Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Gabriel stood in the corner, enduring the boasting of his cousin, who would not leave him alone even after Sibyl had been pulled away by her sister.
“Cousin, will you actually let me find my wife, or will you insist on jabbering my ear off?” he grunted.
Preston scowled at him. “You have always been a rude bastard, Gabriel.”
“I am attending this ball with my wife, and you have stolen my attention.”
“Her sister stole her away first. I am merely keeping you company until she returns. Speaking of, she may be returning to her old ways.”
At that, Gabriel looked at his cousin sharply. “Old ways?”
“Oh, come on, Cousin. Surely you did not marry the lady without looking into her past.”
“I did some investigating, yes, but what are you referring to?”
“Well, if I must be the one to tell you, then so be it,” Preston sighed, as though he was pained to do so. “A couple of years ago, a certain Viscount Grenford showed a great deal of interest in your Duchess when she debuted. Even her mother approved of the potential match.
“At first, Her Grace was opposed to it. Yet, at a garden party, the two of them disappeared at the same time, most mysteriously, and into a hedge maze of all places. Optimal place for privacy, no?”
“Preston,” Gabriel said, his voice low and dangerous. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing.” Preston held up his hands. “Only that, not long after, Grenford disappeared from England altogether, never to be seen again, and the Duke of Branmere became incredibly protective of his young sister-in-law.
“Perhaps Grenford made an advance on her. Perhaps she invited it and then turned tail on him. Perhaps they were caught, and she got scared of being ruined, so—”
“Preston,” Gabriel growled, his anger flaring.
He might not know Sibyl as well as he would have liked, but he had seen her tense whenever men drew too near. He had seen the fear in her eyes in Kerrington House when she had been grabbed, and he wondered…
Had the Viscount made unwanted advances, and how far had it gone?
“Gabriel, I’m only warning you, for I do not want you to settle for damaged goods.”
“Preston, if you ever speak ill of my wife again, in my presence or otherwise—and I will find out—I will make sure you do not walk straight ever again.”
With that, Gabriel turned to walk away.
But Preston grabbed him by the shoulder. Gabriel whirled, ready to punch him, but only found his cousin’s apologetic face.
“I am sorry, Cousin. I went too far. But I only meant to warn you. I do not harbor any ill intentions.”
“I do not care for your apologies,” Gabriel hissed, before shrugging him off and striding away.
He pushed through the crowd, which parted for him anyway, his eyes darting left and right in search of his wife. Yet, he could not see her anywhere.
He spotted Alicia standing next to a young lord he recognized from the King’s Hound, looking bored as anything. He had actually faced that man in the ring last week.
He wondered if Alicia knew or if her mother knew that the young man had a terrible temper.
He would send a tip to the Wicklebys anonymously, just in case, for he could not explain to Sibyl how he knew the man’s temper without revealing the full truth.
When he couldn’t find her anywhere, his heart sped up. He was supposed to protect her. What if somebody had lured her outside? What if she had wandered too far, gotten herself tangled up in a problem?
Or…
He thought of how she always escaped, even from Stonehelm Hall.
That’s it. She must have looked for a sanctuary.
He looked towards the ballroom doors and wasted no time in heading for the stairs.
Sibyl looked at the stars in a bid to calm her racing heart, but tonight it just was not working.
Her thoughts were too loud, her heart too fast, and the tears came too quickly and hot to fight back. Everything was too much, too much, too much, and it had been for so long she could no longer keep her head above the water.
Her first marriage had failed before she was even one-and-twenty, and she had been blamed for Edmund’s addiction and death, even though he had ruined their marriage. She had not even wanted to wed him, yet she had been forced into the decision by her damned mother.
She had given in, and it had almost ruined her life.
She had lost so much of herself in Kerrington House, and now she was scrabbling to get back the pieces. But she wasn’t the same person; the pieces would no longer fit.
“I want to be as Alicia said,” Sibyl whispered through her tears, rocking herself as she would when she soothed Rosie, for it soothed her too. “I want to dance beneath the moonlight, and I want happiness and love and—Heavens, I want the pain to go away.”
She pressed a fist to her bodice, trying to push the pain back down. It only made her more aware of her daringly low-cut dress and how silly she must look.
Dark memories flooded her mind. Edmund’s arm hanging off the bed, Miss Tremaine revealing too much for her to handle, Rosie’s scrunched-up face as she cried, Gabriel’s proposal and disappearances at night.
Did he have mistresses?
Would she have to simply live with that knowledge, let it gnaw at her sanity until she questioned everything?
How could his touch drive her mad if he visited other women at night? If he had that, why would he want to kiss her?
Everything spun too horribly in her mind, and she hunched over, sobs wracking her body. She barely even registered the door opening, but she did register the voice that cut lethally through the quiet.
“Who did this to you?”
Her head snapped up, her hands immediately dashing the tears from her cheeks. Her feelings spiraled out into one, horrible snap.
“Why do you even care?” Her voice broke on a fresh wave of tears, and her mouth twisted into a sad grimace.
“What—Sibyl, why would you ask that? Why would you think I do not care?”
She shot out of the chair, her arms lifting helplessly. “Why would I not, Gabriel?” she shouted. “You leave the manor every night, racing on horseback as though you cannot escape fast enough, so what else am I supposed to think?”
Before he could answer, she continued, letting the hurt seep into her voice.
“Stonehelm Hall is not decorated like one would expect, given your tastes and fondness for dark colors, which makes me wonder if it’s just a way to make it appealing to the ladies you used to see before I moved in.
You have secret rooms, and you do not speak of your past, so tell me what else am I supposed to think? ”
“You do not need to think,” he hissed. “You can ask me anything, Sibyl. I will always answer honestly.”
“But you do not always answer!” she shot back. “That is the problem. Your answers may be honest, but they are not always present. You evade questions well, Gabriel.”
“Sibyl—”
“No,” she snapped. “No, you will let me speak, because my mind has been in turmoil for too long, and I cannot keep wondering who you are yet craving you like a woman on the verge of insanity!”
“Sibyl—”
But she did not listen. She continued, venting out her frustration.
“How can you do this to me? You took me in to protect me, and yet you keep me at arm’s length.
Truly, what else am I to think, Gabriel?
You hide, and hide, but the farther you are, the more afraid I am of you. Of why you must hide.”
“Sibyl, if you would just listen,” he said, raising his voice slightly.
“I told you that I box, and we did not really discuss it. That is what I do most nights. I escape to a tiny, run-down tavern where titles do not matter, and I box. I fight, because if I don’t, then I, too, will be driven to the brink of insanity because of you. ”
“I…” Sibyl trailed off, frowning. “Because of me?”
“Because it is not something a duke should do,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I am aware of how barbaric it is, how improper. Heavens, my father would turn in his grave if he knew his son became a fighter by night, reveling in punches and bruised knuckles. I did not tell you because I did not want to scare you. For if you know that, you know that I am capable of violence. You already do not trust me.”
“I want to know you,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his.
Her anger was banking, replaced by both confusion and relief. She could hear the sincerity in his voice.
There were no mistresses, only a boxing ring where he could lose himself? And because of her?
“I do not care how you think I will view those things. I just want to know who the man I married is. I do not want to fear you because of these mysteries.”
Gabriel frowned and stepped closer to her. He paused, as if waiting for her to step back, but she held her ground.
He looked distractingly handsome, although slightly ruffled by their dance and argument.
“Sibyl, no man in his right mind would be unfaithful to you,” he murmured, echoing the words from the night they had visited the gaming hell.
Her breath caught, suddenly at a loss for words.
“I box because of what I feel for you,” he continued, moving ever-closer.
“I box because I cannot control the desire to kiss you every moment I see you. I box because I look for you in my waking moments, and you are never there, always avoiding me. I do not blame you, but heavens, Sibyl, all I want to do right now is kiss you.”
Rendered silent, Sibyl could only nod. She wanted him to kiss her. She couldn’t think of anything else, even if she had been so angry with him.
Gabriel stepped closer now, forcing her to sit back in the chair, and he followed, looming above her. He gazed down at her intently, and she thought there was not enough air to fill her lungs.
Then, his mouth was on hers, the kiss searing yet brief.
Sibyl had scarcely reached up to pull him closer when he drew back. She thought she had whimpered, or maybe she had not.
She blushed deeply, regardless.
“Tell me to stop,” Gabriel murmured, his voice rough.
Sibyl shook her head.