Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
After Gabriel dropped off his wife at Rochdale House, he directed his carriage towards White’s, a gentlemen’s club that he had been a member of ever since he had acceded the duchy.
The club had gained its notoriety thanks to his predecessors’ patronage for the past four generations, which had earned him respect there without having to intimidate anyone.
Striding in, he was immediately led to the room where he usually conducted meetings.
It was off to the left of the main room, where the clinking of glass mingled with the thwack of billiard balls.
He made a beeline for the private bar and ordered a brandy before sitting down to wait for his associate.
Lord Godfrey arrived right on time, starting when he saw Gabriel already sitting there.
“Your Grace, I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said as he sat down, motioning for the nearby server to bring him the same drink.
“You did not.” Gabriel took a sip of his brandy. “I came here early.”
“Ah. Most dukes I have met with often arrive late.” Lord Godfrey laughed.
“I beg to differ.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Now, you mentioned in our correspondence earlier this week that you reached out to a cousin in Italy regarding the establishment.”
“Indeed, I did, and I have received word.” Lord Godfrey opened his briefcase and produced several documents. He handed Gabriel a letter from his cousin, a map, an outline of a building, and a proposal.
Gabriel cocked his head at that. “What is this?”
“An investment offer from an unknown person in Italy,” Lord Godfrey told him. “Word has spread about your idea and—”
“I wish to be the sole financier,” Gabriel interrupted. “They were my terms.”
“I understand, but extra funding is always helpful.”
“I can provide extra funding. This is not some coin-grab that anyone should be able to invest in. This building will mean a great deal to me in a way it will not to an investor just looking to gain from it.”
Lord Godfrey shook his head. “I do not believe this is just anybody. There is a note attached to the proposal.” He tapped a piece of paper that had been clipped to the back of the document.
Gabriel frowned, reading it.
I once had a friend who could have benefited from such an idea.
I think that what the Duke of Stonehelm is doing is beyond words, beyond value, yet I would like to offer my assistance.
I do not wish to offend His Grace, for I do not offer this out of concern that it will be underfunded.
I offer it because I like his vision. Because of a dear friend I lost cruelly to an opium addiction a couple of years ago, right here in Italy.
She would have lived a beautiful life had she been able to rehabilitate somewhere like this. I truly believe so.
Despite his initial displeasure, Gabriel suppressed a shiver, strange yet overwhelming for a moment.
He blinked, picturing Letitia dying of her opium addiction.
Although he had paid for the best help he could get in Italy—had even gone as far as to ship the best doctors in London to her—he knew he had had limited resources.
“You are considering it,” Lord Godfrey noted.
Gabriel schooled his features into neutrality, pushing all thoughts of his sister aside. “Mildly,” he answered. “I will reach out to this person. In the meantime, let me see the map.”
The map showed a plot of land that overlooked an expanse of fields.
It would be the perfect place for what he had in mind: a proper rehabilitation center in the heart of the Italian countryside.
He had been thinking about it ever since his desperate attempts to save Letitia had failed, and now he had everything laid out.
He looked over the rough sketch of the building. It would host three floors of apartments, including a medical wing, another for leisure, and expansive gardens that opened onto the fields via a guarded gate. His intention was to provide freedom and security.
Running a finger over the sketch that depicted where all the suites would go—thirty in total until they needed expansion—he thought about Letitia finding recovery in a place like that.
She had never gotten the chance. Gabriel had run out of time and answers when nothing else worked, for she had always been free to sneak out and acquire more opium.
In a rehabilitation center, there would be a lesser risk of that happening.
He had not been able to save his sister, but he could start saving other addicts.
His chest tightened as he nodded. “This all looks well,” he said, clearing his throat. He downed the remainder of his brandy. “How soon can construction begin?”
“I am waiting for approval from the local magistrates there,” Lord Godfrey said, “and then we can begin. Perhaps you can even bring your new wife out there to show her around.”
Gabriel stiffened. “Do not mention my wife during a business meeting, Godfrey. I do not mix personal and business matters.”
Even though this business proposal is personal, it is not the same as probing into my marriage.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. It was just a suggestion.”
Gabriel stood up, ready to leave now that the meeting had successfully concluded. “Next time, do not.”
He walked past a group of older lords who were playing a game of cards, and one called out to him with a raised hand. Gabriel nodded back, already making for the door.
“Your Grace!” someone else called out. “Do tell us when we will expect to hear news of the next Stonehelm heir. The ton is abuzz with your return to London, and I imagine you are already planning to attend many events. Might Her Grace have news to share by then?”
Slowly, Gabriel turned to the source of that voice. His face hardened, his stomach clenching at the suggestion of an heir, of not even considering it yet.
Another lord elbowed the culprit in the side, snickering as he downed his drink. “Do not expect such a thing, Johnathan. Remember, the Duchess gave birth to Kerrington’s daughter not long ago. She has already been used and did not bear a son; His Grace surely has no further use for her.”
“But he needs an heir, surely.” Lord Johnathan frowned. “Why take a ruined wife who cannot give him one? Or will not? Once a lady opens her legs for childbearing, she seems hesitant to do it again—”
Gabriel was storming towards their table before he could think better of it, the vulgar words ringing over and over in his ears. But right as he wrenched his arm back to land a well-deserved punch, he felt fingers gripping the back of his jacket.
“All right, all right!” Nicholas’s voice shouted from behind him. “Gabriel, do not start this here.”
Gabriel snarled down at Lord Johnathan, his blood boiling as he lunged again, but Nicholas hauled him back. Gabriel shrugged him off, tugging his tailcoat back into place as he continued staring down the insolent lord.
“If you ever speak of my wife like that again, I will make you regret it,” he spat.
“Come now,” Nicholas urged quietly at his shoulder as Lord Johnathan swallowed hard, nodding.
Reluctantly, Gabriel let himself be led away, shrugging Nicholas off again as soon as they stepped outside. He smoothed back his disheveled hair, shaking himself off.
“Do not start,” he warned when Nicholas opened his mouth.
He stormed away from White’s and slumped on a nearby bench that was mostly secluded by hedges. When Nicholas joined him, his anger had cooled to a simmer.
He sighed. “I am sorry for snapping at you.”
“Indeed, you should be,” Nicholas snorted. “I just saved you from being barred from your favorite club. It is notoriously fond of your family. Do not jeopardize that because some fool decided to let his tongue run loose.”
Gabriel tilted his head back to look up at the blue sky. “You are right. I was not thinking. I just—he mentioned her, and he was crude about it. He also mentioned her late husband and how she was ruined and useless to me.”
“And you do not feel the same?” Nicholas asked. Gabriel’s head snapped towards him, offended, but he just held up his hands. “I certainly do not agree, but I want you to say it.”
“Of course, she is not ruined,” Gabriel hissed. “But I do not expect her to bear me an heir either. I respect her and our agreement too much to even consider it. I respect the fact that she has already borne a child.”
“But you will need an heir one day, Gabriel.”
He pretended not to hear that. He pretended that he had not already thought of inviting his wife to his bed at night, not to produce an heir but for the simple pleasure of having her and giving himself to her.
“How do you feel about her?” Nicholas asked, breaking the ensuing silence.
Gabriel stiffened, trying to avert his gaze.
For a man who wore many masks, he was an open book to his closest friend. Perhaps that was why he tolerated Nicholas, even if the man often got on his nerves.
“I do not feel anything,” he lied.
Nicholas laughed, shaking his head. “I know that is not true, for you always feel something. Irritation, desire, anger, bitterness. Even when you have nothing positive to say, there is never nothing to say. Now, will you actually tell me the truth? A half-truth, even.”
“I…” Gabriel hesitated, looking up right as a couple walked down the other side of the road, their arms linked and heads bent close together as they giggled over something the lady held.
It caught the sun, and he thought of the necklace hanging on a lamp in the old family portrait he kept locked up.
His father had gifted it to his mother when they had been courting. Before his mother had passed away, she had instructed him to give the necklace to Letitia on her debut.
“I know your father is not the kindest man, Gabriel, but he was once a good man. He was once the love of my life and not just the husband I now stand beside, wondering where his love and warmth went. Give this necklace to Letitia when she comes of age. Tell her that she deserves a love like the one I once felt for your father, regardless of the man he has become. Tell her to believe in love and always, always follow it.”
Gabriel swallowed thickly at the memory. He had indeed told Letitia, and she had indeed followed what she thought had been love.
He hated that advice, hated carrying the burden of being the one to pass on the encouragement, even though he had tried to guide his sister.
For a moment, he imagined handing a wedding gift to his wife, but then he pushed the thought away. It was foolish, and Sibyl would likely not wear anything he bought her, too prideful and stubborn.
“Gabriel?” Nicholas prompted.
“I am frustrated by her,” Gabriel muttered, an edge to his voice. “I do not know how I feel. I… I look for her everywhere at home, and when she is not there, I feel her absence, and I cannot stop looking up at every footstep I hear.”
“And are you disappointed when it is not her?”
Gabriel nodded, the admission painful to make.
“Then why don’t you simply admit that you have developed feelings for your wife?”
“Because feelings are useless and will only complicate things further. I do not need feelings, Nicholas. I need duty and to be the man she needs.”
“What if that man can also be her lover? Her confidant? A man she can grow to adore—”
“Stop,” he muttered. “That man is not me. I do not even think I am capable of such things. Heavens, Nicholas, I only met her because I wanted to punish her first husband for encouraging my sister’s opium addiction.”
Nicholas’s lips pressed together tightly as he nodded. “That is all true, but that does not mean you are incapable of happiness or feelings, nor that you do not deserve them.”
Gabriel snickered under his breath. “My heart is not one she would want to have.”
“Perhaps she should be the judge of that.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Nicholas, but his friend only smiled smugly, knowing he was right.
Gabriel could give Sibyl riches, estates beyond her imagination, protection, a library—a thousand libraries—but he still did not know how to give himself.
“It is too soon,” he insisted. “I should not have to worry about such things now.”
“Then do not worry,” Nicholas told him. “Embrace such things.”
Gabriel sighed heavily. “You have always believed you are smart with words.”
“And you have always pretended to dislike it. In reality, you are grateful that I’m not afraid to say these things to you.”
“Am I now?”
“Yes.” Nicholas laughed, standing up. “Otherwise, you would have walked away from our friendship years ago. Now, come on, let us go get a drink in a place you will not start a fight.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes and stood up before falling into step beside Nicholas. All the while, his thoughts remained on his wife, wondering whether she was enjoying her time with her family and what she had said about him. If she had mentioned the kiss.
The Wickleby sisters were close-knit; that much he knew. Fiercely protective of one another, there was no way Sibyl could keep anything from them. He himself had not told Nicholas, because his friend would have encouraged him to further pursue intimacy.
But he could not. Not after he had seen the panic in his wife’s eyes. Not when he believed he had already pushed past her limits.
No, he had to find a way to ignore his desire for her, to let her approach him next time should she ever want to.
He could not—would not—give in again.