Page 9 of Gabriela and His Grace

“Thank you. I do, as well.” Running a hand through his hair, he laughed dryly. “With my luck, I won’t get used to it until the day before we reach port.”

“Nonsense,” Gabriela declared, luring his gaze back to her eyes. “I strongly believe our dolphin friends are a sign of good things to come.”

“For you, no doubt.”

Gabriela shook her head. “And for you, as well. You were here for their antics, after all.”

Sebastian pressed his lips together as he stared at her. She was including him in her good fortune? Christ, that would not do.

“I don’t know that I believe in luck, Miss Luna. Good or bad,” he heard himself say.

Her brows stitched together. “Why not?”

“Because to believe in luck is to relinquish a measure of control.” A deplorable request, as far as Sebastian was concerned. “If luck is responsible for the good and bad things that happen in our lives, does that mean we have no say in its direction?”

“A rather sobering thought, and one I had never considered before.” Gabriela angled her head, a silky curl falling against her cheek. “Can luck not just be a little of happy happenstance? The universe righting itself in some way?”

“But does it need to be righted? Maybe things happen the way they’re supposed to. Maybe good things happen to good people, and bad things come to those who deserve them.” Sebastian leaned close, doing his best to ignore her floral scent. “If bad luck comes to me, we both know I deserve it.”

Gabriela tilted her chin up in that pert, challenging manner he’d come to know her for. “I agree. Whatever comes your way was certainly earned.” She sank into a curtsy, her expression arch. “Rest well, Your Grace.”

Sebastian watched her walk away, stopping to greet a group of older women who had just stepped out onto the deck. She easily assimilated herself into the group, even though he was certain Gabriela had just met the women the day prior. Still, the smile she wore was devoid of its vivacity. Its brightness had been dulled. His words had done that to her, and he was sad for it.

Releasing a deep sigh, Sebastian returned to his room, intent on claiming that nap he had spoken of. When he opened the door, however, he found Brodie sorting through his cravats and ties, arranging them by type and color across his bed.

“Already started your day, I see,” the older man drawled, barely glancing up from his task.

“I had a terrible night,” Sebastian declared, pulling his coat from his shoulders and tossing it on a rack by the door. “The floor pitched and rolled, and I could barely withstand the nausea.”

“I could tell by that bucket in the corner.”

Sebastian winced when he realized said bucket had been cleaned and emptied while he was gone. “Thank you, Brodie.”

The valet nodded. “I asked the kitchen staff to prepare you a pot of mint tea. They assured me they would provide a few lemon wedges, as well. Hopefully that will help settle your stomach.”

“Good man,” Sebastian said, easing into the small armchair tucked under the one window in the room. He could barely fold his body into the seat, but Sebastian had practice maneuvering around furniture not fit for his large frame. His father had often lobbed cruel remarks about his height and the broadness of his shoulders and chest, bemoaning how unfashionable his only son was. But Sebastian had never desired to be a dandy like his father, who had run in Beau Brummel’s circles. He could do nothing about the natural way his body was built, and so he exercised regularly to make it strong and purchased larger furniture to accommodate it whenever he had the funds available to do so. Thanks to the success of the Camino Rojo mine, such items had become easier to acquire.

“I saw you on the deck earlier,” Brodie said, his voice deceptively innocent.

Sebastian was not fooled. “Hmm.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your first choice to be discovered by a beautiful woman while you were shooting the cat.” Brodie glanced up, a devilish grin stretching his lips. “What a sight you must have made.”

Unwilling to encourage the valet’s teasing, Sebastian reached for a book on the cramped side table and flipped it open to the spot he left it at the night prior.

“Did she scold you?” Brodie pushed.

Sebastian scoffed. “Of course not.”

“I don’t know why you would say of course. It’s not like I know the lady.”

“Well, I do. And Miss Luna is not the type of person to scoff at another’s suffering.” Sebastian tried to focus his gaze on the words before him, but they swam out of order, leaving him feeling more vexed than he had been when he walked in the door.

Brodie propped a hand on his hip. “What did she do then?”

“You are the most annoyingly tenacious man I have ever met.” Sebastian threw his hands in the air. “Do you know that?”

“Of course.” Brodie scowled as if Sebastian had declared the sky was blue. “That’s why you keep me around. You like it when people stand up to you. They so rarely do.”