“Hold! This matter is settled, Miss Whitfield," Lady Agatha commanded, though before she could continue, Gabriel appeared in the doorway looking like thunder personified in perfectly tailored morning clothes that did nothing to soften the danger radiating from every line of his body.
"Aunt Agatha, what an unexpected pleasure to find you've brought an entire delegation to my home without the courtesy of advance notice, though I suppose common manners are suspended when one is on a mission to arrange someone else's life without their consent," he said, entering the room with the controlled grace of a predator surveying prey.
"Don't be dramatic, Gabriel. I sent word yesterday that we would be calling today to discuss the arrangements for your courtship with Penelope."
"You sent word that you would be calling, not that you would be staging what appears to be a full military invasion complete with reinforcements and what I can only assume is a prepared contract somewhere in Lord Ashworth's coat pocket, judging by the way he keeps touching it like a talisman against rational thought."
Lord Ashworth's hand dropped from his pocket guiltily. "Your Grace, we merely thought it prudent to discuss the terms of the arrangement in a businesslike manner, as befits a union between two such prominent families."
"A union that hasn't been agreed to by either of the principal parties involved, unless Miss Ashworth has suddenly developed a passionate desire to be shackled to a scarred recluse with antisocial tendencies and a reputation for sending young ladies into hysterics," Gabriel said, his gaze finding Miss Penelope with something almost like sympathy.
"I haven't developed any such passion, Your Grace, though I do appreciate your concern for my autonomy in this matter, which is more than my own parents have demonstrated," Miss Penelope said clearly, earning shocked looks from her parents and a small smile from her brother.
"Penelope, you forget yourself," Lady Ashworth hissed, but her daughter continued undeterred.
"I forget nothing, Mother, including the fact that I'm being bartered like livestock to secure a connection that will benefit Father's political ambitions and your social climbing, neither of which takes into account my preferences or His Grace's obvious attachment to someone else entirely."
The room went silent except for the sound of Clara very carefully setting down the teapot before she dropped it.
"I don't know what you're implying, young lady, but…" Lord Ashworth began, but Gabriel cut him off with a gesture.
"Miss Ashworth is implying, correctly, that I have no intention of entering into matrimony with her regardless of what machinations you've all arranged amongst yourselves, because as she's observed with remarkable perception forsomeone her age, my affections are otherwise engaged, permanently and irrevocably."
"Your affections are irrelevant," Lady Agatha said coldly. "Your duty…"
"My duty is to live my life according to my own conscience and desires, not to sacrifice my happiness on the altar of your expectations," Gabriel interrupted, moving to stand near Clara in a way that was probably meant to be subtle but was about as subtle as a declaration of war. "I've done my duty…I went to war, I nearly died for Crown and country, I came back scarred and broken and tried to rebuild some semblance of a life from the wreckage, and if that life doesn't meet your exacting standards for ducal behavior, then that's your disappointment to bear, not my burden to carry."
"You're being ridiculous, Gabriel. No one is asking you to sacrifice your happiness, merely to consider your responsibilities to your family name and legacy," Lady Agatha argued, though Clara noticed her eyes kept flicking between Gabriel and herself with increasing suspicion.
"My family name can rot for all I care, and as for legacy, what legacy is worth preserving if it requires me to live a lie, wedded to someone I don't love while the woman I do love is forced to leave because society deems her inappropriate for my attention?"
The words hung in the air like an explosion waiting for someone to light the fuse. Clara felt every eye in the room turn to her, and she straightened her spine, refusing to cower under their collective scrutiny.
"Your Grace," she said quietly, though her voice carried clearly through the shocked silence, "perhaps this conversation would be better conducted without an audience of household staff who have no place in such personal discussions."
"You're not household staff, Clara, and we both know it, so let's dispense with that particular fiction since apparently we're being honest about everyone's motivations today," Gabriel said, his use of her first name causing several sharp intakes of breath around the room.
"Gabriel," Lady Agatha's voice had gone dangerously quiet, "are you actually suggesting that you're involved with your housekeeper in some capacity beyond the professional?"
"I'm stating outright that I'm in love with her, have been since we were children playing in the garden before you and Father decided she wasn't suitable company for a future duke, and will continue to be long after you've attempted to force me into a matrimony I neither want nor need."
"This is insanity," Lord Ashworth sputtered, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. "You can't seriously be considering throwing away an advantageous matrimony for some servant girl with no family, no connections, nothing to offer but…"
“I strongly urge you to be careful.” Gabriel's voice had gone deadly soft, the kind of quiet that preceded violence. "Very careful about how you finish that sentence, Lord Ashworth, because I may be scarred and supposedly mad, but I'm still capable of defending the honor of the woman I love, and I'd hate for your son to have to explain to Oxford why his father returned from a social call with a broken jaw."
“I dare say, are you issuing a threat against my person?”
"I'm promising you that if you say one more word disparaging Miss Whitfield, you'll discover exactly how much violence I met up against on the battlefield before this scar ended my military career."
The younger Ashworth, who had been silent until now, suddenly stood. "Perhaps we should all take a moment to calm down before this escalates into something everyone will regret," he suggested, his voice remarkably steady for someone so young. “It is plain there is much heat and agitation here, and to act upon such a swell of passion is to invite disaster.”
"Listen to your son, Ashworth," Gabriel said, not taking his eyes off the older man. "He seems to have inherited the intelligence that skipped your generation."
"How dare you…"
"I dare because this is my house, and you're here uninvited, attempting to arrange my life without my consent while insulting the woman I love, so I'd say I'm being remarkably restrained given the circumstances."
Clara finally found her voice, though what she really wanted was to flee the room and possibly the country. "Your Grace, perhaps I should withdraw and allow you to continue this discussion with your family in private."
