A knock sounded at the door.
Gabriel set down his pen.
“Enter,” he called, leaning back in his chair.
The door opened cautiously. Amelia stepped inside wearing a simple blue dress that he had seen several times before. Her blonde hair was loosely pinned up, and candlelight softened her delicate features. For one ridiculous moment, he forgot what he had been doing.
“You should be asleep,” he said, recovering himself as he folded his arms.
Amelia closed the door behind her and offered a faint smile. “That appears to be a recurring problem for both of us,” she replied, clasping her hands together.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “You could not sleep again?” he asked.
Amelia nodded. “My thoughts were being exceptionally uncooperative.”
Gabriel gestured towards one of the chairs opposite his desk. “Sit down,” he instructed.
Amelia hesitated briefly before obeying. He rose and crossed to a cabinet in the corner.
“Port tends to be a good tonic for occasions such as this,” he said, pouring some into a glass. Amelia accepted it without argument. That alone surprised him.
She possessed a warmth that seemed capable of filling any room she entered. Gabriel disliked noticing such things. He disliked it even more because he kept noticing them anyway.
As Amelia shifted in her chair, something caught his attention once again. It was a detail he had observed several times during the past week but never addressed. The sleeves of her dress sat oddly at her wrists. The bodice fit imperfectly. The entire garment seemed slightly wrong. Gabriel frowned.
“Why does that dress not fit properly?” he asked suddenly.
Amelia nearly choked on her port.
She stared at him over the rim of the glass. “That is an extraordinarily strange question.”
Gabriel remained unmoved. “It is also a valid one.”
Amelia looked down at herself before releasing a resigned sigh. “Because it is not mine,” she admitted quietly.
“What do you mean it is not yours?” he asked.
Amelia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “When I left home, I packed rather hastily,” she explained, avoiding his gaze. “I brought very little with me.”
Gabriel listened in silence. Amelia looked increasingly embarrassed. “The maid, Trixie, kindly lent me two dresses,” she admitted. “This happens to be one of them.”
Gabriel stared at her. The explanation made absolutely no sense.
“You possess only the clothing you fled in, of course,” he said slowly.
Gabriel rubbed a hand across his jaw. The more he learned about this woman, the more baffling she became. Most young ladies who ran away from home at least remembered to pack adequate wardrobes. Amelia apparently fled armed with determination, questionable judgment, and very few dresses. The realization somehow managed to be both alarming and oddly amusing.
Without thinking much about it, he made a decision.
“You will have new dresses made.”
She looked perplexed. “Why?” she asked.
The question caught him completely off guard.
“Because you require clothing,” he replied.
Amelia tilted her head. “For one month?”
