Page 46 of Gabriela and His Grace

“Ay no.” Elías Luna rubbed at his brow, his own gaze fixed on the other side of the room. “My youngest daughter remains unwed still.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for just the right sort of gentleman to make a proposal.” Señora Delgado tapped Señor Luna on the arm with her fan. “A titled gentleman? Or maybe a handsome Chilean.”

His stomach dropped, watching as Carrasco gazed down at Gabriela.

“Or a duke,” Señor Luna quipped, turning to face Sebastian and raising his glass.

Unsure of what to say, Sebastian merely tipped his head in acknowledgment.

“Aah, is that the next match in the making?” Señora Delgado’s eyes narrowed on him. “Are you hoping to take the last Luna sister off the marriage market, Your Grace?”

Before Sebastian could formulate an answer, Señor Luna snorted loudly. “Gabriela is meant for a Spaniard. With her güera beauty, my hope is for her to marry into one of the powerful Spanish families who have thrown their support behind the French. El presidente needs their allegiance if we are to successfully rebuild after Maximilian is deposed.”

“How shrewd of you, señor,” Señora Delgado said.

“Plus, let us be honest,” the older man continued, his lip curled, “Gabriela may be beautiful, but she’s hardly bright enough to hold the attention of the duke here.”

Sebastian scowled outright. “That’s patently untrue.”

“Is it?” Señor Luna cocked a brow, seemingly surprised.

Doing his best to suppress the anger that locked his jaw tight, Sebastian nodded curtly. “There is no doubt Miss Luna is beautiful, but if all you see is her beauty, you’re missing the fire, the depths that make her incomparable.”

“With all that fire, she should have been born a boy.” The older man shook his head. “Instead, that girl has always been difficult and always will be difficult, and I’ll have my hands full finding a peninsular husband willing to put up with her.”

Any words Sebastian had intended to utter were stolen from him on a silent gasp when a pair of hazel eyes collided with his. Hazel eyes that had grown shiny with unshed tears. He had been so incensed by Señor Luna’s sentiments that he hadn’t noticed that Gabriela had come to join their group until that moment when she spun about on her heel and bolted, her red skirts streaming in her wake.

No one else seemed aware she had overheard them, for Señor Luna and Señora Delgado continued to chatter. But Sebastian could not erase the picture of her stricken expression from his mind. Tossing back the remainder of his beverage, Sebastian set down his glass on a nearby table.

“If you will excuse me,” he murmured, and walked away without giving either Señor Luna or Señora Delgado a chance to respond.

They deserved no such niceties.

13

If she hadn’t had that second glass of mezcal, Gabby never would have cried.

As it was, her father had an uncanny talent for knowing exactly how to reduce her to tears.

Angrily swiping at her cheeks, Gabby pushed her way through the guests that filled the Ortizes’ home to the front entrance. Without a backward glance, Gabby grasped her skirts and darted down the cobblestone drive toward the music and laughter that emanated from the town square. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she looked over her shoulder and saw that one of Sirius and Isabel’s grooms was following her, and a flash of affection for them spread through her limbs, for she knew they had sent him to guarantee she was safe.

Even though her walk was not a long one, Gabby’s evening slippers were more appropriate for genteel gatherings than mad dashes over graveled streets, and she limped slightly as she reached the center of activity. Gabby paused as she took in the crowds around her, a smile slowly sliding onto her lips. Hefting the bulk of her skirts in her hands, Gabby crisscrossed her way through the various stalls and wagons, stopping to allow a milliner to place a stylish hat on her head to model. She did so happily, before she wandered to where a temporary stage had been constructed under a large piñon tree. Lanterns hung cheerfully from the boughs, and a large group of children sat in a cluster before the stage, their excited chatter filling the air with anticipation. Gabby watched with a grin at the puppet show that commenced, laughing at the performance along with the children.

After the show had ended, Gabby discovered a wagon that had been transformed into a traveling bookstore. Narrow bookshelves lined three sides of the wagon and were filled with novels, poetry collections, history tomes, and more. Many were in Spanish and French, but a surprising selection were in English, and Gabby energetically searched through the assortment, grabbing first one book and then another, trying to decide which one Isabel would like more. When the elderly bookseller noted Gabby’s interest, he assisted her with selecting several different books for not only her sister, but herself, as well. Gabby owned very few books of her own, always content to borrow from her older sister. But now that Isabel was married, Gabby would have to acquire and curate her own library. The idea made her more enthused than she’d anticipated.

After she paid for her selections, the bookseller had wrapped them and agreed to hold them until she collected them later, leaving Gabby to meander to where a six-member band played an eclectic arrangement of musical styles. At one point they played a waltz, but they weaved in a distinctly Mexican flair with the sound of the guitar. Gabby swayed side to side as she watched couples twirl around the makeshift dance floor.

“I believe you owe me a dance.”

Gabby jerked back, her eyes flying wide as she pivoted to find Whitfield standing several paces away. The bright chandeliers in the Ortizes’ home had highlighted every detail of the duke’s beauty, but the same was not true here in the town square. The sparse lighting from torches and lamps elongated the shadows, hiding his expression. Yet the dim illumination also made Whitfield appear taller, broader, and more…dangerous than ever before.

Suddenly Gabby could imagine Whitfield cloaked in darkness, awaiting his lover for an assignation. How would a woman possibly say no to such a man? She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he inquired, moving closer.

“No,” she said hastily, ignoring the gooseflesh that crept along her skin. Clearing her throat, she glanced back to where the band played. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“I seem to surprise you a good deal,” he drawled, coming to stand beside her. His woodsy scent flooded her nose, and Gabby closed her eyes for a moment and simply inhaled. Why did he have to smell so damn good?