Page 42 of Gabriela and His Grace

“She would make a fine diplomat.” Sebastian tapped a finger against his lips. “As long as her admirers didn’t try to take advantage of her beauty and charm.”

“It’s a good thing, then, that she has family and friends who are determined to protect her, should she need it,” Sirius responded, giving Sebastian a pointed look.

At any other time, Sebastian would have pushed back on Sirius’s unspoken assertion. However, he couldn’t drum up the indignation, for Sebastian was pleased to be considered her friend.

Gabriela could certainly take care of herself, but it didn’t mean she should always have to.

12

“Gabriela, really, where is the rest of your gown?”

Curling her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Gabby commanded herself not to respond in frustration. A lifetime as the youngest daughter of Elías Luna had taught her that her father was more than a match for her temper.

Pursing her lips, Gabby spun about in a circle, allowing the skirts of her scarlet silk gown to billow around her. It was a stunning dress, and her mother had gasped when she’d walked into the room, her eyes turning glassy as she gazed at Gabby. María Elena had invited both Gabby and Isabel to prepare for the Ortiz dinner at her home, and although neither of the sisters had been keen on the idea, in that moment with her mother looking at her with pride, Gabby was happy she had accepted.

Until her father’s curt reception when they arrived in the drawing room.

What made Gabby particularly bitter was that he had not spoken a word to her—not through the hour they spent visiting with María Elena—until now. To criticize her appearance.

Her father was looking at her now, though, his dark, dark eyes slits of displeasure and his lip curled in distaste. Gabby practically preened.

“This is a Worth gown, Father. The House of Worth dresses only the most elite women in Europe.” She ran her gloved hand over the black-and-gold-embroidered moons and stars that cascaded like a meteor shower from the cinched waist. “A German prince, a cousin of the late Prince Albert, insisted I dance a waltz with him when he saw me in this gown.”

“Of course he did, mi hijita. Eres muy bella,” her mother crooned, adjusting the red rose that was tucked in Gabby’s hair.

“And did this prince ask to marry you?”

“I don’t wish to marry every man I meet, Father.” How Gabby managed not to scowl, she didn’t know. Instead, she flipped open her fan and considered him over it. “Anyway, he was a minor prince of a small principality, and I have no wish to spend my life in a drafty castle in Bavaria.”

Ignoring the soft snort from Isabel, Gabby fanned her face, hoping she appeared as unbothered and confident as she strived to be.

“I fail to understand what the point of a pretty dress is,” her father’s gaze moved over her features, “or a pretty face for that matter, if they do nothing to win you an influential husband.”

Acid singed the back of her throat, and Gabby swallowed reflexively. Never one to give up easily, Gabby cocked a brow. “What sort of influential husband do you wish for me, Father? A Mexican with peninsular connections, or a European who will further elevate the Luna name?”

The room fell silent. Isabel, her mother, and the servants all latched their eyes on her father, and Gabby couldn’t help but smile. She relished any opportunity to lob probing questions his way.

To his credit, her father seemed to carefully consider his answer. While Gabby spun her skirts back and forth, doing her best to appear unruffled, Elías studied her.

Propping his arm on a chairback, he finally said, “Either would suffice, mi hija. Your sisters married clever British men with an eye for reform and progress. Values that have made me proud. They’ve made Benito proud.”

Gabby cocked her head. “I’ve yet to meet a man who upholds such values, so I’ve focused my energies on more productive paths.” She folded her hands at her waist as if she were preparing to give an oral presentation. “I attended the events that Tío Arturo deemed important, and I charmed the gentlemen he identifies as influential and powerful within Parliament and beyond.”

“Arturo has had nothing but glowing things to say about Gabriela in his letters.” Her mother reached out to squeeze her hand. “He said the name Luna is synonymous with intelligence, beauty, and Mexican pride.”

She had no notion her tío had shared such sentiments, and Gabby flushed.

“Intelligence, beauty, and Mexican pride,” her father repeated, considering her with an intense stare. After a pause, he gestured to a manservant for a beverage. “It seems to me that beauty is your only attribute, for surely if you possessed the other two, you would have already secured the hand of a powerful husband and been filling your nursery with Mexican babies.”

Flames of humiliation licked up her throat, and Gabby fought the urge to pick up her skirts and dash from the room. She longed to be somewhere, anywhere, that allowed her to escape the derision on her father’s face.

“That’s unfair, Father.”

Gabby and her father turned in unison to Isabel, who stood nearby in a striking green gown. Her sister was usually reserved around their father and rarely spoke unless spoken to, but Isabel was staring directly at Elías now, her shoulders thrown back and her head high.

“Gabby may be beautiful, but she’s also clever and discerning. She can step into a room, quickly identify the most important people in it, and win their regard. She’s used that talent time and again while we were in London, and earned the respect of many.” Isabel’s gaze turned soft as it landed on Gabby. “It’s a rare and valuable skill to be able to put others at ease. To convince them you have more in common than not. It is a skill that will be needed when Presidente Juárez attempts to unify a fractured Mexico. Those who have stood with the French will soon have to decide if they will cling to the remnants of imperial power or embrace a new progressive future for Mexico, and Gabby can eloquently argue for such a future. Tell them about those ideas you shared with me.”

Ay, she hadn’t expected to be thrust into center stage, and her hands shook as she gripped her fan. She risked a glance at her father, finding Elías staring at her, confusion carved into his brow. This was her chance to create a place for herself among this new Mexico taking shape, and she was determined to be poised and articulate as she did so.