James stepped forward, his coat brushing against Gabriel’s shoulder as he assessed the fire’s placement with a calculating eye.
“It was set here intentionally,” he said. “No question. There is no other way that a fire could have started back here at this time of night.”
Gabriel nodded.
“And someone knew exactly where to start it,” he said, cursing under his breath.
Genevieve’s breath faltered. Her worst fears had been confirmed. But who would do something like this? And why would they do it?
Her gaze moved instinctively toward Gabriel, but his attention remained fixed on the task at hand. He stepped closer to the burning remnants, his stance rigid, and his thoughts clearly forming before he spoke.
“The damage is manageable,” he said. “Have the remaining hay moved before dawn.”
James nodded, repeating the order to some stable hands nearest him. The flames dwindled, reduced now to smoldering heaps of damp straw, the acrid scent of smoke curling around them. The staff continued working, dousing the last stubborn embers until nothing remained but charred hay and the unmistakable weight of deliberate malice. Yet even after Genevieve understood that the danger had ended, her blood still ran cold. Someone was trying to hurt Gabriel intentionally. How far would they go to accomplish that goal?
***
The fire was out. Smoke still curled from the charred remnants, the scent of dampened embers thick in the air. Gabriel stood at the edge of the scorched ground, surveying the scene with a grim expression. The bucket brigades had dispersed, the servants were now working under Mr. Winters’ sharp-eyedsupervision to clear the remaining debris. Wet straw clumped beneath their boots as they hauled away damaged bales, their faces drawn but composed. The urgency had passed, leaving only the calculated remnants of what had nearly become disaster.
Gabriel clenched his jaw, rolling his shoulders as if the tension there could be shaken loose. It could not. His pulse remained steady, his breath controlled, but beneath the surface, something coiled tighter with every glance across the ruined stacks.
James approached; his boots quiet against the damp ground. His tone was low, meant only for Gabriel’s ears.
“The fire’s location and the timing are just too convenient,” he said, repeating his previous assessment.
Gabriel did not look at him. He only nodded, his gaze sweeping across the yard, cataloging every weakness. The fencing, the servants’ quarters nearby, the shaded alcoves that would allow too easy an approach unseen. Every inch of this land had been reinforced, watched and fully protected. Yet still, someone had breached it. He exhaled slowly, the weight in his chest pressing harder than the damp air around them.
His gaze flicked toward the entrance hall. Genevieve stood beside Sophia, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, the thin material of her dressing gown barely shielding her from the wind. Moonlight touched her skin, tracing the contours of her face in soft silver. But she was pale and badly shaken. He had told her to get inside and stay, and she had not complied. Nonetheless he was not angry. He felt guilty that being someone’s target was affecting her.
Their eyes met. In that fleeting instant, something inside him twisted, but he forced it down, swallowing the burn of whatever had existed between them only moments before. She searched his expression, as though looking for the man who had held her in his arms, the man who had kissed her without hesitation in the quiet sanctuary of the glass house.
But that man was gone. All he could give her was cold distance.
Gabriel turned away and faced the estate manager.
“Mr. Winters,” he said sharply.
The estate manager straightened from where he had been instructing a young stable hand.
“Yes, milord?” he asked.
Gabriel pointed, circling his finger intently.
“Double patrols,” he said. “Effective immediately. No one moves near the grounds at night unaccounted for.”
Mr. Winters nodded, already moving to relay the order.
Disaster follows closeness, he thought, numbly surveying the damage around him. I lowered my defences. I permitted myself to forget duty and responsibility, and these were the consequences.
His weakness invited danger, a truth he had learned long ago. The moment he abandoned caution, the moment he allowed himself even a taste of indulgence, the world reminded him of its brutality. Whatever fragile connection had formed between himself and Genevieve was severed, cauterized by fire and certainty. He turned from the wreckage of burned hay and the lingering scent of deliberate malice. From now on, nothing could distract him from finding the person responsible for the mishaps on the estate and bringing them to justice. Not even Genevieve.
For the next hour, he moved through the grounds, inspecting every vantage point, reinforcing every order. His focus remained absolute; his demeanor brusque. Instructions were issued without softness, his voice carrying across the yard in clipped precision. Footmen hurried to obey, stable hands doubled their efforts, every person responding to the unspoken warning beneath his tone.
Genevieve did not approach him. She did not need to.
He could feel her presence and the question that hung between them. But it would remain unanswered. His path had already been decided. Even if he did not agree with it. He could not afford to make such lapses in judgment or focus ever again.
Striding back toward the house, he passed Genevieve and Sophia without a word or a glance. His scarred profile remained rigid, his steps measured and unwavering. The warmth they had shared and the fire between them was nothing more than a phantom memory now. And to protect Genevieve, that was how it must remain.
