Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Gabriel did not know what was happening to him.
One moment, he had been reserved, closed off to life while drowning in grief that turned into vengeance; the next, he was softening, his heart opening up to the beautiful woman he had married.
When he had first seen her in the kitchen at Kerrington House, terrified and cowering in the men’s presence, he had not thought anything about her other than surprise.
He had not thought that she would come to mean a great deal to him.
When he had proposed, he had simply thought she would want to live as far away from him as possible within the boundaries of his estates. But she had wormed her way beneath his skin and begun to peel back his layers.
Bit by bit, Sibyl had bared him, as one bared themself to the winter chill. Yet he found that he rather liked it.
And he shouldn’t. He should have pushed her away, focusing instead on boxing, on the rehabilitation center in Italy, on anything but…
But falling for her.
For his wife.
For his Duchess.
He stared down at the letter he was penning to the anonymous investor. To his left was a letter from Preston—or rather, another invitation to dinner. But Gabriel had yet to answer it.
Instead, he focused on the letter he was writing. He had obtained the investor’s address from Lord Godfrey and had been corresponding with them to ensure they were not just looking to make quick money.
Tell me more about the friend you mentioned in your initial proposal, Gabriel had written in his first letter.
A response had come a week later.
She was bright, and she was beautiful. I think she would have danced on a knife’s edge if she could, but her life was taken too soon.
In the brief moments of her lucidity, I think I had fallen in love with her, but she talked endlessly about a lover who would one day come back for her.
That lover never came back, to my knowledge, but her heart had already been taken.
Regardless, do let me know your thoughts. It will mean a lot to me to be involved in this.
Regards,
Daneil Greenwood.
The name had been vaguely familiar, but Gabriel could not quite pin down the memory of why.
Furthermore, he had not wanted to think that his investor had been talking about Letitia, that the similarities were merely a coincidence, but it brought him comfort to pretend anyway.
It brought him the certainty with which he wrote now.
He agreed to the investment. He agreed to open up his business to another who truly cared.
Just as he sealed the letter, a cry sounded from upstairs. He was on his feet immediately, his instincts driving him to the nursery, where Rosie was wailing and squirming in her cot.
Sibyl shuffled out of her room, her eyes heavy with sleep.
Gabriel gazed down the hall at her. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “Let me take care of her.”
“She… she is only your stepdaughter,” Sibyl said, her voice thick with fatigue. “You do not have—”
“I shall do as I please, wife.” He smiled at her, letting her know that he was being caring, not controlling.
Sibyl eventually nodded, glancing worriedly at the nursery before retreating to her room.
Gabriel went to the cot and scooped up Rosie, holding her to his chest. He had held her enough times now that it was becoming second nature.
Her cries were truly something terrible and heartbreaking, and Gabriel once again found himself singing under his breath. Her fussing increased, as though she knew she was not being held by her mother.
“I know, I know,” he whispered. “But I am here for you, too. I am not your mama or your nursemaid, but I do hope you’d get to know me better. Is it my singing? Perhaps my voice is painful to your ears?”
At that, Rosie stopped fussing, her cries fading into little hiccups. Her eyes blinked at him, innocent and wide, and his heart beat furiously in his chest as he looked down at her.
“There we go,” he cooed, stroking her cheek.
As he paced the room, rocking her gently, not daring to look away from her, something shifted inside him. Realization struck him as it had downstairs in his study.
Rosie was not just his stepdaughter. No, she had come to mean a great deal to him.
He had never wanted children. He had known he would need to sire an heir, as Nicholas had reminded him a while ago, but he had not wanted them.
Now, there was a baby in his care. He knew he could have long ignored her cries, let Sibyl handle her, but he had been quicker than lightning every time he heard her distress.
Something inside him truly was cracking open, revealing the humanity he thought had left on the docks of London the moment he started searching for Edmund and Letitia.
“I loved my sister,” Gabriel murmured. “But she drove me half insane with her antics. She let me fret, let me stew in my worry. She did not let me take care of her. Can I take care of you, Rosie? Will you let me, sweet precious girl?”
Rosie gurgled, her tiny hand reaching up to him. Gabriel started at the contact but then quickly relaxed. He held her tiny fingers against his waistcoat and smiled down at her fondly.
“You are ever so sweet,” he said. “I really hope that you will like me as you grow older. That you will accept me as much as I have accepted you. That… that I can be here, no matter what you go through. It is a strange thing for me to even want that, but I do. You have bewitched me, pretty Rosie, just like your mother has.” He laughed softly.
“How could I have ever known what joy you both would bring to my life?”
Soon, Rosie was asleep in his arms, and he tucked her into her cot. But instead of returning to his study, he went into Sibyl’s chamber. He stripped down to his breeches and slipped beneath the sheets, whispering that it was him when she startled awake.
“I would like to stay here,” he whispered.
His wife laughed sleepily. “It is your home. You may stay where you please.”
It is our home, Gabriel corrected inwardly.
Sibyl shifted into his arms as if she belonged there, and in turn, he held her to him. He sighed happily, nuzzling her hair.
“Thank you for coming into my life,” he murmured.
Sibyl made a sleepy questioning noise, but Gabriel had already fallen asleep.
Several evenings later, Gabriel raised an eyebrow when Sibyl tugged on his hand and pulled him up from the dining table shortly after the dishes were cleared.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Just come with me,” she urged.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Just—” She huffed an exasperated laugh. “You can surprise me often, but I cannot surprise you?”
Gabriel cocked his head, letting her pull him out of the dining room. “It is not that you cannot, but—”
“Relinquish control for one night.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek as if to soften her words. “Trust me.”
“I do, implicitly.”
That made her pause in her eagerness to take him wherever she had planned. He wondered if she was leading him to her chamber, but that would not be a surprise since they had fallen asleep together many times.
“What have you planned, Duchess?”
“Will you stop asking questions and just follow me?” she groaned.
Gabriel finally fell silent, smirking at her, and followed her lead. Her fingers around his felt right, and he only hoped that wherever she led him was far enough that he did not have to let go for a while.
How soft you have become, he told himself, but it did not sound like an insult.
Sibyl led him through the servants’ quarters and out into the gardens, and his surprise grew.
“Sibyl, it is dark outside,” he pointed out, glancing up at the night sky.
“And? The stars are out. They will light the way.”
“That is terribly romantic of you,” he muttered.
“And who encouraged me to reconnect with who I am?” she teased.
Gabriel merely nodded in concession and followed her deep into the gardens. He was more than surprised when she led him to the lake and paused on the bank.
She turned to face him, placing one hand on his shoulder and keeping the other in his.
“Sibyl?” he prompted.
“Do you recall our first dance at the Livingston ball?”
“I recall that ball well.” He raised an eyebrow. “I pleasured you in their—”
“Yes,” she said quickly, her flush visible even in the scant light.
Gabriel’s thoughts drifted once again.
I am falling for my wife. I am seeing her as the beautiful woman she is, both inside and out.
“Yes, you did, and you changed my world forever. But before that, our first dance was…”
It was clear she was struggling to describe it properly, so Gabriel offered, “Awkward? Stiff?”
“Both.” Sibyl laughed. “I remember being too scared to get close to you, not knowing where to place my hands without crossing the boundaries. But… I would like to have our second first dance.”
“That does not make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Now, hold my waist.”
“Ah, so you are giving the commands now?” He smirked at her.
Sibyl smirked back. “Yes. I am the Duchess of Stonehelm, and I will use my authority to demand that you immediately put your hand on my waist.”
Gabriel did, a little aroused by her commanding tone, even if he was the one who loved to take control. He liked her boldness; he enjoyed knowing that he was bringing it out in her.
“Have you always been this bold?”
Sibyl laughed softly. “No. But you… You have changed me, Gabriel.”
Gabriel wanted to tell her, You have changed me too, but he didn’t get a chance, not when she nodded at him and led them into the first steps. His stomach fluttered.
“Tell me something I do not know about you,” Sibyl demanded as their feet moved across the grass. “Wait—”
She paused, surprising him again when she slipped off her shoes and impatiently gestured for him to do the same.
“Sibyl—”
“Just… please?”
It was the softness of her voice, devoid of the boldness from earlier. This was a plea, something that came from a place Gabriel hadn’t seen enough.