Tears pricked Eden’s eyes, but she blinked them away, smiling radiantly. “With all my heart, Thomas.”
Julian, seeing his defeat complete, turned on his heel and stalked away, swallowed by the gathering.
Gabriel squeezed Eden’s hand, drawing her close. “Are you all right?” he murmured.
She laughed. “Better than all right. It seems all of my dreams are coming true.”
The villagers began to clap hesitantly, then with growing enthusiasm, smiles blooming on familiar faces, hands raised in jubilant applause. Children danced along the edge of the green, their gleeful shouts rising as petals scattered on the breeze. An elderly man tipped his cap with reverence, and a trio of musicians picked up their instruments again, weaving joy into the air with a bright, rollicking tune. Known for his stoic sermons and unsmiling presence, Vicor Alcott stepped forward and gave a solemn nod of approval, his usually stern expression softened with warmth—an unexpected but welcome gesture that helped shift the crowd’s mood. Even old Mrs. Tibbins, who had never approved of anything done out of order, dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Their support sent a ripple of reassurance through the crowd, turning hesitant curiosity into genuine celebration. The mood shifted, like a breeze catching a stagnant sail, as joy surged through the crowd. Laughter, cheers, and congratulations filled the air, sweeping away the lingering tension.
Gabriel kissed Eden’s hand, then pressed it to his heart. She looked up at him, her own heart overflowing with love and pride.
Like lanterns lit at dusk, their secret now shone in full view—fragile, luminous, and impossible to hide.
Under the midsummer sky, with the scent of roses and the sound of joyous music all around them, their future began.
And in the comfort of Gabriel’s hand and the light of a hundred smiling faces, Eden vowed silently that she would never again hide her heart. This love was hers to claim, and she would do so boldly.
Thirteen
The midsummer festival’s jubilation faded into a heavy silence as evening descended, echoing the unspoken weight settling over Gabriel’s chest. The air outside had cooled, heavy with the scent of trampled grass and fading laughter. Crickets chirped in the hedgerows, their rhythmic song broken only by the creak of a carriage wheel or the clatter of boot-steps on cobblestone. Distant music lingered, though quieter now, a memory more than a melody.
Thornton Hall loomed over the scene, its windows aglow like watchful eyes. The estate, with its ancient stone walls and ivy-clad towers, seemed to embody the very weight of legacy. It was a fortress of expectations, the place where every decision carried the weight of generations, and tonight, it bore silent witness to the unraveling and rebuilding of brotherhood.
Inside the darkened library, Gabriel faced Thomas. The air felt thick, oppressive, like the moment before a storm broke, yet it was not fear that twisted in his gut, but regret. Regret for the silence he had held too long, for the pain now etched in Thomas’s face, and for the fragile hope that what was broken might still be mended.
He had not entered this room lightly. The scent of aged leather and pipe smoke lingered. Faint ghosts of a time when this space had been a haven. Gabriel remembered huddling beside Thomas before the hearth as boys, whispering dreams of the future. They had once been inseparable, the kind of friends who finished each other’s sentences and dared the world together. Now, Gabriel’s actions had driven a wedge between them, a fracture laid bare beneath the weight of love and betrayal. The contrast struck him with quiet pain. How easily one could lose a lifetime of trust in a heartbeat.
The thick velvet curtains muffled the noise from outside. A decanter of brandy sat untouched on the sideboard. The tension between the two men pressed in like the silence before a duel. Sharp, inevitable, and thick with consequence.
Thomas stood with his back to Gabriel, his hands braced on the ornate fireplace mantel. His shoulders, once relaxed and open in friendship, now seemed carved from stone.
Gabriel remained silent, allowing Thomas the space to begin. He knew his old friend too well to interrupt.
The long silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid accusations. Thomas’s jaw worked, the muscle twitching as he fought to contain the storm churning in his chest. Finally, Thomas spoke, his voice low and cold. “How long?”
Gabriel swallowed hard. “Since shortly after my return. Perhaps, always.”
Thomas turned slowly, his blue eyes flashing with barely contained fury, his fingers tightening around the edge of the mantel until his knuckles blanched. “And in all that time, you said nothing.”
“I tried,” Gabriel said quietly. “Heaven help me, I tried.”
Thomas laughed, a harsh, bitter sound, then turned away abruptly, pacing a few steps before gripping the back of a leather chair. The motion betrayed the turmoil beneath his words, the effort it took to hold fury in check. “You tried? Gabriel, you made a mockery of our friendship. You crept behind my back with my sister. The very sister you promised to leave alone.”
“God knows I tried.” Gabriel stiffened. “It was never my intent to pursue her. I fought as hard as I could, but no one can stop love.”
Thomas advanced a step, fists clenched. “You kissed her in shadows. You courted her in secret, and tonight, you made her the subject of gossip and whispers.”
Gabriel’s mouth thinned, tension tightening the corners. “Because I loved her. Because I love her still.”
Thomas stared at him, disbelief and betrayal warring in his gaze. “And you thought that excused it?”
Gabriel drew a shaky breath, struggling to hold on to his temper. “I fought it, Thomas. You must know that. I fought it with everything I had.”
Thomas let out a dry, mirthless sound that barely resembled laughter. “Not hard enough, apparently.”
Gabriel stepped forward and hesitated, then slowly closed the distance between them. His shoulders squared, but his expression betrayed his unease—a man caught between apology and resolve, silently praying his presence could bridge the breach that words could not. His voice, low and trembling with restrained intensity, cut through the air like a blade. “Do you think I wanted this?” he hissed. “Do you think I sought to betray the only man I have ever called brother?”
Thomas stiffened, but Gabriel pressed on, voice thick with emotion.
