When the tavern door closed behind her, the room seemed to exhale.
John stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “There’s a carriage waiting,” he said quietly. “You are in no state to ride. Your horse is being tethered to it as we speak. Go home to those who love you. Rest.”
Gabriel let out a slow breath; he had not realized he was holding. The adrenaline still burned through him, but beneath it was exhaustion so deep it felt almost hollow.
He nodded once. “Thank you,” he said simply.
And for the first time that night, the danger was no longer in the room with him and his thoughts turned back to…
Amelia. I am coming home.
The drawing room was warm with lamplight, the fire in the hearth reduced now to a steady, glowing hush that made the polished surfaces of Anderton Manor gleam softly. Valerie sat elegantly at the card table, her posture far more assured than it had been weeks before, though Amelia still caught the occasional flicker of uncertainty in her expression when she thought no one was watching.
Lady Provie presided over the game with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue, but tonight even she seemed less inclined toward battle and more toward endurance. The cards were scattered neatly between them, the game forgotten more often than not in favor of conversation that drifted, circled, and returned again like a lazy tide.
David lay on the carpet near the fire, entirely unconcerned with strategy or social etiquette while Grover dozed against one arm and Shadow had claimed the other as though both animals had silently agreed he was the center of their world. The sight softened something in Amelia each time she looked at him.
“You are meant to be in bed,” Amelia said at last, setting down her cards with a small sigh. Her tone was gentle but firm as she turned toward David. “I have allowed you far too much liberty this evening.”
David did not look even slightly ashamed. Instead, he rolled onto his back and gazed up at her with wide, earnest eyes. “But Iwanted to welcome Uncle Gabriel home,” he said as though this explained everything.
Amelia paused. The words struck her more deeply than they should have. Her gaze drifted toward the clock on the mantelpiece. Eight o’clock.
Her chest tightened.
He has not returned.
She forced her expression to remain composed, but something uneasy settled beneath her ribs. Gabriel had not left without purpose. He never did. But his absence felt wrong in a way she could not name.
“David,” she said softly, kneeling slightly, so she could meet his eyes, “even heroic intentions do not excuse staying up past your bedtime.”
David opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, the heavy door of the drawing room opened.
Every head turned at once. Gabriel stepped inside.
For a brief second, the room seemed to still entirely, as though even the fire had paused in recognition. He looked exhausted in a way Amelia had never quite seen before, his coat slightly disheveled, his posture carrying the weight of something finally concluded rather than something still in motion.
“Uncle Gabriel!” David cried, scrambling up from the rug.
He ran across the room at full speed.
Gabriel did not hesitate. He bent down and caught him easily, lifting him into a brief embrace that made something in Amelia’s chest loosen so suddenly she almost swayed with relief.
“You’re back,” David said into his shoulder, clinging tightly.
“I am,” Gabriel replied quietly, his voice roughened slightly with fatigue. He set the boy down but kept a steady hand on his shoulder.
“You were not at breakfast,” David said.
“I promise you, I will not miss another meal again if it can be helped,” Gabriel said.
David nodded solemnly, as though this were the most important oath ever spoken.
Valerie rose from her seat, her composure faltering for the first time that evening. “You are safe,” she said simply, crossing the room to him. Then, without hesitation, she hugged him as well.
Gabriel paused only briefly before returning the embrace.
“I am glad you are home,” Valerie said quietly when she pulled back.
