“I remember an incident with the Turners,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “There was a land dispute. Charles involved himself without consent and promised certain leniencies if they refused to pay arrears. He made a similar offer to the Langfords, though it came to nothing.”
James turned to her.
“That kind of meddling undermines Gabriel’s authority with the tenants,” he said. “If he positioned himself as their advocate, he will have allies still among them.”
Gabriel exhaled sharply.
“Then they must be reminded of where true loyalty lies,” he said firmly. “I shall speak with the steward. We shall arrange small assemblies in each hamlet and provide winter aid where needed, as well as speak plainly about the estate’s plans for spring. Let them see the barony is neither absent nor indifferent.”
Genevieve, silent until now, exchanged a glance with Gabriel before she spoke.
“And Wilkins?” she asked.
Gabriel exhaled once more, a sound that betrayed more than irritation.
“There is nothing yet that can be acted upon,” he said. “But your concern is not misplaced.”
James rubbed at his temple.
“It sounds as if he watches you with too much calculation,” he said, directing the comment to Genevieve. “And too little shame. That seems suspicious at best, and dangerous at worst. Be cautious, Genevieve.”
For the first time since the previous evening, Gabriel showed a shadow of emotion. Concern and alarm crossed his face, almost too quickly to catch, but Genevieve saw it briefly before he regained control of his expression.
“I agree,” Gabriel said. “I will speak with Mr. Winters. He can assign two men to observe Wilkins’s movements discreetly. If there is anything to be found, it shall be.”
Sophia bit her lip, her brow furrowed deeply.
“Do you truly believe him dangerous?” she asked.
Gabriel’s mouth thinned.
“After everything that has happened, nothing is impossible,” he said.
Genevieve folded her hands in her lap.
“Then we must act now,” she said. “Not wait until certainty has turned to regret.”
Gabriel met her eyes.
“We shall,” he said. “I assure you of that.”
Genevieve left the study with Sophia at her side, her thoughts still smothered with unease. The broken bond between her and Gabriel had now been utterly eclipsed by strategy and wariness. But despite the sharp turn of their matrimony, one truth remained. She would not allow herself to be a mere bystander.
Chapter Seventeen
Sleep offered Gabriel no escape. The threats encircling Mountwood did not dissolve with the setting sun, nor did they relent in the quiet hours of the night. They moved in from all sides, shifting relentlessly in his mind. Everything from Charles’s escalating campaign and tenant unrest to sabotage and the unnerving potential that Thomas Wilkins was more than he seemed all plagued him. And now, there was the revelation that Richard Harrington had been seen secretly conversing with his most dangerous adversary. Gabriel knew there was rarely a coincidence of that caliber.
He turned the brandy glass slowly between his fingers, watching the amber liquid catch the glow of the firelight. He had barely touched it. The scent rose faintly, mingling with the crisp air filtering through the heavy library drapes, but he did not drink. The heat of the flames before him offered nothing in the way of comfort, their glow casting restless patterns against the polished wood floors.
The library had always provided solace in times of uncertainty. Its silence, once a welcome retreat, now carried the weight of unspoken dread. The study had been suffocating earlier, thick with discussions of strategy, layered with maps and reports that revealed more vulnerabilities than solutions. Here, alone among the leather-bound volumes lining the walls, he attempted to quiet his mind. However, it did not work.
The betrayal ran deeper than he wished to admit. Richard was not merely an acquaintance. He was Genevieve’s cousin. That made him family, if only by a tenuous matrimony. That changed the stakes. It altered the nature of what he faced, turning it from a calculated war against an external enemy into something infinitely more tangled. If Richard had willingly aligned himself with Charles, what did that mean for Genevieve? What did that mean for him?
Gabriel inhaled slowly, willing his pulse to even out, forcing the pieces to fall into place with the precision he had trained himself to maintain. He could not afford distraction. He could not afford to fumble the chance to put an end to whatever else Charles Ravencroft might have planned. If something happened to Sophia, or to Genevieve, Gabriel would never be free from guilt.
The library door creaked softly. He stiffened, his grip tightening briefly on the glass before he set it down. Genevieve stepped inside. Her presence struck himimmediately, though he did not turn fully. Instead, he let the tension settle between them, unspoken but undeniable. The firelight reached her first, illuminating the delicate slope of her collarbone, casting soft golden hues against the ivory fabric of her nightgown. Her hair, slightly loosened from its usual restraint, fell in waves over one shoulder. She looked unguarded in a way he rarely saw her, yet she was not uncertain.
She took a few steps forward, closing the distance slowly, stopping a few feet away.
