Page 25 of Gabriela and His Grace (The Luna Sisters #3)

“Gabriela, really, where is the rest of your gown?”

Curling her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Gabby commanded herself not to respond in frustration. A lifetime as the youngest daughter of Elías Luna had taught her that her father was more than a match for her temper.

Pursing her lips, Gabby spun about in a circle, allowing the skirts of her scarlet silk gown to billow around her.

It was a stunning dress, and her mother had gasped when she’d walked into the room, her eyes turning glassy as she gazed at Gabby.

María Elena had invited both Gabby and Isabel to prepare for the Ortiz dinner at her home, and although neither of the sisters had been keen on the idea, in that moment with her mother looking at her with pride, Gabby was happy she had accepted.

Until her father’s curt reception when they arrived in the drawing room.

What made Gabby particularly bitter was that he had not spoken a word to her—not through the hour they spent visiting with María Elena—until now. To criticize her appearance.

Her father was looking at her now, though, his dark, dark eyes slits of displeasure and his lip curled in distaste. Gabby practically preened.

“This is a Worth gown, Father. The House of Worth dresses only the most elite women in Europe.” She ran her gloved hand over the black-and-gold-embroidered moons and stars that cascaded like a meteor shower from the cinched waist. “A German prince, a cousin of the late Prince Albert, insisted I dance a waltz with him when he saw me in this gown.”

“Of course he did, mi hijita. Eres muy bella,” her mother crooned, adjusting the red rose that was tucked in Gabby’s hair.

“And did this prince ask to marry you?”

“I don’t wish to marry every man I meet, Father.” How Gabby managed not to scowl, she didn’t know. Instead, she flipped open her fan and considered him over it. “Anyway, he was a minor prince of a small principality, and I have no wish to spend my life in a drafty castle in Bavaria.”

Ignoring the soft snort from Isabel, Gabby fanned her face, hoping she appeared as unbothered and confident as she strived to be.

“I fail to understand what the point of a pretty dress is,” her father’s gaze moved over her features, “or a pretty face for that matter, if they do nothing to win you an influential husband.”

Acid singed the back of her throat, and Gabby swallowed reflexively. Never one to give up easily, Gabby cocked a brow. “What sort of influential husband do you wish for me, Father? A Mexican with peninsular connections, or a European who will further elevate the Luna name?”

The room fell silent. Isabel, her mother, and the servants all latched their eyes on her father, and Gabby couldn’t help but smile. She relished any opportunity to lob probing questions his way.

To his credit, her father seemed to carefully consider his answer. While Gabby spun her skirts back and forth, doing her best to appear unruffled, Elías studied her.

Propping his arm on a chairback, he finally said, “Either would suffice, mi hija. Your sisters married clever British men with an eye for reform and progress. Values that have made me proud. They’ve made Benito proud.”

Gabby cocked her head. “I’ve yet to meet a man who upholds such values, so I’ve focused my energies on more productive paths.

” She folded her hands at her waist as if she were preparing to give an oral presentation.

“I attended the events that Tío Arturo deemed important, and I charmed the gentlemen he identifies as influential and powerful within Parliament and beyond.”

“Arturo has had nothing but glowing things to say about Gabriela in his letters.” Her mother reached out to squeeze her hand. “He said the name Luna is synonymous with intelligence, beauty, and Mexican pride.”

She had no notion her tío had shared such sentiments, and Gabby flushed.

“ Intelligence, beauty, and Mexican pride ,” her father repeated, considering her with an intense stare.

After a pause, he gestured to a manservant for a beverage.

“It seems to me that beauty is your only attribute, for surely if you possessed the other two, you would have already secured the hand of a powerful husband and been filling your nursery with Mexican babies.”

Flames of humiliation licked up her throat, and Gabby fought the urge to pick up her skirts and dash from the room. She longed to be somewhere, anywhere, that allowed her to escape the derision on her father’s face.

“That’s unfair, Father.”

Gabby and her father turned in unison to Isabel, who stood nearby in a striking green gown. Her sister was usually reserved around their father and rarely spoke unless spoken to, but Isabel was staring directly at Elías now, her shoulders thrown back and her head high.

“Gabby may be beautiful, but she’s also clever and discerning.

She can step into a room, quickly identify the most important people in it, and win their regard.

She’s used that talent time and again while we were in London, and earned the respect of many.

” Isabel’s gaze turned soft as it landed on Gabby.

“It’s a rare and valuable skill to be able to put others at ease.

To convince them you have more in common than not.

It is a skill that will be needed when Presidente Juárez attempts to unify a fractured Mexico.

Those who have stood with the French will soon have to decide if they will cling to the remnants of imperial power or embrace a new progressive future for Mexico, and Gabby can eloquently argue for such a future.

Tell them about those ideas you shared with me. ”

Ay, she hadn’t expected to be thrust into center stage, and her hands shook as she gripped her fan.

She risked a glance at her father, finding Elías staring at her, confusion carved into his brow.

This was her chance to create a place for herself among this new Mexico taking shape, and she was determined to be poised and articulate as she did so.

Licking her lips, Gabby began, “I know Maximilian and the French have not yet surrendered, but I’m sure Presidente Juárez has already begun to look to the future and how to unite the republic—”

“Of course Benito has,” her father snapped.

Gabby inclined her head, refusing to let his cutting tone bother her.

“I think that in order to do so, a concerted effort needs to be made to bring the influential peninsular and criollo families who supported Maximilian back into the fold. They need to have an invested stake in Mexico’s future.

I think we can do this in several ways—”

“ We? ” Elías quirked a brow. “There is no we here, Gabriela. The only way you would be involved in such a venture is if you were pledged to marry into one of those families.”

To her great frustration, Gabby felt the flames of her temper fan to life. Yet she did her best to sound undaunted when she said, “Brokering marriage agreements for political power is woefully old-fashioned, Father. There are more effective ways to unite the people of Mexico—”

“Perhaps. But I’d rather you use the skills Isabel claims you have to find a husband,” he declared, raising his glass for a drink.

Before Gabby could growl a retort, the butler entered the room and announced that the carriage awaited them. And just like that, the conversation was over.

“I’m sorry, querida,” Isabel whispered as they accepted wraps from a maid. “We knew he wouldn’t be an easy audience.”

“I suppose I’ll have to try again.” Gabby sighed. “And it’s I who owe you an apology for asking you to accompany me this evening. You could be with Sirius now instead of listening to Father complain about my unmarried state.”

“I’m glad I’m here with you.” Isabel weaved her arm through Gabby’s, and together they followed their parents to the waiting carriage. “You should not have to defend yourself from Father on your own. And it’s easier for me to weather his tirades now that I have Sirius to support me.”

“He loves you very much,” Gabby said, smiling.

“I know he does.” Isabel patted her hand, a fond look on her face. “And you deserve a man who will love you just as much. Don’t let anyone force you to give your hand away.”

“I won’t,” she murmured. Although Gabby wondered if her life would be easier if she capitulated to her father’s demands instead of always fighting against them.

The ride to the Ortiz villa was not long, and soon Gabby found herself within a crowded drawing room standing next to a Spanish gentleman who claimed to want to know about her time in England yet interrupted her constantly.

“I was in Europe last summer to visit my family in Valencia. We originally had plans to spend a fortnight in London to partake of the culture before traveling to Sussex for the derby, but we decided to visit Rennes and then Paris instead.” Senor Valenzuela studied her over his glass of port. “Have you been to France?”

Gabby gaped at the man for what felt like a full minute. How he could ask such a question simply shocked her. “Considering the French have illegally occupied Mexico for years, no, I have not possessed any interest in visiting France.”

Rather than showing embarrassment, Senor Valenzuela chuckled as if she had told a joke. “Well, then you missed an opportunity, for the French are very cosmopolitan. They have brought a refined influence to society in Mexico City.”

“I believe we have different definitions of refined , senor,” she murmured, glancing about for an escape.