Gabriel gave a short, humorless exhale. “Yes. Having her in my household made her a target for Helen. What else is to come if I marry her? Who then will want to harm her? I will always be worried about her safety,” he replied.
The admission surprised even him with its honesty. It was not only Helen. It was the proximity to scandal, to judgment, to everything that came with his name and his household. And yet the idea of removing Amelia from it felt wrong in a different, more personal way.
John shifted slightly, considering his words. “If that is the concern,” he said carefully, “then securing her position as Duchess of Anderton by marrying her would, in fact, make her very safe indeed.”
Gabriel turned his head sharply at that, though not in disagreement. The logic was sound. Infuriatingly sound. Marriage would shield her from speculation, protect her standing and reputation, and bind her to a position no one could easily question. But it would also place her directly at the center of everything that currently threatened his family.
“That is true,” Gabriel said slowly, his voice tightening with restraint. He looked away again, gaze narrowing toward the horizon. “If she will accept it.”
A pause followed, heavier than the words themselves. His expression darkened slightly, not with doubt in her but in himself. “It is important to me that she makes that decision freely,” he added, more quietly. “She has spent too many years with decisions made on her behalf.” His jaw tightened. “I will not become another person who simply decides her future for her.”
John gave a faint, knowing look but did not immediately respond. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the distant movement of village life below. Somewhere a bell began to ring, deep and resonant, echoing through stone and air. Gabriel felt it before he fully registered it. Six tolls. Slow. Unforgiving. Final. His spine stiffened.
He turned toward John sharply. “It is six o’clock,” he said, already stepping away from the railing. The words carried a sudden urgency. “I must leave.”
John straightened as well, expression sharpening. There was no need for further explanation. Helen would be waiting. And Helen, unlike most adversaries, did not tolerate delay or deviation from expectation. Gabriel already knew she would interpret absence as weakness and weakness as opportunity.
John placed a steadying hand briefly on his arm. “Go,” he said firmly. “I will bring Mr. Hatley and the magistrate to the tavern as soon as they arrive.” His expression grew more serious. “If Iam not there before the end of the evening, then buy yourself time.” He hesitated only a fraction before continuing. “Tell her whatever you must to keep her calm. Tell her you will secure the marriage license come morning if necessary.”
Gabriel let out a short breath that might have been a laugh under different circumstances. “It is better I arrive with a lie than not arrive at all,” he replied quietly. His gaze hardened. “Who knows what she will do if left unattended.” The truth of that statement sat heavily between them. Helen was not merely manipulative. She was unpredictable in ways that made preparation difficult and hesitation dangerous.
He extended his hand. John clasped it firmly. There was no further need for words. In that grip was understanding, shared fatigue, and the unspoken knowledge that the next hours would determine far more than they were comfortable admitting. Gabriel released him and turned toward the stairs without looking back.
The stable yard groom pulled his horse forward with practiced efficiency. Gabriel mounted swiftly, adjusting his gloves as the animal shifted beneath him, sensing his urgency. The reins felt familiar in his hands, grounding him as he urged the horse forward. He did not look back at the solicitor’s office. There was nothing left there that could delay him.
As he rode out of the village, toward the tavern that met at the crossroads where travelers passed, the wind cut harder against his face. Fields stretched out on either side, darkening as the light began to fade. Gabriel’s thoughts ran faster than the horsebeneath him, moving through strategy, risk, and consequence. Yet always, beneath it all, there was …
Amelia.
She had entered his life as an interruption. That had been his first mistake. Now, she felt like something far more permanent. He thought of her strength, the way she faced chaos without flinching, the way she had already begun to shape the people around her without even realising it. The idea of removing her from that world no longer felt like protection. It felt like a loss.
And yet danger followed closely behind anything that touched his household. Helen had made that painfully clear. Gabriel tightened his grip on the reins as the tavern’s distant silhouette began to appear ahead through the fading light. Whatever awaited him there would decide far more than the fate of one confrontation. It would decide whether he continued to keep his distance from what he wanted most or whether he finally allowed himself to claim it despite everything he feared.
The horse surged forward beneath him as he broke into a faster pace, the wind swallowing his thoughts as the sky darkened overhead.
Chapter Thirty
Amelia stood before Valerie’s bedroom door for a moment longer than necessary, her hand hovering near the polished brass handle. Amelia exhaled once, steadying herself, then knocked gently.
“Come in,” Valerie called from within, her voice slightly muffled by the rustle of fabric and the soft scrape of a hairbrush.
Amelia entered to find Valerie standing in front of the mirror in a half-fastened evening gown of deep emerald silk. The color brought out the warmth in her complexion, and the delicate embroidery along the bodice shimmered faintly as she turned. Trixie knelt behind her, pinning up the final sections of her hair.
“I hope I am not intruding,” Amelia said with a small smile, stepping further inside and folding her hands before her.
Valerie met her eyes in the mirror and smiled faintly. “You are never intruding. Not anymore.”
There was something softer in her tone than Amelia had heard weeks ago, something less guarded. It made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
“I wanted to see how you were faring after the shock of last night. I know it must be hard,” Amelia said, moving to stand beside her. “Dinner will be soon, and I know Lady Provie has an alarming ability to appear at precisely the worst possible moment, so I wanted to check on you in private.”
Valerie let out a short laugh. “Aunt is like a thunderstorm that learns to speak.”
Amelia chuckled despite herself. “A very accurate description.”
Trixie finished fastening the final pin and curtsied herself out of the room, leaving them in a brief pocket of privacy. Valerie turned fully now, smoothing her skirts with hands that trembled only slightly, but Amelia noticed.
“You are anxious,” Amelia observed gently.
