“And you’ve decided this after only a couple of brief encounters with the man?” her mother asked with marked disbelief.
Not daring to look at her aunt for fear that her parents would see the truth in her eyes—the fact that she’d spent more time with Huntley than her parents were aware of—Gabriella dropped her gaze to the table. “I will speak with him.” She would ask him to confirm or deny her father’s claim and hope that by doing so, she would discover the truth.
“You will do no such thing,” her mother warned.
Gabriella’s gaze snapped up, meeting her mother’s. “What will you do to stop me? Lock me in my bedchamber?”
“If need be,” her mother railed. “You obviously don’t know how to protect yourself or this family from scandal.”
“Enough,” Warwick said. “Nobody is locking Gabriella away. But, I would like to think that you have enough common sense in your head to do what is right,” he told her.
“Which is why I must speak to Huntley, if for no other reason than to know what my options truly are.” And to explain to Huntley that Fielding had trapped her with his announcement last night. Hopefully, he’d believe her when she told him this was not at all what she wanted.
Warwick stared at her for a moment as though considering the pros and cons. Eventually, he nodded, though with great reluctance. “Very well.”
“Are Lady Juliette and Lady Amelia at home?” Gabriella asked Pierson a couple of hours later. Standing on the front step with Anna by her side, she’d chosen a more direct path than usual.
The butler eyed her with a wariness that immediately caught her attention. “No, my lady, I’m afraid not.”
“You do not understand,” Gabriella insisted. “The matter I wish to discuss with them”—or their brother, rather, since it was him she was really there to see even though it would be improper of her to say so directly—“is of great . . .” Her voice faded to the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. A dark-haired man who appeared to be in his thirties, with troubled eyes and a rigid jawline, came into view. She recognized him immediately. “Dr. Florian? What are you doing here?”
He responded with a tight smile, but refused to answer her question. Instead, he addressed Pierson. “Have the cook prepare a strong chicken soup with plenty of onions and garlic in it. And chamomile tea with honey for when she’s not eating. I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow afternoon.” He then gave Gabriella a courteous nod, accompanied by a polite greeting before hurrying past her.
Gabriella blinked. “Pierson. Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s best if you stay away at the moment,” the butler replied. He began closing the door.
Placing her palm against it, Gabriella held it open. “Maybe I can help? Maybe—”
“Gabriella!” It was Amelia who drifted into view with a silent tread. “Please, do come in.”
Pierson gave her a look that clearly indicated some breach in protocol, but Gabriella decided not to question it. Instead, she stepped inside the grand foyer of Huntley House and asked Anna to wait for her there before following Amelia through to the parlor. “Is everything all right?” she asked the moment they were alone. It was then that she noticed the tight lines on Amelia’s face.
“It’s Juliette,” Amelia said. “She retired last night with a headache, but this morning when her maid went to tend to her, she found her flushed with fever.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry!” Seeing the anxious look in Amelia’s eyes, Gabriella quietly asked, “Is there any indication of what might be causing it?”
“Florian mentioned influenza, but he says it’s too soon to be certain.” Amelia wrung her hands in her lap. “Of course Raphe blames himself.”
“But it’s not his fault,” Gabriella told her adamantly.
“He allowed the outing that probably subjected us to the illness in the first place. We can think of no other time when it might have happened.” She shook her head with a bleak sense of hopelessness. “We lost Bethany like this. If we lose Juliette as well, Raphe will never forgive himself.”
Feeling her bones turn to ice, Gabriella asked. “Is he with her right now?”
When Amelia nodded, Gabriella told her firmly, “Then take me to her room. Let me see her.” The thought of Raphe having to deal with Juliette’s illness alone was distressing. It was the sort of burden that required support.
“He won’t let you in,” Amelia said. “He’s too afraid of contagion.”
“Nevertheless, I would like to try.”
Choosing not to argue with her, Amelia showed Gabriella upstairs in spite of the protestations made by Pierson, Humphreys and Richardson, whom they passed along the way. “He’ll have our heads, my lady,” Pierson begged.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Gabriella promised him. Hurrying after Amelia, she allowed her friend to lead her down a long hallway.
“This is her room.” Amelia said when they reached the third door on the left.
Gabriella instinctively raised her hand to knock, caught herself, and lowered it again. She stared at the door, then looked at Amelia. “You should return downstairs. Let me handle your brother.”
