“Sibyl, I need you close by. I need to see you to know that you are safe. That—that is what this whole argument has been about.”
“You do not care to see me,” she snapped. “Or hear me, for that matter.I will be safe with my family, and I will be in a place that brings me happiness.”
Gabriel stiffened at her jab, his eyes hardening. “Fine.”
“That’s it? No argument?”
“Your mind is made up.”
“You will not try to convince me to stay here?”
“I cannot—won’t—force you. I won’t stop you, Sibyl. I will reach out to Charles so I can send extra men to watch over you.”
“That really is all?” Her eyes searched his face.
He really wasn’t going to fight for her.
It felt horrid, wanting to leave but wanting him to want her to stay. She searched for anything on his face that would betray his lack of protest. But there was nothing.
Nothing in his hardened eyes, nothing in his blank expression. Nothing told her he wanted to fix this before she left.
“That is all.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
Sibyl forced herself to nod and walk past him to prepare herself for the journey.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gabriel watched Sibyl’s carriage pull down the street until it disappeared around the corner.
His chest felt too tight, and he clenched his hands into fists, but he was numb. Utterly numb.
He shouldn’t have let his wife leave like that.
For the first time in his life, Gabriel truly feltnothing.Not from a lack of care, but that numbness that weighed his bones. It grew and grew the longer he stood at the window, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not when it meant walking around an equally empty house.
The silence in the wake of Sibyl’s departure was too heavy. She had been wrong when she told him that her absence wouldn’t make a difference. It madeall the difference; Gabriel could alreadynot stand it.
Eventually, he moved away from the window.
Has this hunt been worth losing her?
Everything he had done to make sure he never lost her, only to push her away.
By the time evening came around and he sat at an empty table, barely touching his dinner, he had turned Sibyl’s absence into a motivator. It was the only way he could handle it.
He told himself he would be freer to hunt, now that she was away from the city, safe in the countryside, even if it hurt him that he couldn’t be there to protect her.
“But I do not want a protector. I want my husband.”
His fist came down on the table before he shoved to his feet and walked away, his appetite long gone. He stalked to his study and began piecing together the next part of his investigation.
There was something he was missing, and it was agonizing not to know what it was.
More days passed. He did not know how long Sibyl planned to stay at her sister’s, but he couldn’t stop listening out for the clatter of carriages outside. He even missed Rosie’s cries and often found himself wandering into the empty nursery.
His clothes were still stained from the fight he had gotten into the night before at another pub, one similar to the King’s Hound. He had not meant to get into it, and he had lost anyway.
He stared down at the statements he had received from various people who had witnessed the accident. There was always a pair of eyes or two watching in London; at least he could rely on that.
