Page 22 of Gabriela and His Grace (The Luna Sisters #3)
“That seems rather unfair. From everything you have told me about your values and the dreams you hold for Mexico, it is your daughters who embody the future of those very things.” Whitfield lifted a shoulder.
“Senora Fox aids her husband to draft legislation to lead England into the future. Senora Dawson works for the First Lady of Mexico, helping to care for those who fight the imperialists. And Senorita Luna here uses her considerable charisma to lobby for reforms and win friends among the very people whose support President Juárez needs if he is to win the propaganda battle against the French.”
Her father drummed his fingers on the tabletop, his dark eyes fixed on Whitfield’s face. “Is that how you see them? My girls?”
Whitfield leaned back, his posture one of easy confidence. “I do, indeed. I see three young women I think you should be proud of, because I certainly am.”
“Bah. I should have had sons,” her father pushed, waving his hand.
“And yet it is your daughters who will care for you in your old age. Who will ensure that your last remaining years on this earth are ones of comfort. Of respect. Sons go off to join their wives’ families, but daughters keep you as a part of theirs.
” Whitfield cocked a brow. “If you give them a reason to.”
Suddenly Gabby didn’t know what to do with herself.
She reached for her cup of coffee, but the delicate china rattled in her trembling hands.
Setting it back down, Gabby twined her fingers in the skirts of her day dress and willed her heart to stop thundering in her ears. No one ever confronted her father.
Yet Whitfield had. The duke had politely shined a light on Ana María’s and Isabel’s accomplishments…
and even her own. Gabby had been acquainted with Whitfield long enough to know that he was not inclined to offer compliments.
Flowery platitudes to soften the miens of judgmental dowagers, sure, but authentic, sincere compliments? Definitely not.
Yet Whitfield has complimented you numerous times on this trip…
Her father was staring at the duke with his brows knit together.
“Gabriela,” her mother said suddenly, snapping Gabby’s attention to her.
María Elena’s gaze slid from her husband to Whitfield.
“Tell us about the work Ana María and her Senor Fox are engaged in right now. From what I understand from her letters, they’ve hosted several dinner parties and engagements to secure support for some sort of enfranchisement proposal. ”
The tension in the air dissipated, and Gabby’s frame relaxed. After taking a sip of coffee, she smiled at her mother and explained the reform proposal.
· · ·
“The man either hates you or respects the hell out of you.”
“Yes, well, I’m quite used to inspiring such conflicting emotions in others,” Sebastian murmured, propping his leg on his opposite knee.
After lunch had ended, Sebastian had returned with Sirius and Isabel to their home while Gabriela had stayed to spend time with her mother. Her shoulders had been tense and her jaw hard as she watched the group depart.
Yet when Sebastian had taken his leave of her, the smile Gabriela had directed up at him was unlike any she had ever bestowed upon him before. It brightened her whole face, as if the sun were contained within her chest.
Sebastian replayed her look now as he sat with Sirius on the patio at Casa Inglesa, the name the locals had given the home after Sirius and Isabel had moved in, glasses of lemonade in hand.
Isabel had correspondence for Senora Maza de Juárez to see to, and had excused herself to the attractive study that was all her own in the front of the home.
Sirius had mentioned how he’d commissioned the construction of six large bookcases to store Isabel’s extensive collection of books, explaining that he wanted her to have a grand library and study to call her own.
As a result, Isabel had an impressive office that rivaled any Sebastian had seen in a grand Mayfair townhome.
Sebastian’s parents had never cared for each other the way Sirius so lovingly tended to his wife’s happiness.
He could admit, even in the dark recesses of his own mind, that while he was pleased for his old friend, he was also jealous.
Horribly jealous, for Sebastian knew such affection would never exist between himself and whichever unlucky woman became his duchess.
The memory of Gabriela’s bright smile flashed through his mind, and Sebastian tipped his head back and drained the last of his lemonade.
“Is he what you expected?” Sirius asked, nodding his head in thanks to the manservant who refilled Sebastian’s glass.
Sebastian worked his jaw as he considered this. “I don’t know what I expected. I had heard enough stories from you and Fox, and even Miss Luna herself, to know her father was a hard man. And he was, most definitely, that.”
Sirius arched a brow. “I sense there is an unspoken but in your words.”
“But,” Sebastian emphasized the T sound, “he was not as intimidating as I anticipated.”
“Really? Why not, do you think?”
“Because he reminds me of my father.”
Only Sirius would understand the gravity of such a claim.
As Sebastian’s oldest friend, he had met the late duke a handful of times, most notably when Sebastian had almost been sent down from Eton after the secret gaming hell he’d organized, complete with dealers and courtesans from London, had been discovered.
It had been after his mother’s death when Sebastian was grieving, angry, and desperate for a distraction.
His father had arrived at the school and met with the headmaster, and while Sebastian was unsure of exactly what the old duke had said, Sebastian had been allowed to stay.
But it was his father’s ear-blistering scold afterward that had been humiliating, especially because the duke had berated Sebastian in front of Sirius.
His friend had never said anything directly about the cruel things the late duke had said that day, but whenever Sirius mentioned Sebastian’s father, it was with a hint of disdain.
Which was why comparing the old duke of Whitfield to Mr.Luna felt so appropriate. Sirius appeared to agree, for he lifted his glass in toast to Sebastian.
“There have to be good fathers in the world, right?”
“Fox is a good father,” Sebastian shared. “He dotes on his daughter…and his wife.”
“And are you surprised by that?” Sirius chuckled. “Fox had a good father himself, from what he has said.”
“And of course the man died young. All the good ones do, apparently,” Sebastian said with a sigh.
“Let us not talk of fathers anymore. Perhaps one day you and I will be blessed to have our own children, and we will work to give them everything we were denied.” Sirius glanced back at the house, no doubt envisioning where his wife was now working.
“That day may never come for me.”
His friend frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Sebastian lifted a shoulder. “Who’s to say I want to carry on my father’s cursed name? Heaven knows he’s wreaked havoc on numerous lives all over England.” He thought of James and David, and a knot of anger lodged in his throat. “Perhaps his legacy should die with me.”
A silence unfurled between them, and Sebastian cursed himself. Regardless of what Sirius knew of his childhood or his father’s many sins, Sebastian didn’t need to unload his bitterness onto his friend. He despised melodramatics, and he refused to behave in such a way when he could help it.
“But then your mother’s legacy would die, too.” Sirius uncurled a finger from around his glass to point at him. “And it seems to me that her good name deserves to be honored more than your father’s.”
That was not what he had expected. Sebastian looked out into the quickly darkening garden.
Crickets chirped from between the spines of agave plants, and the breeze rustled the boughs of the pinon tree overhead.
Tilting his head back, Sebastian spied a star or two shining in the twilight sky, and when he found the Ursa Major constellation, he felt the stress lift from his bones.
The constellation was a bit higher in the sky in England than it was here, but the familiar sight was there nonetheless, and the connection to his home made his chest swell with wistfulness.
Sebastian was thankful to have had the opportunity to travel to Mexico, to visit his friend and explore additional ventures that could aid the dukedom.
He was also finally able to see the world in all the ways his father had denied him.
Yet Sebastian missed Whitfield Manor. Every brick, every window, every door, every rose blooming in the garden and blade of grass on the rolling lawn spoke of his mother. Of the late Duchess of Whitfield’s great love for the estate and every person who worked there.
He missed James and David, who were just coming to consider the manor home. Sebastian was determined to make it as warm and welcoming as his mother had made it for him.
Yes, he thought, blinking rapidly. Let his life be a testament to her. His father could rot in hell.
Eventually, Sebastian cleared his throat and said, “So we visit the mine tomorrow. What should I know to be prepared?”
The men spoke of the operations at the Camino Rojo mine, the miners’ compensation and accommodations, the connections to the surrounding community, and which other board members would be in attendance for the meeting and tour.
Sirius’s knowledge of the day-to-day operations was surprisingly vast, and he admitted that the geology and engineering involved in the venture had fascinated him.
Plus, the mine had shown Mr.and Mrs.Luna that Sirius was not afraid of hard work.
“The fact that I invested in the mine from its infancy and benefited from its success has shown Mr.Luna I am a man who makes prudent and clever decisions.” Sirius’s mouth suddenly stretched wide. “Or at least that’s what I overheard him tell several gentlemen at a dinner party.”
“The highest of compliments from a man such as Mr.Luna.” Sebastian raised his glass to his friend. “Bravo.”
Sirius barked a laugh. “My involvement in the mine is not something I did to earn his approval, but if it makes our interactions less fraught for my wife, then I welcome it. Plus, it has allowed me to share its success with friends,” he added, gesturing to Sebastian with a dip of his head.
“And I am thankful you thought to offer me the opportunity.” Sebastian cringed. “I had long since resigned myself to the idea that I would have to barter off a duchess coronet to the highest bidder.”
“Now you can be an independent duke, without need of a wealthy bride to save you.” Sirius’s chuckle echoed about them. “Now if you take a wife, it will be because you equally annoy each other, and not that you will endure the annoyance to save the dukedom.”
Sebastian shook his head. “At least my staff won’t have to worry about me bringing an American dollar princess to Whitfield Manor to be its duchess.”
“Are they worried you’ll bring home a Mexican heiress?” Sirius’s expression morphed from one of amusement to acute interest.
A pair of hazel eyes flashed in his thoughts, and Sebastian ruthlessly pushed the visual away.
Instead, he made a show of requesting a glass of brandy from the manservant. “I’m certain that by this point, they’d be delighted if any heiress took pity on the fool that I am and deigned to make an honest man out of me.”
Sirius lifted a palm. “You would only be so lucky.”
Now it was Sebastian’s turn to be serious. “Indeed, I would be.”