“I believe I have said I do, Duchess.”
“Then perhaps I was wrong in believing there should be no union between you,” the duchess said, picking up a book. Having changed her mind about his union with Dimity, she was now ready to settle down and read it seemed.
“We are not having an impromptu literary salon,” he gritted out. “I must find her.”
“What danger is she in?”
“I am not sure she is until I find her, and I’m not reading that,” Gabe said flatly.
“But you read so well.” The duchess’s smile was sickly, and if a child had been present, they would be weeping about now. Walter turned his face and buried it in Gabe’s thigh.
“You are scaring the dogs, Duchess.”
“Nonsense. Reading is good for you. It broadens the mind and gives one a healthy perspective on life.”
“It is not a sport, Duchess,” Gabe added, preparing to leave. He had dallied long enough; he had to find Dimity.
“It should be!” She thumped her cane.
“A Mr. Warwick Sinclair has called, Your Grace. He said he needs to speak with Miss Brown with some urgency,” the butler said, returning.
“How strange. Very well, send him up. I will see what he wants and pass it on to her,” the duchess said. “Perhaps he has his brother’s reading voice. That Cambridge Sinclair may be excessively vexing upon occasion, and let us not forget some of the utter rubbish he publishes inThe Trumpeter, but he can certainly read well.”
“I’m sure that will help him sleep at night,” Gabe muttered.
His brothers snorted.
“Mr. Warwick Sinclair,” Chibbers said from the doorway.
“Good day, Duchess.” He entered and bowed deeply. “Lord Raine,” he acknowledged Gabe and his brothers.
He looked like his eldest brother now, Gabe thought. He’d grown into the man he’d promised to be all those years ago when the Devilles had first met him. Tall, well built, he had the Sinclair green eyes and easy smile.
“Mr. Sinclair, what has you here today, and wanting to speak with my companion?” The duchess thumped down her cane. Warwick Sinclair didn’t flinch, which said a great deal for the man’s character.
“I would rather give that information to Miss Brown, Duchess,” he said with an easy smile. Gabe had seen that particular one on Cambridge Sinclair. “I have sent word for her to contact me, but I’m afraid the matter is needing attention urgently, so I called.”
“She should have been back by now,” the duchess said, looking at the door. “She and Mr. Diard should have returned.”
“Mr. Diard?” Warwick Sinclair interrupted the duchess. “Is she with him?”
“She is, and what of it?” the duchess questioned, not looking quite so calm now. “Speak, man!”
“Perhaps if you stop bellowing, he will have a chance to do just that,” Gabe said.
The duchess harrumphed but closed her mouth.
“We are unsure, but there is a possibility that Miss Brown is in danger, Mr. Sinclair. I am about to search for her. Will you tell me what it is you need to discuss with her?”
“It is possible she could be in danger due to what I have learned,” Warwick Sinclair began. “She came to me for help, you see.”
She should have come to me.
“Miss Brown found some letters in her father’s Bible that said she was not his child.”
“Oh, Dimity,” the duchess whispered.
Gabe remembered the look on her face when she’d read that paper the night he’d found her. She’d been shocked.
