“Alright.”
He took a deep breath. It was not physically painful to say words. He wasn’t accustomed to talking, but he could do it. He need only open his mouth and speak. Still, making this offer to her felt a little like pulling himself free from a trap. He’d been ensnared by her arrival here, and he was freeing himself, but the means of freedom would tear away skin and bone.
“Gabriel?” she prompted.
“I’ve a sister,” he forced himself to say. “Elise, she’s called. You may remember her. She was older by seven years than I.”
“Princess Elise,” said Ryan. “Yes. I believe I do remember.”
“We are no longer acquainted, unfortunately, but she and her husband have purchased an estate on the southern edge of Savernake Forest, not far from the village of Pewsey. I cannot say for sure, but I think if you were to go to her—to call upon Elise and her husband and appeal to them—they may be able to help you. With Maurice. Particularly with the legal aspects of this twenty-year-old betrothal. Her husband was formerly employed by St. James’s Palace and worked directly for the king. He sorted out complicated problems in unconventional ways, I believe. He is creative and connected and Elise herself is very clever. Together, the two of them may be able to help you.”
“What do you mean, you’re no longer acquainted?” Ryan asked.
Gabriel rolled his neck. Of course she would ask this.Thiswas why he’d not wanted to make the offer. In the end, his desire to help had been greater than not wanting to discuss it. And now she would pick over the skin and bone of his decision.
“Imean,” he said, tightening the saddle, “I’ve not seen my sister since we were separated as children in France. Before we were exiled. Not for fifteen years.”
“Fifteen years?” repeated Lady Ryan.
“Yes.”
Silence settled around the admission and Gabriel went about the business of securing Anton’s saddle. She watched him, he could feel it, and he was bothered by it. He knew silence very well but he wasn’t accustomed to being watched. Did she judge him?Probably. Yet another reason he lived apart from all society. Freedom from judgment.
“We have written to each other, Elise and I,” he finally said, speaking to the horse.
“You’vewritten,” Lady Ryan repeated.
“Yes. Back and forth. Not a lot. Enough. We are friendly.”
“Friendly?”
With every repeated improbability, the pinch in his shoulder squeezed tighter.
“She approached one of Samuel Rein’s sons in Newmarket,” he said. “Roderick—his name is Roderick—was negotiating client business on my behalf, and she approached him, and Roderick brought her inquiry back to me. I agreed to correspond with her.”
“But are you...angrywith Princess Elise?”
“No. Not angry.”
“But you don’t see her? Not in person? No proper meeting, no reunion? Not even once?”
“No,” he said, stretching the reins over Anton’s mane.
And then, to his extreme irritation, she fell silent again. No further questioning. No suggestions. No admonishment. She simply watched him ready the horse.
Say it, he thought tersely. Call him a coward, or unfeeling, or a maddened recluse. Better to challenge him than to force him to define it. He knew his choices were indefensible.
When he could take the silence no more, he said, “I’ve not met with her for the same reasons I cannot travel to Guernsey with you. I never leave the forest, Lady Ryan. Not ever. I came here to protect myself and to protect others. My sister’s safety—the safetyof her young family—is my priority above all things. Leaving the sanctuary of the forest is not worth the danger.”
He kept a spare sidesaddle to train mares for female riders. He took it and the saddle pad to the horse called Fleur. Lady Ryan made no reply. He wondered if they were having a conversation or if he was simply dribbling out his terrible life story for her shock and bafflement.
“But have you,” she finally ventured, “considered inviting your sister here, to your home, in the safety of Savernake Forest, to reunite?”
“No. Actually. I’ve not,” he gritted out. “And I didn’t mention my sister so that I could defend my choices to you. I meant only to offer an alternative way to help.”
A pause. Damn her pauses. They compelled him to say too much. Then they compelled him to stew in his own admissions.
After a long, painful moment, she said, “Forgive me. My own sisters are very dear to me and it’s difficult to imagine a life where we might correspond rather than—well, rather than anything else. Your reasons are for you, alone, to know. I am grateful for any help you can give me, including an introduction to Princess Elise. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, truly.”
