Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Gabriel retired to bed not long after Sibyl had fled the dining hall, but sleep came in broken waves.
He dreamed of his sister, of her hair fanned across the ratty pillow in the horrible apartment he had found her in. How oily the strands had been. Yet, he had stroked her hair and whispered that everything was going to be fine.
Letitia’s face had also been slick with perspiration, and still, he had cupped her cheeks, looked into the eyes that were so like their mother’s, and once again told her everything was going to be fine.
In his dreams, his promise was kept. But when he woke up to crying through the night, he couldn’t distinguish the dreams from reality, and he was hit all over again with grief.
Except when his eyes opened, he wasn’t in a dirty place in Italy, and his sister was not on her deathbed.
Letitia was gone, and the crying wasn’t her begging for her life back. No, it was a baby’s cry, and Gabriel was on his feet in an instant, needing to know what was wrong.
It was not until he stepped into the hallway that the fog cleared from his mind and he realized that Sibyl’s daughter was crying.
He walked past the adjoining chamber, noticing the open door, and ventured towards the nursery he had instructed to be prepared for Lady Rose—Rosie.
The cries pierced his ears, the sound terrible and unsettling, and he couldn’t help but wince by the time he entered the nursery.
A figure stood in the dark room, right at the window, and he recognized the long spill of Sibyl’s hair as she rocked her baby in her arms. Her voice was low, a soft murmur that he couldn’t make out until he stepped closer.
The floorboard creaked beneath his feet, and she turned slowly, her eyes wide for a moment until she saw him.
He opened his mouth to ask if all was well, but he was quickly shushed. Sibyl glared at him, freeing one arm to press a finger to her lips.
His eyes narrowed on her, his frustration flaring. “Do not shush me,” he whisper-hissed.
“She just fell asleep.” Sibyl’s voice was hoarse, as though she herself hadn’t slept and was tired. “Do not rouse her.”
“I was only going to inquire if everything was all right. I heard her crying.”
“Of course she will cry,” she shot back. Gabriel didn’t understand why she was so angry. “She is a baby, and she is unsettled. She knows she is in a new place, as do I.”
“She cannot know that, surely,” Gabriel scoffed, frowning.
He knew nothing about children, but something niggled at the back of his mind. Letitia had always been unsettled whenever they moved from London to the countryside and back again throughout the year, but he couldn’t remember if she had been that way as a baby.
He hesitated, disliking that broken memory, and instead looked at the swaddled baby in Sibyl’s arms.
“She certainly does,” Sibyl insisted, stroking wisps of hair on the baby’s head. “How can she not? She rode across London in a new carriage, and now she’s sleeping in a new nursery. And she is connected to me. If I’m unsettled, she can pick up on it.”
“I am not certain your touching her head is helping,” Gabriel argued. “Surely low voices are less disturbing than—”
“Do not attempt to tell me how to best soothe my daughter.” Her voice came out sharp, and Rosie squirmed in her arms.
Sibyl froze, just as he did. They both fell quiet, breath held to see if the baby would rouse again and cry, but Rosie only made a soft whimper before falling back asleep.
Perhaps she had not woken up at all.
Still, Gabriel took a step back.
He sighed, catching Sibyl’s scowl again. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair.
He turned to leave but then hesitated.
“But… do make sure you sleep as well. I imagine all this unsettlement is exhausting you, too.”
She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but he was already gone.
He stalked back to his room, tired of the bickering, of not knowing how to navigate this new situation he had found himself in. Tired of not knowing how to be around his own wife.
Yet, when he returned to bed, he could only stare up at the ceiling. Whenever he closed his eyes, he heard a baby’s wails that would then morph into Letitia’s pained cries, and saw his sister’s pale, almost gray face.
In the end, he decided to listen out for when Sibyl returned to her chambers, but he heard nothing.
The following morning, Gabriel went down to the breakfast room, only to pause in the doorway when he found the table empty.
Although the sight was familiar, he hadn’t expected it that day. He had thought he would find Sibyl there, already eating, or at least taking control by taking a seat first. It seemed like something she would do, but he also considered how quickly she had fled the dining hall the night before.
What had scared her off?
He had seen her expression shift when he moved closer during their argument, a maelstrom of emotions flashing in her eyes. But before he could call her back, she had disappeared.
He didn’t necessarily want to push her away, yet she was so aggravating at times with her incessant questions and lack of answers that he didn’t know how to respond other than challenge her.
Besides, he enjoyed seeing her sharper side come out. Sibyl was so guarded that it was pleasant to see her wield her weapons.
Gabriel thought about taking breakfast in his study but ended up sitting at the head of the table anyway, promising himself that he wouldn’t keep watching the door, hoping to see her.
Why am I hoping for her company? It should not matter to me.
When a footman brought forward the butter dish, Gabriel raised a quelling hand. “The Duchess,” he began. “She has not come down for breakfast this morning?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Has she sent for anybody to bring a tray to her chambers?”
“No, Your Grace. She is busy with Lady Rose, I believe.”
Gabriel nodded, dismissing the footman and finishing his breakfast in silence. He told himself that it was more peaceful that way, especially after spending the last week bickering with his new wife. But now that he knew she should be there, he felt her absence keenly.
After breakfast, he tried to work off his annoyance in his study, shutting himself away.
His work had piled up, and he had contracts to review and payments to make to businesses he had promised to invest in.
He also had several tenant requests to review, but as the day drew on, his thoughts kept drifting back to Sibyl and her absence.
Had he truly offended her so terribly last night?
You shouldn’t care. Besides, she cannot skip every meal to avoid you.
Yet, when he was called for lunch, his wife did not appear either. She had barely eaten dinner the night before, and they had not had a wedding breakfast, so he wondered when the last time she had eaten was.
After lunch, he busied himself with a short ride around the grounds, telling himself that he avoided the lake because he had seen Sibyl staring out at it with curiosity. If there were a place she might explore first, it would be the lake. Aside from that, maybe the library.
“Is she truly going to hole up in the nursery all day?” Gabriel muttered to himself as he returned to the manor some time later.
Sibyl had confessed to being concerned about her daughter’s well-being, and it was clear that she rarely let Rosie out of her sight, but did she really distrust him so deeply to go to such lengths?
He walked past the library, finding it empty. He half expected to find her seated in an armchair, holding her daughter in one arm while handling a book. He imagined how her hair might fall over her face, unable to tuck it back with her hands full.
Gabriel clenched his fingers into a fist, forcing her out of his mind. Those thoughts were entirely useless.
His frustration grew as he got ready for dinner several hours later, hearing nothing from Sibyl’s chamber to suggest that she was doing the same.
He paused in the dining hall, unsurprised but annoyed to find the table empty.
He glanced at the footman by the door. “Still no word from the Duchess?”
“No, Your Grace,” the footman answered.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he sat at the table and stared at the empty chair across from him. He really didn’t want to care that Sibyl was skipping meals. Mrs. Pentwood had indeed confirmed that she had not requested food to be brought up to her, so what was she doing?
Unable to fight his irritation any longer, he ate quickly and then went up to the nursery. He found Sibyl there, sitting in a rocking chair, holding her daughter. Her face was pale and drawn, but he could see the stubborn set of her jaw.
As he entered, the nursemaid looked up, straightening immediately at his presence.
“Duchess,” he said, startling his wife, as though she truly hadn’t even noticed he was there. “We must speak.”
Slowly, Sibyl nodded and glanced up at the nursemaid. “Hannah, please give us a moment.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Hannah answered, slipping past Gabriel to leave them alone.
Gabriel moved further into the room.
“Your behavior is inappropriate and, frankly, unacceptable,” he chided, not having the patience to lead with softer words.
“We live under the same roof now, and I understand you are used to dining alone, given Kerrington’s frequent absences.
But I am here, and you are my wife, and it is customary to dine together.
It is quite rude of you to do otherwise. ”
Her brow furrowed at his berating, but he could hardly care.
“You were raised properly,” he continued. “You ought to know that dinner times are usually spent with those you live—”
“What you do not understand, Your Grace, is that I am taking care of a four-month-old baby.”
“You have a nursemaid,” he pointed out. “That is her role—to assist you.”
“I will not pass on my mothering duties only to argue with you over meals.”
“If you stopped being so antagonistic, we would not have to argue.”