Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Sibyl had been simmering in her anger and distress all evening when the heavy footsteps outside her door signaled her husband’s return.
“Do not even consider walking past my chambers,” she called out. “Not now. Not after you have ignored me for two weeks.”
Gabriel paused outside, his shadow visible through the gap between the floor and the door. Finally, he pushed it open and walked in.
Sibyl gasped, her stomach sinking as she scrambled to her feet. Gabriel’s mouth opened, but she glared at him, silencing him.
“What has happened?” she demanded, taking in the bruise at the side of his eye, the tear in his coat, and the cut on his ribs. Blood seeped into the fabric, and she could see him trying hard not to wince from pain. “Gabriel, what are you doing?”
Her voice had softened, her helplessness rising as she cupped his face. It felt like an eternity before he met her eyes.
“Nothing,” was all he said.
“I know now that there is no such thing as nothing with you,” she whispered. “Here, let me tend to your wound.”
“I am fine, Sibyl,” Gabriel sighed, as though she irked him.
Sibyl swallowed past the hurt and pulled him to her bathing chamber. He let her, and she pushed him against the washstand before gathering some supplies.
“You cared for me when I was injured,” she told him, “so let me do the same for you.”
Gabriel’s jaw worked, his hair almost covering the bruise near his eye, but Sibyl brushed it back.
“What is going on?” she whispered.
“I…” He shook his head, looking down.
Sibyl let him take his time as she tugged off his coat, unfastened his waistcoat and shirt, and revealed his wound. As she did, she spotted several other bruises on his skin.
“I cannot stop all of this. I cannot, not if the cost is your safety.”
“And what of your own?”
“I must find out who did this to you,” he insisted.
“Putting yourself in danger is not the answer.”
“The culprit is out there.” His voice dropped to a growl. “I will not stop until—”
“Gabriel,” she soothed. “Gabriel, you have become paranoid. You think that everybody is out to get me. The carriage—it could have broken accidentally—”
“It did not,” he hissed. She knew his anger wasn’t directed at her, but she still flinched. “I am sorry, Sibyl, but I know it was deliberate, and I will drag whoever did it before the authorities.”
“You stay out of the house till late into the night,” she told him.
“You are not being safe.” She worked with the bandages and salve on hand, patching him up as best as she could.
“I would rather the culprit remain free than see you in danger. You leave, and I do not know when or if you will come home. It is scaring me, Gabriel.”
“It is my duty,” he rasped. “It is my duty to protect you, Sibyl. You and Rosie. Rosie could have gotten hurt. You could have sustained worse injuries. I am only thankful that you did not, but it does not negate the fact that you were hurt. It is my duty to make sure it does not happen again. Why don’t you understand that? ”
“I do understand,” she insisted. “But I do not want a protector. I want my husband.”
He flinched at that, but shook his head seconds later. “You and Rosie come above all else. It is my duty to take care of both of you.”
“You could not save Letitia, I know,” Sibyl whispered, understanding where this need came from. “However, you cannot use this accident to make up for it. I am lonely, and I am worried about you.”
“I cannot afford to give in to some whimsical feelings,” he snapped. “I must act, Sibyl. I cannot sit back and pretend that it was a terribly timed coincidence.”
“Whimsical?” Her voice was thin. “I do not think such a thing.”
“Yet you do!” He pushed off the washstand, forcing her backward. “Because you can sit there and pretend like this is not a problem.”
“The only problem is your leaving me. I have barely seen you for two weeks! I have been in pain. I have missed you so much, yet even that is not enough to keep you at my bedside.”
“Sibyl—”
“No.” Her hand slashed through the air. “No, Gabriel. Even after everything we have shared, you are still more afraid of embracing the good thing we have than losing it. You cannot lose, can you? Your past haunts you, and I understand how painful that can be, but I deserve more than losing you to this need for vengeance.”
She could see that her words had finally sunk in, but she was too hurt to even look at him, to keep arguing for one more moment.
Shaking her head, she walked out of the bathing chamber and into the nursery, ignoring him when he called after her.
After her outburst, Sibyl did not spend time with Gabriel. She refused to dine with him, and whenever he remained in the house, he spent long hours in his study.
She was content to ignore him as much as he did her.
He had done it during her recovery. It was not any different. The only difference was that it caused her so much pain to do it, but she had tried so many times to get through to him. It had caused her more distress to keep trying.
Spending her time in the nursery kept her sane, but she needed more. She needed to get out of the house, out of Gabriel’s space, no matter how much she cared for him.
Three days after their argument, she requested that Rosie be dressed for a walk through Hyde Park. She was grateful that Gabriel was in the middle of a meeting with an investigator, for she would not have to see him on the way out.
Despite their argument, he still would not let go of his need for revenge. So she focused on Rosie as she strolled through Hyde Park, Hannah a shadow at her shoulder.
Rosie smiled up at her, and she was reminded of Gabriel holding her that night by the window, singing under his breath.
Her heart ached, but she ignored it. This was her time, her choice, and she did not want to relinquish it to her heartbreak.
But the further she walked, the more she noticed people looking her way. Trying to keep her shoulders from hunching inward, Sibyl kept walking, focusing on Rosie instead of the snippets of conversation she caught.
“I heard she tumbled out of the carriage, a little intoxicated,” one lady hissed to her companion. “Can you imagine? A duchess falling right into the street.”
Sibyl’s cheeks flushed in annoyance.
“Do not speculate, darling,” the lady’s companion muttered. “We all know that His Grace has been terrorizing the Spindle’s patrons. If Her Grace truly had brought this… accident upon herself, he would not have beaten Lord Berrington’s men half to death.”
Sibyl’s back stiffened. The other night, when Gabriel had returned home bruised… he had done that?
She had assumed he had been in a fight of sorts, and she tried not to pay attention to the gossip, but…
But it is something he could do.
She swallowed thickly.
“It must be difficult, being married to such a brute,” the lady sighed, shaking her head. “I pity Her Grace.”
Sibyl hadn’t realized that she had stopped right in the middle of the path.
Two ladies clutching parasols over their shoulders walked past her. Their eyes widened when they saw her. One of them furrowed her brow in concern, but the other started giggling.
“Your Grace,” she called out, “first you married a man with an opium addiction, and now you are married to a man who loves using his fists. I have heard that the Wickleby sisters invite chaos, but this is truly something else!”
“Lady Veronica, do not speak such things. Her Grace has been under a lot of stress lately.”
“I would sabotage my own carriage, too, if it got me out of a miserable marriage.”
Sibyl withered inwardly. People either thought she had been drunk and had fallen or had orchestrated the accident.
The rumors suddenly seemed to surround her, and everywhere she looked, she found eyes watching her, even when the two ladies passed by.
But there were more. There were always more.
“I heard the two were having an affair. The late Earl’s brother had mentioned it, after all.”
“Do you think the Wicklebys have a fondness for aggressive men? The Duchess of Rochdale married the Beast, even if he has reformed, and now the Duchess of Stonehelm chose The Helm.”
The gossip swirled louder and louder until Sibyl found herself sitting on a bench, unaware she had moved at all, her head spinning.
“Your Grace?” Hannah’s voice sounded too distant.
Sibyl knew how much of a target she was without Gabriel’s protection, but she had insisted on not needing a protector. She did not need to be saved; she simply wanted to go home. But she couldn’t.
Not back to that terrible silence. Not when the alternative was to speak to a man who refused to hear her.
Heavens, she missed him.
Exhaustion weighed her bones.
As soon as another lady looked at her, she stood up. “We must leave.”
Hannah only nodded, pity on her face. Pity that Sibyl hated being on the receiving end of.
She ignored it and made for the nearest exit. She couldn’t bring herself to return to Stonehelm House, so she rode to Hermia’s instead.
“What has happened?” Hermia asked before Sibyl could even take a seat in the drawing room.
“How do you always know?”
“Because I know the look on your face when you are upset,” Hermia said. “It is the same one you used to have when you tried to spend time with Father, and he turned you away. The same one you had when you realized how badly our mother was pushing us into the marriage mart. It is distress.”
Sibyl bit her lip, nodding. She had gone to her sister’s for comfort; there was no use denying that something was wrong.
“Let me call for tea.” Hermia squeezed her hand.
She called for a maid and requested that tea be brought in, along with some scones from that morning’s breakfast.
When the refreshments had been served, she scooted closer to her sister. “Now, tell me what is wrong.”
It all came out. Sibyl’s recovery, Gabriel’s paranoia and subsequent absence, the gossip, her husband’s neglect, his desire for revenge, their argument, and the deafening silence ever since.
“I am grateful, of course,” Sibyl said, her eyes welling with tears. “He could have brushed it off like I was trying to do, but he has become relentless.”
“He has neglected you in his search,” Hermia murmured.
Sibyl nodded. “I needed my husband to take me into his arms, not beat some lords half to death—which is what I overheard earlier.”
Hermia’s face paled a little, and she held Sibyl’s hand even tighter.
“Sibyl, you ached for love, and you have found it.
I do believe that, even if your husband has not been going about it in the right way.
You are so fiercely you; he has brought you back.
Gabriel… he has hurt you now, yes, but I also saw how he looked at you the day we went on a picnic.
“I believe that this is him showing his love. But he also needs to listen to you. I adore you. And I want the best for you, so if that means sending Charles with you later so he can knock some sense into him, then so be it.”
Sibyl laughed through her tears. “I know why he is so hellbent on revenge, but I feel as though I am a placeholder for his sister, whom he could not save. Perhaps that is all I have ever been: the lady to be saved, rather than a wife to be loved.”
Hermia shook her head. “I do not believe that. I know that you do not either.”
“It hurts,” Sibyl whispered, holding her hand to her chest. “Hermia, it hurts so terribly.”
“I know.” Hermia pulled her into an embrace. “He is being very thick-headed, this husband of yours. Again, simply say the word, and even I will have some strong words with him. He ought to be holding you, not out fighting.”
Sibyl nodded into her sister’s shoulder. “I miss him, too.”
“When Charles and I separated,” Hermia continued, “do you recall how miserable I was? You miss him because you want him, but you need space to process your pain. That is very valid, Sibyl.”
“I think… I think I want to get away from London for a while. Away from Gabriel, away from the accident, away from the gossip.”
“You have always been fond of the countryside.” A suggestive smile touched Hermia’s lips. “I know you have your own estate in Stonehelm, but how about you stay in Branmere Hall for a while? A couple of days, if you want. But you are welcome to stay for however long you need.”
It sounded exactly like what Sibyl needed, and she was already nodding before her sister finished speaking. “I will pack at once.”
Back at Stonehelm House, Sibyl marched into the entrance hall.
Hannah hurried upstairs to prepare Rosie, leaving her to find her lady’s maid.
“Charlotte, please pack some of my belongings,” she instructed. “I’ll be away for a week or so.”
“Right away, Your Grace.” Charlotte bobbed a curtsey and made haste upstairs.
Sibyl waited in the entrance hall, her eyes straying to the long hallway in front of her. She tried not to react to the familiar heavy tread of boots emerging from the study.
Gabriel stared at her across the hallway. “What are you doing?”
She lifted her chin. “I am going to stay with Hermia and her family at Branmere Hall for a short while. I am certain you will not miss me. It will not be so different from the last couple of weeks, I imagine.”
“Sibyl, do not be ridiculous.” Gabriel frowned. “You cannot go.”
“I can do what I wish.”
“Sibyl, I need you close by. I need to see you to know that you are safe. That—that is what this whole argument has been about.”
“You do not care to see me,” she snapped. “Or hear me, for that matter. I will be safe with my family, and I will be in a place that brings me happiness.”
Gabriel stiffened at her jab, his eyes hardening. “Fine.”
“That’s it? No argument?”
“Your mind is made up.”
“You will not try to convince me to stay here?”
“I cannot—won’t—force you. I won’t stop you, Sibyl. I will reach out to Charles so I can send extra men to watch over you.”
“That really is all?” Her eyes searched his face.
He really wasn’t going to fight for her.
It felt horrid, wanting to leave but wanting him to want her to stay. She searched for anything on his face that would betray his lack of protest. But there was nothing.
Nothing in his hardened eyes, nothing in his blank expression. Nothing told her he wanted to fix this before she left.
“That is all.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
Sibyl forced herself to nod and walk past him to prepare herself for the journey.