One didn’t have to be a mind reader to know the response Sebastian was just handed was from his younger sister, raising her fiery head. He could practically feel the flames singeing his fingertips. Things had not changed an iota from Gabriella’s schooldays when Rebecca Thatcher happened in the vicinity.
The door crashed back and Gabriella stood in the arch, her expression unsurprisingly furious. “What!” she demanded.
“Where is your defender of all things terrible?” he asked with a grim smile.
“Resting.”
He held up her note. “You say here four did not work for you.”
“I wish to rest before supper as well and chose to get this business over with you earlier rather than later.” Her lip poked out in a petulance he hadn’t seen since she was practically an infant, or, at the least, since Miss Greensley’s School.
The sight annoyed him. “We need to talk. First and foremost, what is this nonsense about not wanting to be a countess any longer? Surely, I needn’t point out that is not an option. Your marriage was consummated, I assume?”
Red stained her cheeks, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't wish to discuss it.”
As tempting as it was, he couldn't very well kick her out of the family homestead. He let out a labored sigh. “I can't help you if I don't know the issue, my sweet.”
She put her nose in the air. “It's really none of your affair.”
Clearly, this conversation was going to go nowhere. “Will your husband be coming after you?”
“I sincerely doubt it.” She strolled over to the windows, her back to him, though he heard a suspicious sniff. “It's over, Sebastian.”
“Gabriella, marriage lasts a lifetime. There will be ups and downs. I suggest you resign yourself to the fact.”
“You are a man, Sebastian. You know nothing of what a woman must endure.”
Something sharp pricked him in the chest. He tugged out his handkerchief, went over and put it in her hand, and wrapped his arm around her. “Has Huntley done something to harm you?”
She lean her head against his shoulder and looked up at him. Tears welled, squeezing his lungs. He hated seeing her like this. Hurting and not knowing what to do to make things better. She wasn’t a small child to crawl in his lap any longer. Those days were long gone.
Sebastian would kill Huntley if he did anything to injure his sister. She had been a precious gift to the household when she was born. He squeezed her up against him. “Of course, you are welcome home anytime, my dear. Whatever it is, we shall get through it.”
She nodded. “Rebecca said much the same.”
~~~
Of course, the all-knowing Rebecca Thatcher had said as much. Sebastian was blasted sick of Rebecca Thatcher. She waseverywhere.In his house, in his brain, in his dreams. Hell-fire, he couldn’t escape her. Done. He was done with her! And he wouldnotbe accepting Thomas’s invitation to supper. He absolutely refused.
Sebastian brushed the butler-acting-as-valet’s hand away to finish tying his own cravat into simple knot with all the frustration of a sex-deprived fiend, then groaning, as that was exactly how he felt—a sex-deprived fiend. The only place Rebecca wasn’t was in his bed. He would be dining at home.
A glance at his fob watch showed he was too late for his pre-dinner sherry, and he detoured to the dining hall.
Perhaps the invitation was for a few nights hence—his heart thumped in anticipation—of seeing Rebecca.
He entered the room, but the only one seated at the table was Gabriella, sipping a glass of wine. “It’s just you and I tonight, Sebastian. Where have you been? I’m famished.”
“Where is your devoted friend?”
“Oh, she received her invitation to dine with Thomas and the twins. I chose not to accompany her. I think Thomas and she will suit admirably.”
He bit back an oath. The pounding against his ribs felt pricked with thorns. “I take it Lynnwood sent his carriage for her,” he said instead.
“Yes. But the fool girl turned it down. Her driver arrived this afternoon with hers. Apparently, she’d had a broken wheel. Is that how you and Rebecca ended up traveling together?”
Good God. Again, Rebecca Thatcher threw out all sense of propriety. “It was. Your friend has no common sense. She had planned to wait with her driver at the Wild Rose until the carriage was repaired but I insisted her party accompany me since we were bound for the same destination. I told her driver to follow once the repairs had been made.” He frowned. “She didn’t put up too much of an argument. Perhaps she feared—”
“Feared what?”
