Amelia hesitated only briefly before continuing. “When you first arrived, you kept suggesting Anderton Manor would soon undergo changes.” She drew a slow breath. “I assume now that meant because you knew Helen would be arriving, so why did you keep it a secret?”
Lady Provie looked down at her teacup for several long moments before answering. “I knew less than you imagine,” she admittedquietly, turning the porcelain handle between elegant fingers. “Though I now realize I knew more than I ought to have.”
Amelia remained silent, sensing that interruption would only send the older woman retreating behind another wall of pride. Outside, birds sang cheerfully in the gardens, blissfully unaware of family scandals and impossible conversations. Amelia almost envied them.
“It seemed…” Lady Provie began slowly before sighing, “… entirely improper that a governess should become so indispensable to a duke’s household.” She looked up again, her expression unusually candid. “The notion of a governess marrying a duke struck me as thoroughly disgraceful.”
Amelia blinked but managed not to flinch. The words stung less than they would have weeks ago. She had learned that another person’s opinion no longer possessed the power to define her worth.
“I see,” Amelia replied softly, though she suspected Lady Provie heard the disappointment she tried to conceal.
The Countess lowered her eyes. “When Helen appeared at my London residence a week ago,” she continued, smoothing an invisible crease from her skirt, “I believed I was speaking to a grieving mother desperate to reclaim her children.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I was considerably more foolish than I care to admit.”
Amelia watched her carefully, surprised to hear genuine regret creeping into the woman’s measured voice.
Lady Provie clasped her hands together tightly. “Helen told me another woman intended to replace her in her children’s affections,” she said, her shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly. “She claimed she had changed, that she wished only to repair the mistakes of her youth.” She shook her head slowly. “I allowed sentiment to overrule judgment.” Her eyes lifted to Amelia’s. “I believed her, so I played along with her plans. I did not know she meant to blackmail my nephew.”
Amelia’s heart softened despite herself. Even intelligent people could be deceived when someone spoke to their deepest hopes.
For the first time since Lady Provie’s arrival, Amelia thought she understood Gabriel a little better.
This is why Gabriel was as he was. Betrayal had not come from strangers in his life. It had come from family. His father had terrorized those he loved. Helen had nearly destroyed Benedict and David. And now, even his aunt, despite good intentions, had invited danger directly to their doorstep. No wonder Gabriel built his world upon rules. Rules could not betray him.
She remembered every time Gabriel had insisted upon caution, every irritating instruction, every infuriating order that had made her roll her eyes. At the time, she had thought him impossibly rigid. Now, she realized each rule had been another brick in the wall he had built around the children.
Somewhere along the way, she had helped him replace a few of those bricks with trust. The thought warmed her more deeply than the tea in her hands ever could.
“Lady Provie,” Amelia said gently, leaning forward slightly, “if you truly wish to remain a part of David’s and Valerie’s lives…” She paused, choosing her words with care. The older woman straightened, listening intently. “… then there must be rules.”
Lady Provie’s eyebrows rose. “Rules?” she echoed with unmistakable surprise.
Amelia nodded. “Everything concerning the children should first be approved by…” The words caught unexpectedly in her throat.
…myself or Gabriel.
The thought arrived so naturally it startled her. She was not their mother. She had no right to finish the sentence that way, no matter how fiercely she wished to protect them. Swallowing quietly, she corrected herself. “… by Gabriel.”
Amelia smiled softly and inclined her head. “He knows how to protect them,” she said, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “Yes, he has often been too rigid, too stern, and far too fond of rules.” A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “Occasionally, I suspect he would create regulations governing the behavior of clouds if only they would remain still long enough.”
To Amelia’s surprise, Lady Provie gave a short, unexpected chuckle. “That does sound remarkably like my nephew,” she admitted, shaking her head.
Amelia smiled more openly now. “But he has changed,” she continued, her expression growing thoughtful once more. “He still protects them with everything he possesses.” She looked towards the window overlooking the gardens. “Only now has he learned that children require more than protection.” Her smile softened. “They require friendship and affection as well.”
Lady Provie remained silent for several moments, studying Amelia with an expression entirely different from the cold judgment she had worn upon arriving at Anderton. There was curiosity there now. Respect. Perhaps even admiration.
Amelia shifted slightly beneath the unexpected attention, suddenly wishing someone would rescue her from compliments as efficiently as Gabriel rescued her from danger. Unfortunately, Gabriel remained somewhere in the village, leaving her to fend for herself.
“I misjudged you,” Lady Provie admitted quietly, folding her hands upon the table. Amelia looked back at her in surprise. The older woman drew a slow breath before continuing. “I believed you were merely an inexperienced young lady who had allowed yourself to become attached to children who did not belong to you.” She smiled faintly. “Instead, I find myself speaking to someone who has consistently placed those children above herself.”
Color warmed Amelia’s cheeks. “I have hardly been perfect,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. Lady Provie shook her head. “Perfection has always struck me as rather exhausting,” she replied dryly. “Competence is far more useful.”
Amelia laughed softly before she could stop herself. “I shall endeavor to remain competent, then.”
Lady Provie’s lips curved into the smallest genuine smile Amelia had yet seen.
The Countess’s expression sobered once more. “Miss Shirley,” she said, her voice unexpectedly gentle, “I owe you an apology.”
Amelia looked up again as Lady Provie inclined her head with unmistakable sincerity. “My assumptions about you were unfair.” She clasped her hands together. “Far worse, my recklessness endangered the very children I claimed to care about.” Her voice faltered slightly. “For that, I am deeply sorry.”
