Before Sibyl could frown and demand to know why she could not see her sisters first, nor her husband, even if he was there in the room, Preston spoke again.
“Your Grace, we are family now, even if we do not know one another very well.” His tone wastoojovial, too bright for the circumstances. “I care about you, even if your husband refuses to let me meet with you. I have written to him several times.”
Sibyl’s head snapped to Gabriel, and the movement was too fast, making her mind spin. The letters that had caused him distress… they had been from Preston? His cousin, who only wished to get to know her better?
Gabriel had the sense to look away guiltily, and it made her wonder why he had kept this from her. She had worried the letters were about Edmund, yet this whole time, it had just been his cousin.
Why?
“Hello, Preston,” Sibyl finally managed.
“Hello, Your Grace. Or may I call you Sibyl, since we are family?”
“Your Grace or Duchess is fine,” Gabriel snapped.
Sibyl looked at him again, the motion making her head spin once more.
“I do not mind,” she croaked. “But…”
But part of me does not trust Preston’s smile. I have seen smiles too fake for comfort, too forced to feel genuine.
She did not say that, however. Instead, she smiled politely as she ought to, but even Rosie cried in her nursery as if she knew something was amiss.
Preston blinked at her as if to say,But what?
“Thank you for visiting me, Preston,” she finally said. “It is good to connect with Gabriel’s family.”
She could have sworn she heard Gabriel scoff, but he said nothing, and she maintained that polite smile while Preston drank tea at her bedside, speaking with her as if they were old friends.
Gabriel wasmad, endlessly consumed with finding out who had sabotaged his carriage and endangered his wife. And it was with a single-mindedness that he set about doing just that.
Diving into London’s underworld, he walked into the Spindle, where he had once found Sibyl investigating her husband’s whereabouts. He had been so distrustful of her, not realizing that she would not have put herself in harm’s way if she had known where he was.
Now, he scanned the gaming hell with a keen eye. He dropped into a seat at the nearest table, enduring the wide eyes and stammering at his presence.
“Just deal,” he ordered the men surrounding him.
“At once, Your Grace. How fares your Duchess? Word is that she was?—”
“She is fine,” Gabriel interrupted. “I am seeking information.”
The men looked at him, waiting for him to say more, not daring to ask questions.
“The late Earl of Kerrington,” he began. “I need to find his former associates.”
“Your Grace?”
Gabriel struggled to fight down a wave of frustration. “I need you to give me the names of his former associates—the ones still in London.”
“May we ask why?—”
Gabriel shot them a hard glare and tossed down a card. “I just need to know if they’re still doing business here.”
“Yes, they’re still active in the area,” one man with beady eyes and gray hair, told him. “Most notably, Lord Berrington, a lowly viscount. But he will do anything to rise through the ranks. There is also Lord James. He was seen with the late Lord Kerrington quite often.”
Gabriel nodded, committing the names to memory as he dealt more cards. “Any enemies of his that you are aware of?”
The beady-eyed man laughed. “Plenty! Heavens, everybody had a score to settle with the late Earl. I did feel bad for him at times, for he could not even play cards without someone starting an argument.”
