Chapter 17 #2
Sibyl’s gaze flicked back to her husband, who lifted a heavy-looking basket whose lid barely covered the food.
A tug on her hand had her looking down at Phoebe. “And there is more than one basket!”
Sibyl laughed, tears stinging her eyes as she hugged her niece. “Oh, I am terribly glad to see you. Shall we go and dress Rosie, then?”
Phoebe was already skipping away, her dark hair bouncing down her back.
Sibyl shot Gabriel a grateful look. Thank you, she mouthed, for she recalled that horrible day when Vance’s men had stormed into her former home and tried to take everything.
They had ruined those picnic plans, for the food had been half eaten, and she had been unable to think of it as anything but contaminated by their greedy hands. That, and the fact that her life had been turned upside down in the days afterward.
But now…
Now there was more than a picnic basket waiting for her to resume the plans she had indeed forgotten about.
Gabriel pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Anything to make you happy.”
Sibyl blushed, stepping back, and she caught Hermia’s eye, who beamed at her. Next to her, Charles watched Gabriel intently, sizing him up, likely trying to see if his affection was real.
She believed it was. She felt it in every inch of her being.
This man, whom she had no intention of growing close to and had assumed would keep her out of his life but not his home, this man who had saved her life, was somebody she might be falling for.
Sibyl bit her lip, her heart racing the longer she gazed at him. And then she was chasing after Phoebe, who was already calling out for Rosie.
Within the hour, the six of them were setting up a picnic in a nearby tree grove, nestled deep in the woodland just off the estate’s boundaries. There was an old sign nearby that pointed the way to Averby, Bartley, and Stonehelm.
Sibyl recalled Bartley being where Gabriel boxed, but she had to admit that she had neither seen nor heard him fleeing the estate at night like he once had.
She thought about asking him why he had stopped boxing, but now was not the time.
She could push her questions upon him later.
Right now, her family was present, and she wanted to enjoy every moment with them.
Phoebe was busy taking food out of the basket while Sibyl cradled Rosie in her arms. Hermia lounged against her husband, while Gabriel remained at a respectable distance from Sibyl but close enough that she didn’t feel pushed away in front of her family.
She knew he was doing it out of respect.
“Apples!” Phoebe cried, clutching the round piece of fruit. “It has been a while since I picked fresh ones.” A small pout formed on her little mouth. “Mama, can I pick apples soon?”
“Of course you can, darling,” Hermia said.
Sibyl forgot how easily Phoebe now addressed Hermia as her own mother, even if she knew the difference.
It made her ache for a minute, wondering whether she and Gabriel would ever grow their family and whether Rosie would grow up to call him Papa.
She could see it: Rosie’s first grazed knee from trying to climb a tree after being told no, Gabriel fussing, then Rosie complaining, But Papa!
And then Rosie asking him to teach her a language and not getting it perfect on her first try, before asking him to help her.
Rosie debuting, and Gabriel fussing over her.
Rosie’s first courtship, and Gabriel investigating her suitor, doing all the things a father should.
Sibyl wondered if that was the life he wanted, or if Rosie would simply remain his stepdaughter, kept at a distance, even if he was starting to become more involved with her mother with all the nights he had kept watch over her, or how he was the first one to his feet whenever she cried, or had asked when she started to feed beyond milk.
What were the two of them, Sibyl and Gabriel, even?
Sibyl’s thoughts raced… until Gabriel pressed a strawberry to her mouth with an arch of his eyebrow.
“You look lost in thought,” he noted.
Sibyl cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Nonsense. I am fine.”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Is the picnic not to your liking? I can ask the f—”
“The picnic is perfect.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled away, she heard a whistle.
Phoebe was watching them with a grin. “Papa thought you would not be nice to Aunt Sibyl,” she blurted.
Sibyl laughed when Gabriel tensed next to her.
His gaze slid to Charles. “Is that so?”
“It is,” Charles confirmed. “I had my doubts, and I voiced them to you after your wedding. I made myself clear, so I have no shame in admitting that I doubted you.”
“And now?” Sibyl asked.
Charles softened as he looked at her. “Are you happy, Sibyl?”
To be asked that by Isabella and Hermia in private was one thing; to be asked in front of Gabriel made her understand why he had been so intent on changing the topic when they had dined with Nicholas.
It was not shame that kept her tongue tied for a long moment, but unwillingness to admit something she didn’t know if Gabriel wanted to hear. She didn’t want to put pressure on him or whatever was growing between them.
Yet she couldn’t deny it either.
“I am,” she finally said. “It has taken me some turns to get there, but I am happy.”
“Turns?” Hermia frowned.
“Trials,” Sibyl corrected herself. “Gabriel and I are… We are…”
“Discovering one another,” he filled in.
“I am sure,” Hermia sniggered. She turned to kiss Charles on the corner of his mouth, their affection so easy. “Darling, do you remember when we first started discovering one another?”
“I do, indeed,” he murmured, capturing her chin and making to kiss her, before quickly pulling away. He cleared his throat and glanced at Phoebe, reigning himself in around the wise little girl. “I do recall.”
Hermia giggled, and Sibyl smiled at her as they each continued to unpack sandwiches, bowls of fruit, a bottle of wine, and sweet treats. When Sibyl spotted a bundle of raspberry croissants in the corner, she sighed happily.
“You were right about these,” she told Gabriel. “They are worth returning for.”
“Nicholas did try to tell you, but you were too busy laughing at the fact that he had jam around his mouth,” Gabriel smirked, unwrapping a croissant.
His hair fell over his forehead as he investigated, before tearing off a flaky bit and popping it into his mouth.
“You two really seem a lot closer,” Hermia observed. “Gabriel—do you mind if I call you that? We are family, after all.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Well, Gabriel, are you happy?”
Sibyl held her breath, but Gabriel answered immediately. “I think I’m the happiest I have been in a long time.”
Sibyl could only blink at him, unprepared for the honesty in his voice or even his declaration. He looked right at her when he finished speaking, offering her half of his croissant as if he had not just made her heart soar.
Heavens, she wanted him.
She wanted this beautiful Duke of hers, his sincere honesty and all.