“Elizabeth?” she echoed.
Sophia nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“His intended,” she said. “They were to be joined in holy matrimony as soon as he returned from the war. She swore she would wait, that nothing would change how she felt about him.” There was a pause, heavy with unspoken grief. “She did wait, to her credit, and quite loyally. However, when Gabriel came back, scarred and weary, she recoiled. Right there at the docks, for everyone to see. She called him…“ Sophia’s voice broke, and she averted her gaze, her next words barely audible. “She called him monstrous.”
The fire crackled softly in the ensuing silence, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to settle over them. Genevieve’s heart ached at the image Sophia painted of Gabriel, proud and broken in equal measure, cast aside in a moment of cruel rejection.
“He does not speak of it,” Sophia said after a moment, her voice steadier now. “But it changed him. It took something from him that I’m not sure he will ever get back.” She paused again, glancing at Genevieve. “At least, I did not think so, until you arrived.
Genevieve’s gaze softened, though she was eager to change the direction of the conversation. She could not allow herself the delusion that she could ever make such a chance in such a wounded man.
“And you?” she asked softly. “Do you blame her?”
Sophia’s laugh was sharp, edged with bitterness.
“Blame her?” she asked. “I loathe her. She pretended to love him, only to humiliate him when he needed her most. Gabriel would never say so, but I know it haunts him. It’s why he’s so withdrawn. I believe that had it not been for her scathing rejection, Gabriel would not be as uncomfortable with his scars. He has always been proud of his service, and he feels responsible for the lives of the men with whom he fought that were lost. Had she not been such a horrible creature, I know that Gabriel would not be the recluse he is now.”
For a time, neither spoke. The weight of the conversation sat between them, not unwelcome but undeniably heavy. When Sophia finally broke the silence, her tone was lighter, though her eyes betrayed a lingering sadness.
“What do you think of James?” she asked, her attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the slight upward tilt of her voice. “He is quite charming, is he not?”
Genevieve smiled faintly, recognizing the subtle shift in topic for what it was.
“He is,” she said. “And he’s clearly very fond of Gabriel. And of you, from what I observed.”
Sophia blushed and laughed.
“What makes you say that?” she asked, the hope evident in her words.
Genevieve laughed.
“I know how the face of a smitten man looks,” she said.
Sophia nodded, her gaze thoughtful.
“He is a good man,” she said. “It is rare to find someone so genuine.”
Genevieve did not miss the slight wistfulness in her tone, nor the way Sophia’s fingers toyed with the lace at her cuffs. She thought back to her sister-in-law’s fallen expression as dinner ended.
“I wonder if he is the only one who is smitten,” she said, daring to tease.
Sophia’s red cheeks spoke long before she did.
“You are daring, dear new sister,” she said, though she was smiling widely at Genevieve. “Though I dare say that you do not misread my admiration.”
Genevieve brightened.
“Tell me,” she said. “Do you have plans of courting him?”
Sophia’s blushed deepened impossibly, though she merely shrugged nonchalantly.
“That is to be decided by him,” she said. “Although I would certainly never decline such a wonderful invitation.”
The women laughed.
As the clock chimed the late hour, signaling the end of their conversation, Genevieve couldn’t help but feel that the evening had revealed more than either of them had intended.
Chapter Thirteen
