1
London docks, March 1867
Gabriela Luna rarely made a decision she regretted. Sure, there had been a handful of occasions where she'd acted rashly and without thought. Like the time when she was fifteen and had slapped Don Ángel, patriarch of the powerful De la Cruz tobacco empire, across the cheek when he'd uttered a disgusting comment about her mother marrying a Purépecha, the crack echoing through the stunned assembly room. Or when she had pointedly corrected Vizconde Alborada for misnaming the Juárez law during dinner at a party hosted by her parents. Or even when she'd abandoned a waltz with a marquess's heir in the middle of a dance floor when he'd insinuated "mixed-blood" women were more hotheaded.
But now, as she stood on the grimy docks, staring at the steamer ship rocking gently to and fro on the murky waters of the London harbor, Gabby recognized the uncomfortable lump in her throat as an error in judgment.
"Isabel said in her letter that there will be a conveyance to collect you at Altamira when the ship docks." Her eldest sister, Ana María, worried her lip. "I know I shouldn't fret because Isa would never leave you waiting, but I'm going to anyway because I won't be there to help you should you need it."
It was just like Ana María to fret over her safety. And Gabby would miss her terribly for it.
"I'll be fine. Once I'm back in Mexico, I'll have my feet under me and will have no problem finding assistance." She smiled and tapped the back of her sister's hand. "I'm not afraid of doing things on my own."
"I know, querida." Worry lines still bracketed Ana María's eyes. "I take some solace in the fact that you won't be completely alone. Señorita Moreno will make excellent company on the long voyage."
Gabby inclined her head as she slid her gaze to where Miss Lucia Moreno stood. The young woman appeared to be a few years older than her own four and twenty, a modest but well-trimmed cloak wrapped around her trembling frame. From what their tío Arturo had said, Miss Moreno had been raised in England by two Mexican-born parents but was now traveling to Guanajuato to care for her ailing grandmother. Tío had thought the young woman could serve as Gabby's traveling companion, and Ana María and Gideon, her husband, had quickly agreed. Miss Moreno appeared friendly enough, and it would certainly be nice to have company on the trip across the Atlantic.
A trip she was still uncertain she should be making.
"You remembered to pack the parcel I put together for Isa and Mother, right?"
"Of course I did." Gabby grabbed her hand. "I have the parcel, your letter, and photos of Estella. I won't let anything happen to them."
Ana María swallowed as her eyes danced over Gabby's face. "I'm sorry. I know it's silly to worry about such a thing. It's just . . ." She looked to where Gideon stood, their young daughter smacking his cheek with her chubby hand. "I want them to know how happy I am here. That I may not have married who they wanted, but I married who I wanted. Does that make sense?"
"Of course it does." Gabby watched as her sister admired her little family. Her baby niece, Estella, had quickly become Gabby's favorite person in the world, and she was loath to say goodbye to her. But in the four years since she and her sisters had fled their home in Mexico City as the French army marched on the capital and sailed to London for refuge, Gabby had itched to return. Her life among the British aristocracy was not as bad as she liked to complain it was, especially since it allowed her infinitely more freedom than she experienced under the watchful eye of her father, but Gabby felt ill at ease. With Liberal forces reclaiming power in many parts of Mexico, her father would eventually turn his attention to his youngest daughter and invite her home. But Gabby was tired of waiting on tenterhooks, and was no longer inclined to await an invitation.
"Always a matador, ready to face down a bull," Isabel had said once, and Gabby had been hard-pressed to disagree. And after the incident at the Wright ball, a return seemed warranted.
"But, Ana"-she cleared her throat-"you don't have to prove anything to Mother and Father. Your life here in London, with Gideon and Estella, is testament enough to your happiness."
"You're right. I don't." Ana María's throat bobbed, and her dark eyes turned glassy as they held hers. "And neither do you. You know that, right?"
Damn her sister for being so perceptive. Gabby managed to hold Ana María's stalwart gaze out of sheer tenacity. "I'm not trying to win-"
"Yes, you are, querida. I think you want to show Father that you can be an asset in the war. And you would make a wonderful diplomat because you know how to put others at ease even while you push to get what you want." Ana María stepped forward to press her cheek to Gabby's, and her voice dropped as she continued, "You are more than enough, and you always have been. Return to Mexico because you miss Mother and Isa. Or to escape the machinations of these idiot fortune hunters-"
Gabby huffed a strained breath in her ear. "I think a break is needed, don't you?"
Ana María's brows dipped low. "I worry for you."
"Well, you'll have nothing to worry about if I'm in Mexico."
"I'll just have a new set of things to worry about," her older sister quipped.
Gabby pressed her lips together for a moment. "I tire of feeling like a prize, and by men who don't truly know me or even care to. They're more concerned with my dowry, or my connections to you and Gideon, or even Isa and Sirius, for all that they live in Mexico. I just want to be wanted . . . for me."
"As you deserve to be." Ana María leaned back to consider her. "But returning to Mexico means you will have new battles to wage. Are you prepared to do that?"
Her older sister did not need to explain what she meant. A sob lodged in Gabby's throat, and she struggled to breathe around it. She'd fled Mexico City with her sisters and had lived a happy life in London ever since. But just the thought of seeing her father again, of experiencing the push and pull of coveting his approval yet needing to rebel against it, turned her stomach. But if anyone knew what it was like to be a stranger to your own father, it was Ana María. Gabby wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders and hugged her close.
"Maybe this time I can make him see." Blinking rapidly, she pulled back to meet her sister's gaze. "Maybe this time he'll want to."
Ana María nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Maybe he will. I will pray he does. But do not ever forget, querida, that there are those of us who know the real Gabby and love her immensely. You'll always be welcomed with open arms."
"And she loves you, too." Gabby took a step back and straightened her spine. She would not cry.
Before she could say anything else, Gideon came to stand at Ana María's side, and baby Estella immediately reached her eager arms toward Gabby. Without a moment's hesitation, she scooped her niece into her arms and cuddled her close, inhaling deeply of her sweet baby scent.
"I'm going to miss you so much, mi amor," she said, pressing a kiss to Estella's soft cheek. "Are you sure I can't take her with me? We'd have so much fun together and she'd have the entire crew wrapped around her chubby finger even before we left British waters."
"But then her papa would unravel, because she has him tied up in knots, too," Ana María said with a laugh, linking her arm through Gideon's and smiling up at him.
Gabby had once thought her brother-in-law a dour man, an adjective so foreign now as she watched him gaze fondly upon his wife and young daughter. "Estella will one day visit her mother's homeland, but preferably not when she's so young."
"Or without her parents," Ana María added, arching a brow.
"You're no fun," Gabby murmured as she kissed the baby's cheek again.
Estella remained unconcerned, more interested in gnawing on the dimpled fist in her mouth.
Before Gabby could say anything else, a figure appeared at her right elbow, her familiar rosewater scent wafting above the stench of the sea.
"Well, darling," Viscountess Yardley began, tapping Gabby on the arm, "While I disagree that you should let that foul earl chase you from London, I am happy you will have an opportunity to hug your mother again."
Gabby exchanged a glance with her sister, who merely pressed her lips together as she looked between Gabby and the viscountess. For his part, Gideon pivoted away, but not before Gabby spied a muscle twitching in his jaw.
Lifting her chin, Gabby said, "I'm not being chased away, I'm simply reevaluating my options."
Ana María snorted but said nothing. Gabby had always made it clear that she wanted to return to Mexico at some point, and with Maximilian and his imperialist supporters quickly losing ground now that the majority of French troops had withdrawn and the United States continued to send aid to Juárez and the Republicans, now seemed an appropriate time.
And if it also saved her from the unscrupulous actions of a cash-strapped earl, well, then Gabby would take advantage of the opportunity, even if her family did not approve.
"It's also true that I've missed our mother a great deal." Gabby studied her niece's perfect face instead of meeting her sister's or the viscountess's gazes. "Let us hope she will be happy to see me. I haven't exactly asked for permission to return."
"Aah, but you did. You asked me."
Gabby laughed as Tío Arturo joined them. He was correct, of course. She may not have received her parents' permission to return to Mexico, but her uncle, as the Mexican ambassador, was well versed in the conditions surrounding the war, and had been comforted by word from her sister, Isabel, that travel would not be compromised. And after the debacle at the Wright ball, Tío was even more inclined to allow her a graceful escape.
She had been relieved by his support, especially as Ana María, Gideon, and Lady Yardley had objected quite soundly. But she suspected Tío Arturo understood the deep burning desire that flared in her chest to step on Mexican shores once again. She missed home and everything associated with it . . . well, almost everything.
This time would be different, though. Her teeth clamped together. She was a different Gabby than she had been: more mature, savvy, and sophisticated. She would show her father that she could be an asset to the Luna family, just as her sisters were. No longer would he view her as-
Determined to lighten her mood, Gabby shook away such thoughts and turned her attention to Gideon, who surveyed the crowd on the docks as if he was searching for someone. "I can't believe you changed your mind about me leaving, Gideon. I thought I was going to have to resort to bribery . . ." Gabby narrowed her eyes. "Or maybe even battery, to convince you to let me return home."
Gideon didn't smile-he saved all of his smiles for Ana María and Estella-but there was a spark in his dark eyes that Gabby had long recognized as amusement. "Let's just say that once I learned you wouldn't be traveling alone, my concerns over your safety lifted a tad."
"I've always appreciated your concern," she allowed, "but I'm certain Señorita Moreno and I will be perfectly fine."
Her brother-in-law's lips twisted in a manner Gabby had never seen before, and she frowned. "What?"
With quick movements, Gideon scooped Estella from her arms and propped her against his chest. Gabby didn't miss Ana María's quiet laugh. "As much as I'm sure you and Miss Moreno are capable of caring for yourselves, there will be another on the ship to provide you assistance should you need it," Gideon said.
Jerking her chin back, Gabby looked from Gideon to her sister, whose attention was focused on her daughter. Ana María refused to meet Gabby's eyes. When she turned his way, Tío Arturo was studying the ship's masts. Lady Yardley, however, stared back at her with a broad smile. Dread dropped in Gabby's stomach like a rock.
"Who?" she demanded, spinning about in a whirl of skirts, her eyes darting about the busy docks. A name flashed in her mind and she drew up short, her breath catching. Surely not. Of all the people who would be traveling to Altamira, it couldn't be him.
Gritting her teeth so tightly her jaw ached, she pivoted, following the direction Gideon searched. It was then that the crowd shifted and her gaze collided with a familiar pair of blue eyes and her skin flushed so hot, Gabby was certain she would combust. Without a thought, she stomped her foot and shrieked, "Ay, no!"
Sebastian Brooks, the eleventh duke of Whitfield, knew better than to expect an effusive . . . or even a cordial greeting from the likes of Miss Gabriela Luna. But he certainly hadn’t expected her to exclaim so loudly she’d frightened several of the sailors working on the gangplank.
Sighing, Sebastian plucked his spectacles from his face and massaged the bridge of his nose. The voyage to Altamira was scheduled for twelve to fourteen days, and then the carriage ride to Dawson's home would take five to six days. Surely he could survive three weeks in Miss Luna's company.
Even across the sixty or so feet between them, Sebastian could see the disbelief and frustration sparking in her greenish-brown eyes.
"And here I thought you were a rake about town, Your Grace." Brodie, his valet, stopped next to him, his head cocked to the side. "But that lass appears angry enough to bite through steel."
Sebastian snorted as he slid on his spectacles. Brodie had worked for him for nigh on a decade, and he was used to his easy manners and glib tongue. He continued to employ the man despite his propensity for bringing Sebastian down a peg because, frankly, no one dressed Sebastian quite like the burly Scotsman. He should have foreseen Brodie's delight at Miss Luna's fiery disdain for him.
Three weeks, he reminded himself. Just three weeks, and he would be in Mexico with his old friend, Sirius Dawson, touring the silver mine that had single-handedly brought the Whitfield dukedom out of arrears.
Copyright © 2025 by Liana De la Rosa. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
