Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
The following morning, Sibyl woke to an empty bed, and she blinked at the space where Gabriel had fallen asleep.
There was a slight indent on the pillow from his head, and she smiled, realizing he had not been long gone if his lingering scent was anything to go by. She rolled onto her front, burying her face in the indent for an indulgent moment.
When the door opened, she was so relaxed that she did not even glance up, but she did when she heard a low chuckle.
“What on earth are you doing?” Amusement laced her husband’s voice.
Sibyl lifted her head, humming happily. “I do not quite know.”
Eventually, she rolled onto her back and pulled herself upright.
Gabriel was wearing loose breeches and a robe that was too undone for her to stay truly focused. She forced her eyes to remain on his face, softer right after waking up, as if he had not quite put on the mask of the Duke of Stonehelm just yet.
She liked this version of him, too.
“Well, as much as I do not want to pry a lady from her comforts,” he said, smirking, “I had breakfast laid out outside. It is quite a nice day, and I am loath to waste it, so will you join—”
Sibyl was on her feet in an instant, nodding eagerly.
How long had she waited for such a gesture?
Too long.
Gabriel chuckled before stepping closer to her. His hands rested on her waist, light yet possessive, and he planted a kiss on her forehead.
“I will get dressed and meet you down there shortly, then,” he said. “You may stay in your nightgown if you wish, though.”
His eyes trailed up and down her nightgown, and she blushed.
“I will dress properly,” she told him, her face burning.
Gabriel gave her another kiss, this one on the lips, before pulling away.
“I also checked on Rosie,” he added on his way out of her chambers. “She is sound asleep.”
With that, he gave her a nod and stepped into the connecting passage. However, he left the adjoining door open.
Before Sibyl began to dress, she caught sight of him tugging off his robe. Muscles rippled across his shoulder blades and abdomen, tensing with movement. Her mouth went dry as her eyes trailed down the expanse of his back, aching to see what his breeches concealed.
As if he could sense her gaze on him, he smirked at her over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Duchess?”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly, spinning away to face her mirror.
Moments later, the adjoining door was closed with a low laugh.
It took until Sibyl stepped onto the ballroom terrace for her cheeks to cool from thoughts of running her hands across her husband’s back.
Those thoughts felt dangerous, but not unsafe.
Now, Gabriel was watching her from across the table he had ordered to be set up, his expression unreadable as he sipped his morning coffee.
“What are you thinking about?” Sibyl asked, nibbling on her buttered toast.
“Honestly, I am wondering if I have made a mistake in agreeing to our plans tonight.”
“I was not aware we had any.”
“I was going to surprise you.” His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “But you read me too well. You seemed rather taken by Nicholas at our wedding, and you are both… close to me. Well, he is important to me.”
Sibyl held her breath, waiting to hear that she was also important to him, but then she pushed that hope aside. They had not grown that close, not yet. But Gabriel also hesitated, as if debating saying something more.
He cleared his throat, glancing away. “Anyway, he has extended an invitation for us to dine with him tonight at his country estate. We will leave here by mid-afternoon, and I thought perhaps we could ride around the village. On the way, we will also pass the place where…”
“Yes?” Sibyl prompted, realizing that no matter how slowly or hesitantly, he was opening a door for her. Even if just a crack. But like that adjoining door, he was giving her a brief glimpse.
After spending a while agonizing over her husband’s secrets, Sibyl found herself hungry for more knowledge and more glimpses—especially of his body, just like through that door.
“I told you I box,” he said. “So while I would never dare take you where I box, I will point it out to you.”
It truly was another glimpse of him.
Sibyl found herself smiling as she sipped her tea. “I would like that very much.”
“I understand you might hesitate to leave Rosie here, but I assure you that her nursemaid will be here and that she will be under constant watch. Plus, we won’t be staying too long.” He made a soft noise that might have been a laugh. “After all, there is only so much of Nicholas I can stand.”
“I am certain that is not entirely true,” Sibyl teased. “You do not tolerate people much, yet you are close to him.”
Gabriel hummed, as if not wanting to admit she was right. “Nevertheless, are the plans agreeable?”
You are asking me?
But Sibyl didn’t say that, so used to being told to do this, do that, go here, you will be there. Instead, she just smiled and nodded.
It was perhaps one of the first plans in a long time that she had truly agreed to.
Averby Village was similar to Stonehelm in the way that it was quaint, unobtrusive, and a far cry from London’s bustling streets. Sibyl immediately loved it for its worn pathways, small bridges that arched over canals, and the ever-present vendors calling out their wares.
“It is strange,” she commented as they strode through the village.
“London is always selling something or other, and so do these villages, but the atmosphere is so different. In London, I feel pressured to stop and buy something. Here, I feel invited to. Like I can simply walk past the florist without feeling the need to stop. I can smell the bakery or watch a jeweler display a new ring without feeling the obligation to buy.”
“That is why I often prefer these places over the city,” Gabriel muttered. “Nobody is demanding the attention of a duke. They do not feel entitled to it, whereas the people in London do. Speaking of the bakery, I did promise Nicholas I would bring him his favorite pastry. Come on.”
He led her into a small, wooden building filled with the scent of freshly-baked bread. A short, thin woman was sliding a tray of custard-filled tarts onto a shelf, her cheeks flushed with the heat. When she looked up, her eyebrows rose a little before she dipped into a curtsy.
“Are we so recognizable?” Sibyl whispered as they approached the counter.
Gabriel smiled a little. “I am, but I have frequented this place often enough.”
“It is the Helm!” the short woman gasped, her back bowing even further. “The Helm and his… Helmess?”
“I do not think that is a word,” Gabriel mused, his tone light so that she did not take offense. “This is Her Grace, the Duchess of Stonehelm. Duchess, this is Maria, Averby’s best baker.”
“So many times, and yet everybody is still surprised by your presence?”
“I have a reputation,” he said, shrugging. “Maria, I shall take three of your well-loved raspberry-filled croissants.”
Sibyl blinked at the order.
Gabriel’s and his friend’s favorite pastries are… raspberry croissants?
She did not want to judge, but the thought was so funny that she couldn’t help but giggle. Gabriel just narrowed his eyes at her without malice.
Sibyl stifled her giggles, leaning in. “What is the Helm?”
Suddenly, Gabriel became interested in the loaves on display in the wooden boxes along the counter, pointedly ignoring her. Sibyl only let him because she knew she could ask Nicholas, and the two of them could tease him, most likely.
She bit her lip, keeping her thoughts to herself, waiting until Gabriel was handed the three bags with the pastries. He cleared his throat when he faced her, urging her out of the bakery.
Yet it happened again when they walked along the main road. People called out the Helm, and the modiste, whom they visited because Sibyl idly mentioned a dress that was more suited to her country life, also addressed him as such.
Gabriel didn’t seem to mind the lack of respect that came with the nickname, but Sibyl’s curiosity only grew.
By the time they made it to Averby Hall, Sibyl was more than excited about their dinner with Nicholas.
They were immediately shown into a grand drawing room, where Nicholas was already waiting, two wine glasses in hand.
He turned to face them with a wide smile on his face. “Ah! They have finally graced my humble abode. The Duke and Duchess of Stonehelm.”
“Or the Helm,” Sibyl quipped.
Nicholas grinned, but Gabriel shot him a warning look. “Not a word, Nic.”
“Oh, I have many words.” Nicholas laughed. “This is going to be a very fun evening, indeed.”
Wine glasses in hand, the three of them moved to the dining hall, where Nicholas and Gabriel both moved to pull out a chair for Sibyl, before Gabriel growled his friend away.
Nicholas laughed again. “Excuse me for trying to be a good host.”
“You can be a good host in other ways,” Gabriel shot back.
Sibyl took a seat, biting her lip, and then Gabriel sat next to her, while Nichoals lounged at the head of the table, watching the two of them.
“Things have changed with you both,” he noted.
“I do not know what you mean,” Gabriel muttered, taking a sip of his wine. “This is excellent wine, Nicholas. Where did you buy it—”
“I am right,” Nicholas sighed. “As always. Duchess, am I correct? Something has changed between the two of you. Because at your wedding, things were very tense, but they also were at the Livingston ball. And then, there was Gabriel’s refusal to acknowledge his feelings for you.
Duchess—do you mind if I call you by your Christian name? ”
“I do,” Gabriel said quickly.
“I do not,” Sibyl cut in. “After all, I have a nice name.”
“A beautiful name,” Nicholas purred, “to match yourself.”
“Nicholas,” Gabriel groaned. “Please stop trying to charm my wife.”
“I would not have to if you did a better job at it,” Nicholas snorted. “But see, she is unfazed. She only has eyes for you.”