Rebecca was right behind her.
They tripped up the stairs to the next level and turned down another corridor, stopping at the last door. Gabby tapped lightly.
“Yes?”
Gabby pushed on the handle and peered in. “Vella, how difficult is it to get word to Thomas? The duchess and I require transport.”
~~~
“I’m here to see my sister,” Gabby told Rose’s butler, pushing her way inside. A flurry of servants scuttled haphazardly about.
“I regret to say Lady Stanford is not receiving,” the man returned stiffly. “The master has come to an untimely end and the house is frantically preparing for his mourning.”
“Regardless, you will inform your mistress that the Duchess of Ryleigh and the Countess of Huntley refuse to leave until we speak with her.”
The inclination of his head bordered on respect—barely—and to Gabby’s aggravation, he didn’t go up the stairs. Instead, he ambled down the hall past the formal parlor to a smaller drawing room door and knocked. A minute later, Gabby and Rebecca were ushered into that same room.
“Oh, Rose.” Gabby dashed over and hugged her stolid older sister.
If her sister was aloof before, she was outright cold now. “Your Grace,” she directed to Rebecca. It was almost as if she was brushing away Gabby’s touch. And it hurt.
Gabby stepped back and rubbed her arms. Ice chilled her veins, and she didn’t attribute it to the weather. “What did I do, Rose?” she asked softly.
“Why are you here, Gabriella? My husband is dead, the parlor is being prepared for his arrival. The servants are busy with mourning preparations.” Her voice broke. “I have no time for your childish antics right now.”
My, she was more hateful than usual this evening. Gabby heaved in deeply to steady her fraying temper. “Rose, I’m sorry about Stanford.”
But Rose didn’t seem to hear. “He told me you were an interfering bi—” She stopped, her face flushing red and flustered.
Gabby’s temper quickly ignited. “What, Rose? What did Stanford say? That I was an interfering bitch?”
Rose gasped. “Gabriella, do not dare speak such profanity. This is my home. You forget your place. I vow, it’s just as Stanford said before he left the house this morning.” Her eyes shimmered with tears through her rant. “You are too high in the instep,” she said hotly in as rare a loss of control as Gabby ever remembered. Rose had rivaled Sebastian when it came to conventionality.
“Why are you so angry with me, Rose? What did I do?”
“You threatened him and now he’s dead.”
Gabby stilled. “He told you that?”
“Yes.” Her voice quivered with emotion strung tight. Her fingers trembled violently.
Gabby was stunned. “Did he happen to say with what I threatened him?”
“You accused him of… of… debauching an actress. A person of virtually no consequence.” Sobs overtook her sister’s body where she couldn’t speak.
“You can’t mean that, Rose,” Gabby whispered. “Even Papa, with all his faults, never considered our lessors as inconsequential.”
But her sister wasn’t finished battering her. “You killed him. You killed Stanford. He may not have been an ideal husband, but he was my husband. Now, what am I supposed to do? I’ll be left destitute.”
“Rose, listen to me,” Gabby said. “You have family that will take care of you.”
But Rose was beyond consoling. “Am I supposed to live with Antonia, look after her children? I’ll be reduced to a lady’s companion.”
“Damn it, Rose. I received a note from that woman. She is with child. Possibly Stanford’s child.”
“What do you mean ‘possibly’?” Her face riveted, turned scarlet.
“The girl had been attacked by Stanford and Bentick.”
