Page 53 of Gabriela and His Grace

“Your parents are obviously going to know you’ve left to stay with us, and I assume they’ll give you a few days to calm yourself.” Sirius emphasized the word with a roll of his eyes. “But if your father is intent on securing a Spanish husband for you, he will only be patient for so long.”

Gabby nodded. She had two or three days, at most, before she’d be summoned to another dinner or event where she would be paraded about like an empty-headed doll. Her stomach dropped at the thought.

“So we have a few days to make our plans.” Isabel paused and then slowly pulled back from Gabby. Her sister’s dark eyes snared hers. “What do you want to do? If you want to stay in Mexico, say the word, and Sirius and I will search for a place you can go. Maybe with your friend Señorita Moreno?”

“Maybe,” Gabby murmured dejectedly. Lucia had mentioned in her last letter that she’d fallen into a comfortable routine with her abuela, and Gabby didn’t want to disturb her friend’s peace.

“Of course you can return to England. Ana and Gideon would be happy to have you as well, you know.”

“The thought of seeing baby Estella again does make me happy.” And perhaps any gossip that arose after the Wright ball had been put to rest, and Gabby could make a quiet return. An idea occurred to Gabby, and she swung her head to look at Sirius. “When does the duke depart?”

Her brother-in-law jerked his chin back. “Sebastian travels to Altamira the day after tomorrow.”

Gabby nibbled her lip. That gave her a day to convince the duke to allow her to accompany him. Would he say yes? Faith, she hoped so.

“Querida,” Isabel uttered the word like a sigh, “you can’t travel with the duke unaccompanied. You need a chaperone.”

“First, I don’t know that Whitfield will even consent to me traveling with him,” Gabby said, ignoring Sirius’s soft snort. “And second, I would need to purchase a ticket, if there are any still available.”

“I’ll have my secretary inquire about tickets.” Sirius held up a hand when Isabel made to speak. “I will ask him to do so anonymously.”

Isabel nodded, and turned back to Gabby. “So we have a day to find you a chaperone.”

“If Whitfield agrees, that is,” Gabby said, unease twitching along her limbs.

“He’ll agree,” Sirius said definitively.

“This is Whitfield we’re talking about.” Gabby arched a brow. “The Whitfield who’s delighted in antagonizing me since we met.”

The corner of Sirius’s mouth tipped up. “I’m well aware. I’ve heard many complaints about the youngest Miss Luna.”

Isabel chuckled, and even Gabby felt a smidge of amusement.

“But I know my friend, and he’ll say yes.” Sirius crossed his ankles and propped his elbow on the narrow window ledge. “I have no doubt in my mind.”

Gabby glanced at her sister, who smiled at her reassuringly. If Sirius and Isabel believed the duke would come to her aid, then she would cling to their confidence. Because she had very few options at this point but to rely upon the Duke of Whitfield.

15

The house was silent when Sebastian stepped from his room the next morning. In the weeks that he’d stayed with the Dawsons, the house had always been full of laughter and carefree chatter. Which made sense, really; Sirius and Isabel were happy, so their home was happy.

It had been disconcerting at first, as Sebastian was used to silence. Aside from the servants, he’d long been the sole occupant at Whitfield Manor, at least after his mother’s death. James and David’s arrival had revived the old manor house, but the boys occupied the nursery on the top floor, so Sebastian rarely heard them. He’d only adjusted to the lively atmosphere at Casa Inglesa once Gabriela had departed to stay with her parents. Before that, Sebastian had been on edge, constantly aware of her presence. Her laughter. Her cutting witticisms.

It had been a lonely two weeks with her gone.

Brodie exited the chamber door a moment after him, the Scotsman pulling up short when he spotted Sebastian standing in the dark hall.

“Is something the matter, Yer Grace?” he asked.

Sebastian’s brows knit together. “It’s abnormally quiet, don’t you think?”

“Hmm,” Brodie murmured, his weathered face scrunched in thought. “Perhaps it’s because Miss Luna returned last night. I reckon the servants are being quiet to allow her to sleep.”

Ignoring how his pulse jumped into a sprint, Sebastian aimed for curious when he said, “I wonder why she returned. And at night.”

The Scotsman shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. What I do know is that I spied her crying with Mrs. Dawson in the sitting room. If you ask me, it’s a crime against nature for a woman that pretty to cry.”

Sebastian didn’t dare voice his agreement. Instead, he set off, calling out over his shoulder, “I better search out Dawson and inquire if I can be of assistance.”