Page 29 of Gabriela and His Grace

“No.” Sirius glanced at the men storing their luggage before sliding his gaze to the duke and then to her. “The imperial government is on the verge of collapse, but Maximilian still has his supporters. So we are continuing to be careful. Until President Juárez marches into Mexico City with his cabinet behind him, we are taking all precautions.”

“Very wise,” Whitfield murmured, and Gabby nodded her agreement.

Taking another look at his timepiece, Sirius snapped it closed and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Let’s be on our way. The longer we tarry here, the more attention we call upon ourselves.”

An understatement, for sure. Gabby had noticed the stares directed their way. She blamed Whitfield. With his long, broad frame, he was easily a head taller than the majority of the crowd. Paired with his quality attire and the arrogant manner in which he carried himself, it was obvious he was someone important. Someone of worth.

Gabby rolled her eyes. She knew it wasn’t the duke’s fault he was so tall…and handsome…but really, he could do more to blend in.

Deciding to ignore him completely, Gabby looped her arm through Sirius’s. “I would be much obliged if you took me to my sister.”

The blond captain smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “I assure you that my wife wants nothing more.”

The manner in which Sirius said my wife made her pause, and Gabby stared up at him, her gaze intense on his. “You love her, don’t you?”

Sirius blinked, a crinkle in his brow. He must have read something in her eyes, for his expression turned earnest and he patted the back of her hand. “More than the moon and stars and every bright thing in this world.”

“Bueno,” Gabby said, nodding her head firmly. “She deserves nothing less.”

The corners of Sirius’s lips tipped up. “I quite agree.” Gesturing with his head to the waiting carriage, he said, “Shall we?”

Casting a quick glance at Whitfield, who appeared just as impatient to be on the road as she was, Gabby smiled. “Yes, let’s.”

• • •

The trip to San Luis Potosí was oftentimes uncomfortable, and Sebastian was thankful the windows on the conveyance they traveled in could be opened completely to welcome in a fresh breeze…at least until they began to ascend into the mountains and the air turned thick and humid. By the end of the second hour on the road, Sebastian’s arse hurt almost as much as his head, and the beds he slept in each night of the journey had done nothing to assuage his pains. Despite the weariness of travel, Sebastian had never been bored, for Gabriela Luna was anything but boring.

She regaled them with Mexican folklore, tales of brave Nahuatl warriors who battled fierce jaguars and other fearsome creatures, sometimes with the added contributions of Señora Medina. Gabriela spoke of the history of Mexico, and how the Spanish ruled over the country with a harsh fist, their shadow still lingering on the land in a myriad of ways. She discussed the social hierarchy, and how the more Spanish blood one could claim, the higher your status. For a man of her father’s antecedents—a Purépecha man from Michoacán—his success, both politically and personally, was almost an anomaly.

Yet Gabriela always spoke of her father, and even her Spanish-born mother, with a hint of resentment. Sebastian understood her hostility. Didn’t he harbor a lifetime’s worth of bitterness and anger toward his own father? After meeting James and David, Sebastian would raid his father’s grave simply to spit on his corpse. If he knew anything about anything, it was that parental relationships were often fraught with trauma.

“We’ve been living just outside of San Luis Potosí for the last two months,” Dawson—Sirius—explained now as the carriage took a right turn in the road. “The Juárez regime held it for a time, and the president even declared it the new capital of the country after the French took Mexico City. But Maximilian targeted it for that reason, and the president and the cabinet were forced to flee.”

“But you’re there now?” Sebastian asked, confused.

Sirius nodded. “Strides were made to retake it, and the city has been returned to Liberal control.”

“Goodness,” Sebastian drawled, “you sound as if you know what you’re talking about.”

“Only because my wife is so very intelligent,” Sirius said with a laugh.

A pleased sort of warmth wrapped around Sebastian’s ribs. Sirius was his oldest friend. They’d been young, rambunctious lads together at Eton, and they had seen each other through any number of firsts. When Sirius had returned from the war in the Crimea not just physically injured but mentally and emotionally broken, Sebastian had felt helpless to aid him. Eventually, with time, Sirius seemed to recover and earned a reputation as a rake about town, although Sebastian sensed his friend still carried a deep grief within himself.

So to see Sirius now, with his blond curls longer than he’d ever seen them, his skin tanned, and his smile broad, happiness was evident in every part of his being.

What would such happiness even feel like? Sebastian wondered.

“How close do you and Isabel live to our parents?” Gabriela asked suddenly.

Sebastian frowned at the abrupt question, because shouldn’t she know such a thing? Sirius’s expression was kind, however. “They live a fifteen or so minute walk from us, in the grand villas on the other side of the town square.”

That answer seemed to please her, because Gabriela nodded before staring out the carriage window again.

Over the next several miles Sebastian watched Gabriela become uncharacteristically quiet. There were no more stories or witty observations as the terrain turned arid and the sun blazed overhead, San Luis Potosí moving ever closer; instead, Gabriela sat silently in the corner of the carriage next to Señora Medina, her arms wrapped about herself, and her expression shuttered. Whatever was wrong with Gabriela was certainly none of his business…or so Sebastian told himself as the carriage made its way over the rocky road.

The sun had dipped low on the horizon when the pitch of the dirt road gave way to cobblestone streets, and Sebastian peered out as they entered an attractive town, the narrow streets lined with colorful buildings. In some ways the community reminded him of the little village near Whitfield Manor in Gloucestershire, with each home nestled against its neighbor, but the houses here were painted in an array of colors, each more cheerful than the last. Climbing vines clung to the facades, their blooms a vivid splash of the rainbow, and every pedestrian they passed called out a hello, greetings their outriders returned with polite regard.

“I’ve never been to San Luis Potosí,” Gabriela said into the silence, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery.