Page 50 of Gabriela and His Grace (The Luna Sisters #3)

Gabby’s transition into her role as the Duchess of Whitfield was easier than she had expected, thanks in no small part to her long-deceased mother-in-law.

If the stories told by the staff were true, the late duchess had been a saint. Despite her husband’s neglect, the duchess had made Whitfield Manor a warm, inviting home even as the building itself threatened to fall down around them.

While giving her a tour of the pantry and larder, Mrs.Evers regaled Gabby with tales of Beatrice, the late duchess.

How she organized events at the manor and invited not just retainers but residents of the nearby village to attend as well.

She visited the homes of sick families, bringing them baskets stuffed with food and possets of herbs designed to help the ailing.

The late duchess ensured the local schoolhouse was always well stocked with books and firewood.

“Did the duke play with the village children in the surrounding fields and meadows?” Gabby asked, her mind conjuring an image of a young Sebastian in short trousers laughing and running free.

Mrs.Evers’s expression darkened. “No, unfortunately. The late duke was adamant that Master Sebastian not interact with any of the village children.”

“But why?” Gabby was astounded.

The housekeeper sighed. “His Grace believed the village families and their children were not the sort of friends befitting a ducal heir. Master Sebastian had only the duchess and his tutors as companions.”

Suddenly realizing she was gaping, Gabby snapped her mouth closed. “How lonesome.”

“Indeed. The old duke once arrived at the manor earlier than expected, and found Master Sebastian in his shirtsleeves, playing blindman’s bluff with several of the village boys.

His anger was a sight to behold.” Mrs.Evers swallowed.

“I don’t know what the duke told those boys’ parents, but they never played with Master Sebastian again. ”

“Oh,” she mumbled, too stunned, too heartbroken for Sebastian, to speak.

The older woman’s eyes were far away and not on the shelves of linens in front of them. “Her Grace, the staff, and I did our best to give him a happy childhood, but he must have been lonely. How could he not be?”

Gabby bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

Sebastian was a popular and respected member of society, and women certainly desired his company.

It seemed to her, however, that he called very few people friends.

Sirius. Gideon. Brodie, perhaps. Now she could include herself in that group.

Her husband was devoted to those friends and helped them in any way he could.

Hadn’t he shown her he cared for her? Hadn’t he made her feel valued and cherished, even in their short time together?

Every day she came to realize that the notorious Duke of Whitfield possessed a gracious and tender heart.

And perhaps his childhood had been just as lonely as her own.

This thought ran through Gabby’s mind as Mrs.Evers continued her tour, and it helped her to see all the details she had initially overlooked or explained away.

Like how clean and welcoming the manor was despite its age and dilapidated appearance.

How every staff member she encountered greeted her with a smile, their uniforms pressed and tidy.

How Sebastian was referenced in affectionate terms. Whitfield Manor, and the dukedom as a whole, may have slid into disrepair thanks to the spiteful inattentiveness of the late duke, but the duchess, and later Sebastian, had done their best to care for its staff and they were loved in return.

Now that Gabby was here, along with her ample dowry, she was determined to help Sebastian repair what was lost and, maybe, create something new together.

After a tour of the family wing of the manor, Gabby paused by the staircase that led to the attic where she assumed the nursery and schoolrooms were located. Was that laughter she heard? Children’s laughter?

“Your Grace,” Mrs.Evers called, turning to look back at Gabby from the landing half a flight below her. “Is everything all right?”

“Did you hear that?” Gabby cocked her head, straining to listen. “I thought I heard something.”

The housekeeper frowned, her gaze darting to the attic stairs.

Taking a step toward the staircase, Gabby murmured, “It sounded like…children laughing.”

“Your Grace,” Mrs.Evers exclaimed, her voice sharp, “I’m sure it’s just the wind. Cutting through the drafty attic.”

Gabby jerked her chin back at the housekeeper’s change in demeanor.

The older woman smoothed her hands over her apron and knotted her hands at her waist. “I apologize, Your Grace. I was simply worried you would climb the stairs and catch a cold.”

“Catch a cold? From the wind?” Gabby slid her gaze to a window that overlooked the back garden. The trees, bushes, and grass basked in the sunshine, with no breeze to rustle their leaves. She frowned as she glanced back at the housekeeper.

“Or maybe it was roosting birds,” Mrs.Evers stammered, her lips pinched.

“Maybe,” Gabby allowed, her eyes traveling up the attic staircase. “Should we go look?”

Mrs.Evers shook her head, rather forcefully. “The rooms are boarded up, so there wouldn’t be much to see.”

“Oh.” Gabby bit back her frustration. Why was the older woman acting so strangely all of a sudden? And why was Mrs.Evers so determined to believe the noises she heard were anything but laughter?

Maybe it was a ghost. Gabby paused as she considered the possibility. Sebastian had said the manor was very old and had seen its fair share of births and deaths within its walls. So was it plausible that spirits still called the manor home? With an uncomfortable swallow, Gabby decided it was.

“Would you like to see the brewing house, Your Grace?” Mrs.Evers asked suddenly, gesturing to a smallish building located off the back garden. “Whitfield Manor has been brewing its own ale for at least two hundred years.”

“I would like that very much,” Gabby said, turning to follow the woman. And she admonished herself not to look over her shoulder at the attic staircase as she did.

· · ·

“Good God, boys, I told you it was important for you to be quiet.”

David paused in his reenactment of the squabble he and James had found themselves in with the Johnson boys from the village, his blue eyes owlish. Blue eyes strikingly familiar because Sebastian stared into a pair very much like them whenever he looked into a mirror.

“He’s sorry,” James rushed to say, glaring at David as he smacked his arm. “We’re sorry, Your Grace. Please don’t be angry.”

Any irritation Sebastian felt fled in a whoosh at the panicked look on James’s face.

He’d worked to make the boys feel comfortable at Whitfield Manor, and in the ten months they had lived there, Sebastian liked to think he and the staff had done just that.

It had taken every one of those months to convince James and David that he wasn’t going to pack them up and send them back to the cold and threadbare home he’d found them in.

But then he’d departed for Mexico and returned married to Gabriela Luna, and it seemed their old fears had resurfaced. Christ, he’d really made a mess of the whole situation.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Sebastian dropped to one knee before both boys, waiting for each pair of eyes to meet his.

“Of course I’m not angry. And I realize that it can be hard to be quiet when you’re very excited to tell the tale of your epic battle.

” When David flashed him a toothy smile, Sebastian reached out to muss his hair.

“But I don’t want to disturb my new duchess as she adjusts to her life here at Whitfield Manor. ”

The boys nodded solemnly, their blue eyes large.

“When will we get to meet her?” James asked, his expression careful.

“Polly says she’s ever so pretty and kind, even if she does have a funny accent,” David added, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I should like to meet her very much.”

Sebastian snorted. “And so you shall, soon enough.”

As soon as he told his wife about them. Christ, it was something Sebastian should have done weeks ago.

He’d had numerous opportunities to discuss the boys with her on their trip to San Luis Potosí and back, and Sebastian still burned with shame that he hadn’t told Gabriela about them when he’d proposed.

He knew when she asked if there was anything she needed to know about his past that she’d been referring to his rakish exploits…

but he’d avoided the truth about James and David as if they were a scandalous secret.

Yet so much about his relationship with Gabriela still felt precarious.

He knew she cared for him; he sensed it when she smiled at him with a gentleness in her eyes.

When she clung to him in her sleep. When she sighed his name as he stroked within her body.

But did that mean she cared for him enough to stay?

Because if he shared the boys with her and Gabriela eventually left, they would be devastated.

James’s sober stare was a silent prick at his conscience.

Eager to change the topic from the secrets he kept from his duchess, Sebastian resumed his seat and gestured to David with a hand. “Now what happened after Jesse Johnson tripped you coming out of the confection shop?”

As he had hoped, David launched into an animated recitation of the altercation, albeit at a much lower tone.

Sebastian listened intently to the story, laughing when he was supposed to and congratulating the boys on their prowess, while silently making a mental note to pay a call on Mr.Johnson regarding his sons’ bullying.

When he pulled out the gifts he had brought from Mexico for the boys, he watched with satisfaction as they exclaimed over the trinkets, thanking him profusely with hugs.

Sebastian then helped the boys set up lines of tin soldiers across the nursery floor, dubbing one side the valiant Mexican army and the other the invading French troops.

James and David listened intently as he described the ongoing conflict, and the brave Mexicans he had met on his trip who were fighting to reclaim their country from imperial rule.

They laughed over their play battles, and when David teased James for taking the game too seriously, Sebastian complimented the older boy on his battle strategies.

As a child, this was what Sebastian had always wanted: a family to call his own. And with David and James now residing happily at the manor, Sebastian was fit to bursting.

Yet his happiness was tempered, and it was all his fault. The guilt of withholding the boys from Gabriela, and her from the boys, ate at him, even as he lay in bed at night with her in his arms. Even as he laughed and played with the boys.

James seemed to sense something was amiss, for his blue eyes returned to Sebastian’s face time and again, a worried furrow to his brow. Apparently his little brother was much more perceptive than Sebastian had given him credit for.