Rebecca opened her mouth to say something to Gabby but there was nothing to say. Except “I love you, Gabs.”
“I love you too.” She smacked Rebecca’s hand with one of the papers. “Here. Read.”
Rebecca eyed the headline dubiously—"Secret Wedding for the Duke of Ryleigh?”—and groaned.
“The Earl of Rivers proudly announces Lady Rebecca Thatcher’s nuptials to theDuke of Ryleigh, Marquis Dorset, ViscountWoodsford, Admiral of His Majesty’s Royal Fleet. Details of the ceremony were held privately upon the duke’s request.”
“Of course it has to be the first announcement listed,” Rebecca growled.
“It also made theGazette, theCourierandThe Tattler,” Gabby said helpfully.
Rebecca threw the paper aside and dropped her face in her palms.
“I’d like an explanation—” Gabby stopped. “Hmm. How interesting to be on the giving end ofthatstatement.”
“This is not in the least humorous, Gabby.”
“It is a little,” she said, laughing. “So, tell me. Where is my staid and proper brother this morning?”
“Applying to the archbishop for a special license.” Rebecca went on to explain how Serena had become ill and how Rebecca must have caught her maid’s same auge. How the duchess of Oxford had stormed the chamber, though Rebecca hadn’t recalled a thing.
“That woman.” Gabby shuddered. “Remember two years ago when she was scheming for Lexum to marry Lady Felicity?”
Rebecca smirked. “Of course I don’t remember.”
“Oh. Right. I’d forgotten you haven’t been in society for seven years.”
“With good reason,” Rebecca muttered.
“Anyway, the woman is not only a notorious rumormonger, she’s completely unrepentant, and loud. Very loud.”
“I do seem to remember her less than subtle delivery of tantalizing gossip tidbits. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen my less than graceful trip into your brother’s arms in the gardens that night.”Not after two glasses of champagneand a shove on the back from her friend. The imprint of Gabby’s hand still burned on her back.
Gabby winced, as she well should, Rebecca thought in a rash of gracelessness. “I apologized for that,” Gabby said.
The breath left Rebecca in a resigned sigh. “I know.”
Gabby settled back against the cushions. “You never told Sebastian, I take it.”
“What difference would it make? In his eyes, I’m still the hoydenish, wanton fabricator, having attempted to pass off his cousin’s children as my own—as an unmarried woman, no less.”
“Well, I, for one, thought it a brave thing to do.” Gabby’s chin lifted in her loyal defense of Rebecca’s actions, her faith unwavering. Were the fact of Rebecca having children out of wedlock true, her friend would still say the same.
After a short, but unusual and awkward silence, Rebecca switched the topic. “Any word from Huntley?” The second the words came out, she remembered what Sebastian told her regarding Huntley and Welton. Huntley could be hurt, or worse, dead. She had to change the subject until they learned the truth.
“No.” Gabby picked up her cup and turned her gaze to the window.
Worry of another matter trickled through her. “You didn’t happen to make good on your threat to search out Lord Shuffle-arse, did you?”
“No,” Gabby said softly without the slightest tip of her lips.
“So, you are concerned at Huntley’s disappearance?”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “How can I not be? During our courtship, I thought he cared for me as much as I cared for him. I can’t seem to get that out of my mind.”
Rebecca reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Did you, um, happen to hear anything regarding Welton?”
“The bubbling baron? No—oh, wait, yes.” She snatched up one of the papers and snapped it open and pointed. “Look.”
