“Then hold on to her,” he said gruffly. “And do not fail her.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted to the old chessboard on the shelf. The one they had battled over as boys, hour after hour, game after game. A silent truce, unspoken but understood, passed between them like a bishop sliding back into place.
Gabriel pressed a hand briefly to his chest, steadying the ache that rose unbidden, his heart soaring with gratitude and determination.
He turned, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. A breath caught in his chest. Sharp, grounding. He glanced back, not at Thomas, but at the hearth where echoes of their shared boyhood clung like shadows—flickers of laughter, arguments, and trust hard-won through time. Then, with quiet resolve, he stepped into the corridor, the door swinging closed behind him.
Fourteen
The golden light of late afternoon bathed Thornton Hall, casting a gentle glow that seemed to both soothe and stir Eden’s heart. The scent of lavender wafted in through the open windows, threading through her uncertainty like a forgotten lullaby. Familiar, comforting, and quietly urging her forward into the unknown. Creeping uncertainty threaded through her, the events of the midsummer festival replaying in her mind.
Gabriel’s vow to her had been everything she dreamed of, yet still, a knot of worry tightened in her chest. Would his resolve falter if whispers grew louder? Would the shadows of his past rise to threaten what they were building? Would her Mother and Thomas ever accept him fully? The thought sent a flutter of tightness through her, a sharp breath escaping as a chill pricked along her spine. She clenched her fingers briefly, forcing herself to breathe deeply and maintain composure.
A soft shuffle of skirts at the door interrupted her thoughts.
Mother swept into the room, her elegant features composed but tight with concern. Behind her came Thomas, his expression a careful mask of authority.
Eden rose, her hands trembling slightly as she faced them. Her knees wobbled, the weight of their expectations settling over her. For a fleeting moment, she wished she could step back into childhood, before duty and desire collided so fiercely. But there was no turning away now. She lifted her chin, summoning the resolve that had carried her through the garden, through the whispers, and into this room. It had been forged in moments of quiet defiance, standing beside Gabriel as the village stared, recalling her friend’s warnings of ruination, questioning in solitude whether love was worth the price. And always, the answer had come, steady and certain. Love was worth any price.
Mother spoke first, her voice gentle but firm, resting a steadying hand on Eden’s shoulder as she met her daughter’s gaze. “Eden, sit down. We must speak.”
Eden obeyed, perching on the edge of the settee while her mother and Thomas took the armchairs opposite.
The silence stretched, heavy and expectant.
Finally, Thomas cleared his throat. “You have caused quite the stir, sister.”
Eden met his gaze without flinching, though her fingers tightened around the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles paling with the effort to remain composed. Her voice, when it came, was steady, but a tremor of emotion flickered beneath the surface. “I know.”
“Gabriel,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning. “A man with a complicated past.”
“A man who has stood by me,” Eden said quietly.
Mother’s brow furrowed. “Love is not always enough, Eden.”
“It is when it is true,” Eden insisted, her voice gaining strength. “Gabriel has been my friend, my confidant, my protector. Our bond has endured the years and grown ever stronger.”
Thomas steepled his fingers. “And yet the world will not see it that way.”
Eden’s hands clenched in her lap. “The world sees only what it wishes to see. I care nothing for their whispers. They will fade.”
Mother leaned forward, her eyes filled with maternal concern. “My darling, do you truly understand the life you would be choosing? The scrutiny, the judgment?”
“I understand,” Eden said firmly. “And I do not care.”
Thomas’s gaze sharpened. “You would sacrifice your comfort, your standing, your reputation?”
“Gladly,” Eden said, lifting her chin. “For love. For Gabriel.”
Mother and Thomas exchanged a long, silent look. Eden’s stomach twisted. She had seen that look before, usually before decisions were made behind closed doors. Were they already planning to deny her again? Or was there something softer hidden in the pause, a trace of understanding taking root?
Finally, Mother sighed, her expression softening. “You have always been strong-willed.”
“I cannot apologize for that,” Eden said, managing a small smile.
Thomas’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, but his gaze remained serious.
“Very well,” he said gruffly. “We will support your choice.”
Eden’s heart soared. “Thank you, Thomas. Thank you, Mother.”
