Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
She deserves far better than you.
Gabriel’s mouth twisted into a snarl as he punched his opponent.
In a lowly, run-down pub in London, the crowd cheered the Helm’s return to the boxing ring, as they had done for the past week ever since he had sent that letter to Sibyl.
She deserved better from him, but he had not known what to say. How could he have poured his heart out to her in a meager note?
He should have begged her to come home. He should have apologized. He should have been her husband, not a cold, distant informant.
Now, he did not care that he staggered back beneath the blows of his third opponent that night. The pain was better than the hollowness; it was the punishment he deserved for hurting and losing his wife.
His Sibyl.
“You are not so arrogant now, Helm,” his opponent jeered, but Gabriel did not care. “What? Has the news of your cousin’s arrest softened you? You are weak.” He made his point with another hard punch.
“You are a weak, weak man, Gabriel. You could not control your whore of a sister, and could not turn away from a used woman.”
Gabriel snarled as he punched back.
He was weak, but not for those reasons. He was weak because he was a coward, and he had lost the most precious thing in the world and could not find the courage to get it back.
Sibyl deserved better. She deserved to remain as far away from him as possible.
Now that she was into her third week of doing so, he knew that he would never see her again, even if they remained married. He had lost his Duchess, the woman who had given him life again, the woman who had danced around the lake, laughing with him.
The woman who had made him live rather than just survive.
She had slipped through his fingers because he could not shake the need for vengeance when he had to.
He groaned as he staggered backward again, his knees buckling. He needed to fight, to win, but victory tasted like ash.
Nothing satisfied him. Nothing filled the gaping hole in his chest, clawed into him by heartbreak. He was nothing without Sibyl, a useless, weak man who deserved to suffer for hurting her.
A hard kick landed on his ribs, and he fell to his knees.
He was declared the loser, yet when his opponent ducked out of the ring, he stayed. He snatched a drink right out of an onlooker’s hand and downed it.
“Come on!” he roared. “Who is next?”
The onlookers quietened a little, exchanging confused looks. He had lost, yet he refused to leave the ring.
“Well?” he half laughed, half shouted. “Nobody? Nobody wishes to beat the Helm? It appears I am weakened tonight.”
He gave another strange laugh that felt horrible coming out of him, but he could not stop. He could not stop the urge to be beaten down, to stand back up and raise his fists and see if he could just punch his way through this mess.
Another drink was handed to him, downed in one go again, sloshing over his shirt.
When another opponent finally stepped into the ring, Gabriel grinned, falling deeper into his self-hatred.
He launched himself.
“You are causing quite the stir, you foolish bastard.”
Gabriel dragged his head up, squinting against the blood pooling in his eye. He had taken a hard hit to his temple, his opponent’s ring cutting his skin, and he had retaliated so hard that he had been tossed out of the pub.
Now, sitting on the pavement, he stared up at Nicholas, who glared down at him.
“Go away,” he sighed. “If you are only here to chastise me—”
“Oh, I am here to do much more than that. Get up.”
“No.”
“Get up, Gabriel. Wallowing like this will not bring Sibyl back to your arms.”
At the mention of her name, Gabriel shot to his feet.
“Nothing will bring her back to my arms, Nicholas, and that is the whole damned point. I am not ignorant; I know exactly what I have done. And you know what, Nic? She should stay away, for I have ruined everything, and I will only do it again and again because that is the only thing I know how to do.”
“Gabriel, that is not true.”
“You know full well that it is. That there is something broken inside me, that it has been for a long time, even before Letitia’s death.
I ruined whatever love my father may have once had for me, and I ruined Letitia’s life by telling her to chase love.
I ruined Sibyl, and I no doubt have ruined Rosie, for she will grow up without a father. ”
“Nobody is stopping you, you fool!” Nicholas cried, exasperated.
He grabbed Gabriel by the arm, yanking him close as he swiped the blood around his eye.
“Nobody is stopping you from going to Branmere Hall, falling to your knees, and begging your wife’s forgiveness. Only you are holding yourself back.”
“Did you not just hear me?” Gabriel shouted, trying to pull away to no avail. He was too weakened by his injuries. “I am broken.”
“Here is the reality, Gabriel: so am I, in a way. So is Sibyl. And so is every other damned person out there. We are all a little broken by something, but that only makes us human. It is what we do with those broken parts that sets us apart.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I cannot force her to come back. I cannot beg her either. I cannot do it, cannot put her through the heartbreak.”
Nicholas made an irritated noise and tugged hard on Gabriel’s arm, leading him to a carriage. He shoved him inside and slammed the door shut.
“If you will not listen to reason,” he snapped as he climbed in on the other side, “then perhaps you will listen to the dead.”
Gabriel frowned, protests and questions falling from his mouth, but Nicholas refused to explain. “I will not waste more words that you will not listen to, you bull-headed idiot.”
Through the darkening afternoon, Gabriel tried to figure out where they were headed. His heart thudded when he realized they had pulled up to Stonehelm Chapel.
“Nic?” He looked over at his friend, who just gestured for him to get out of the carriage. “Nic, why are we here?”
“You lost Sibyl because you could not put your need for vengeance aside, and that stems from Letitia,” Nicholas said.
“So speak to her. Work through the need that drags you down, that keeps you with one foot in the past, even when you try to step forward into the future. Let yourself be forgiven, Gabriel, for you only ever tried to save her.”
When Gabriel did not move, Nicholas shoved him out of the carriage and followed him to Letitia’s grave. She was buried beside their mother after he had brought her remains back from Italy, heartbreakingly letting her rest close to their family.
The gravestone was made of white marble, a single flame engraved into it along with her name, birth, and death dates.
Beloved sister and daughter. May your flame ever burn brightly.
Gabriel had chosen the statement for her wild spirit, and he watched as Nicholas grazed his fingertips over it.
“Hello, Letitia,” he greeted quietly, bowing. “I have brought your brother here to see you. Hopefully, you will talk some sense into him. You always did give him a good earful.”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow at Gabriel before walking back to the carriage, leaving him standing before his sister’s grave.
Gabriel’s knees weakened. How long had it been since he had let himself visit her grave?
Too long. Entirely too long, the place shrouded in grief and melancholy.
Now, he let himself fall to his knees, words escaping him.
He felt foolish, unable to speak. Silence settled around him, growing louder and louder, and he felt watched in a way that felt both comforting and unnerving.
His shoulders tightened as he stared at the flame engraving. Then, he cleared his throat.
“Letitia,” he began, feeling a little silly speaking to thin air. Others found comfort in this sort of thing, but he did not. “Letitia, I…” He stopped again, glancing down at his hands.
The hands that had held his little sister when she took her last breath.
The hands that had begged doctors to save her.
The hands that he had wanted to wrap around Edmund’s throat.
The hands that he had let Sibyl let go of.
The hands that had held his baby sister when she had been born, lifting her high above his head, only to be scolded by their mother.
Something cracked inside him.
“Letitia, I am sorry.” His voice broke. “I am so, so sorry for what happened. For failing to save you. I am sorry for pushing you away so hard that you had to run, for not realizing your addiction sooner.
“I should have been a better brother. A better role model.
A better listener. I-I loved you so deeply, little sister.
You and Mama were the only light in our otherwise dark home.
You, Letitia, made that house a home, and I adored you.
I still do, ever since the day you came into the world screaming with all the wildness that stayed with you throughout your life.
I am married now, Letitia, and you… I really think you would like my wife.
She challenges me a great deal, and I am very grateful for it.
But I do not feel worthy of her. What happened with you, with Edmund, is a wound I am still trying to close, but did not do so in time to keep my wife in my home, in my arms.
“She has a daughter called Rosie, Letitia, and you would have doted on her. You would have been the perfect auntie to her. Certainly, you would have adored the family we all would have made.”
Gabriel swallowed past the lump in his throat.
“Loving Sibyl means risking grief again, and it terrifies me. It means knowing that I will lose another person, and I cannot—I cannot handle that. I do not know if she will ever forgive me for the foolish things I have done, but—”
Before he could finish his sentence, a warm breeze brushed his cheeks. It was as though the air itself cupped his face. He closed his eyes with a smile, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Nicholas was right. The dead could be listened to, and Gabriel believed Letitia was telling him that he was worthy of forgiveness. He began to sing their mother’s lullabies without fear, without lowering his voice, but it remained gentle, as she had been.
When he finished, he opened his eyes and placed his hand on the flame engraving. “I love you, Letitia,” he murmured.
He stood up, wiping away his tears. He turned around, starting when he saw Nicholas standing close.
“I thought you went back to the carriage,” he muttered.
Nicholas smiled at him. “I rarely hear you sing.”
Gabriel opened his mouth, but Nicholas cut him off.
“You deserve love and happiness, Gabriel. You deserve to live without fear or anger or this endless need to fix things. Sometimes, you need to take a step back and look at what you have without worrying that it will be gone. Sometimes, you need to live in the moment. Letitia would want that for you, and so do I. Sibyl loves you, Gabriel, I am certain of it. But I’m also certain that you love her, so you cannot sit idle.
You cannot wallow. You have to fight, but this fight will not take place in a boxing ring, and the blows will only come from kisses and embraces, not fists.
You are not only the Helm. You are Sibyl’s husband, and she needs you. ”
It all came crashing down on Gabriel. Nicholas’s words, the breeze, the singing, the time apart from Sibyl.
“Weigh your options,” Nicholas urged. “I shall be waiting in the carriage. Take however long you need.”
He clapped a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder before turning around and heading back to the carriage.
Gabriel turned back to the grave, indeed letting himself live in the moment.