“In that case,” Kitty said with obvious relief, “perhaps I will accept your escort, Peter. Are you quite sure that you won’t be disappointed, Gabrielle dear? I am certain that Thurlow will be better in a matter of a week or so, and I should hate to injure our relationship in any way. I am so looking forward to having you as my daughter-in-law!”

Gabby leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Peter is yours for as long as you need him, Lady Dewland.”

Kitty laid her hand against Gabby’s cheek for a moment. “We are lucky to have you, my dear. I can see that you will be a great comfort to me.” And that was the closest that the viscountess ever came to acknowledging that perhaps Thurlow would not be out of his bed in a week.

Gabby watched Lady Dewland and Peter set off in the traveling coach—after some eleven bags of Peter’s had been piled precariously on top—with just a touch of envy. It wasn’t that she resented Lady Dewland’s delight in Peter’s company, but she did slightly resent Peter’s delight in his mother’s company. In the past two days, he had never looked at her with such glowing attention.

Because you haven’t earned it, Gabby told herself. He loves his mother, and he will grow to love you.

Quill was standing sturdily on the pavement beside her. He took in the slight droop to Gabby’s lower lip in an instant.

“What would you like to do this afternoon?” he asked, amazing himself. He never took excursions in the middle of the day. He had far too much work to do. Even now he could feel a rising tension due to the stacks of reports awaiting him. But he disliked seeing Gabby look dimmed by his brother’s absence. At least she showed no sign of tears. Quill couldn’t abide women who cried all the time.

“I should like to take a little trip around London,” Gabby replied. “But you needn’t accompany me, Quill. I shall hire a hack. I believe that is the proper term?” Gabby had questioned Margaret about London conveyances earlier in the day.

“Out of the question,” Quill said. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

“In fact, I would prefer to take this particular trip by myself.”

“No.”

Gabby waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming.

“As I said,” she repeated politely, “I would prefer to take a trip by myself. May I borrow your carriage?”

Quill sighed. “Gabby, a lady does not travel anywhere—ever—on her own. When you know your way around London, you may take the carriage on a brief shopping excursion or to make a call. But that is the extent of an English lady’s solitary travel.”