"Yes?" Gabriel's voice came out rough.
"Lord Hartley asks if you'll be joining him for tea."
"Tell Lord Hartley to…"
"Tell Lord Hartley we'll be there shortly," Clara interrupted, her face crimson.
Mary curtsied and fled.
"She saw," Clara said.
"She saw nothing."
"Gabriel…"
"She saw her employer and his housekeeper discussing garden maintenance."
"I was pressed against a wall."
"Examining the brickwork."
"Your hand was in my hair."
"Removing a leaf."
"Gabriel…"
"One month," he said firmly. “I am utterly indifferent if the whole of the staff should be witness to our affection. The talk of the village holds no terror for me. I would face even Aunt Agatha's most fierce indisposition. A month's possession of you is a prize that outweighs all consideration of propriety.”
“It is simple for you to declare, as you possess a title of distinction.”
“And you, Clara are my responsibility.”
“That arrangement does not hold true in society's eyes.”
“It shall be made to hold true.”
"You can't just declare…"
He kissed her again, quick and possessive. “I shall prove my words.”
The staff had retired. Edmund had gone home. The house was quiet except for the fire crackling in the library where Gabriel waited, pretending to read while actually counting the seconds until Clara appeared.
She entered wearing a different dress one of blue wool that brought out her eyes causing Gabriel’s eyes to go dry.
“From where did you procure that item?”
"Mrs. Potter brought it. Said I couldn't keep wearing gray as if was in mourning."
"Are you? In mourning?"
"Aren't we all mourning something?"
She sat beside him on the sofa, not across from him, beside him and Gabriel felt like he'd won a small war.
"Tell me about the war," she said.
"Why?"
