Letitia was gone, and the crying wasn’t her begging for her life back. No, it was a baby’s cry, and Gabriel was on his feet in an instant, needing to know what was wrong.
It was not until he stepped into the hallway that the fog cleared from his mind and he realized that Sibyl’s daughter was crying.
He walked past the adjoining chamber, noticing the open door, and ventured towards the nursery he had instructed to be prepared for Lady Rose—Rosie.
The cries pierced his ears, the sound terrible and unsettling, and he couldn’t help but wince by the time he entered the nursery.
A figure stood in the dark room, right at the window, and he recognized the long spill of Sibyl’s hair as she rocked her baby in her arms. Her voice was low, a soft murmur that he couldn’t make out until he stepped closer.
The floorboard creaked beneath his feet, and she turned slowly, her eyes wide for a moment until she saw him.
He opened his mouth to ask if all was well, but he was quickly shushed. Sibyl glared at him, freeing one arm to press a finger to her lips.
His eyes narrowed on her, his frustration flaring. “Do not shush me,” he whisper-hissed.
“She just fell asleep.” Sibyl’s voice was hoarse, as though she herself hadn’t slept and was tired. “Do not rouse her.”
“I was only going to inquire if everything was all right. I heard her crying.”
“Of course she will cry,” she shot back. Gabriel didn’t understand why she was so angry. “She is a baby, and she is unsettled. She knows she is in a new place, as do I.”
“She cannot know that, surely,” Gabriel scoffed, frowning.
He knew nothing about children, but something niggled at the back of his mind. Letitia had always been unsettled whenever they moved from London to the countryside and back again throughout the year, but he couldn’t remember if she had been that way as a baby.
He hesitated, disliking that broken memory, and instead looked at the swaddled baby in Sibyl’s arms.
“She certainly does,” Sibyl insisted, stroking wisps of hair on the baby’s head. “How can she not? She rode across London in a new carriage, and now she’s sleeping in a new nursery.Andshe is connected to me. If I’m unsettled, she can pick up on it.”
“I am not certain your touching her head is helping,” Gabriel argued. “Surely low voices are less disturbing than?—”
“Do not attempt to tell me how to best soothe my daughter.” Her voice came out sharp, and Rosie squirmed in her arms.
Sibyl froze, just as he did. They both fell quiet, breath held to see if the baby would rouse again and cry, but Rosie only made a soft whimper before falling back asleep.
Perhaps she had not woken up at all.
Still, Gabriel took a step back.
He sighed, catching Sibyl’s scowl again. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair.
He turned to leave but then hesitated.
“But… do make sure you sleep as well. I imagine all thisunsettlementis exhausting you, too.”
She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but he was already gone.
He stalked back to his room, tired of the bickering, of not knowing how to navigate this new situation he had found himself in. Tired of not knowing how to be around his own wife.
Yet, when he returned to bed, he could only stare up at the ceiling. Whenever he closed his eyes, he heard a baby’s wails thatwould then morph into Letitia’s pained cries, and saw his sister’s pale, almost gray face.
In the end, he decided to listen out for when Sibyl returned to her chambers, but he heard nothing.
The following morning, Gabriel went down to the breakfast room, only to pause in the doorway when he found the table empty.
Although the sight was familiar, he hadn’t expected it that day. He had thought he would find Sibyl there, already eating, or at least taking control by taking a seat first. It seemed like something she would do, but he also considered how quickly she had fled the dining hall the night before.
What had scared her off?
