Page 78 of Gabriela and His Grace

Licking her lips, Gabby weighed what to say. She was angry, but a disconcerting mixture of warm sentiments flooded her blood when she met his gaze.

Anger was familiar, so she clung to it. “You could have asked me to marry you before you announced our engagement to the entire room.”

He blinked, but to his credit, Sebastian didn’t flinch. “I could have and I’m sorry.”

She glanced away.

“Ella.” Her nickname was a sentence, and it contained so much emotion. “Surely my proclamation wasn’t a surprise. There’s only so much we can do to stop the scandal from spreading.”

He was right. Of course he was…yet Gabby was still primed for an argument. “But maybe we could have thought of something else if you had only been here earlier to discuss it.” Gabby threw her arms wide as she glowered at him. “I didn’t know how to answer their questions, and I was so worried I’d say something I wasn’t supposed to. Terrified they would ask about the nature of our return trip. And you just waltzed in with no such concerns, and declared we were marrying without even speaking to me first.”

Helplessness wrapped its venomous tentacles around her, and Gabby held her breath until she was certain sobs wouldn’t burst free from behind her teeth. Why was she forever jumping from the flames of one fire to another?

Sebastian’s throat worked as he stared down at her, and Gabby took a measure of solace to see him just as discomposed as she was.

“I was meeting with my solicitor.”

Gabby whipped her head back. “W-what?”

“I wanted to make sure my finances were in order before I approached Señor Valdés and asked for your hand.”

“Your finances?” Gabby frowned. “You’re a duke. Surely you’re as rich as Croesus.”

“The Whitfield dukedom was wealthy at one time, but my disgrace of a father did everything in his power to change that,” Sebastian bit out, yanking a hand through his hair. “And I wanted to assure your uncle and Fox that I had the means to care for you as you deserve.”

Her curiosity piqued, Gabby moved closer. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Sebastian said, billowing a breath, “is that my father left the dukedom in crippling debt, and I only managed to save myself from a transactional marriage of convenience thanks to the Camino Rojo mine.”

“Oh,” Gabby mumbled, her thoughts churning with the rumors she’d heard of Sebastian’s insolvency. Of his need to marry a rich bride.

Without a word, Sebastian grasped her hand and led her to the love seat. Working in silence, he gently arranged her on his lap. Gabby would have protested his high-handed ways if she weren’t so pleased to be held within his arms again.

“I was my parents’ only child,” he began, the words spoken against her cheek. “My mother almost lost her life birthing me, and was unable to carry another child afterward, despite my father’s insistence on a spare.” She could feel his lips curl in disgust. “I would rather bathe in the Thames than subject any woman to the disrespect my mother endured in the name of my father’s ego. The supposed Whitfield legacy.”

The more Sebastian spoke, the more she stiffened. Now that the ugly words had been spoken, Gabby didn’t know what to do. Her instincts urged her to comfort him…but her mind insisted she know more.

His knuckles brushed a curl from her face. “When my mother couldn’t give him the spare he wanted, he left. From my understanding, he lived most of the year in London or on the Continent, carousing with his libertine friends and all but ignoring the dukedom, as well as my mother and me. I saw him twice a year, when he arrived at Whitfield Manor and expected me to come to his study and answer his litany of questions about my lessons. He used to terrify me, and I would weep to my mother for days before he arrived. Once I went off to Eton, I saw him very rarely until I graduated from university.”

“What happened then?” she asked, her fingers twining with his.

“I encountered him at a gaming hell. Dawson was with me, and he was with his set, including old Tyrell.” Gabby scowled at the mention of the earl who had abducted Ana María several years past. “My father’s mouth fell open when he saw me, and he looked me up and down as if surprised I’d become a man without his help. He tried to start a conversation, but I ignored him.” Sebastian chuckled, but the sound was harsh. “That infuriated him. He grabbed my arm and started to scold me…that is until I planted a facer right on his jaw.”

Gabby gasped, turning about in his arms. “You didn’t!”

“I did.” Sebastian’s voice lacked inflection. “I would have done it again if he tried to get up. But he didn’t, and the sight of him sprawled on the ground looking up at me, in front of all his vile friends, is a memory that has fueled me, even while he did his best to bankrupt the dukedom in retaliation.”

She sensed there was more to the story than he was saying, and Gabby frowned. “What do you mean?”

Sebastian’s grip tightened. “The papers were filled with inflated, often erroneous, retellings of our confrontation for weeks afterward, and other stories appeared that spoke of my father’s foul behavior. He was, understandably, outraged. He couldn’t take the Whitfield title from me, but he sure as hell could squander my inheritance and leave me its charred ruins. I’ve been struggling to repair the dukedom ever since.”

“Ay, querido,” she murmured, cupping his cheek.

“So that is why the Camino Rojo mine has been so important to me. It promises a better future not just for me, but for the staff at Whitfield Manor, the staff at Whitfield Place.” Sebastian kissed the back of her hand. “For the people who depend upon me, who trust me in ways they never dared trust my father.”

“I’m sorry.” Gabby pushed the hair back from his brow, smiling when he closed his eyes at her touch. “I’m sorry I ever believed you to be a lazy, vapid aristocrat, more concerned with his own consequence than the well-being of those around him.”

He snorted. “I didn’t give you many reasons to think otherwise.”