It was like a treaty between two nations, except she was both the prize and the problem. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Absurd, and yet… oddly comforting.
Aunt Margaret adjusted her spectacles, her fingers as precise as her tone. Even her teacup had been placed back on its saucer with exacting care. She reached for a small notepad and turned over a page.
Her breath hitched. What now? Was her aunt about to declare a list of unacceptable behaviors? Expectations? A prickle of unease touched her spine, even as a flicker of gratitude bloomed. At least there would be no guessing. No mixed messages. Just the rules. Whatever they were.
“I have outlined the expectations. There will be no further surprises.” She glanced at him over her wire glasses. “The proposal wasscandal enough.”
Gabriel’s stillness wasn’t passivity but precision. He listened like a man trained to hear nuance, one who had sat at negotiation tables far more treacherous than this. He wasn’t merely accommodating her aunt. He was evaluating the terms, and he did not flinch.
Her aunt continued, “You may see each other under the following conditions. You may walk in the garden after supper. You may call twice per week for tea, and on Sunday after services if you attend with the family. A chaperone will be nearby. If you wish to write letters, they are to be sent through me.”
Gabriel gave a faint nod. “Understood.”
“You may send modest gifts,” Lady Eastbury added, “Nothing inappropriate, nothing lavish. Anything that draws further attention will be returned without comment.”
Gabriel’s lips twitched faintly. “I shall attempt restraint.”
“I should hope so.” She turned to Leticia. “And you will not wander into gardens without your gloves or your sense.”
Leticia managed a prim smile. “Yes, Aunt.”
“There are to be no more rumors. No whispers. No ambiguities. Sommer-by-the-Sea thrives on gossip, but it wearies of it just as quickly. Let someone else provide a better scandal.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “It won’t come from us.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Lady Eastbury stood. “You may walk in the garden. I’ll remain here with my embroidery. If I stand at the window, you’ll know the conversation has gone on long enough.”
They rose together. Gabriel offered his arm. Leticia took it.
*
The garden wasdrenched in sunlight and honeysuckle. Gravel crunched underfoot, and skirts brushed the clipped box hedges. Theair smelled of warm stone and flowering vines.
“You accepted all that rather easily,” she said.
“Did I have a choice?”
“No.”
He smiled. “I did the wisest thing a man can do. I agreed with the woman in charge.”
Leticia’s lips curved. “You’ll make a fine husband yet.”
“Only if you’ll make a forgiving wife.”
The words were spoken in jest, but something about the ease of his voice and the curve of his smile unsettled her. Not in fear, but in the way fantasy starts to feel like memory. As though she’d always known him. As though she might trust him, if she weren’t careful.
They turned the corner by the espaliered pear trees that grew on the far wall. He slowed his step to match hers. Could something true begin in the middle of a false engagement? She could not be certain. But she wanted to find out.
“It was honest.”
“But difficult.”
“Truth usually is.”
They walked a few more paces. Leticia stopped near the arbor, her hand resting lightly on the trellis. “I’ve asked myself something since the masquerade.”
