Page 6 of Gabriela and His Grace (The Luna Sisters #3)

He’d barely slept an hour the night before, his stomach roiling with the waves, and Sebastian had been embarrassed by the number of times he’d emptied his stomach in the small bucket in his room.

As soon as he heard the call of seagulls outside, he’d stumbled from his confining, foul-smelling cabin to the haven that was the ship deck.

Aside from the sailor in the crow’s nest above, he’d been blissfully alone.

Without worrying that he was behaving crudely, Sebastian clung to the rail that overlooked the waters and prayed for relief from the malaise that clawed and twisted his insides.

Instead of relief, Gabriela had appeared, her sleep-softened face an unjustly cruel punishment because he knew she would delight to find him in his current state.

Yet Gabriela had surprised him. She’d been sympathetic to his plight, and even apologized for her curt greeting the day before.

For a second, Sebastian wondered if he had hit his head at some point during the night, because he could not understand why she had stowed away her caustic remarks, especially when he was so vulnerable.

But then Sebastian wasn’t giving her the credit she deserved.

While their interactions had always been marked by acrimony, Gabriela was well liked by his fellow peers.

She was known for her friendliness and kindness just as much as she was known not to suffer fools.

Sebastian had always regretted that their association had started so poorly, a fault he took responsibility for.

He’d initially been captivated by her beauty, by the teasing lilt in her voice, the taunting light that shone in her eyes.

Yet instead of approaching her with respect and a sincere earnestness to meet her, Sebastian had been a rogue.

In turn, she’d met his sarcasm with jaded jeers of her own, and Sebastian was thankful for the space her well-deserved dislike of him necessitated.

Gabriela Luna was dangerous, and he’d endeavored never to get close enough to her to learn how much.

Yet she stood by his side now, laughing gaily at the dolphins that raced alongside the ship, and Sebastian swallowed.

He could almost believe their conversation was one shared between friends, and that terrified him.

Sebastian may have promised Fox he would ensure Gabriela remained safe, but he did not owe her friendship.

Acrimony was safe territory, and while Sebastian was loath to upset the precarious affinity stretching like a web between them, Gabriela would be safer if he ushered their interactions back to familiar battlegrounds.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Luna.” Sebastian pulled his watch out of his pocket and consulted the time, more so for an excuse not to look at her. “As you can imagine, I slept poorly last night and I find myself exhausted.”

“Por supuesto.” She shuffled on her feet, and Sebastian risked a glance at her face. Her forehead was crinkled as she looked up at him. “I hope you adjust to the movements of the ship soon, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. I do, as well.” Running a hand through his hair, he laughed dryly. “With my luck, I won’t get used to it until the day before we reach port.”

“Nonsense,” Gabriela declared, luring his gaze back to her eyes. “I strongly believe our dolphin friends are a sign of good things to come.”

“For you, no doubt.”

Gabriela shook her head. “And for you, as well. You were here for their antics, after all.”

Sebastian pressed his lips together as he stared at her. She was including him in her good fortune? Christ, that would not do.

“I don’t know that I believe in luck, Miss Luna. Good or bad,” he heard himself say.

Her brows stitched together. “Why not?”

“Because to believe in luck is to relinquish a measure of control.” A deplorable request, as far as Sebastian was concerned. “If luck is responsible for the good and bad things that happen in our lives, does that mean we have no say in its direction?”

“A rather sobering thought, and one I had never considered before.” Gabriela angled her head, a silky curl falling against her cheek. “Can luck not just be a little of happy happenstance? The universe righting itself in some way?”

“But does it need to be righted? Maybe things happen the way they’re supposed to. Maybe good things happen to good people, and bad things come to those who deserve them.” Sebastian leaned close, doing his best to ignore her floral scent. “If bad luck comes to me, we both know I deserve it.”

Gabriela tilted her chin up in that pert, challenging manner he’d come to know her for. “I agree. Whatever comes your way was certainly earned.” She sank into a curtsy, her expression arch. “Rest well, Your Grace.”

Sebastian watched her walk away, stopping to greet a group of older women who had just stepped out onto the deck.

She easily assimilated herself into the group, even though he was certain Gabriela had just met the women the day prior.

Still, the smile she wore was devoid of its vivacity.

Its brightness had been dulled. His words had done that to her, and he was sad for it.

Releasing a deep sigh, Sebastian returned to his room, intent on claiming that nap he had spoken of. When he opened the door, however, he found Brodie sorting through his cravats and ties, arranging them by type and color across his bed.

“Already started your day, I see,” the older man drawled, barely glancing up from his task.

“I had a terrible night,” Sebastian declared, pulling his coat from his shoulders and tossing it on a rack by the door. “The floor pitched and rolled, and I could barely withstand the nausea.”

“I could tell by that bucket in the corner.”

Sebastian winced when he realized said bucket had been cleaned and emptied while he was gone. “Thank you, Brodie.”

The valet nodded. “I asked the kitchen staff to prepare you a pot of mint tea. They assured me they would provide a few lemon wedges, as well. Hopefully that will help settle your stomach.”

“Good man,” Sebastian said, easing into the small armchair tucked under the one window in the room.

He could barely fold his body into the seat, but Sebastian had practice maneuvering around furniture not fit for his large frame.

His father had often lobbed cruel remarks about his height and the broadness of his shoulders and chest, bemoaning how unfashionable his only son was.

But Sebastian had never desired to be a dandy like his father, who had run in Beau Brummel’s circles.

He could do nothing about the natural way his body was built, and so he exercised regularly to make it strong and purchased larger furniture to accommodate it whenever he had the funds available to do so.

Thanks to the success of the Camino Rojo mine, such items had become easier to acquire.

“I saw you on the deck earlier,” Brodie said, his voice deceptively innocent.

Sebastian was not fooled. “Hmm.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your first choice to be discovered by a beautiful woman while you were shooting the cat.” Brodie glanced up, a devilish grin stretching his lips. “What a sight you must have made.”

Unwilling to encourage the valet’s teasing, Sebastian reached for a book on the cramped side table and flipped it open to the spot he left it at the night prior.

“Did she scold you?” Brodie pushed.

Sebastian scoffed. “Of course not.”

“I don’t know why you would say of course . It’s not like I know the lady.”

“Well, I do. And Miss Luna is not the type of person to scoff at another’s suffering.” Sebastian tried to focus his gaze on the words before him, but they swam out of order, leaving him feeling more vexed than he had been when he walked in the door.

Brodie propped a hand on his hip. “What did she do then?”

“You are the most annoyingly tenacious man I have ever met.” Sebastian threw his hands in the air. “Do you know that?”

“Of course.” Brodie scowled as if Sebastian had declared the sky was blue. “That’s why you keep me around. You like it when people stand up to you. They so rarely do.”

Whatever response had been perched on his tongue was quickly swallowed in the face of Brodie’s words.

Sebastian strategically surrounded himself with people who stood up to him.

Who didn’t hold his title in such a high regard that they believed telling lies to his face was kinder than sharing the truth.

“That’s why you like her.”

Sebastian jerked his chin back. “I beg your pardon.”

“Miss Luna.” Brodie spread his palms, an exasperated note to his voice. “You’ve always had a soft spot for her because she doesn’t put up with your shit.”

Cotton seemed to fill his ears, and Sebastian stared back at his valet—his brazen, ludicrous valet. “I don’t have a soft spot for Miss Luna. Or any woman.”

“Well, now that’s bullshit.” Brodie snorted, picking up a stack of handkerchiefs and walking to the wardrobe. After wrestling them into their designated space, the valet pivoted to look at Sebastian. “How long have I worked for you?”

“Ten very long years,” Sebastian drawled, rubbing his brow. The beginnings of a megrim were already creeping along his scalp.

“And in those ten years, there is only one lass you’ve mentioned with regularity.” Brodie arched a brow in that annoying manner of his.

“Because she is a terror. Anytime I encounter her in public, we’re guaranteed to engage in a sparring match, and frankly it’s exhausting.” Sebastian sighed. “She’s exhausting.”

Except she hadn’t been that morning. She had been effervescent.

While he had been feeling like the sludge stuck at the bottom of a Thames ferryboat, Gabriela had been pleasant and kind…

and dangerous. Sebastian was used to her hostility.

Her carefully veiled insults. The way her lip curled whenever she was forced to speak with him.

Anything less than the full weight of her disgust felt foreign. Fake.

“Well, if I may speak plainly, Your Grace, you can be exhausting, too.”

Sliding his gaze to Brodie, Sebastian slowly arched a brow. “I doubt you’ve ever not spoken plainly to me.”

The older man nodded. “Well, there are very few people who can put up with you, Your Grace.”

Tipping his head back, Sebastian groaned. “You make me sound like an unfortunate, incurable malady.”

“No need for the dramatics,” Brodie said, laughing. “But you respect people who stand up to you. And so you respect Miss Luna.”

“Uhh,” Sebastian paused, his jaw working as he tried to decipher what the valet was on about. “I do respect Miss Luna, but I don’t understand why that matters.”

Brodie threw his hands up into the air. “Because I’ve never known you to respect a woman before.”

“That’s nonsense.” Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “I respect Mrs.Fox.”

“She’s married to your friend,” Brodie pointed out.

“Yes, well.” Sebastian ran his palms over his thighs as his mind churned. “I respect Mrs.Evers.”

“I should hope you’d respect old Mrs.Evers. She damn near raised you, or so she likes to claim.” Brodie crossed his arms over his chest. “The old biddy would whack the back of your head if you were to ever talk back to her.”

Mrs.Evers was the longtime housekeeper at Whitfield Manor, and had been a fixture in his life from the time he was a small boy.

Sebastian had offered her a pension to retire more than a half dozen times, but Mrs.Evers always said she’d leave her post when a new Duchess of Whitfield arrived at the manor.

He thought it an amusing declaration at one time, but now it filled him with guilt.

Until recently, Sebastian had been unable to afford to take a wife, thanks to his vile father.

And even if he could, he could not think of a single woman he’d be willing to shackle himself to for the rest of his life.

A night spent together in shared pleasure was one thing; a life lived together for eternity was quite another.

Brodie’s voice interrupted his memories. “Have you thought of anyone else who’d be willing to put up with you?”

Sebastian arched a severe brow. “I’m a duke. I’m sure there are multiple ladies who would be willing to put up with me, as you say, for a duchess coronet.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Brodie sorted through various soaps, salves, and colognes. “But how many of them are you willing to put up with?”

Zero . Sebastian leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “Why are we even talking about this, Brodie?”

“I have no notion, sir.” The valet shrugged. “I just assumed you wanted to talk about how every lass in the United Kingdom, and probably soon Mexico, will want to marry you because you’re a duke. And an impeccably dressed one at that.”

“You’re cracked,” Sebastian declared.

“I may be, but I also make sure you look the part of a dapper duke, so…” Brodie spread his palms, his teeth flashing with an impish grin.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. “Get out.”

“I’m working here,” Brodie complained, gesturing to the jars and bottles arranged before him.

“The only work you’re doing is testing my patience.” Sebastian toed off his loafers and sank onto the bed, ignoring the valet’s disgruntled sounds when the glass containers clinked together. “Go have breakfast and come back later.”

“Oh, very well,” Brodie grumbled, gathering up the bottles. “I’ll make sure that pot of tea is delivered.”

“Good man,” Sebastian called as the door shut, finally stretching out on the bed.

And Brodie was a good man, even if he damn near drove Sebastian to Bedlam.