“I had never met the man,” Amelia continued more quietly. “I knew nothing about him except his title and income.” She stared down at the candle flame flickering beside them. “Everyone kept telling me how fortunate I was.” Her voice softened further. “But nobody asked whether I wanted him.”
Gabriel remained completely still.
“So I ran,” she whispered, “to avoid the marriage.”
The admission hung between them. Amelia waited for criticism. She waited for disapproval. She waited for him to call her reckless or selfish or immature. For him to remind her that arranged marriages were expected and accepted.
Instead, Gabriel simply watched her with an unreadable expression. The silence made her nervous.
“If you think that makes me spoiled,” she said at last, lifting her chin stubbornly, “then so be it.”
Something shifted in his gaze. “No,” he said quietly.
Amelia blinked. Gabriel took a step closer without seeming aware he had done so.
“I think it makes you foolish.” His voice remained low and steady. “Running away alone was extraordinarily dangerous.”
Amelia opened her mouth to argue, then she remembered the carriage driver and wisely closed it again.
“I know,” she admitted reluctantly.
Gabriel nodded once. “Good. At least I can be satisfied that you learned from your folly.”
His gaze remained locked with hers. Amelia suddenly became aware of how little space existed between them. She could see the faint shadow of dark stubble along his jaw. She could smell soap, leather, and something distinctly masculine that made her pulse flutter in a thoroughly inconvenient manner.
Neither of them moved. The kitchen seemed smaller somehow. Amelia found herself studying his eyes. They were not merely grey as she had first thought. Tiny flecks of silver caught the light whenever he looked at her. The discovery felt far more intimate than it should have.
Her hand rested upon the edge of the table. Gabriel’s hand rested there too. Neither appeared to notice until their fingers brushed lightly together. The contact lasted only a second, yet warmth shot through Amelia so suddenly that she almost forgot how to breathe. Her gaze dropped briefly to his hand before returning to his face. Gabriel was already looking at her.
The moment stretched. Amelia’s heartbeat seemed absurdly loud. She could not look away from him. Every instinct told her that something was happening between them.
Something dangerous. Something entirely inappropriate between a duke and a governess.
Yet she found herself unable to move.
Gabriel’s gaze flickered briefly towards her mouth. The simple movement sent heat rushing through her. Amelia’s breath caught. For one impossible second, she thought he might kiss her. The possibility seemed to hang suspended in the air between them. She could almost feel it. The anticipation left her completely motionless.
Then Gabriel abruptly stepped back. The spell shattered immediately. He cleared his throat and looked away.
“You should go to bed, Miss Shirley,” he said, his voice rougher than before.
Amelia stared at him for a moment. Part of her wanted to laugh. Another part wanted to shake him. Instead, she simply nodded.
“Of course,” she replied quietly.
She turned towards the door before she could embarrass herself further. Her hand had just reached the handle when Gabriel spoke again.
“Miss Shirley.” Amelia paused and looked back over her shoulder. He stood beside the table watching her. For once, there was no suspicion in his expression. No irritation. No coldness.
“I do not think you are spoiled,” he said.
Amelia blinked in surprise.
Gabriel folded his arms loosely across his chest. “Foolish, certainly,” he continued. “Extraordinarily reckless.”
Amelia felt herself smile despite her efforts not to.
Gabriel shook his head slightly as though she proved his point. “But not spoiled.”
