“I should probably return home,” she said. She turned toward Juliette and Amelia. “Please let me know when you receive your first invitations. I would love to help you prepare for your debut.”
No mention of seeing him again then, Raphe mused. He knew he shouldn’t envy his sisters, but he just couldn’t help it. Feeling irritable, he offered to escort Gabriella to the front door—a gesture she could not refuse without being rude, and one that he therefore decided to take advantage of. “My dancing is progressing,” he said as he guided her along the corridor that led to the entryway. “Perhaps you’ll do me the honor of adding me to your dance card at the next ball?”
“I think doing so would be unwise.” She didn’t look at him, which only made Raphe’s heart hurt so much more.
“Why?”
“You know why, Your Grace.” She was silent for a moment before saying stiffly, “Marrying Fielding will be difficult enough after what happened between us, so unless you can guarantee a shared future for you and me, then there cannot possibly be anything more. It would simply kill me.”
Resisting the urge to pull her closer, to dip his head and kiss her, Raphe led her to the front door where Pierson stood waiting, and released her arm. “If there’s a way, then I will find it,” he told her.
A flicker of hope shimmered in her eyes, fading as quickly as it had formed. “Good day, Your Grace.” A politely trained smile was all she gave him before turning away and exiting his house.
Returning home, Gabriella paused in the hallway before turning to Simmons. “Is my aunt at home?”
“Yes, my lady. I believe she is on the terrace.”
Thanking him, Gabriella went in search of her and found her sitting in a folding chair with a canvas in her lap, her hair concealed by a lime green silk turban. A low table stood at her side with paints and brushes spread out upon it. Registering Gabriella’s approach, Aunt Caroline looked up from her painting, a slim brush elegantly poised between her fingers. “I was trying to capture a swallow earlier, but the dratted bird refused to stay still and finally flew away before I could finish it. So I’ve decided to punish him by covering him up with hydrangeas.” She returned her attention to her artwork.
“May I join you for a bit?” Gabriella asked as she came to stand beside her. Looking down, she studied the painting in progress.
“That depends on what you think about my masterpiece.”
Gabriella’s mouth twitched. “Well, I—opinions are rather subjective, don’t you think?”
Her aunt laughed. “How diplomatic of you. Don’t worry, I know how blotchy it looks.”
“Oh. I was going to say innovative.”
Aunt Caroline looked up once more. Her eyes were dancing. “I like that, Gabriella. Thank you.” She waved toward another chair that stood a few paces away. “Why don’t you have a seat? There’s clearly something you wish to discuss.”
“Is there?”
Her aunt’s expression turned skeptical. “Would you have sought me out otherwise?”
“Perhaps I just want company.”
Shaking her head, Aunt Caroline dipped her paintbrush into a blob of purple paint and began applying the color to a blotch that was meant to depict a flower. “This will be so much easier if you tell me what’s troubling you.”
Unnerved by her aunt’s uncanny ability to see inside her head, Gabriella fetched the vacant chair and sat down next to her. “It’s Huntley,” she said after a lengthy stretch of time. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about marrying for the right reasons—for love, that is.”
“And?” Setting her paintbrush aside, Aunt Caroline turned her head toward Gabriella. “Do you love him?”
“I—” She considered the man she’d gotten to know in recent weeks. Raphe. He was everything a man should be: protective of those he cared about, willing to make the necessary sacrifices on their behalf, kind but unwavering in his principles. Considerate. Thoughtful. Honest.
Yes, he’d initially lied to her about where he’d grown up, but he hadn’t owed her the truth back then. As soon as that had changed, he’d volunteered everything, holding nothing back about who he really was. More than that, he’d shown a real interest in her. With his support, she now felt more comfortable with who she was than she ever had before.
She stared at her aunt. “I—” Dear God. She loved him. Quite desperately, really. How could she not have realized this sooner? It was as if she’d been walking around with blinders on, and now they had finally been removed, allowing her to see.
“You?” her aunt prompted with a curious twinkle in her eyes.
“Yes. I do. I love Huntley, Aunt Caroline. I love him so very much I think my heart might explode with it.” A grin slipped past her lips. “Oh dear. What do I do? I think I should probably tell him, don’t you? But then of course I run the risk of him not reciprocating my feelings and then—Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I think I might be sick.”
Aunt Caroline placed one hand over Gabriella’s. “Calm yourself, my dear. Take a deep breath.” When Gabriella did so, her aunt met her gaze with a kind smile. “Yes, I think you should tell him, and then I think you should do whatever it takes to get yourself disengaged from Fielding so you and Huntley can be happy together. You deserve happiness, Gabriella.”
“Mama and Papa will be furious.”
“Yes. They will be, which leaves you with a choice. You can either run from conflict and live a passive life, married to Fielding, or you can fight for more.”
