“Nothing,” she snapped, biting into another forkful of meat. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Aren’t you staying?”
“Oh, I am,” she answered haughtily. “This is a fine spread. I shall not forgo it.”
“Then enjoy.” His voice went flat as he ate a mouthful of his own food, a hearty serving of veal and potatoes. “But youwillanswer my question.”
“As you answered mine?” she countered. “You told me I am no longer a countess, and therefore your equal, so should we not?—”
“Are you always this overscrupulous?” His question came sharply, before his chair was shoved back.
Sibyl wasn’t expecting him to rise from his seat and stalk over to her. Her eyes widened as he loomed over her, his hands braced on the armrests of her chair.
“You were the one who proposed marriage,” she whispered, reminding him of his own choices. “I told you that we were strangers. You do not get to dive into my past while concealing yours.”
“I am allowed to do as I please,” he murmured, his face too close to hers. And yet Sibyl both wanted him further awayandcloser. “Answer me. How did you meet your husband?”
“I am not like one of those gamblers you can simply interrogate,” she shot back, bravely looking him in the eye. “Do not treat me like them.”
He leaned in closer, and her breath caught. She couldn’t look away, not while he gazed at her so intently. His brown eyes darkened, no longer warmed by his gray tailcoat.
“Your Grace.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Duchess.” His tone matched hers.
Her heart sped up, taking her back to that thrilling moment in the bathtub when she had been thinking of him. She wanted to place a hand on her chest, to feel her frantic heartbeat, but she didn’t want him to see how he affected her.
“Your Grace,” she repeated, and watched as his eyes narrowed on her.
No,no, she could not. She could not think this way. Not about him, not now. Not when… Not when she was only here because he had saved her, promised her protection from scandal, and given her safety.
“I—” he began.
Sibyl didn’t let him finish. She pushed back her chair, scarcely having eaten, and stood up.
He reached for her, as if to stop her, but she pulled back from him and the dining table with its empty chairs—too many compared to what she was used to in her family home.
Everything was so different, too different. Heavens, she had to get out of there.
Her mind in a whirl of panic, Sibyl fled the dining hall and didn’t stop running until she collapsed into her new bed in this new home.
Tears stung her eyes. Everything was so new. Everything had changed, and she didn’t know what to make of any of it.
She wished she had her sisters with her.
She wished she could be around the Duke without feeling so confused.
Chapter Seven
Gabriel retired to bed not long after Sibyl had fled the dining hall, but sleep came in broken waves.
He dreamed of his sister, of her hair fanned across the ratty pillow in the horrible apartment he had found her in. How oily the strands had been. Yet, he had stroked her hair and whispered that everything was going to be fine.
Letitia’s face had also been slick with perspiration, and still, he had cupped her cheeks, looked into the eyes that were so like their mother’s, and once again told her everything was going to be fine.
In his dreams, his promise was kept. But when he woke up to crying through the night, he couldn’t distinguish the dreams from reality, and he was hit all over again with grief.
Except when his eyes opened, he wasn’t in a dirty place in Italy, and his sister was not on her deathbed.
