A ripple of amusement passed around the table. James turned his attention next to Gabriel, his tone easy, as though they were seated by the hearth rather than arrayed in formal attire across white linen.
“How fares the roof on the grain store?” he asked. “Mr. Winters informed me the eastern slope had begun to sag. Did the carpenters find rot beneath the shingles?”
Gabriel glanced up; his expression neutral.
“They did,” he said. “Three beams had begun to buckle. We removed the damaged section and replaced it with seasoned oak. The repairs should endure the winter.”
James nodded and smiled.
“Splendid,” he said. “No use investing in surface polish if the structure beneath is decayed.”
Gabriel gave his curt nod in response.
The lull that followed was filled by the soft patter of rain against the windows. Genevieve looked from one man to the other, noting the careful warmth in Gabriel’s bearing and the measured affection in James’s words. It was clear that James cared for and admired Gabriel, and despite his typical coldness, the friendship was apparently mutual for Gabriel.
Gabriel, for his part, seemed slightly more at ease than usual, the presence of his old friend loosening some invisible restraint. Though he spoke little, his responses carried a warmth that Genevieve rarely witnessed. She noted the way his shoulders relaxed, the faint curve of his lips at James’s good-natured remarks. It was a rare glimpse of the man beneath the guarded exterior. Sophia, too, seemed to bask in James’s attention. When he turned the conversation toward music and literature, her cheeks flushed with quiet delight.
“You must play for us one evening, Sophia,” he said, his eyes alight with genuine interest. “Gabriel has often praised your talent, though I suspect his words do not do it justice.”
Sophia laughed softly, a musical sound that brought a fleeting brightness to her expression.
“Gabriel is kind, though I fear he is over-generous in his praise,” she said. “I would be happy to play, though only if you promise not to judge too harshly.”
James gave her an attentive, warm smile.
“Judgment is the last thing you will receive from me,” he said with a grin. “I have no ear for music myself, so I am always in awe of those who do.”
Genevieve watched the exchange with quiet amusement, noting the faintly possessive glance Gabriel cast toward Sophia. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hinted at the depth of his care for his sister. She could see another rare vulnerability in a man so often cloaked in composure.
As the meal drew to a close, Gabriel set down his glass and rose from his chair.
“James,” he said. “If you will join me, there are some matters regarding the estate that require our attention.”
James nodded, pushing back his chair with practiced grace.
“Of course,” he said, his gaze sweeping briefly across the table. “Ladies, will you excuse us?”
Sophia offered a polite nod, though her smile faltered slightly as the two men exited the room. Genevieve caught the fleeting shift in her expression and tucked it away for later consideration. Rising from her seat, she gestured toward the drawing room.
“Shall we?” she asked, recalling Sophia’s attempt at distracting both of them after the horse incident.
Sophia smiled again and nodded.
“We certainly shall,” she said, sending for champagne and cakes at once.
The drawing room was a haven of comfort, with its plush armchairs and golden mirrors bathed in the matching flicker of firelight. Sophia sank into one of the chairs by the hearth, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Genevieve chose the seat opposite, her gaze lingering on the flames as they danced within the grate. When the refreshments were served, Sophia spoke at last.
“Much has occurred that is troubling of late,” she said as she handed Genevieve a glass of wine. “Yet Gabriel seems much lighter whenever he is in your presence, even despite it all.”
Genevieve looked at her, trying to mask her surprise.
“Does he?” she asked.
Genevieve allowed the silence to stretch, sensing that Sophia had more to say. She was not mistaken.
“It hurt him,” Sophia continued, her tone bitter but controlled. “More than he will ever admit. The isolation, the way people look at him or rather do not look at him. But what broke him wasn’t the war, or even the scars.” Her voice wavered, and for a moment, she seemed to steel herself against the memory. “It was Elizabeth.”
Genevieve tilted her head, the name unfamiliar to her, yet seemed to hold a great, unknown significance.
