Page 14 of Gabriela and His Grace

“Miss Luna, a moment of your time, please.”

Only Whitfield was capable of rendering his tone both commanding and entreating all at once. Gabby suspected it had something to do with his deep timbre, which filled the dips and bumps of her spine whenever she heard it.

Gabby gave herself a shake. How silly.

Spinning about, she linked her hands together as Whitfield snatched his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He had taken his gloves off for play, and Gabby observed how his long fingers sifted through the strands, the movement hinting at his agitation.

“Miss Luna, I fear I may have overstepped.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Glancing about them for a moment, Whitfield seemed satisfied that no one was close. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I believe you’ve met Mr. and Mrs. Conner.”

She nodded. “Earlier today. They were quite cordial.”

The duke nodded in turn. “We spoke earlier, as well. And during our discussion, the conversation turned toward the political and social climate in Mexico.”

“Oh,” Gabby said dumbly. Her mind raced with possibilities of what could have been discussed. The tense way Whitfield held himself now set her teeth on edge. “Was something said that I should know about?”

“Unfortunately yes.” The duke moved a step closer, and Gabby’s heart lurched at the somber expression on his face. “I, quite inadvertently, mentioned that you possess close ties to Mr. Valdés.”

An alarm sounded in her head, and Gabby stumbled back a step. Whitfield grasped her by the elbow, though, his blue eyes wide on her face. His closeness grounded her, and Gabby sucked in a breath, expelling it slowly. While there were those within the Home Office who knew she was the niece of the Mexican ambassador, her tío Arturo had done his best to hide the connection out of an abundance of caution. After Ana María was abducted by a French sympathizer, they all agreed his reticence to make the connection known was wise. And now Whitfield had disclosed it to a couple she had just met.

“What did you say?” she asked around her parched throat.

The duke’s jaw worked for a moment, his gaze fixed on his feet. “I mentioned that if anyone knew about the political climate in Mexico, it would be you, as your uncle was the Mexican ambassador to England. You’re quite clever and knowledgeable, so you instantly came to mind.”

“Oh,” she whispered, confusion muddling her thoughts.

“But I should have been more mindful of your safety, and I am sorry for not taking better care of it,” Whitfield said, his eyes flashing to hers.

Relief…and something she dared not identify, coiled warmly in her belly. That wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t as if he shared that her father was the infamous Elías Luna, close adviser to Benito Juárez. “Is that all?”

“I said that you had insight into the major political players Mr. Conner would encounter if the Great Western Railway decided to broker a deal with the government.” Whitfield’s grip on her arm tightened. “I didn’t realize until afterward how it could put you in danger.”

The Duke of Whitfield had recommended her to speak on the political matters concerning Mexico? A foreign surge of satisfaction pulsed hot in her blood. Had anyone ever thought her knowledgeable enough to comment on such things? People often asked Ana María about the resistance against the French, and she had the benefit of receiving regular updates through Gideon’s connections within Parliament and the Home Office. But Gabby knew things as well. Isabel wrote to her frequently of her exciting work with Señora Maza de Juárez, and Gabby routinely dined with her tío Arturo so she could meet his Mexican guests and learn what she could about her countrymen’s struggle against imperial rule. But no one had ever thought to ask for her opinion on the matter.

No one except Whitfield. Gabby’s throat worked on a swallow as she considered what that meant.

Not that it had to mean anything.

He stood before her now, his hand still on her elbow and an apologetic look on his face. Gabby was certain he had not meant to put her in danger, and truly, had he? Tío Arturo was the ambassador far away in London. Revealing that she was his niece was not so dangerous, for her connection to Elías Luna, who was resented and respected in equal measure by both Liberals and imperialists alike, was still unknown.

With that in mind, Gabby laid her hand over Whitfield’s and squeezed it for a moment. “Thank you for letting me know, Your Grace. I’ll make sure to proceed with care should Mr. or Mrs. Conner attempt to discuss Mexican politics with me.”

Whitfield glanced down at her hand, only then seeming to realize he still held her. His fingers slowly peeled away, and he swallowed as he took a step backward. “I’m positive they’ll bring it up. They were quite desirous to learn everything they could about the prospects available to Mr. Conner’s employer.”

“Surely Mr. Conner is looking for Great Western to form an alliance with Mexican railway officials, especially seeing as how Juárez supporters would probably favor offers from American railways over British ones,” she said.

His brows rose. “Do you think so?”

“I do and I suspect you agree.” Sweeping her gaze about to confirm their privacy, she whispered, “Britain has not intervened with the French, while the United States continued to send weapons and other supplies to the resistance, even while they waged their own war with the Confederacy.” Gabby smirked up at him. “Juárez will want to reward that sort of loyalty.”

Whitfield’s crisp gaze traced over her face. “That’s why I recommended the Conners speak with you.”

“Because I can anticipate how Mexican sentiment will run?” she asked, cocking her head.

“That and because you’re quite astute.”