“Live with Mrs. Malabright,” he replied with approval. “I like Mrs. Malabright.” A shadow crossed his eyes and he added, “I don’t like Mrs. Sibbald.”

“Mrs. Malabright will take you to her house, and you needn’t ever see Mrs. Sibbald again,” Phoebe said, rather bossily. “I will come visit you though, won’t I, Miss Gabby? I will visit you secretly, and I won’t tell anyone where you are.”

“Yes,” Kasi said with a contented lilt in his voice. And he returned to playing with Gabby’s locket.

“Do you like your new husband, Miss Gabby?” Phoebe asked.

Even looking at the miniature portrait of Peter, of his soft brown eyes and wavy hair, made Gabby’s heart beat faster.

“Yes, I do,” Gabby said softly.

Phoebe, who was a true romantic, even at age five, sighed. “I’m sure he already loves you, Miss Gabby. Did you send him a picture of yourself?”

“There wasn’t time,” Gabby replied. And even if there had been, she would not have sent one. The only portrait her father had ever commissioned made her look horribly round in the face.

She tucked the locket away again.

But even as she, Phoebe, and Kasi munched on dry toast, which was the only treat offered now that they had been at sea for months, Gabby couldn’t help daydreaming about her betrothed and his gentle eyes. Somehow, by the grace of God, Gabby had been given a husband who was everything she had dreamed of: a man who looked perfectly capable of carrying on a quiet conversation. He seemed as unlike her cold, ranting father as possible.

Gabby’s heart glowed. Peter would obviously be a devoted and loving father. Already Gabby could picture four or five small babes, all with her husband’s eyes.

Every day the ship drew farther and farther from India and thus farther and farther from her father’s frenzied reproaches: Gabrielle, why can’t you put a bridle on your tongue! Once again, Gabrielle, you have embarrassed me with your graceless behavior! And the worst of all: Oh, God above, why have you cursed me with this disgraceful chit, this prattling excuse for a daughter!

Gabrielle’s happiness grew with each ocean league that passed.

Her sense of confidence grew as well. Peter would love her, as her father never did. She felt as if Peter’s sweet eyes were already looking into her soul and seeing the Gabby inside: the Gabby who was worth loving, the Gabby who was not merely impetuous and clumsy. The real Gabby.

Yes, a glimpse of Gabrielle Jerningham, along with insight into her dreams, would have shaken Quill to the backbone.