The kitten purred louder in response, as though taking this as approval rather than criticism. Gabriel leaned back slightly, studying it with reluctant interest, his earlier irritation fading into something closer to reluctant acceptance.
“You are not a dog,” he added, as though that explained its moral failing.
He attempted once more to remove it, only for it to cling stubbornly to his sleeve and refuse relocation with the confidence of something entirely unafraid of consequences. Gabriel paused, then sighed in defeat, rubbing a hand over his temple.
“Very well,” he muttered, “but you will behave.”
The kitten blinked slowly, entirely unimpressed, and curled into a tighter ball as though settling in for permanent residence.
After a moment of silence, Gabriel leaned back and said, almost reluctantly, “Shadow.” He tested the name once more, watching as the kitten responded only by purring louder.
“It suits you,” he added after a pause, though he was not entirely sure why he had chosen it beyond the simple fact that it lingered like a shadow.
Shadow remained firmly on his lap, refusing all suggestions of independence. Gabriel stared down at it and sighed again, though this time without genuine irritation.
“I am not keeping you,” he informed it, though he made no immediate effort to remove it either. The contradiction, he decided, was not worth analyzing. He returned to his papers, the kitten unmoved.
Later that afternoon, Dr. John Hunt arrived, bringing with him the familiar friendship conversation and medicinal practicality.
“You look like a man who has been overrun in his own household,” John teased mildly as he entered the study.
Gabriel did not look up at first. “Only overrun by one small creature,” he corrected.
John raised an eyebrow as he sat opposite him. “Ah,” he said, noticing Shadow, “so it seems. I must admit I’ve never seen anything so shocking. The Duke of Anderton… with a cat on his lap.”
“Do not try me. I shall call for tea,” Gabriel said as he finally stood up, and the cat jumped off.
Moments later, tea was served with the usual quiet efficiency, the kind Gabriel preferred because it required no unnecessary conversation.
John, however, rarely respected silence for long. “I heard something interesting in town. I thought you would want to hear it,” he said eventually, stirring his cup.
Gabriel’s gaze lifted slightly. “That depends on your definition of interesting.”
John smiled faintly. “It is about Miss Amelia Shirley.”
Gabriel’s hand paused fractionally on the edge of his desk before continuing its movement with controlled ease.
“What about her?” he asked evenly.
John clearly was unconcerned by the shift in tone. “It seems she fled a betrothal while visiting the Duke of Mansfield,” he said, watching Gabriel carefully now, “and rather inconveniently, that Duke is now engaged to one of her sisters, Bethany.” The words settled in the room with an uncomfortable weight. Gabriel said nothing at first.
Gabriel’s mind, however, was already turning over implications, consequences, and timing.
“Does she know?” John asked after a moment.
Gabriel exhaled slowly. “I doubt it,” he said finally. The idea of Amelia learning such information from anyone other than him sat uncomfortably in his mind, though he could not have explained why without irritation.
John studied him with the expression of a man who had known him too long to miss subtle changes. “You intend to tell her,” he said, not a question.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes,” he replied simply. There was a pause, during which the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the fire and Shadow’s persistent purring.
John nodded once, then leaned forward slightly. “Careful how you do it,” he said quietly. Gabriel gave no reply.
Then, “I think you should see to David’s arm. He scraped it on the fence—a minor thing, but I want it looked at just the same.”
“Of course, I’ll go at once,” John said, setting down his cup.
“You will find him in the nursery. Mrs. Jacobs will take you,” Gabriel said.
