The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(83)

“You needn’t have gone to such trouble, Gabby.” This came from Emma, whose rose satin carriage dress was the perfect foil to her brunette beauty.

“It’s no trouble at all. When Mr. Garrity is home, he prefers midday refreshments, so I always have everything at the ready.” In the same breath, Gabby said, “Thank you, Burke. That’ll be all,” to the aged butler, who gave her a deferential bow before departing.

Polly’s tawny curls canted to one side, her turquoise eyes widening. “You make preparations like this every day?”

“Mr. Garrity likes it.” Gabby forked up a bite of lemon cream cake.

“Strathaven would too,” Emma muttered, “but that doesn’t mean he gets it.”

“You have been known to bake His Grace his favorite Scotch pie,” her sister teased.

“True.” Emma sipped her tea. Above the gilt rim of the fine Sèvres cup, her brown eyes had a roguish glint. “But I usually do so as an apology. Or a bribe.”

They all laughed.

“Oh, I have missed you all so!” Gabby set down her plate, the sudden movement causing the ruffles of her lavender gown to shiver like leaves in a breeze. “And you, too, Miss Smith, although I only met you yesterday.”

The redhead’s words were nonsensical, yet so heartfelt that Tessa couldn’t help but smile. “Please do call me Tessa.”

Emma set her cup down. “It’s been too long, Gabby. How are you, my dear?”

“Everything is quite wonderful. The children are well, although I’ll admit it’s no imposition to have them out of the house with their governesses. And Mr. Garrity’s star continues to rise; Papa says he’s one of the most important men in all of London, although,”—a frown worked between Gabby’s auburn brows—“I do wish the two of them would rub along better. Such is family, I suppose. My main worry for Mr. Garrity is the demands of his success. Why just over a month ago, he had to deal with the most tragic—”

Just as Tessa’s ears perked to hear what Garrity had been involved in, Emma cut in.

“Gabby, dear, you haven’t answered my question. How are you doing?”

“Haven’t I just been going on about that?” Gabby’s bright blue eyes were confused.

“Not really, dear.” Polly’s gentle manner probably put her in good stead with small children and skittish animals. “You’ve told us about your husband, children, and father, but not about you.”

“Oh.” Gabby’s eyelashes fanned against her cheeks. “Well, I suppose…I suppose there’s not much to say on that topic.”

She reached for her plate, devouring iced cakes in rapid succession.

Tessa saw the duchesses exchange worried looks. Even she, who didn’t know Gabby well, felt a twinge of concern about the other’s inner state of affairs. She couldn’t help but wonder: how could this sweet, guileless lady be married to a man as reputedly cold and ruthless as Adam Garrity?

“Gabby, what is it?” Emma said quietly. “You can trust us.”

Gabby swallowed a final morsel. “It’s nothing. Only that sometimes I wonder…I wonder if…”

Since they didn’t have all day, Tessa nudged her on. “Yes?”

“I wonder if I’m a very good wife,” Gabby blurted and burst into tears.

Crikey. Tessa froze, uncertain what to do.

Luckily, Emma and Polly hurried over in swishes of silk, flanking Gabby on the divan.

“There, there,” Polly said, patting the sobbing lady’s shoulder.

“Get it all out, dear.” Emma passed over a handkerchief. “And I have more of these in my reticule if you need them.”

“I d-don’t know what’s the m-matter with me,” Gabby said, dabbing at her teary eyes. “I’m not usually a w-watering pot…”

“We all have our moments,” Emma said. “And husbands, as we know, have a tendency to strain the nerves.”

Gabby let out a wail.

“Em,” Polly muttered, “you’re not helping.”

“I was only empathizing with Gabby—”

“But that’s just it. Your h-husbands adore you. And why sh-shouldn’t they?” Gabby said between hitched breaths. “Both of you are perfect.”

“But nobody’s perfect,” Tessa said. Then, realizing that she had inadvertently insulted the duchesses, she added quickly, “No offense to present company.”

“None taken. That was sensibly said,” Emma said.

Emboldened by the lady’s approval, Tessa ventured, “Did something, um, transpire to make you think you are not a good wife, Gabby?”

“You can talk to us without fear of judgement,” Polly said.

“I know.” Gabby’s bottom lip wobbled. “You are the best of friends.”

“And the souls of discretion,” Emma said.

Twisting the handkerchief in her hands, Gabby said haltingly, “A few weeks ago, Mr. Garrity came home earlier than usual. He was…unlike himself. Agitated, as if he’d undergone some shock. I’d never seen him this way before, not in all our years of marriage. Yet when I asked him what had happened, he told me nothing was wrong.”

“If I had a penny for every time Strathaven said that…” Emma rolled her eyes.