She smiled a bit shyly at the handsome young man before her. “Will you call me Gabby, please? Since we are to be married?” She had to say it out loud. Peter appeared to be viewing her as a mere visitor.

Peter seemed to stiffen all over, but he nodded.

For the first time, Gabby considered the possibility that Peter was not entirely happy with their proposed marriage. She herself had been so pleased to escape from her father’s household, and so delighted with the portrait of Peter, that she had not given a second’s thought to her betrothed’s feelings on the matter.

“Shall I escort Gabby to her chambers? I believe that Mother had the Blue Room prepared.” Quill looked down at his wilted future sister-in-law. She had a strained expression in her eyes that made him want to give his brother a facer.

“Absolutely not,” Peter broke in sharply. “May I remind you, Quill, that Miss Jerningham is a gently bred young lady? Under no account will you escort her to the upper reaches of the house. We shall summon her maid immediately. I must say it seems remarkably odd that your father allowed you to travel without a lady’s companion, Miss Jerningham!”

“My father didn’t believe in lady’s maids or companions. He said that—”

But Quill interrupted what he sensed was a flood of information about Gabby’s unconventional father. He didn’t think that Peter would be able to take any more revelations.

“I am soon to be a member of Gabby’s family, Peter. There can be no hint of impropriety if I escort my sister-in-law to her chamber.”

“She’s not yet your sister-in-law!” Peter snapped.

Gabby’s heart sank. Peter didn’t want to marry her. That was clear. She shook off the hand Quill had slipped under her arm.

“Do you not wish to marry me, sir?” Her voice was huskier than normal, due to the tears that were backing up her throat.

Peter gaped.

Lucien put Phoebe on her feet and they soundlessly retreated together to the other side of the chamber. Phoebe might be a mere five years, but she had an instinctive sense of propriety.

“Because we could—we could make some other arrangement,” Gabby said miserably. “I certainly never thought to force you to do anything that you didn’t wish to do.”

Quill was horrified at Gabby’s insight. “Of course Peter wishes to marry you,” he injected, his tone rough. He grabbed her elbow. “Peter is right. You should be in your chamber, changing your attire!”

Gabby ignored him, looking up at her fiancé. “Why didn’t you tell my father that you were not happy with this arrangement before I traveled all the way from India?” Her voice was choking now. “Your father’s letter said that you were…that you were …”