Page 19 of The Lady Loves A Scandal

“Not enough to allow me to experience an ounce of the happiness he has found,” Sybil said, fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “Good night.”

She raced from the room, slamming the door in her wake. She’d been a fool to think that Silas was capable of allowing her the freedom to choose her own path in life. He’d found love in a most unexpected way with Mallory—along the shores of Bocka Morrow in Cornwall during the Christmastide Season, no less. They’d had nearly five years with one another, experiencing all that marriage offered a wedded couple…while Sybil remained alone. Why could her brother not see that she had also found love in a most unexpected way?

The implications and repercussions of Silas’s decision to remove Sybil from London would have dire consequences for them both. She was not fighting to be allowed to see the latest onstage play at Covent Gardens. This was not an inconsequential squabble over an increase in her allowance. It would be difficult, likely impossible, for anyone on the outside to see the difference. She’d done just as she had when she was younger—she’d screamed, she’d belittled, and she’d argued until she was in tears.

Stumbling down the corridor, Sybil entered the servant’s stairwell and climbed to the second floor where the family rooms were located.

The hall was deserted with only two sconces to light her way.

She passed Silas and Mallory’s chamber and halted before Slade’s door. No light shone from beneath. Her brother—Silas’s twin—could not be more different than his identical counterpart. Where Silas was rigid and demanding, Slade was uninhibited and insouciant. Silas adhered strictly to societal norms, while Slade flouted convention.

If she had to place herself in the mix of her family, she would fall as a cross between her two brothers. She was loyal and independent, much like Silas. Though she did not always think that conforming to society’s rules over her own desires was a wise thing.

Sybil knocked on Slade’s door, but her brother did not answer. He was likely not in residence, choosing to spend his time about town, doing as men were allowed: whatever suited them.

Perhaps Sybil should do the same.

Slade had amassed a sizeable gaming debt in the last few years; however, Silas did nothing more than scold him, and he never failed to settle the debts when they were called in.

Could Silas’s threat of returning her to France be nothing more than that—a simple edict he had no plans to follow through with?

Either way, Sybil was free of Garwood and their attachment.

Even though Silas was not agreeable to discussing a renewed courtship between her and Gideon, Sybil had no qualms.

When her brother had spoken of removing her from England and dragging her across the channel to France, the only thing she’d thought about was Gideon. Her heart still belonged to him, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.

Even if Silas would not hear Gideon out, Sybil could, and then she’d attempt to change Silas’s mind. Her brother had to see reason.

With one final glance at Slade’s door, Sybil turned and continued on to her room. If Silas were unwavering in his course to ruin her future, and Slade wasn’t home to assist her, she needed to find her own way to secure the outcome she desired.

The night was still early, only two hours after nightfall. Gideon had bid her not to go to him, but if her brother was serious about her departing London, then she needed to speak with Gideon.

Where he’d disappeared to last year didn’t matter.

What he continued to hide from her, while irritating, did not change the way she felt about him.

Together, they could work through everything that stood in their path, Silas included.

Gideon loved her, he’d told her as much in the park. Yet, she hadn’t been able to tell him in return. She’d been confused and hesitant, but their impeding separation made everything clear.

Sybil desired Gideon in every sense of the word—his heart, his body, and his forever.

She loved him, and she’d be damned if she would allow anything to stand in the way of what she wanted.

Scandal be damned.

Gideon Lyndon, Viscount Galway, belonged to Sybil, and no one, not the London gossips or her brother, would tell her differently. Even Gideon himself was in the wrong, thinking he could keep her from going to him.

Slipping into her room, Sybil hurried to the dressing closet to make certain she was alone—which, indeed, she was. Her maid had already turned down her bed and disappeared for the night. Had the entire staff gotten word of the duke crying off?

That was likely the second-best thing to happen to her that day, number one being Gideon sending word to meet him at Hyde Park, at their secret spot known only to them. As if nothing had changed, the months melted away, and she’d rushed to meet him, not knowing what to expect. Instead of declaring his love once more, he could have broken off their association, pushed her to wed Garwood, and said his final goodbye.

Her anger and irritation—the months of unending gossip at her expense—did not hold her any longer.

Sybil loved Gideon, and she’d been a fool not to tell him—letting him believe his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she gathered her cloak, muff, and wool scarf, and retraced her steps back to the servant’s stairwell, pausing briefly at Slade’s door. Still, no light shone from below, so she exited the townhouse through the kitchen and slipped into the dark alley beyond.