"I have every right to speak of love, which is what family should be based on, not manipulation and threats and the kind of emotional blackmail you're attempting."
Lady Agatha turned to Gabriel. “Do you now comprehend the extent to which she has led your morals astray? The Clara Whitfield you investigated didn't exist except in the reports ofpeople who saw what they expected to see a physician's daughter who knew her place," Gabriel said, moving to stand beside Clara, their shoulders touching in a way that felt like a declaration. "The real Clara has always been this protective, unwilling to accept injustice simply because it comes wrapped in silk and social standing."
"Investigated?" Clara turned to look at Lady Agatha. "You investigated me?"
"Of course I did. The moment I learned about your connection to my nephew, I made it my business to discover everything about you, your father's debts that forced you to seek employment, your aunt's death that left you homeless, the scandal at your last position that made you unemployable, your desperate arrival here that just happened to coincide with Gabriel's moment of greatest vulnerability."
"You believe I planned this? That I somehow orchestrated ending up almost in demise at his door in the middle of a snowstorm?"
"I believe desperate people do desperate things, and a woman with nothing to lose might see a vulnerable, isolated duke as an opportunity too good to pass up."
Gabriel laughed, harsh and bitter. "You think Clara manipulated me? I practically had to beg her to stay. She's tried to leave multiple times, insisted on maintaining boundaries that have been torture to respect, refused every offer of help that might be construed as improper, and is planning to leave in two weeks despite both of us being in love because she refuses tolet me sacrifice anything for her. If that's manipulation, it's the worst attempt I've ever seen."
"Or the cleverest," Lord Ashworth suggested. "Making you believe it's your idea, your choice, your sacrifice, when really she's orchestrated the entire situation to make herself indispensable."
"The only thing Clara's orchestrated is making this house livable again and forcing me to eat actual food instead of surviving on brandy and spite," Gabriel said. "If that's manipulation, then I'll take it over the kind of 'help' you're offering, which seems to consist entirely of trying to sell me your daughter like she's merchant goods."
"That's insulting…" Lord Ashworth began, but his son interrupted.
"It's accurate, Father, and we all know it. You've been trying to auction Penelope off to the highest bidder since she turned sixteen, and His Grace just happens to be the current target because his title outweighs his scars in your calculation of social advantage."
"Thomas!" Lady Ashworth gasped at her son's betrayal.
"What? Are we supposed to pretend this is about anything other than money and position? At least His Grace is honest about his feelings, which is more than any of you can claim."
“The young generation displays a scandalous lack of seriousness.” Lady Agatha muttered. "No respect for tradition or proper behavior."
"Proper behavior entails forcing people into loveless matrimonies for dynastic advantage? Yes, what a terrible loss that tradition might be," Penelope said sweetly. "I personally can't wait to be wedded off to someone who sees me as a walking dowry rather than a person."
"This is what comes of modern ideas and inappropriate attachments," Lady Agatha said, glaring at Clara as if she were personally responsible for the breakdown of society.
"This is what comes of people finally saying what they actually believe instead of hiding behind empty courtesies," Gabriel corrected. "And since we're being honest, let me be absolutely clear, I will never wed Miss Ashworth or anyone else you parade before me. I will wed Clara or no one, and if that means you have me declared incompetent, then so be it. I'd rather be officially mad and happy than officially sane and miserable."
"You can't enter into matrimony with her. It's impossible."
"Pray…Observe me do so!"
"Gabriel, the scandal…"
"Will be magnificent. The scarred duke and the housekeeper…they'll write tales about us."
“I beg you, take this matter in all earnestness.”
"No, it's my life, and I'm tired of living it according to your specifications."
Clara felt the room spinning slightly, the weight of the confrontation and the implications of Gabriel's declarations crashing over her. "Gabriel, you can't…"
"I can and I will." He turned to her, taking both her hands in his, apparently oblivious to their audience. "I know you think you're protecting me by planning to leave, but you're not. You're condemning us both to a lifetime of regret and what-ifs. I'd rather face scandal and social ruin with you than acceptance and respectability without you."
"That's beautiful sentiment, but sentiment doesn't pay bills or protect you from the very real consequences of defying convention," Clara said, though her resolve was weakening under the intensity of his gaze.
"Then we'll face those consequences together."
"Gabriel…"
"No more arguments, no more practical objections, no more sacrificing our happiness for the sake of propriety. I'm asking you, here in front of witnesses who can spread the gossip far and wide, will you become my bride.”
The room erupted in various exclamations of shock, outrage, and in Penelope's case, delighted laughter, but Clara only had eyes for Gabriel, who was looking at her like she held his entire world in her hands.
