt me in a way I did not think could be so deep. You—you refused to listen to me when I told you how lonely I was, even when we were in Stonehelm House together.
“You left me to chase that bastard, but you never understood how I was safest right there in your arms. Youdeprivedme of that. You deprived me of our closeness. You took me from a lonely, cold house, only to make ours the same.”
“I know.” Gabriel swallowed hard, trying to rise above his self-hatred. “I am so sorry, Sibyl. You were right about everything. I was driven by my fear of losing you. I thought it had something to do with Edmund, some revenge scheme, and I got too lost in my obsession and became, as you rightfully said, paranoid.
“My guilt pushed me to keep doing something that felt productive, that felt protective for you, and I let that overshadow your needs. You did try to speak with me over and over, and I let you walk away. Never again will I make that mistake. Sibyl, I truly do not deserve you. I do not deserve every bit of good and light that you are, but Heavens, I want to learn how to.
“I want to beg for your forgiveness, even if I do not think I will be granted it. Still, I am standing before you, ready to fall to my knees if that is what it takes. Sibyl, while you have been gone, I have wanted to write to you day and night. I have wanted to ask how you are, how Rosie is, and how terribly I messed up. I wanted to beg you to come home every second, but I forcedmyself to respect the distance you needed. Now, I see that I never should have let that distance happen in the first place.”
As he poured out his heart, her face softened, as if admitting his mistakes was all she had needed to hear.
