Page 34 of Gabriela and His Grace (The Luna Sisters #3)

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Come now, Whitfield, I thought we had become friendly. And friends don’t tell lies to each other.”

“It seems to me that friends wouldn’t accuse the other of lying, either,” he shot back, raising his brows.

Gabriela rolled her eyes, but finally pivoted to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Obviously Isabel and Sirius told you why I returned.”

Sebastian nodded. “I’m sorry you find yourself in such a predicament, and placed there by the two people you should expect to make you safe.”

Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “Yes, well, I’m not exactly surprised. My father has only ever acted in his own self-interest. I just expected more from my mother. I had hoped she would be an ally, but…”

But she wasn’t. María Elena Luna had proven herself to be her husband’s ally first and foremost, and from Gabriela’s expression, it had been a bitter revelation.

“You are not without allies, though.” Sebastian pushed off from the tree and took a step toward her. “Despite the aspersions you cast on my honesty, I was not lying when I told you I would be willing to assist you should you ever need my help.”

Her hazel eyes snared his, a trace of vulnerability in her gaze. After their years of antagonism, Sebastian was not surprised to see it. He guessed she felt she may be taking a risk asking for help, and Sebastian had no way to truly express his sincerity except to show her.

“I’d like to return to England.”

The words were ragged and soft, but Sebastian heard them just the same. An odd sort of sadness filled his chest.

“But I thought you wanted to return to Mexico.” His forehead crinkled. “You’ve always made it clear that your time in London had an expiration.”

Her chest rapidly rose and fell, and Gabriela’s gaze darted about the small garden. “I envisioned my reception very differently. I may have come back too soon.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say. He’d seen firsthand the cheap and snide manner in which Elías Luna treated his youngest daughter, and how his cutting remarks had chipped away at Gabriela’s confidence.

Gone was the poised young woman who had bewitched the ton, and in her place was often a colorless impostor.

He was angry for her, so Sebastian could only imagine how frustrated and helpless she felt.

“I depart for Altamira tomorrow. Will you be ready to depart?” he asked. “Or is that too soon?”

“No. I’ll be ready,” she said firmly.

“Very well.” Sebastian pulled his timepiece from his pocket to note the hour. “I believe Brodie has already packed the majority of my belongings, so I will ask him to depart for Altamira ahead of us and purchase a ticket and lodgings for you.”

She closed her eyes, her shoulders dropping. “Thank you. I can’t tell you—”

“And you don’t have to,” Sebastian interjected. “I know that the only reason you would subject yourself to my company is because the alternative is much worse.”

Her lips quirked. “I don’t know how much worse, but definitely a bit.”

Sebastian chuckled, pleased to see some color returning to Gabriela’s face.

He pivoted to return to his coffee, but paused.

“You’re allowed to change your mind. About returning to England or staying here in Mexico, or any of the other everyday choices that affect your life.

You’re in a privileged position to make your own decisions, and you must protect that autonomy from those who would manipulate you for their own gain. ”

She glanced up at him, her throat bobbing. Finally, Gabriela nodded again.

With that, Sebastian strolled away, determined to find Brodie and see him off to Altamira.

It was a long trek, but Sebastian didn’t trust anyone else to see to the task.

He didn’t want word to reach the Lunas that Gabriela was preparing to depart, for Sebastian knew Mr.Luna would not allow her to leave so easily.

It was clear that he had decided to use her hand as a bargaining chip among his potential allies, and with Maximilian and the imperialists in danger of losing their hold on the country, many men were intent to align themselves with Juárez and his supporters.

“Did she ask you?” Sirius asked as Sebastian walked by the table where his friend still sat with his wife.

He nodded but did not pause. “I’m making travel arrangements now. Will you help me secure a chaperone?”

Sirius nodded. “Of course.”

Just before he disappeared into the house, a voice called out to him. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Sebastian turned to find Isabel Dawson walking toward him, her hands clasped at her chest.

“I know I don’t have to tell you that Gabby is very special to me. She’s long been a fearless defender of mine, and now I don’t know how to defend her in turn.”

“Sometimes it’s the ones we love who hurt us the most,” he said quietly.

Isabel’s eyes turned glassy. “Sadly, I think this experience has shown her that perhaps Mexico is not her home after all. I appreciate your willingness to help her, especially considering your contentious history with one another.”

Not wanting to think of the rancor that had always percolated between them, Sebastian simply nodded. “Whatever our history, I am a gentleman and will be at Miss Luna’s service.”

A small, knowing smile curved Isabel’s lips. “I’ll help Gabby prepare for tomorrow.”

With that, she turned back to the table and her waiting husband, and Sebastian was left to determine a way forward when everything had abruptly been thrown upside down.

· · ·

“Juana said you told her you could pack your gowns on your own. Are you sure you don’t want help?”

Gabby glanced up from her trunk to find Isabel standing in the threshold of her room, her mouth a slash of displeasure. Without waiting for a response, her sister wandered to the bed, where Gabby had laid out the various gowns she had brought with her from London.

“You looked stunning in this,” her sister said, her fingers tracing the embroidery on her red silk Worth gown. “Is it any wonder why half the men in San Luis Potosí have petitioned Father for your hand?”

“All of this mess because of one red dress,” Gabby snorted.

“If it wasn’t the red one, it would have been the blue one, or the primrose, or the mauve.” Isabel cocked her head as she studied her. “You’re charming, clever, and thoughtful…but I’m sorry that the only trait Father seems to value is your beauty.”

Gabby tucked her chin into her chest, a long sigh slipping from her lips. “I truly believed I would be able to show him that I had more to offer than just my face. Like you and Ana have.”

“You do have more to offer, querida. So much more.” The rustling of skirts told Gabby her sister had moved closer. “But maybe this wasn’t the time to show it. Maybe it wasn’t the place.”

Jerking her head up, Gabby frowned. “Do you really think so?”

Her sister raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. But it seems to me that it’s hard to be someone new when a mold has already been fashioned for you. There was no mold for you in London.”

Isabel was right. While Tío Arturo and Lady Yardley had been their caretakers, Gabby and her sisters had largely been left to their own devices.

That freedom had allowed her to explore ideas and concepts she found interesting, and interact with people from different circumstances than the narrow, sheltered life she had lived in Mexico City.

Despite the rainy, dreary weather, Gabby had bloomed in her new independence, and was more confident in who she was and who she wanted to be.

Clearing her throat, she flashed Isabel a smile. “You sound very wise, hermana.”

Isabel chuckled. “So the duke has agreed to escort you to London.”

She nodded, her throat suddenly dry. Whitfield had agreed without hesitation, and she was thankful. “He has”—she licked her lips—“been surprisingly agreeable on this trip.”

“High praise, indeed.” Isabel pulled the red Worth gown over her lap, her fingers once again tracing over the embroidery. “Sirius mentioned that despite Whitfield’s reputation as a haughty rake, he’s also genuinely well liked among the ton.”

“Because he’s a duke, no doubt,” Gabby said, wrinkling her nose.

“That probably plays a part.” Isabel toyed with the lace overlay on the gown. “But Whitfield has always struck me as a protector. For all that he can be intimidating, he’s come to the aid of more than one wallflower or widow whose dance card had been woefully empty. Me included.”

Gabby could not argue with her sister’s observation.

Whitfield was an intimidating figure, even if she herself had never been intimidated by him.

But as Isabel mentioned, Gabby had noticed that the duke danced with a handful of wallflowers at every ball, but she assumed he did so because they were heiresses whose fortunes he could benefit from.

But perhaps that had been unfair of her…

“Sirius suspects that Whitfield’s close relationship with his late mother sparked his inclination to protect women in need,” Isabel added.

Her interest snared, Gabby turned to face her sister. “I don’t understand.”

Once again, Isabel shrugged. “Sirius said that until Whitfield arrived at Eton, he had never left the family estate in Gloucestershire. The late duke abandoned him and his mother there, with only the servants for company. Sirius called old Whitfield cruel and neglectful.”

“Oh,” Gabby murmured dumbly, remembering past remarks the duke had made about his father. Apparently she was not the only one who had been shaped by a formidable parent.

“So that’s why I’m not surprised the duke has come to your aid.” Her sister’s smile was gentle. “Perhaps you’ve acquired your own defender, querida.”

Gabby scoffed, the sound more harsh than she’d intended.

But better for Isabel to think her skeptical than for her sister to realize Gabby’s heart kicked into a sprint at the thought Whitfield might actually possess gracious regards for her.

“The duke has been kind to me, but remember this is still Whitfield we’re talking about. He’s still haughty and self-serving.”

“Mayhap.” Isabel waved a hand. “But he didn’t have to help secure you a ticket to London, and he certainly didn’t have to defend you at the Ortiz party.”

“You heard about that?” Gabby gasped.

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. I hear all the gossip working for Senora Maza de Juárez. Many were impressed that he praised you so highly.”

His words had been a tonic…even while their dance afterward had sent her scurrying from his presence like a frightened hare.

Yet Gabby would concede nothing. “He’s a duke. One kind word from him is shared in a tizzy.”

“You’re probably right about that.” Isabel stared at her for a moment, and Gabby tried to pretend the intensity of her sister’s gaze didn’t perturb her. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened that night? Why did I have to find out through gossip?”

Gabby picked at a thread on her waistband, weighing various excuses in her mind.

This was not the discussion she wanted to have with Isabel.

But…another part of her wanted to share the heartbreak their father’s callous words caused.

How holding her head high while her chin trembled with unshed tears had taken every ounce of strength Gabby possessed.

How Whitfield’s cutting response had quickly ended the conversation.

How she was thankful to him for his sentiments, but also angry at how easily he was able to shame her father when not once had Elías Luna ever felt shame for how he treated her.

She met Isabel’s stare, glimpsing the well of love her sister always saved just for her. “Have you ever had your emotions pulled in various directions until you have no notion of how you feel about anything?”

“Oh yes. It’s rather”—Isabel’s gaze grew unfocused, as if she was remembering something in the past—“alarming.”

“ Alarming is an excellent word for it.”

Isabel moved from the bed to sit on the floor next to Gabby, their skirts billowing up around them. “Would you like to tell me how the events of that night made you feel? When you depart on the morrow, I won’t be available to lend you my sisterly ear.”

“I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” Gabby whispered, reaching out to grasp her sister’s hand.

“You don’t have to leave tomorrow,” Isabel said, stroking her thumb over Gabby’s knuckles. “But if you don’t, you may not become the Gabby Luna you were meant to be.”

Tears abruptly clogged Gabby’s throat, and it took her several seconds to swallow them. “I would so like to meet that Gabby.”

“Igualmente.” Isabel raised Gabby’s hand to her cheek and held it there. “Now talk to me, hermanita, for soon I will be homesick for your voice.”

Ignoring the watery quality to her laugh, Gabby rested her head on Isabel’s shoulder.

Thankful she could steal this time with her older sister, Gabby recounted what occurred at the Ortiz dinner party and how it made her feel.

And, with a gulp for bravery, she divulged all the contradictory emotions the duke provoked within her.