Most importantly, it was beautiful.
Amelia crossed the room and brushed her fingertips over the fabric.
“This is absurd,” she whispered.
The gown belonged to the daughter of a viscount attending a ball. It did not belong on a governess.
Am I either still? Who am I? What have I become?
Yet as she studied the dress, she could not ignore the uncomfortable truth that Gabriel had never truly treated her as a governess. He had purchased dresses for her, allowed her to dine with them, invited her to attend the ball as a guest, and looked at her in ways that made her forget how to breathe properly and…
The memory of his kiss immediately surfaced.
Amelia groaned softly and pressed both hands against her burning cheeks.
“Not now.”
Unfortunately, her imagination seemed unwilling to cooperate.
She could still remember the warmth of his hand against her face, the roughness of his voice when he spoke her name, and the way his eyes had darkened moments before he kissed her. The memory made her stomach flutter so violently that she considered sitting down before her knees betrayed her entirely.
“Honestly,” she muttered while reaching for the gown, “one would think I was sixteen.”
Yet even as she complained, a smile tugged at her lips. For the first time in her life, someone had looked at her as though she were not an obligation, not a responsibility, and not a problem to be solved.
That thought alone was enough to make her chest ache.
He’s the only man I’ve ever known to not treat me as a means to an end. A betrothal to be done and a marriage to be sealed.
Carefully, Amelia lifted the blue silk gown and carried it towards the dressing screen.
Whatever Lady Provie’s warnings meant, whatever happened after the ball, and whatever future awaited her beyond Anderton Manor, she intended to face it on her own terms.
The evening of the ball arrived with all the grandeur Gabriel had hoped for and all the complications he had feared. Carriages rolled steadily up the drive beneath lantern light, depositing guests in silks, jewels, and tailored coats before the grand entrance of Anderton Manor. Music drifted faintly from the ballroom while servants moved efficiently through the crowded foyer.
Standing beside Valerie at the top of the entrance hall, Gabriel greeted each arrival with practiced politeness, though his attention continually wandered towards the staircase. As more guests arrived, an uncomfortable concern began to settle in his chest.
Amelia should have appeared by now.
Valerie accepted the compliments of their guests with admirable composure, though Gabriel noticed the slight tension in her shoulders whenever someone mentioned London or her upcoming debut.
He was about to reassure her when another familiar face entered the hall. Dr. John Hunt climbed the steps with an amused smile already forming.
The man looked entirely too pleased with himself for Gabriel’s liking. Beside him, Valerie brightened.
“Dr. Hunt,” Valerie said warmly, offering her hand. “I am pleased you came.”
“I would not miss it for the world,” John replied, bowing over her hand before turning towards Gabriel. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “And how is our host this evening? In better spirits than when he stormed into my cottage like a man fleeing a battlefield?”
Gabriel immediately groaned. “For the love of God, John,” he muttered, adjusting his cuffs, “go and find some refreshment. Occupy that mouth of yours before it becomes everyone’s problem.”
John laughed outright. “I see your mood has improved tremendously.”
“It has not.”
“Excellent. Then you are exactly as miserable as usual,” John teased.
Valerie pressed her lips together to suppress a smile while Gabriel fixed his friend with a glare.
