Page 58 of Gabriela and His Grace

“Someone needed to,” Sebastian grumbled.

Sirius had been in a terrible state after Isabel had left London, and Sebastian had been concerned he would fall back into the depressive hole he’d lived in when he returned from the Crimean War a decade prior. Thankfully Fox had helped Sebastian convince Sirius that if he wanted to make a life with Isabel, he could do so in Mexico.

And what a life his friend had created. Sebastian took a moment to let his gaze drift about Sirius’s comfortable office, with its shelves filled with books of every size and language, to the window where the scenic and quaint town of San Luis Potosí existed. Sirius appeared more lighthearted, more unfettered, more content living under the Mexican sun with his bride than he had ever been in London.

Sebastian was happy for him even if, once again, a longing throbbed against his ribs.

Rather than rub at the ache, he was reminded that much awaited him in England. Now that Sebastian had toured the mine operations himself, his confidence in the venture had grown, and he finally allowed his thoughts to consider how he could use his returns to benefit the dukedom. The manor was in dire need of renovations, and he planned to schedule them as soon as he set foot on British soil. Sebastian was determined for it to be the comfortable, happy, and loving home that James and David had been denied thus far in their lives.

His chest swelled with resolve. After being indolent for so long, Sebastian welcomed the responsibilities he’d been given, and would see to them to the best of his ability…even if a certain Mexican siren would now be underfoot to distract him.

“So will you and Gabby successfully arrive in London without one of you trying to murder the other?” Sirius asked abruptly.

Blinking at the change of topic, Sebastian frowned. “I think Miss Luna and I have come to share a cordial regard. Surely you’ve noticed the difference.”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

His words felt like a trap, and Sebastian had no desire to fall prey to his friend’s innuendos.

“I am sure Miss Luna will daydream daily about pushing me head over feet into the Atlantic, but she is too well bred to actually attempt such a ruthless act.” Sebastian pointed a finger at Sirius. “Duke-icide is frowned upon, no matter how deserving the duke in question may be.”

“Duke-icide?” Sirius groaned. “Why am I not surprised you would coin such a term?”

“Because you know that I am clever and quick-witted.” Sebastian sighed. “Yet easily preyed upon by those who would wish me harm.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “If you don’t stop talking about yourself in such flowery terms, I may be charged with duke-icide myself.”

“It would be a memorable way to end this trip.”

“I’m glad you came, Sebastian.” Sirius raised his glass in a toast. “And I am in your debt for how you’ve helped Gabby.”

Sebastian tugged on his cravat, which suddenly felt tight. “You owe me nothing. And neither does Miss Luna. I’m in a position to help her, so I will.”

And he would, even if she did try to push him overboard.

• • •

Saying goodbye to Isabel, again, was just as gut-wrenching as it had been the first time.

Gabby sat tucked in the corner of the carriage Whitfield had rented for the trip to Altamira, her eyes glued on the passing landscape. They had departed from San Luis Potosí an hour earlier, and her emotions were still a raging storm. The idea she would once again be separated from her older sister left her heartbroken, but knowing she had fled from her mother without so much as a goodbye devastated her, and it was all Gabby could do to keep from weeping.

Yet the knowledge that the duke sat across the cab from her, a week-old newspaper from Mexico City spread open in his lap, forced Gabby to swallow her tears. No doubt Whitfield already considered her melodramatic, and she certainly didn’t need to reinforce his opinion by releasing the sobs that burned the back of her throat and singed her eyes.

“How long will we travel today, Your Grace?” Señora Lopez asked from next to her. The older woman worked for Isabel and Sirius as a maid, and had agreed to accompany Gabby to Altamira as a chaperone. Word had arrived the week prior that the older woman’s newest granddaughter had arrived, and as Señora Lopez longed to meet the new baby, she was only too happy to make the long trip to the coast.

Who would be Gabby’s companion on the voyage back to England had yet to be decided.

“Only five or so hours, depending on the horses,” Whitfield replied, glancing at the older woman over his paper. He didn’t smile, but his expression was genial.

Gabby wanted to ask him about their lodgings for the night, but couldn’t bring herself to shape the words for she was certain she would cry if she tried to speak.

“My man, Brodie, left before us, and will be securing rooms for us to stay in along the way.” The duke glanced at her. “Many of the inns and hostels will be ones we stayed in on our way to San Luis Potosí.”

Swallowing, Gabby nodded. Whitfield’s thoughtfulness no longer surprised her, and when she was fully in control of her emotions again, she would thank him.

The carriage bumped and dipped along the road, and Gabby was eventually lulled into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were haunted by visions of her father, his stinging criticism ringing in her ears. She kept reliving the night of the Ortiz party, forced to hear her father’s cruel words over and over. No matter what she tried to say in reply, every defense she mounted, was trapped behind her stuttering tongue. Worse still, Whitfield was not there to defend her when she could not. Instead, her father had gripped her upper arm and jerked her toward the nameless, faceless man he demanded she marry, and Gabby cried out in panic.

“Miss Luna. Miss Luna.”