“Preston, if you ever speak ill of my wife again, in my presence or otherwise—and Iwillfind out—I will make sure you do not walk straight ever again.”
With that, Gabriel turned to walk away.
But Preston grabbed him by the shoulder. Gabriel whirled, ready to punch him, but only found his cousin’s apologetic face.
“I am sorry, Cousin. I went too far. But I only meant to warn you. I do not harbor any ill intentions.”
“I do not care for your apologies,” Gabriel hissed, before shrugging him off and striding away.
He pushed through the crowd, which parted for him anyway, his eyes darting left and right in search of his wife. Yet, he could not see her anywhere.
He spotted Alicia standing next to a young lord he recognized from the King’s Hound, looking bored as anything. He had actually faced that man in the ring last week.
He wondered if Alicia knew or if her mother knew that the young man had a terrible temper.
He would send a tip to the Wicklebys anonymously, just in case, for he could not explain to Sibyl how he knew the man’s temper without revealing the full truth.
When he couldn’t find her anywhere, his heart sped up. He was supposed to protect her. What if somebody had lured her outside? What if she had wandered too far, gotten herself tangled up in a problem?
Or…
He thought of how she always escaped, even from Stonehelm Hall.
That’s it.She must have looked for a sanctuary.
He looked towards the ballroom doors and wasted no time in heading for the stairs.
Sibyl looked at the stars in a bid to calm her racing heart, but tonight it just was not working.
Her thoughts were too loud, her heart too fast, and the tears came too quickly and hot to fight back. Everything wastoo much, too much, too much,and it had been for so long she could no longer keep her head above the water.
Her first marriage had failed before she was even one-and-twenty, and she had been blamed for Edmund’s addiction and death, even thoughhehad ruined their marriage. She had not even wanted to wed him, yet she had been forced into the decision by her damned mother.
She had given in, and it had almost ruined her life.
She had lost so much of herself in Kerrington House, and now she was scrabbling to get back the pieces. But she wasn’t the same person; the pieces would no longer fit.
“I want to be as Alicia said,” Sibyl whispered through her tears, rocking herself as she would when she soothed Rosie, for it soothed her too. “I want to dance beneath the moonlight, and I want happiness and love and—Heavens, I want the pain to go away.”
She pressed a fist to her bodice, trying to push the pain back down. It only made her more aware of her daringly low-cut dress and how silly she must look.
Dark memories flooded her mind. Edmund’s arm hanging off the bed, Miss Tremaine revealing too much for her to handle, Rosie’s scrunched-up face as she cried, Gabriel’s proposal and disappearances at night.
Did hehave mistresses?
Would she have to simply live with that knowledge, let it gnaw at her sanity until she questioned everything?
How could his touch drive her mad if he visited other women at night? If he had that, why would he want to kiss her?
Everything spun too horribly in her mind, and she hunched over, sobs wracking her body. She barely even registered the door opening, but she did register the voice that cut lethally through the quiet.
“Who did this to you?”
Her head snapped up, her hands immediately dashing the tears from her cheeks. Her feelings spiraled out into one, horrible snap.
“Why do you even care?” Her voice broke on a fresh wave of tears, and her mouth twisted into a sad grimace.
“What—Sibyl, why would you ask that? Why would you think I do not care?”
